Page 8 of Ward
I’m going to get so much hell for this.
Four
Yvette
I have Ditra on speaker as I get ready for tonight.My first date with Ward. The new moon tonight is my reminder of new beginnings and taking chances. Not only as I get ready for this night and whatever it may bring, but also as Ditra and I remember Papa Donovan together.
He was a gifted songwriter, with a widespread insatiable fanbase, and we reminisce about some of his old songs and shows. It’s amazing to look back at it all—the man had a hell of a career.
I’m starting on my eyeliner, which takes the longest, when Ditra’s voice turns somber. “Yv, we’re going to spread his ashes in the ocean in Florida. Did you know his first song he wrote when he was fourteen was about a sunrise over the beach?”
“Yeah. I remember him telling me,sunrays on salted waves are a kind of magic. He’d like that.”
“I think so too. Also, I memorialized all of his online profiles. You should see the fan tributes.”
“I have.” I smile. “They’re so moving.”
“You should come,” Ditra tells me.
“To Florida?” A knock at the door announces Ward’s arrival. “He’s here.”
“Oh! Are you ready?”
“Not quite…” I take a step back from the vanity mirror at my half-done makeup—eyeliner only on one eye. He’s a bit early. I have no choice but to just answer like this and make him wait.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ditra says, full of confidence. “You’re gorgeous always. Go!”
“Bye, Sweets.”
“Have fun.”
I hang up with Ditra, feeling such a mix of nostalgia, despondence, and nervous excitement.
I answer the front door with my hand cupped over my non-made-up eye.
Ward looks so handsome it should be illegal. His arm tattoos I never get to see under his uniform are on full display in his short-sleeved button-down. That beguiling smirk on his face makes me weak in the knees. He’s holding a potted succulent, a crassula moonglow, which he hands over to me and I take it with my free hand. “I love it, thank you!”
“Your eye okay?” he asks, concerned.
“Oh, yes.” I lower my other hand so he can see. “I’m just not quite ready. Come in.” I hold the door open wider and he steps inside. “Feel free to look around or just sit or, whatever! I won’t be long!” I scurry back down the hallway.
“Hey, no rush. They don’t take reservations anyhow. We’re on our own schedule.”
“Okay great!” I shout from my bedroom. There is one empty spot on my windowsill for the moonglow, perfect size, and I set it down. It’s so little and charming! The succulent looks happy there, home. At my vanity mirror, I can still see it in the reflection behind me.
I can hear Ward poking around my house, touching things. Who knows what treasures he is going to find. His heavy footsteps are never going to sneak up on anyone, that’s for sure. The old wood floorboards of this house don’t help with the sound, which is why I have rugs all over the place. Plus I just love rugs.
“You have an altar?” he calls out. “Hold up. Is this an actual wand, like a magic wand?”
I stifle a laugh. “Are you snooping?”
“Absolutely.” He pauses, probably riffling through more of my space. Normally I might feel tense about that, but I’m notsure why, I don’t mind him looking. “You don’t fly on this broom, do you?”
“Actually, I clean the house with it!” Of negative energies as well as the dirt, but I don’t tell him that part.
“What’s this…sage? Tarot cards…” he mumbles. “Never heard of that game. What’s this big-ass knife for? Looks like a crescent moon? Jesus.”
“That’s going to require a longer conversation to explain!” I holler.
