Intersections Read online

  I’m right here. The first set of letters that I transcribed spelled out.

  I laughed.

  “Where?” I asked.

  In this room, the letters spelled.

  “But I can’t see you?”

  It’s the best part of the trick! You brought us a fantastic act, the letters spelled.

  * * *

  Yes, he was somehow inside the board or the spirit world or something. He wasn’t dead, was he? I didn’t know. I still don’t know.

  For a couple of months, it was kind of fun. I became the solo face of the act. I was the one who talked and performed and wore the fancy clothes. I was the one collecting the tips and banking the paychecks. Our mentalism act went through the roof. After all, how could I ever be wrong with Danny going into people’s pockets and purses, seeing their dreams, running out to their cars, actually reading me word for word what is on the driver’s license instead of me listening for the codes and clues. As for that mysterious touching trick where I touch someone without touching them? He was more than perfect for that trick.

  I was so magical I was being booked beyond Toronto. Clients wanted me to fly all over Canada and the States with my magic Ouija board so that I could read their minds and amuse them and maybe they’d also get a chance to speak to one of their dead relatives.

  And it was cool, like I said, for a couple of months...

  Until Danny was bored of being inside of the board.

  I miss you. I want to see you.

  “You see me every day,” I told him.

  It’s not the same, not at all, Danny wrote. Sometimes, I just want to be real again.

  “How can I get you out?” I asked him.

  I don’t know.

  “How did you get in there?” I asked.

  I don’t know.

  * * *

  Of course he knew how he got in there. He just wasn’t going to tell me. A magician never reveals his tricks.

  * * *

  And so, I had to return to Hermana. And Natasha.

  * * *

  Now that the sun is up, it’s a bazillion degrees in here. The men are up. Sweating and grunting as they shift around in their seats, trying to get comfortable playing video games on their phones.

  * * *

  It doesn’t matter that the sun is up. The things are still here. I can still feel them pressing against me, anxious to get at the board.

  * * *

  I did try to get him out before this trip, of course. I did lots of things to figure out where he was and how to get him out. I pored through ancient spell books, googled modern Ouija board advice, and all the stuff in between.

  One time, at his place, of course, I wouldn’t dare do it in my room, I drew a chalk circle on the floor. He had a painted pentagram under the rug, but I drew a chalk circle kind of over it. I figured my energy and my chalk might be important to make this work.

  I brought the Ouija board into the circle. I had a candle, goblet, incense, a chalice, an athame, salt, herbs...all the things I needed for a spell. I lit the candle. Said the words on the paper. I stood up, moving my arms into the formations dictated by the spell.

  The candle flickered. The room grew dark though it was daylight since I was too afraid to cast a spell by myself in the night. Shadows danced along the walls. The air was hot and cold, hot and cold. Goosebumps ran up my arms, up my back. My hair stood on end as I recited more words. The air was electric with my words, with my energy, with energy from somewhere else. The candle flame shot high and then folded into itself. There was a whistling noise and the room grew darker still.

  The whistling, like the sound of a boiling kettle, grew louder. It was difficult to determine where the sound was coming from. I looked around the room. The sound was in the room but it wasn’t clear where it was originating.

  Something pushed me.

  “Danny!” I said but I wasn’t so sure it was Danny. He had a softer touch. Would he ever actually push me?

  I said the words again, louder. I slid the athame along my arm. Bright red drops of blood welled up and then dripped down. I held the chalice to catch some of the blood.

  I lit some charcoal and put more incense on top of it. A special blend from various herbs that I had found in a spell book burned, perfuming the room with pungent smoke.

  I mixed the blood in with some water. I dipped my fingers into it and drew the required symbols on the Ouija board. The planchette shuddered and shook. It slid back and forth, as if trying to erase the symbols.

  The candle tipped over and as I reached for my bowl of sand to put out the flame, a wind came through from somewhere. The wind blew the flame over to one of the circus posters. I ran over, throwing the blood water on the flames lapping at the paper. I managed to put it out. Another small cluster of flames burst up over by one of the puppets.

  “No, not Mr. Peepers!” I cried out loud, grabbing my bottled water from my knapsack and pouring it over Mr. Peepers. As the fire sputtered out, I was amazed at my hitherto unknown affection for Mr. Peepers. Before I could analyze it, another spark took hold, this time on the Ouija board itself. I watched it. Was the board supposed to catch on fire? Was this part of the ritual? Should I just burn the board and Danny would return? Or what would happen if the board burned and Danny was trapped wherever he was, forever?

  I stomped on the board to kill the fire.

  * * *

  Goddammit.

  The sun is so hot as it beams into this bus or rather, traveling sewage pit. The smell from the washroom is getting worse as it grows hotter in here. Several people have already called out for air-conditioning but apparently it’s broken. That news was greeted with some pretty loud moans and groans. Meanwhile, the Ouija board is heating up rapidly. The person in the seat in front of me keeps shifting around and poking his seat. I wonder if he’s actually getting burned. There are actually waves of heat wafting from the board through its wrappers. I look at the men on either side of me but they are glued to their games, the forehead sweat from the guy on my right drips on to his hand. Another smell fills the air. Like burning rubber. My seatmates are oblivious to the smells and the heat and the fact there’s a Ouija board between them that is growing hotter by the minute.

  * * *

  Yeah, the bus broke down. So now, I’m stuck by the side of the road with all the other bus people. I guess we’re now Side-of-the-Road-People. I’m trying to keep my vintage Judy Garland look intact but I’m sweating to death and so damn thirsty I’m freaking out. I already drank all the water in my water bottle, my extra-large coffee from the last rest stop, and a juice box that someone gave me. There’s no shade for miles. We’re all trying to squeeze into the shadow of the bus.

  * * *

  The second bus broke down because one of those big long trucks side-swiped into us. We were on one of those mountains in Massachusetts and the bus rolled a couple of times. I still can’t believe that some of us survived. I barely had a scratch on me. I walked away from the crash and took a ride from an ambulance to the closest bus station. Right across from the hospital. The things from the bus took the ride in the ambulance as well.

  Yes, I was supposed to stay and get checked out and talk to cops, blahblahblah.

  Hell, no!

  The next bus to Boston was ready to pull out of the station when I bought my ticket. I still had my Ouija board and knapsack although nothing much else. I slept the whole way to Boston.

  * * *

  I made it to Hermana. I didn’t even stop anywhere to grab a coffee. I went right over to the place where I’d attended the séance.

  Meredith opened the door. A small smile crept across her lips. She nodded her head.

  “Good afternoon,” Meredith greeted me. I was certainly a sight. Trapped in bus trauma hell for days in the sweltering heat was like a tattoo on my face with the New England humidity making it nearly impossible to keep my make-up in place no matter how much powder I used.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. “May I come in?