Winter's Spell, page 20
“Oh,” said Tessa, clearly at a loss for words. “I just thought…” Her voice trailed off and Roxy felt stupid and awkward.
“I’ll see you at the theater!” Roxy tried to keep her voice upbeat as she let herself out of the apartment. She was halfway home before she realized they hadn’t even kissed. Then again, maybe Tessa had finally realized that they weren’t really suited to one another if Roxy couldn’t enjoy the very play that she was putting on?
Not that Roxy had ever really had a chance with Tessa. Who had she been fooling? Only herself, apparently. As the biting winter wind blew through her, all she could think was that she deserved to be alone and cold on a gusty night.
Chapter Eighteen—Tessa
The next morning, Tessa woke up feeling groggy and tired. She had already snoozed her alarm twice, and she knew she should get up, but something was off.
At all once, she remembered. The nice dinner with Roxy, deciding to watch the play, Roxy’s dozing off and then leaving so suddenly they didn’t even say a proper good-bye.
Her heart squeezed uncomfortably and tears came to her eyes. She’d cried herself to sleep the night before, too, and her eyes felt raw and sandy.
Why oh why had she insisted on watching that stupid recording? Why hadn’t she simply read some short parts of the play to Roxy? Or just talked to her about the play? Anything to avoid having Roxy actually fall asleep during the recording. Her face burned with the memory. She hardly knew who she was more annoyed with: Roxy, for falling asleep, or herself, for putting them into this situation.
The Winter’s Tale was not an easy play, nor was it one of Shakespeare’s more well-known and well-loved plays. That was precisely why she’d chosen it—she’d wanted a challenge. It wasn’t called a “problem play” for nothing, and there was a reason why there weren’t any popular film adaptations of it. It was a weird play.
But that was also why she loved it. She absolutely adored the passion of the first half, and the tender love and redemption of the second half. She could have simply told Roxy about that—what she loved about the play and left it at that. But no, she had to try to force the issue.
At the same time as her heart hurt for what she’d done, another part of her was also wounded. Could she really fall in love, and more to the point, stay in love with someone who didn’t share her passion for Shakespeare? Who didn’t read or watch the plays she was passionate about? Couldn’t Roxy have made a better effort, for crying out loud!? She knew how important the play was to her. A petulant, whiny voice inside Tessa’s head kept asking her, why couldn’t she have done it for me?
Tessa groaned out loud and rubbed her face with her hands, pushing away the tears, before blowing her nose loudly. In the quiet of the apartment, she felt pathetic and disheartened.
A glance at the clock confirmed that she had to get out of bed and shower or she’d be late for yet another irritating meeting with Barb, and she couldn’t risk that. She dragged herself to the shower and let the hot water sluice over her, trying to clear her head. Afterward, she made a cup of strong coffee in the pour over coffee maker. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was hungry. She’d been so preoccupied in her thoughts, she’d started pulling on her boots and coat without even having breakfast. She still had time for that.
Tessa made herself some eggs over easy and toast, grateful for a hot meal to start the day. As she sat and ate, the simple ritual of breakfast revived her, and her thoughts turned toward her grimoire. She’d put it away in advance of Roxy’s visit, and now she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she’d never have the chance to tell Roxy she was a hedge witch since it seemed like it might all come to nothing.
She paged through the grimoire until she landed on a page in Freya’s handwriting, “Incantations and Salves for Clarity and Concentration.” Perfect. The incantation was simple, more of a mantra or chant than a spell, and the salves were likewise uncomplicated—which made sense, given that if you needed clarity and concentration, you probably didn’t have the patience to do much. Lavender, spearmint, and rosemary were all easy enough to source from the kitchen cabinets and her own stores. The recipe suggested making an aromatic steam bath for the face to breathe in, or to make a simple tea. At this point, Tessa didn’t have time for facial steaming, but she packed the herbs into her favorite thermos for looseleaf tea and decided to make a kind of chai for herself. A little bit of steamed milk, black tea, some cinnamon and cardamom, plus the herbs, and she was ready to go.
