Friends and Séances, Love and Regret

Hattie, Jewel, and I are spending the night at Katie’s house because we’re too young to cruise the streets of the small town, where we go to school, in cars we don’t own and with dates we’re too young to go on—officially. Instead, we play records and dance, talk about friends and enemies and 1971 fashion. Jewel changes clothes, under the clothing she’s wearing, like a magic act. I change in the only bathroom in the house, while Hattie and Katie strip down to dress in their PJs, in front of everyone.

As I walk back to Katie’s bedroom, I stop to stare at her brother’s vacant room. He’s out on a date with an older girl that I’m convinced stole him from me. My junior high crush is long gone, but not the memory of belting out, for him to hear, Loretta Lynn's song, You Ain’t Woman Enough to take my Man, with Katie singing back-up—a regrettable performance. Later I conclude that love is time consuming and heart wrenching—made of sweetness, until it sours and easily replaced with new love.

Back in the bedroom, the four of us occupy Katie’s full sized bed, crisscrossed, propped on our sides—talking again. That’s when I bring up the accident of my childhood friend. I tell them she had fallen off a hayride wagon and underneath its wheel. I tell them how I’d heard, that the wheel ran over her head, but how she stayed alive to call out for her mom and dad, when someone found her. Then she died. I say it’s sad that she won’t get to be with her family again, except in heaven, or grow up like we’re doing. No one says anything until Katie says, we should have a séance to see if she wants to talk to us. 

Someone says we need a candle so Katie sneaks one into the room along with matches to light it and places it on the floor. As if we’d done this before, we form a circle around the candle then sit with crossed legs and hold hands. Katie decides the lights should be off and leaves the ring of girls to flip the switch, then in the candle light, she joins hands again.

No one points out the waltzing shadows unleashed on the walls, by a single flame. With wide eyes we stare at each other, eyeballs dancing from friend to friend, chests heaving with anticipation—and fear.  For whatever reason, I take the lead and call out to my friend asking if she is in the room and to say something if she is. One of the other girls says something, but its muffled in my ears because there is a deafening pressure, and they need to pop.  

We’re still holding hands when the flame stretches upward, then flickers in an attempt to stay alive, but doesn't. The hush of darkness lasts only seconds before screams pierce the silence. Hysteria rouses us to race to the door, tromping each other until someone flips the switch and the lights come on.

“What was that?” Katie says, in spastic breaths.

“Who blew out the candle?” Jewel demands.

Each girl shakes her head—no, but we still challenge each other with raised eyebrows.  The  séance over.

 

 

*Names have been changed to protect privacy.

The Triangle

by Teresa Powell Coltrin

It is July. I am 18 and my boyfriend is still 17, for another month. We are sitting in his parents’ living room, my true love and I, and – his ex-girlfriend. It is an awkward place we find ourselves in.

I am working at a garment factory more precisely a coverall factory. I’ve worked there for month. I’ve moved out of my parents’ home (I move back the next month) and rent a nice Spanish style trailer decorated in red and black, next to a truck stop, five miles out of town.

On this day, I’m driving back to work after my lunch break, in my green 1965 Ford Mustang. On the way, I happen to glance across the fields to my true love’s home and see a car parked in the driveway. It takes me a nanosecond to recognize the car.  My heart jumps to my throat trying to suffocate me. I pull into the first driveway I see, turn around and race to his house.

Once there, I stumble out of my car then slow down to walk up the steps to the front door. The door is open. I step inside, say hi and look around to see that his parents are not home. We are alone in our  triangle. *Sally is sitting in a chair to my left. He is sitting in a chair to my right. He looks guilty. She has a plastic grin on her face.  I walk to the couch and sit down. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m hoping I don’t die in front of them.

My true love has picked up a newspaper and pretends to read it. I’m doubtful that he is, but the newspaper helps hide his face.

No one is talking until I say, “What’s going on?"

I hear his voice from behind the paper, “Nothing. Sally just came over to see me. That’s all.”

I’m doubtful and turn to look at her. Her face is now red and she giggles. I look back at my hidden true love. “If you are my boyfriend, then it’s not right that she is here.” I say this like she’s not in the room and like I am the keeper of righteousness.

“I know, I told her that,” he says. The newsprint moves a little.

“I only came over to see him,” Sally finally speaks.

I’m so angry that I take a deep breathe to keep my voice from cracking when I speak, but it doesn’t help. “You need to choose between us right now or I'm out of here.”

He lets the paper fall to his lap and on the short cut-off jeans he’s wearing and looks at me. His face has turned pale which makes his brown eyes darker. “I’ve already chosen. I told her that before you came in.”

“Told her what?”

“I told her that you’re my girlfriend now.”

I stare at my pale true love, then say. “Okay.” I turn to look at the third part of the triangle and say, “You need to leave.”

She leaves. My true love stays mine.

~~~

 

* Name changed