The Cost of Love

Kate trailed her finger along the dusty, wooden shelves. She'd already taken two or three laps around the store, had memorized every aisle. Each one had an endless assortment of crystals, glowing bottles, and obscure herbs with seemingly unpronounceable names. If another customer needed help finding an item, she'd be confident in her ability to direct them. That is, if there were any other customers. Occasionally the young girl would stop, feign interest in a trinket, and peek over her shoulder at the woman behind the counter.

The cashier was older, with long, curling grey hair and glasses much too big for her slender face. Her eyes had been trained on a thick leather book ever since Kate had walked in. She hadn't glanced up from it and had only offered the slightest wave in acknowledgment of the young girl's arrival. Kate swallowed hard and brushed a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ear. She was unsure of how much perusing to do before it would be safe to leave. She'd never been in a situation like this. Well, that wasn't necessarily true. At the age of six, she'd stolen a pack of gum from the corner store near her house. But it hadn't been nearly as expensive as the bottle in her pocket now.

It jiggled with every little movement, and its liquid contents swished around. Kate wanted nothing more than to reach in to still it, but that would probably seem a bit suspicious. So instead, the girl straightened her back, sucked her teeth, and turned to the woman behind the counter. She waved and gave the cashier a thin-lipped smile, like the one you'd give a stranger you'd made eye contact with on the street.

"Well, have a good day, ma'am," Kate said. She exhaled slowly, glad that the words had come out steady. The woman didn't reply. Kate waited for a second, nodded slightly, and then rotated on her heels to leave. Her hands connected with the cold metal of the door and her heart jumped. She was going to get away with it.

"You do plan on paying for that potion before you leave, right dear?" Kate froze. She stared at the blocked letters on the glass in front of her. They read "Cynthia's Little Shop of Curiosities," followed by the business hours underneath. The silence lingered, kept her tethered in place. It almost felt like a noose tightening around her neck. Suddenly, Kate was six again, running as fast as her tiny legs could take her. Her light-up sketchers were reminiscent of a cop cruiser on the dark street, which made her actions feel all the more criminal.

Bolting now seemed like the best option, but the door didn't budge even with her full weight against it. Kate wondered who had locked it. The cashier had never left the counter.

"Well, come on now, dear. Don't dilly dally at the entrance." Kate could tell the woman was motioning her towards the back from her reflection on the glass. The teenager breathed in deeply and held it, then spun around and headed towards the register. Her gaze never left the hardwood floor. She quietly pulled the container from her pocket and set it down on the glass counter with a little clink that sounded much louder to her than it actually was. It was a decorative decanter, filled three-fourths of the way with something luminesce, pink, and syrupy. The label read "Love," in neatly swirling letters.

"That'll be $167.99." Kate didn't respond; she just released the air from her burning lungs. The woman entwined her fingers and set her hands on the counter.

"I suppose you don't have that, though. So, you should probably get going."

"But I need it!" Kate blurted out, and her eyes shot up. There was a little golden name tag pinned to the cashier's shirt; it read Cynthia. Well, shit.

"I guess you should've been sneakier then," Cynthia replied with a toothless grin.

"I need it," Kate repeated, resisting the urge to reach out for it.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it isn't wise to steal from a witch?" Cynthia leaned on the display case. Kate resisted the immediate urge to laugh in the woman's face. Kate wasn't sure she really believed in all this witchy, magical stuff. She was only really there because she'd run out of any other options. The young girl had decided in the car to blame her current bout of insanity on her lack of sleep in the last week. She figured that she could just make fun of herself for it later if it didn't work.

"Isn't there any way we can work this out?" Kate rested her elbows on the counter and put her chin in her hands. Their eyes locked. Something in the older woman's gaze made Kate self-conscious. Between the sweats, the messy updo, and the bags under her eyes, she knew she probably looked absolutely mental. The desire to run home and bury herself in pillows tiptoed into her mind.

