A Disease of Magic

Loren’s whistle was sharp and sudden, making me nearly leap ten feet in the air. It was honestly a bit impressive, even though my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. The room was dead silent except for the whooshing sound of the AC blasting and the water trickling down one of the pipes. At least, I was going to convince myself that it was only water.

She didn’t even have to say anything, and people were moving, heading towards their usual chairs. I lingered behind, waiting to see where an open spot might be so I didn’t unintentionally steal someone’s seat that they’d sat in for the past however many months. Some people, myself included, really liked routine. I found a vacant seat right in front of me, and sat down. A few seats remained empty.

Alex appeared beside me, looking sheepish, hands in his pockets. He grabbed the empty seat to my left and slouched in his chair.

“Sorry for ditching you,” he apologized in a whisper. Loren moved to stand in the gap between two chairs. “I saw a friend I haven’t seen in a while and got sidetracked.”

“It’s okay,” I lied. I would have preferred his presence, even though we had just met a mere fifteen or so minutes ago.

“Good evening, everyone,” Loren started, her hazel gaze sweeping the room. She took the time to make eye contact with everyone, smiling the entire time. “I’m glad we could all make it here tonight. We have some returning members we haven’t seen in a while, and a new member brought to us by Jade, who couldn’t be here.”

My face flushed as the twenty-seven other people present turned their heads to stare at me. I hoped they thought it was just from the heat, and not the embarrassment I was actually feeling.

“We’ll start off with John here, and go clockwise.”

John talked for only a couple of minutes. He hadn’t had an episode in the past two weeks, was managing his life pretty well, though his sister was still distant and wouldn’t let him see her kids.

I must have looked confused, because Alex leaned in to whisper, “John’s sister thinks that because his death is inevitable, it’s not worth her kids knowing him only to lose him later.” A small gasp slipped out between my lips, but only Alex seemed to hear it. He nodded in silent agreement.

Melinda, next to John, spoke next. She didn’t have family issues like John, but struggled sometimes with mobility after an episode, like the one she had last week.

Most everyone took only a handful of minutes to update the group on what was new in their life specific to LaShoul’s. A woman two seat away on my right had an awful week, and shared through silent tears, her voice quiet.

“I got fired yesterday,” she started, staring down at her hands that were shaking in her lap. “They said it was because of my performance, but I know better. I keep having to call out. It’s getting worse, and I have less time between attacks, and it takes me longer than ever to recover. And I can feel it. My energy is going. And I’m tired.” She sniffled, once, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It takes so much out of me to be strong for my kid. I don’t want him seeing me like this.”

For the first time since she got the meeting started, Loren spoke again. “You’re doing such a good job for that little boy. Last meeting you said you were going to try to get a therapist. Did you find one, Meg?”

Meg nodded. “Yeah, I did. But now that I don’t have a job, I don’t know that I can afford to pay her.”

Loren snuck a glance towards Melinda, who nodded discreetly and wrote something down in a small pocketbook. Everyone else was enraptured by Meg’s devastating news, making me wonder if anyone else noticed that exchange.

“But,” Meg continued, finally looking up with puffy eyes, “she got me in touch with an attorney, who is helping me get everything in order. For free. I won’t have to worry about my little boy. He suggested recording a video for him, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“You know your son best,” said the man to her right, Will, I think his name was. “But I know my dad always wished his father would have left something for him when he passed from cancer decades ago. Even if it was just a letter, or a card.”

Meg nodded and didn’t speak again. After a few moments, Loren turned to the woman between Meg and me, who brought the mood up with her win of finally securing the promotion she’d been after that would allow her to work remotely and asynchronously.

Loren then turned to me, giving me a little not.

“Um, hi. I’m Callie.” I gave a pathetic little wave and immediately dropped my hand back into my lap. “I’m, uh, not sure what I should say exactly. But I was diagnosed four years ago. I lost most of my friends after that. Dropped out of college. Didn’t see the point in getting a degree I might never get to use. But I got a decent job and moved out of my dad’s and his wife’s place. My step-mom, I mean. My mom died from LaShoul’s when I was little. I don’t remember her. But she left me some things, and that helped.” I paused, trying to remember my original train of thought.

“My dad really isn’t around much. I think me having LaShoul’s hurts him too much, after my mom. I can’t say I blame him, but it sucks for me anyways. But I have my best friend. We’re roommates, and we look after each other. My cat Lucie hates the new apartment, though. She keeps attacking the rugs.” I grinned, remembering Leo swearing colorfully that morning when Lucie darted into the kitchen, getting herself underfoot while he was trying to make coffee, to launch a personal attack against the white rug. Though, to be fair to Lucie, it didn’t make sense to put a white rug in the kitchen.

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Loren said. Many of the others nodded encouragingly.

Then it was Alex’s turn. He started by sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair as he puffed out a breath. “I don’t know, guys. It wasn’t a bad two weeks by any means, but sometimes I just feel so… unfulfilled.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling loosely. “The job is great, and I enjoy it, but I don’t feel like I’m making a difference. I just…I don’t know. Want to make a difference in some way. I don’t care if I’m not remembered for it. I just want to do it, for myself. Which doesn’t make sense, because I don’t care if others make a positive difference. And I think something as simple as holding the door open for someone else is enough sometimes.”

“You hold yourself to a higher standard,” Loren supplied.

