I will make you come to me.
I chuckled nervously at what seemed to be the never-ending drama that was my life. Is this what he meant? I mentally hit myself for my naivete and self-induced oblivion. Shaquan and I were fond of making “jokes” with each other.
I’ll tease him about something or did those little things that were annoying to him but I knew he’d forgive me for, and he’ll let out this dark chuckle and say, “I’ll hex you if you do that again.” I did think at first that it was a weird thing for anyone to say but when I kept playfully stepping on his toes and he kept making that statement and nothing happened, of course, I thought it was just his peculiarity and soon enough, started saying them myself.
Shaquan and I got into another argument about my friends. We’d always loved each other but for as long as I remembered, he never liked any of my friends. But, I always told him that I couldn’t cut off the people who’d been there with me from the beginning just cause he didn’t “like” them. It was usually a recurring argument but he would let it go at the last moment.
Till yesterday, when he got angry cause he saw me in one of my friend’s clothes. All efforts to tell him that coffee spilt on mine and I had to wear one of his since his house was nearby, proved abortive. And in a fit of rage at his sheer irrationality, I ended things. And as I stormed out, his parting words followed, I’ll make you come to me. I’ll hex you.
I laughed darkly and flipped him off for using that outdated joke on me in a serious matter. But, as I stared into my still-full cup of coffee, it was as clear as day to me that it wasn’t a joke. I tried again for the umpteenth time, steadily bringing the cup to my lips and sipping it. No liquid. No taste. My initial anger simmered away, leaving utter panic in its wake. What was this? Did it mean I would no longer be able to drink coffee? I cursed Shaquan eternally for going as low as coffee, something he knew I was more or less addicted to.
Two hours later, I was knocking furiously on Shaquan’s door. I ignored the fearfully little tremors running up and down my spine and steeled my stance. If I was scared, he wasn’t going to know. Two minutes later, the door opened to his smug grin and the last traces of my panic were licked away at the blinding rage that enveloped me. I wasn’t able to have coffee that went ways into calming me so I was at my worst.
“I knew you’d come to me,” he drawled.
“It’s not even funny. Let me in.” I snapped. He promptly widened the door and I barrelled in, coming face to face with a petite lady who was sipping daintily at her cup. The lingering scent in the air made me know what exactly she was drinking and I fought the hurt and longing that evident in my eyes. I narrowed my eyes infinitesimally.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, her name is Shalom,” Shaquan answered instead. “The sister I told you about that was learning a little skill alongside school.”
“And I take it,” I seethed at the beatifically smiling Shalom and her stupid brother, “that this is the skill. You asked her to hex me? That’s low, Shaquan, even for you.”
He blanched, and the smug look became that of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Carissa. Truth is, I come from a family of Hexers. It’s nothing huge and we aren’t malicious or anything with it since it’s a gift but seeing you all comfy with that friend of yours just-”
“I told you, he was just helping me out!” I yelled.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I couldn’t even hex you with my anger so I asked Shalom to do it instead. I know, it’s childish and immature and I won’t do it again,” he pleaded, gazing placatingly into my eyes.
“Nope,” I said, popping the P. “I can’t afford to look over my shoulder each time we get into an argument. It’s unhealthy and I just can’t live with it. Unhex me in the meantime.”
He nodded at his sister who was quietly sipping at her coffee like she was the VIP guest to a soap opera. She dropped the cup and muttered some things and I felt an ease in my throat that told me the hex had been broken.
“How can I make it up to you?” Shaquan pleaded again.
“I don’t feel safe anymore. Coffee was a low blow, Quan. You know how important it is to me.”
“I know and I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
I sidestepped him to the door. “I know it won’t. Since we’re over and all. Have a good life.” The blazing look of hurt in his eyes almost weakened my resolve but I steeled myself and walked out the door. “I’ll make it up to you,” he yelled from inside but I was no longer listening.
I stopped at my favourite and ordered a mocha with a double dose of whipped cream to soothe my steaming insides. Once the therapeutic taste touched my tongue, my stiffened shoulders relaxed and I let out a sigh of bliss. Was definitely looking forward to how he was going to make it up. But for now….☕
Jhymi🖤
My entry to the #SPILLTHEBEANS Story Prompt. Click to join in the fun.