But then thoughts of Candace pushed it aside. Kate pictured Candace's freckled nose and warm hazel eyes. They'd been best friends practically their whole lives. They had met sixteen years ago when Kate's family moved into Tyler's Cove, a small town in Maine. The two toddlers had attended the same daycare. She could hear Candace's laugh in her mind now like the other girl was standing right next to her, could feel her best friend's thick hair tickling her nose. It had always been the two of them. Until Candace met that stupid boy, Nick, at the mall last week. The image of Candace kissing him forced its way into Kate's mind, and her heart dropped. So did her gaze; back to the potion.

"I need it." Her voice was small, and she shrunk into herself like a deflating balloon. She was afraid to blink, to let the tears start to fall. The woman watched her for a second, then smiled.

"What are you prepared to give me for it?"

Kate's eyes grew wide. She chuckled slightly and dug into the pocket of her hoodie. Its contents came out so quickly that a ton of change clanged to the floor. She shoved $80 towards the woman, then squatted down to collect the coins with shaking hands.

They clicked when they were set on the counter. The amount was nowhere near what Kate needed, but she just laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck. This whole situation felt pretty desperate and pathetic.

Cynthia straightened up, crossed her arms, and slid a hand over her mouth. Both of her thin eyebrows were raised. Kate kneaded her bottom lip between her teeth and let her eyes wander, trying to think of another option.

They settled on the display case between them. The glass was smudged with fingerprints, and there were piles of shiny jewelry thrown into it. The necklaces were tangled, and some of the rings were put back into their slot's upside down. Then, Kate caught sight of the shelves behind the register. They were stuffed with books; some were upright, others sideways, and there didn't appear to be any organization to them at all.

"I'll work around the store for you." The young girl proposed.

"Don't need the help." The owner replied, straight-faced. They stared at each other, and the older woman’s deep ocean-like eyes dared Kate to challenge her. Kate's eyebrows knit together, and she opened her mouth slightly, but ultimately decided against mentioning the mess. She wracked her brain for another offer. This woman thought of herself as a witch, right? So, what would a witch want in exchange for an item?

"My first-born child?” She suggested with a shrug. It was more of a question than a legitimate offer, but it got the woman to crack a smile.

"Unfortunately, I'm not that kind of witch."

"Just tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you." Kate practically whined out. Cynthia considered it for a moment, then picked up the bottle and walked through the beaded curtain behind her and into the back of the store.

Kate stood there, watched the blue and purple strings of beads swish back and forth, and chastised herself for getting caught. She stared down at her old, black converse and mashed her lips together tightly. Her face contorted, and the need to cry became overwhelming. This had been her rock bottom, her final option, and she'd blown it.

"Well, aren't you coming, dear?" Cynthia's voice was like a lifeline thrown to someone that had been drowning. Kate raised her head, unsure of what she should do. Then, steeling herself against that small voice in the back of her mind that whispered that it was a terrible idea, she moved to follow. The gate separating the store from the area behind the register was locked. She shook it roughly, gave it a frustrated kick, and hopped over.

The back room looked like a study—a door to the left led into a kitchen with several flowering plants hanging in the windows. The door directly across from Kate appeared to go deeper into the building. A large circular table sat in the middle of the room. On one side of the door opposite her, a wooden desk was stacked with papers and opened books. It had jars of herbs shoved into its shelves. The rest of the walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases. All of them were as cluttered as the one upfront.

There was a young girl with hair the shade of ripe oranges sitting at the desk, scribbling fervently into a notebook. After a second, she leaned over to type something on a typewriter, then went back to jotting down notes. A black cat sat on the head of the desk, eyeing Kate curiously. Its tail swished slightly. The girl didn't acknowledge Kate, and Kate wasn't sure she should bother her.

"Don't mind Penny, she's just shy." Cynthia entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea. She motioned for Kate to sit down at the table with her head, and Kate complied, still feeling the cat's eyes on her. The chair had a plush seat cushion, and Kate leaned back in it, relieved to finally sit down. She was tired.