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I know. So even though these weeks were perfectly normal, I’m still not satisfied. And I feel guilty for feeling unsatisfied.”

“Let’s talk after, okay?”

Alex just nodded, leaning back in his seat again as the next person began speaking.

I reached over and gave his forearm a squeeze. “I get that guilty feeling, too,” I admitted. “Though not quite in the same way.”

Alex turned and looked at me, eyes searching mine. If he found what he was looking for, I’d never know. I cleared my throat and added, “She’s good. Loren.”

“She’s a licensed therapist herself,” Alex informed me. That made perfect sense, I realized belatedly. A group of people all bound for an early death, it was probably a requirement.

After everyone had a chance to speak, Loren opened the floor to questions for the group.

Meg raised her hand first. Loren called on her. “What…what would you leave your only kid?”

No one answered right away. No one raised a hand.

“My mom left me a necklace of hers,” I said. “I used to wear it, but now I’m afraid something will happen to it, and I’ll lose it. Maybe something that he can hold onto. Like…I don’t know, your favorite souvenir, or book, or something. I feel connected to my mom when I wear the necklace, though now it’s only for special occasions and not every day. But sharing your favorite place or story, I think, could help him feel like he knows you.”

I paused, feeling self-conscious. But, I added, “And a letter, if not a video. My mom wrote one for me, and it’s what I treasure most.”

Meg was crying again, but bobbed her head jerkily and muttered a quiet thanks.

A few others asked questions, like if anyone had tried the new supplement that was being touted on social media as the best symptom management pill, though it wasn’t a magic cure. No one had.

Loren assigned us homework. “Do something that you never do for yourself anymore that you used to love. I expect some great stories next time.”

People were slow to trickle out after the meeting, myself included. I realized I had enjoyed myself, even though it was very emotional at times. I felt seen, finally. Even though I had Leo, I didn’t feel alone right now. And that made me wonder if perhaps I’d been doing myself a disservice by not trying to make friends.

Alex interrupted my potential epiphany.

“What are you going to do for Loren’s homework?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. There’s a lot that I still do. But I’m realizing most of it is solitary. Like reading. Or binging shows. I even took up crocheting.”

“That’s pretty cool, though, the crocheting. You any good?”

“I can make a scarf. Or a blanket. Or anything, really, but only if it’s rectangular. And that’s it, because I’m garbage at counting stitches,” I admitted with a laugh. “But maybe I’ll try to put myself out there more. Find a crochet group or something. Try a hat next. What about you?”

“I’ve got a few options.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex started walking towards the door, and I followed. “Any one in particular looking good?”

“Yeah. And I could actually use your help with it, if you’re willing.”

“I guess that depends on what it is.” We reached the door, and Alex waved his arm in front of him again, insisting I go before him. “We did just meet, remember?”

“That’s part of what makes it kind of perfect.” He paused to close the door behind him, muffling the sounds of the ten or so people still lingering behind. He ran a hand through his hair and refused to look at me. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, Callie.”

“Okay. I appreciate honesty.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, continuing to walk down the half-lit hallway towards the entrance. All of a sudden, he blurted, “I think you’re really pretty, and I like talking to you, and I want to take you out on a date.”

My feet suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground and I nearly toppled over. “Wait a second.” I held up my hands, my confusion stronger than my usual nervousness at being asked out. Normally, I would have clammed up and stuttered out a rejection, but instead I tried to clarify, “I thought you wanted me to help you with the homework thing.”

It was hard to tell in the lighting, but I thought he might have blushed. “That is the homework thing. After being diagnosed, I stopped dating. People just didn’t get it, and I got tired of only going on first dates.”

I pursed my lips and looked down at the pink and green marble floor. It was pretty, in an old-fashioned way, though I was sure much of it was covered by the new construction. I wondered how many couples had gotten married standing on this very floor.

“I’m sure that you could find someone else to go with you,” I finally answered.

Alex’s shoulders slumped, and I realized too late how that sounded.

“Wait!” I reached out and grabbed his arm. “That came out so wrong. I just mean that you don’t have to settle on asking me. I’m sure that there are plenty of other women who would agree to go on a date with you, and more than just one.”

Alex frowned at me. “You think I’m settling by asking you, just to check off a box?”

“Not exactly, but yeah. Kind of. I’m convenient.”

He shook his head and laughed. “And you’re saying I can get a date with plenty of other women? That it doesn’t have to be you.”

“Well, yeah. I mean.” I gestured to him. “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right? And you help virtual strangers, like me, with their technological woes. You’re chivalrous. So. Yes. You could.”

He took two steps towards me, and I stopped myself from backing up. I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes.

“Callie, did you even consider that it’s you I want to go on this date with? And not because I want to do this homework assignment. I’d already half-decided to ask you out. The homework is just a convenient excuse to pluck up the courage to actually ask you.”

“Oh.”

“So. Will you?”

“Uh, sure.” I paused, realizing more quickly this time how my answer wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Yes, I mean.”

“Good.” Alex grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait. Now?”

“Do you have something else you need to do? We can plan something, if you’d prefer. But we’re both here, now.”

On the one hand, going out with a virtual stranger was a bit risky. But on the other, he was pretty cute with his ruffled hair and hopeful expression. And I could also use him as my homework; be spontaneous. And if we went now, I wouldn’t be able to talk myself out of it or make excuses not to go later.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”