Aconite

I drew in a long inhale, then released the air out of my lungs. The afternoon sun pressed against my back and I considered taking off the collared shirt altogether in favor of the simple T-shirt I wore beneath it. But I was holding a bouquet of flowers from the florist of Great Star and wasn't willing to set the flowers onto the ground for fear of the door opening just then.

I stood at the front door of Rosemary Scale Tongue.

I heard her steps inside the house, approaching the door. It wasn't the familiar sound of her wooden heels, just socks against the flooring of a home.

"Oh Aconite! Come on in."

She had tied her hair into a cozy knot and was herself wearing a comfortable-looking simple summer dress of light fabric and a cardigan. I left my shoes just on the other side of the door and followed her into a comfortable, light kitchen-livingroom. The room seemed as if it might have hosted a fireplace once but now there was none in sight. Just unbroken flowery wallpaper on every wall.

Rosemary made me sit on a stool, set by a counter and facing the kitchen, my back to the rest of the room.

"I brought you flowers," I announced, extending the bouquet.

"These are beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous." She flashed me a smile that drew clear lines in her face and highlighted the beautiful pattern at the corners of her eyes.

"You do take tea, don't you?"

I got more than just tea. She had made two pies, one salty from onions and another one of currants.

As I helped myself to a salty onion piece, I confessed I knew nothing of any kind of cooking and was amazed that she had just pulled a pie out of her kitchen oven.

She looked radiant.

"I made them already when I was a teen. With my twin brother. We cooked together. Even when Plume went to a different college we would still cook together over holidays."

I swallowed, but she didn't bring up our conversation in the spring when I had accused her brother of being a monster. Instead she asked:

"But surely you have something you are good at making? Some favorite dish? A secret recipe learned from mom?"

I snorted. Before I could really think what I was saying, I blurted out: "She would never teach me how to butter a slice of bread. Secretive old hag."

The face she made hurried my confession that followed:

"But no. I am really not a skilled cook. I have a... housekeeper who takes care of cooking."

She stared, her delicate teacup forgotten midair.

"That is something I did learn from my mother. A family habit. Housekeepers." I fitted onto my face an embarrassed smile.

I was just about to turn back time to redo the conversation, but then she laughed. It was a delighted sound. Rosemary helped herself to a slice currant pie. My ears were hot, but I wasn't willing to undo her mirth.

"I have never lived with any household help. Is your house big?"

She seemed genuinely curious of this new concept of a housekeeper and made me feel just slightly less spoiled in my wizardhood. For yes indeed, I had a very convenient spirit arranging my home so I could concentrate on anything but the mundane domestic tasks.

"It is. Not a manor, but more than big enough for one old man. Lots of dustless corners and spotless windows. Has a nice view to the river."

"Sounds lovely." She looked around herself in the light room. "This must look small and threadbare in comparison."

I shook my head and assured her I found the room absolutely lovely. And it truly was. It lacked all the Witch Town's glitter and skillful craftsmanship, but something about it felt honest without the glamor. A cozy place to return to after work. I could see her head bent close to her laptop, drinking hot tea from a comfortable mug with some candles lit on the tall glass stands. Maybe some music in the background. She liked Jazz. It was a good space for that. It had a threadbare charm to it. Elegance in the simple details, the tall candle stands, a hanging vine by the window, a handcrafted shelf for spices, ornate wooden spoons as decoration just above the sink... Charming in the warm humanness of it all.

Very lovely.

As we talked –like we hadn't really talked for the whole of the spring period– I felt her stirring the old charmer in my own heart. I felt decades younger. I had never courted an ordinary human woman in my life. As the rest of the Witch Town, I had regarded them as dull, slaves to the beating simple rhythm of the City, following simple symmetries and hard cold numbers.

But Clover had taught me so much of the opposite. As she had always balanced between the magical community and the indeed harsh laws of the City, I had learned to appreciate the short lived uncertain and fragile human life. Clover and professor Scale Tongue were both dazzlingly beautiful in their ability to find their balance in the human life and thrive. Clover had never smiled to me as much as this spring, finally able to dedicate all her talent and wits to her studies. Without the burden of lacking in magic.

And Rosemary, whose mother had died of cancer, whose father's matters she had had in her care as the old man had grown weak and bitter and eventually died. But here she was, smiling radiantly with her name all over the university's archives and in several international publications. Here she was, a proud professor who spoke four languages and could read Latin. Who baked pies and sat reading in rainy evenings, quite content.

Like small tender flowers in a desert. Blooming against what seemed like impossible odds. Elegant.

My two children and I, in contrast, were like overgrown exotic jungle fruits, with sharp shadows and lush secrets. Grown too many years and always bathed in the possibilities of magic, clinging to ghosts and having spirits clean our houses and take away the tedium of the everyday. Having love affairs with wicked immortals and trading pieces of the soul with an even older alchemist.

And all this time there was this very elegant side of the human world: Long conversation over tea, charming pies, twinkling eyes of those who knew life could be harsh and who felt nothing but deeprooted gratitude for all the small blessings.

