Page 10 of Becoming Effrijim
“How do you know?” Her voice rose as she spoke. “I haven’t told you what he’s doing!”
“OK, you tell me what he’s doing,” I said, wanting to point out that she’d called a psychic hotline and was surprised when I acted like I had psychic powers.
Spoiler: I don’t.
“Well,” she said in the same hushed tone, “it’s not just one thing that’s suspicious. But he does hide his phone whenever I’m around.”
“Cheating,” I said, peering around the cubicle wall when one of my coworkers emerged from the entrance with a bag of take-out noms. I sniffed the air a few times. Pad Thai! I loved pad Thai! I eyed Ramon, the coworker, and wondered if he was susceptible to puppy dog eyes. Immediately, my form changed to that of a stunningly handsome Newfoundland dog. One with lots of fur, and big, heart-tugging eyes. I fluttered my eyelashes at Ramon, deciding that this definitely was the right choice of forms. I could just feel how emotive my face was. “He’s definitely cheating on you.”
“And then there’s all the overtime he says he’s putting in just so we can take a trip to Disney World before the kids go back to school.”
“Cheating,” I repeated, leaning out a bit farther until Ramon sent a wary glance my way as he peeled back the lid on the container. I sucked up a bit of drool that started the minute the full blast wave of pad Thai scent hit my highly effective nose.
“And he keeps mentioning Marjory, his new supervisor, and how clever she is, and how she takes care of herself even though she has three kids and a full-time job, and that I’ve let myself go. He told me I’m a slob, and that I need to pull my crap together, and that I should be more like Marjory. I have two toddlers under four, and go to school at night, and work from home whenever I can get the kids into a day care program. I don’t have time to have massages and personal trainers and chef-made meals like Marjory!”
“Cheating, cheating, cheating,” I said, adding out of the side of my mouth to Ramon, “Heya! Where’d you get that? It smells delicious. Does it have any onions or garlic? Dogs can’t have those, you know. It messes with them. But that doesn’t smell like there’s anything bad in it.”
Ramon pulled the pad Thai up tight to himself, just like he was protecting it from a ravaging herd of Newfies. I experimented by curling up one black flew at him. The lip curl was incredibly responsive. Newfies rocked!
“Do you really think so?” My attention was yanked back to the caller by the misery evident in her voice. “Is that what your ... er ... spirit guide or whatever tells you?”
“Yup. And Giza—my spirit guide—also says you can do way better than the deadbeat who doesn’t appreciate the fact that you run your home, gave him two fabulous kiddos, and still hold down a job. I’m not gonna say to kick your hub to the curb, because only you can make that decision, but, girl, the spirits all agree that you need to get yourself into some counseling so that you can realize you are a queen, and deserve to be treated like one.”
“Oh, I ... oh.” She sounded flustered, but pleased. “They really said that? I’m a queen? Do you mean in a past life?”
“Sure,” I said, willing to go with the flow if it got her the help she needed. “Hey, Giza just came through with a couple of phone numbers of people who can help you. The first is a woman’s shelter, and the second is a group for women in dicey relationships. Giza says they’ll get you onto the path you’re supposed to be on, and into the headspace you want. You got a pen?”
I read the phone numbers off the couple of cards I kept hidden under the monitor stand—Sam didn’t like us diverting paying customers to services he didn’t profit from—and by the time she thanked me for my psychic insights, she sounded happier, chattering about how she always knew she had some role of importance in the past. I felt a momentary twang at that lie, but put my faith in the resources I’d provided.
“They’ll do a lot more for her than we can,” I told Ramon, who had turned away from me to eat. I slid off my chair and wandered over to him, sniffing deeply. “So! Did you say where you got that from? Is it chicken pad Thai? That’s my most favorite food ev—”
I stopped, feeling a bit woozy for a few seconds.
“I am not sharing with a demon,” Ramon said, his brows pulled together as he clutched his pad Thai closer. “You can get your own if you want—”
Just as I was shaking my head, hoping the wooziness cleared, everything went swirly for a few seconds; then I found myself standing on a hideous carpet, in a small hotel room, facing a woman with curly hair who was bent out of a window coughing like she was a six-pack-a-day smoker.
I sat down to consider this new situation, not best pleased. Obviously, the woman was a Guardian, and she’d summoned me. I was about to tell her that I didn’t have time to conduct the heinous acts she no doubt wanted, because Sally might need my help at any time, but then the Guardian turned around to face me.
Her eyes were hazel, the same as Camio’s.
Mind you, the startled expression was all hers, and after she introduced herself—her name was Aisling—she went on and on about how she’d called me there to help her with some project.
I got over the eerie familiarity of her eyes, and decided that the sooner I did whatever it was she wanted, the sooner I’d be available to Sally.
In hindsight, I might have been a bit snarky with her, but by the time we were doing pre-bed walkies, I felt like I had her number.
She was clueless, naive, had no idea what a Guardian was, not to mention didn’t know the first thing about demons to the point where I was just about to tell her that I was too busy to help her. However, an hour later (after I partook of a little privacy behind a large azalea bush in the Tuileries), Aisling went into full grumpy mode, and I decided this had to end.
“Tell me you didn’t poop behind the flowers,” Aisling grumbled as she ducked to avoid an orange tree’s outstretched branches and struggling around various small shrubs before stumbling to a stop behind the azalea. She waved a handful of grocery store bags in one hand. “You did! Dammit, Jim, I’m a Guardian, not an acrobat! I get that you can’t use a toilet like a normal demon, but can you at least do that where it’s easy for me to clean up and I don’t get scratched to pieces?”
I paused in midstep, glancing back at her. An echo of a memory lurked at the edge of my mind, a little zing of pain making me wonder.
Just who was this unlearned Guardian? Why did she seem familiar? Was this a sign?
Did I have to poop again?
“Do you know Sally?” I squinted at her, unsure of whether I was facing what I could only think of as a sign from Cam.