Already the small rituals of her hedgecraft were beginning to kick in, and Tessa was pleasantly surprised to feel a stirring within her of magic, a kind of golden warmth in her chest that was radiating outward to her hands and face. She felt calmer now, less stressed.
Tessa still didn’t know what to do about Roxy, but one thing she knew for certain: while her feelings might have been hurt, she wasn’t ready to give up on them.
With that thought, and the strength of the magic within her, she strode toward the theater, hardly noticing the cold winter drizzle settling on her hair and face.
* * *
Tessa was hardly in her office five minutes when the door flung open violently.
It was Mo, looking and sounding as though she’d run all the way there. Her hair was a windblown mess, with strands pointing in all directions.
Before Tessa could say or do anything, Mo flung herself at Tessa’s feet.
“Please accept my sincerest apologies!” Her arms wrapped themselves awkwardly around Tessa’s legs.
“Hey, Mo, it’s okay. Really. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. We can work it out with Lisa or assign you to a different job—” Tessa tried to extricate her legs from Mo’s grasp to no avail.
“No,” moaned Mo. “It’s not Lisa. The Lisa is fine. It is Roxy. I apologize for Roxy!” Her voice was strained, almost as though she were in pain.
Tessa could feel her face grow hot. Did Roxy send Mo to apologize for her? The thought rankled. “Did Roxy send you?”
Mo interrupted again. “No, she does not know I am here. Please to not think badly of her. She is so sad. She told me about yesterday and I yelled at her and told her she was not right to sleep through the Shakespeare. He is the greatest living man, after all.”
“Mo, actually, Shakespeare is not alive—”
“He died. Oh my goodness. How awful,” said Mo. She had finally stopped hugging Tessa’s legs and was, instead, sitting back on her knees, hands cupping her face, an expression of horror that would have been comical if it weren’t for the fact that she seemed genuinely sad.
“He died a long time ago,” said Tessa. “He is one of our greatest poets, it’s true, but he lived and died a long time ago, and he had a very fulfilling and successful life, as far as we know.”
Mo looked relieved. “Oh. Yes. Good.” After a moment, though, her expression of worry returned. “But Roxy. And you. You have fought. And it is Roxy’s fault. She knows it. But she says she is not good enough for you, not smart enough. And maybe this is true?”
“No!” The word came out almost involuntarily. Was that what Roxy was telling Mo? That she wasn’t smart enough to be with Tessa? The thought made Tessa’s heart hurt. “No, that’s not true. Mo, there are lots of ways of being smart.”
“But Lisa says that appreciating Shakespeare is a sign of being more evolved.”
Tessa sighed. That did sound like something Lisa would say.
“Look, Mo, Lisa isn’t always right. Don’t tell her I said that, of course, but there are lots of ways of being smart. And the whole point of my project is to make everyone learn to appreciate Shakespeare’s plays.”
“Not everyone appreciates his plays?” Mo sounded incredulous, and Tessa wondered what kind of a rock Mo had been living under for the majority of her life.
“Surprising, I know,” said Tessa dryly. “Anyway, it’s not really your business to get involved in what’s happening between Roxy and me.”
Mo shook her head violently. “No, you see, it is. I am pledged—” Mo paused, as if thinking better of what she had been going to say. “I promised Roxy that if she helped me, I would help her. In any way I can.”
“Help her with what?”
Before Mo could answer, the door to the office swung open yet again, nearly as violently, and in strode Lisa.
“There you are,” she said. She gave Mo a trademark Lisa glare. “You’re late. You were supposed to be in my dressing room ten minutes ago.”
Mo gave Tessa one last pleading glance before getting up. “I am sorry, Ms. Lisa. I was just talking to Ms. Tessa on a matter of grave urgency.” To Tessa she said, “Please, talk to her yourself. Give her another chance.”
Lisa’s expression turned quizzical, and an eyebrow lifted in such a way that made Tessa feel she was reading her mind.