"So, tell me who the potion is for." Cynthia slid a cup towards Kate, and she reached out gratefully. It was warm in her palms, and it calmed her nerves a bit. She watched the steam rise from it.

"It's for a girl named Candace. She and I have been best friends for a while, but she's been more to me for years. Ever since, she carried me home from the park when we were ten. I had fallen through the jungle gym and broke my arm. She sang me a song to keep me calm and insisted on coming to the hospital with me." Kate realized she was rambling and stopped abruptly. She glanced up at the woman and cringed at the sight of Cynthia staring at her oddly.

"Sorry." She said.

"No need to apologize. It's a cute story, dear. I'm just wondering, why now? What's changed?"

"She met a boy."

"So why not just confess your feelings?" Cynthia asked, then waved off Kate's attempt at a reply. "You think she won't reciprocate. Always the same story, isn't it, dear?" She fiddled with the love potion, which had been on the tray next to the teapot.

"So, what do you want for it?" Kate wished for this whole situation to be over with. Cynthia smiled eerily, her back teeth showing, and looked at Kate over the rim of her glasses.

"How about your soul?" Suddenly, Kate's whole body felt icy, like the blood in her veins had gone cold. Cynthia said it like they were bargaining for an old sofa at a garage sale. Kate's eyebrows knit together, and she looked at Penny, who's attention was now entirely on them. Kate barely kept herself from scooting her chair away.

"What?" It was all she could say.

"Your soul. You get Candace to love you, and when you die, your soul will return here to me."

"What's the catch?" Kate asked, clenching the cup so tightly she thought it might shatter. She'd seen enough movies to know that she'd give Candace the love potion, and then one of them would die in some horrible accident the next day.

"No tricks, and no catches. Of course, all magic comes with a price. As long as you're willing to pay it, though, you're fine. You'll live a long life with Candace, and you'll come back to me afterward. All you have to do is drink."

"What… What's the price?" Kate's voice quivered. She let go of the cup, it's warmth suddenly not so soothing.

"If Candace takes the potion and she doesn't love you, then she never will. If she does, she'll never be able to stop." Cynthia stated matter-of-factly. Well, that didn't seem nearly as bad as Kate had expected it to be. It would be just like confessing, but without having to actually do it. If Candace didn't love her, she'd be no worse for wear, and if she did, Kate would have something most people spent their whole lives searching for: someone who would never stop loving them.

"What will you do with me when I come back?" Kate asked.

"Make you my slave, of course," Cynthia replied, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

"Like a sex thing?" Kate scrunched her nose at the thought.

"If you want it to be." Cynthia chuckled.

Kate stared at the cup of tea, and her hands shook. The girl knew she should just leave. But every time she thought she might, images of Candace walking down the aisle towards Nick popped into her mind. If not, Nick, it would be some other boy. She couldn't let that happen, couldn't stand the thought of being abandoned by her best friend. So, finally, she reached out with those trembling hands, grabbed the cup so firmly her knuckles turned white, and chugged it before she could change her mind. She stood from her chair, it screeched against the hardwood, and Cynthia pushed the potion toward her.

"See you soon, Kate." The young girl snatched the bottle up and turned to go.

"Oh, and Kate?" Cynthia called out, right as Kate passed through the curtain. Kate stopped but didn't look back. "I do hope that it's worth it."

At this, regret settled in the pit of the Kate's stomach. The bottle was a thousand times heavier than it had been the first time she'd picked it up. She supposed it was too late to turn back now, though. She managed to get the gate at the counter open. The distance to the door from the back felt miles longer, like a walk of shame or a death march.

She strode out onto the street and climbed into her beat-up blue bug. She shoved the decanter into the middle console and turned the key. Kate jumped at the sound of the starting engine. As she rounded the corner and lost sight of the store in her rearview mirror, it occurred to her that the front door had no longer been locked.