And suddenly in me swelled an intense need to confess how very attractive I found it all. How beautiful she was in her full human years with graying hair and dark circles under her steady eyes. How lovely was the house that smelled of baking and rose.

I licked my lips.

She smiled and was telling of a family living in the neighborhood. She had taken them a bread she had made. She had a recipe for two loaves and had thought they could appreciate the other. The oldest of the children, twelve, had truly appreciated the gift, the mother had told her later and asked for the recipe.

My fingers resting just by the saucer twisted, but were of lead.

The smallest of the children had been a bit disappointed that the gift had only been plain bread but even she had really enjoyed the offering in the end.

I could turn time, damn it! I had the one ability that should have made this easier.

And it had been easier, many times in the history.

But somehow, this time... I could see her here, so fragile, so fleeting. And I already knew her. The sun filtering from outside through her light green curtains painted everything in ethereal underwater hues.

I had once made love with a mermaid...

"Rosemary," I said suddenly.

"Aconite," she responded. She was still smiling. The smile could have been inviting, mischievous.

I drew in a breath.

The doorbell rang.

Such a mundane thing. And my concentration broke and the words stuck in my mouth and the small possibilities became suddenly impossible as the wheel of time jerked into a new kind of a moment with Rosemary frowning.

"Who...?"

Her face lit up.

"Oh, of course, the new tenant. I had forgotten."

"Tenant?" I inquired as she went to open the door.

"Yes. I rent always a room for students. The last one graduated and now there is a new person I am taking in. Makes life less lonely. It's a habit I picked from a friend who lives in the countryside, she likes to take in aupairs. Keeps her brain sharp, she says."

I sighed and poured for myself a fourth cup of tea from the pan she had already filled once. Aupairs and tenants. I had never once felt lonely in my mansion of a home. Especially not of late with Plume practically living there. Maybe I should have asked him for rent...

Though I hadn't seen a feather of him since Clover's graduation.

My deeper than necessary brooding was interrupted as a tall brown haired young lady came in, followed by Rosemary. The brunette was dragging with her a sizable suitcase.

"I have a friend over just now, but if you'd like to sit with us...? There is some onion pie if you happen to be hungry. And let me give you a cup..."

The young lady seated herself gingery on a stool.

"Hi. I am Mimosa."

"Aconite, Rosemary's friend."

We shook hands. Mimosa looked around herself in the light room.

While Rosemary busied herself heating a piece of both pies in the microwaves, I asked out of politeness:

"So you've come to Breasinghae to study, Mimosa?"

"Ah. No. Not really." She smiled apologetically.

I waited for an explanation.

"I applied for a job. It doesn't pay that well. Officially I am a freelancer to them, just get done stuff model by model. But they don't need to worry about insurances or healthcare since officially I am my own employer. Professor Scale Tongue was very generous in taking me in."

"Oh. You do pay me. And the room would just be empty otherwise," Rosemary said, shoving two pie pieces in front of her new tenant. "And my friend made an exception for the aupair as well this year and took in an Atlantean. And a man for that, which I think was quite courageous of her. Young men can be a handful. Though she has a son, so maybe she knows what she is getting into."

I nodded and Mimosa nodded. Young men could be a handful. I at least had been.

"Do you have brothers?" it occurred to me to ask the young lady.

She shook her head, but the gesture had something off about it.

"No. I have no brothers. I am the only child."

"I have one," Rosemary told Mimosa. "Though he hadn't contacted me in years."

"Oh. I am so sorry to hear." The sentiment seemed genuine.

For a moment we drank tea and exchanged pleasantries. Then Rosemary saw me out.

We had a moment outside where we stood on her doorsteps together, the warm summer's day had cooled towards the evening and was now almost chilly against my sweated neckline.

Then I inclined forward to take her hand in an overly elegant gesture, as if she had been a vampire I met for the first time. I bent over her hand. When I lifted my face, she was looking at me funnily.

"You just reminded me of a student I had," she said. "I think he quit but..." She frowned. "How very odd..."

She didn't continue. I straightened up.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing really. I just think his family name was White Torch. I am usually very good with names. Mimosa's name is White Torch as well. Nothing else. I didn't know it was such a common name. I should maybe ask her if this Timothy is someone she knows."

Goosebumps traveled my back.

I wasn't good with names at all. And as far as I knew, Timothy's family name could have been Straw Duck.

But then again, Plume was Rosemary's brother. And if I knew one thing to be true, it was that the great goddess Iris sometimes still meddled with the lives of her people.

"Is everything fine?"

I startled back to the present. "Yes. You should indeed ask Mimosa if she knows him. Who knows, maybe they are related."

Mo at least would know. I just might ask her. No. Actually I wasn't that curious.

"Aconite?"

"Mmm?"

She was wearing her high heels and I was standing a step down.

And it apparently cost her nothing to incline forward and kiss me lightly on my forehead.

As I stood dumbfounded by the gentle warmth in her eyes, she shook her head with a knowing smile.

"Oh, how young you are, Aconite."

I wanted to tell her I truly wasn't. But then it seemed just a bit more important to keep my lips close to each other and close my eyes. Otherwise, I would have proven her words to be true.