Eventually, the two of them left together, and Tessa had the office to herself. She locked the door and flung herself into her chair again, hoping to have some peace and quiet before her meeting with Barb. The theater owner had finally gotten in touch with her and they were going to have a conference call to hash out some of the rules and regulations that Barb claimed to be “standard” at the theater, but which to most of them sounded absurd. While Tessa hated the idea of being in that small room with the troll of a woman, she was glad they were going to have this conversation and get some answers.
* * *
The conversation had gone well, to Tessa’s relief. She’d managed to negotiate quite a few perks for herself and the rest of the cast and crew, much to Barb’s evident dismay. Tessa couldn’t help smirking a few times when the theater owner sided with Tessa. He’d apparently had no idea that Barb had such a long list of Byzantine rules.
Unfortunately, Tessa was sure that now she was definitely on Barb’s blacklist, and the dark look she’d given Tessa as she left the theater office didn’t bode well.
Tessa distracted herself from Barb, and the drama with Roxy and Mo, by plunging into her work at the theater. She didn’t have time to dwell on the dark aura coming off Barb, or the weird interaction with Mo that morning, or even her disappointing experience with Roxy the night before as there was so much to do with the show. They had decided to cut back some of the longer speeches to cut down on the total run time, so new scripts needed to be printed and distributed. They had local actors joining them that day for the smaller roles and they all had to be fitted for costumes. Then there were the meetings with Joy about the budget and the grant, Chayo about the colors of stains for the banquet table, as well as the costumer, props mistress, and set designers.
Rehearsals would go into the evening that day to accommodate local actors’ schedules, but at the dinner break, Tessa had a chance to check her phone.
Her heart sped up when she saw that Roxy had texted. She could hardly breathe as she clicked to read the message, all her mixed emotions filling her up again from that morning.
I’m sorry about last night. I promised not to ghost you again, so here I am texting you. If you’re not interested in dating any more, I completely understand, but I’m still interested.
Tessa swallowed hard, and she could feel tears rising up again. She couldn’t imagine not being with Roxy, or at least giving it a shot, Shakespeare be damned. She typed back to Roxy:
Of course I’m still interested! I was disappointed last night, but I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance to show you why I love the play so much. I really want to give “us” a shot.
Tessa’s hand trembled as she pressed “send.” Roxy’s message had been from several hours earlier, so there wasn’t necessarily any reason to believe there would be an immediate response, and yet, she waited, phone in hand, her whole body as though on pause.
A moment later, the phone screen flashed with a message notice. Roxy!
Great!!! I’m scheduled to come to work in the woodshop tomorrow and work with Chayo. See you tomorrow?
They texted a bit more to set a time when they could chat the next day, and Tessa’s heart fluttered in anticipation. She had to find a way to show Roxy what was so special about the play. In a way, her whole project and her whole love life depended on it.
Chapter Nineteen—Roxy
Roxy felt both anticipation and trepidation as she entered the theater that Friday, pulling the door closed behind her and Mo. The weather had warmed up significantly, and the sun was out for the first time in days. A part of Roxy wanted nothing more than to go for a hike and stretch her legs, but the rest of her needed to figure out what was going on with her and Tessa.
Somehow, things felt different with her—and it wasn’t only because Tessa was so clearly, obviously into her, no matter what sabotaging thoughts she had occasionally on her own worthiness. It felt like there was so much more on the line this time. Roxy’s vow to herself to stop playing around and get serious, Mo’s magical promise to help her find true love, and Tessa’s own confession to her about her feelings made it all more serious, but maybe in a good way. Roxy knew, deep in her heart, she had to give them a shot—even if it meant learning to like Shakespeare.
As they hung up their coats and hats on the hooks by the door, Roxy reminded herself that plenty of couples disagreed on things and still found a way to be together. She remembered how anti-magic Elizabeth had been when she and Hazel first met her. Elizabeth had been loudly and proudly anti-magic, a non-believer, and yet, eventually, she came around. Even if she wasn’t a huge fan of Halloween, she and Hazel had made it work. You made things work when it came to true love.
Roxy and Mo walked down the winding hallway backstage. It was now filling up with all sorts of paraphernalia for the show, and they often had to walk around boxes and carts set up along the hallway for lack of space. At the woodshop door, Roxy paused and put her arm on Mo’s.
“Now, remember,” she said. “Don’t talk about me and Tessa to anyone. Not to Tessa. Not to Lisa. Nobody, okay? We have to figure out things for ourselves.” She tried to be as gentle but insistent as possible. She’d blown up at Mo the day before once Mo confessed to her meddling. Mo had cried, Roxy had felt horrible, and they’d made up soon after, both of them in tears.
Mo nodded. “Yes, of course, Roxy. Anything for you.” They hugged, and Roxy felt reassured. Mo’s intentions were pure, but honestly, she was making a mess of things just as much as Roxy—and Roxy really didn’t need any help on that front.
They parted ways and Roxy was glad to enter the now-familiar, calming space of the woodshop. Chayo was already there, waiting for Roxy with stains and brushes, as well as a coffee for herself and a hot chocolate for Roxy.
“Thanks, man,” said Roxy, sipping the sweet, soothing concoction from a local coffee shop.
“Anytime,” said Chayo. “It’s expensed of course.”
“Awesome.”
“We’re gonna have to stain the table out on the stage today. I’ve got tarps set up for it. It’s just too big to do in here. Rehearsals were moved to the lobby and greenroom, but we really have to do as much as we can today so they don’t have to keep doing that.”
Roxy nodded. “Can’t wait to start.” She started picking up the brushes and cans of stain.
“Hold on,” said Chayo.
Roxy paused and put everything back on the table. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to say that, you know, I really want Tessa to be happy.”
“Oh yeah, me too. Is she okay with how the banquet table came out?” Roxy wasn’t sure what Chayo was getting at, but she had an inkling.
Chayo smiled. “I mean, romantically. I know she’s into you. And I’m pretty sure you’re into her. And I don’t want to interfere. But as her best friend, I’m looking out for her.”
“Oh yeah,” said Roxy. Her heartbeat sped up. She didn’t know how to handle this situation. She’d never had someone talk to her like this about someone she was dating. Maybe because most of the time she never got far enough into a relationship to meet friends and family.
“Look, don’t freak out, okay. Tessa talks to me sometimes, and this—you and her—means a lot to her.”
“Sure, of course,” said Roxy. She cleared her throat. “It means a lot to me too. But—”
“But what?”
Roxy felt her throat go dry and she sipped more hot chocolate. She felt hot under the collar and wished she could peel off another layer. Chayo’s serious expression was giving her the sweats.
“It’s just…I’m not sure I’m into Shakespeare like she is. I don’t know if she told you but…I kind of fell asleep while we were watching a version of The Winter’s Tale, and I feel terrible that I did that but…honestly, it was so boring. What does that say about me?” The words came out in a rush, but afterward, Roxy felt better for saying them. She’d articulated her greatest fear to Tessa’s best pal. Now it was all out in the open.
“Oh my God. Did she try to show you that Kenneth Branagh version?” Chayo was grinning.
“Yes. And I just couldn’t get into it. I really tried—”
Chayo started laughing. Roxy didn’t get it. What was funny about that? Hadn’t Chayo just said she was looking out for Tessa? Making sure she wasn’t making a mistake?
“Girl, even I can’t watch that version without falling asleep,” said Chayo finally.
“What?”
“Dude, that version would put anyone to sleep except a hardcore Bard fan like Tessa.”
Roxy felt relief wash through her. She even felt emboldened to make a joke. “I think you mean ‘Bardcore.’”
Chayo started laughing even harder. “So. True!”
Roxy chuckled. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you talked to me about this. I was really hating myself for falling asleep when it’s like Tessa’s all-time favorite. I was really trying!”
