Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch (4 page)

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Authors: Juliet C. Obodo

BOOK: Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch
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“
Memy! Wait!” He started to follow her. Memphis turned and quickly ran up the stairs to the exit.
“
Memy, I have your recommendation!”
“
Carve some time in your busy calendar to mail it to me.”
And with that, she escaped.
Chapter 4

 

The alarm continued to buzz and Memphis continued to ignore it. She was not going to the school today. She wouldn’t be able to see Jonathan and control the impulse to complete a flying roundhouse kick to his stubbled chin. And Troy—
ooh
, she would have loved to rip out his golden locks and then, of course, send them to charity. They would be locks of hate, instead of locks of love. She could argue that it was for a good cause; a chemo patient could use his strands for good rather than evil. She could have sworn he actually smirked at her before she ran out of the room.
She wished she would have stayed so she could have gotten answers to some of the questions that went round and round her mind last night. Like, how long had it been going on? Was Troy a rebound? Why didn’t he tell her that he was bi? And who gave better head? She probably already knew the answer to the last one. She never made Jonathan moan like that.
She lulled in bed for a few minutes before she had a thought: was Troy hotter than her? She jumped out of bed and looked in the mirror. She stood on her tippy toes to better examine her frame. She was in great shape—no love handles or hate rolls. Being an astronomer wasn’t an active job, but she lived in the city and, because of her current financial situation, walked everywhere. It was very European of her. At least, that’s what she told herself during rain, snow, and sleet. Even mail couriers had their trucks to take them up each block.
She moved closer to the mirror to examine her face. She had always hated her nose, but her dark skin was unmarked by the plague of post pubescent acne, and her long lashes gave her hazel eyes an exotic look. That was what everyone told her. She didn’t know if she got her eyes from her mother or her nose from her dad; she always wondered about that because she bore no resemblance to her foster parents and their ginger-haired offspring. She fashioned a fat braid out of her dark curls and headed to the kitchen.
Gemma had already left, and it looked as if she had a guest. Two cereal bowls stood in the sink as evidence.
“
Well, someone in this place has to get laid,” the bowls snapped at her.
The coffee that Gemma left for her relieved the sting a bit. She was such a great roommate—in fact, a great girl all around. Of course she would have guys lining up to sleep with her. Memphis plopped down on the couch with her coffee, milked and sugared into an unrecognizable beige mixture. Taking tiny sips, she rifled through her bag in search of her emergency pack of cigarettes.
There would be no cross country walking this morning. She had enough self-doubt to last her a lifetime. She didn’t need a bunch of grannies trampling it into her with their bright white New Balance running shoes. Instead of finding her cigarettes in her secret pocket, she found the hypnotherapist’s business card.
Damn it, Jill. She must have made the switch the other night at dinner. She grabbed her phone to call and yell at her, and then beg her to tell her where she put her cigarettes. Then she thought better of it. Jill would ask her what happened to Operation: Resuscitation of Lungs, which would then lead to a discussion about Operation: Walking in on Your Ex-Boyfriend Getting a Blowjob from a Dude. That was a discussion she wished to save for never.
Before she knew it, her fingers were dialing the number to the hypnotherapist’s Manhattan office. First her feet, and now her fingers were applying for independence from her. The receptionist answered on the third ring, right before Memphis decided to hang up. Lucky her.
They were usually booked and never had appointments available this late in the month, but luckily a patient just cancelled one for this afternoon. Her next availability wouldn’t be for another three weeks. Once again, lucky her; Memphis took the appointment for three o’clock that afternoon and went back to bed for more sleep. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

 

 

 

 

 

Memphis arrived at the Union Square station at a quarter to three. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep for so long, but the adrenaline rush of running away from Jonathan last night had worn off and left her limp and drowsy. She hadn’t even enough time to grab another cup of coffee before going to her appointment. She quickly walked over to 4
th
Avenue, signed in with the doorman, and took the stairs rather than the elevator. She absolutely hated arriving late, even if it was to a place she would rather not be.
There weren’t any other guests in the blue-themed waiting area. There also wasn’t anyone at the reception desk.
“
Hello,” she called out. She hoped that this wasn’t another one of Jill’s pranks. This would be way too cruel. You don’t make light of smoking—you just don’t. Before the fuse to her temper could light, a woman stepped out of her office. She was rather tall and thin—and, well, beautiful.
“
Hello there,” she responded. “Memphis, correct? Thank you for coming. I’m Dr. Thompson, but you can call me Susan.” She had a very thick accent; Memphis couldn’t place it. It might have been Middle Eastern. She seemed to float over to her and shook her hand. It was a two-handed shake, a sign of someone eager to please. Yay for that freshman psychology chapter on body language.
“
Yes, I am she.” Why am I speaking so formally? she thought. She suddenly felt nervous. The floating woman would be tapping into her subconscious. She barely tapped into her subconscious, and now this stranger would have a full access pass to Memphis-land. How could she make an exit without being rude, especially after the two-handed shake? Especially when Susan hadn’t let go of her hands and was guiding her into her office. Her brown eyes and cool hands had a calming effect. Memphis no longer felt the need to extract herself from the appointment, or her grip.
She took a seat on a gray tufted couch. The room resembled a regular therapist’s office, with plaques and doses of plaid and brown. She searched for a hanging watch, necklace, or some other hypnotic tool on the mahogany desk. She didn’t spot any will-bending devices, unless she counted the Blackberry, which studies have shown can take over a person’s life.
“
All right, Memphis, tell me why you’re here today.”
“
Well, I told your receptionist that I wanted to quit smoking.”
“
Oh, yes of course, but smoking is just a symptom of an underlying problem. Your teeth are quite white; unless you’ve had them bleached, you’re not a habitual smoker. Maybe you’ve recently picked it up again due to stress in the workplace or at home?”
“
Wow, yes. I recently had a bad breakup.”
“
With a coworker?”
“
Uh, yes. How did you know that?”
She just smiled and smoothly handed her a blindfold. “I’d like for you to put this on and lie down for me.”
Memphis complied, though she wanted to question how she knew the details of her love life. The sofa was wide enough for her to lie down with her hands to her sides without her left hand dangling to the floor. Her body was at an even level to ensure that she was comfortable and not out of balance.
“
Memphis, I would like for you to try to think back to your birth.”
“
My birth? I didn’t think anyone could actually remember that.” Who would want to remember being shot out of their mother’s nether region? Memphis didn’t know her mother, but she decided not to share that with Dr. Thompson.
“
Please, don’t speak. Just listen to my instructions and try to follow them. You do wish to stop smoking, and to rid yourself of the negative feelings from Jonathan.”
Did she mention Jonathan’s name? She couldn’t remember. She tried to listen to Susan’s voice, and she felt a hand on her forehead. Memphis had never been hypnotized before, but she did watch television and this wasn’t how the hypnotist-slash-detective did it. But she didn’t feel like leaving. She felt heavy—very heavy. Susan’s voice seemed to echo in the room.
“
Your mother was a good woman, but she was just very soft. She was the perfect vessel for your entry into this world. Your light shines bright; it is located directly in your center. It is the deep you that seeks to know and understand not only who you are, but why you are here. It is the whole of you as opposed to the sum of your parts. It is the gateway to all knowledge and to your power.”
“
Um, okay, this is getting strange.” Memphis sat up. “My mother has nothing to do with this. I thought this was just a hypnosis session—a quick fix to help me quit smoking—not some Freudian power session.”
“
Lie down,” she commanded.
Memphis fell back. She no longer had control over her body. She couldn’t sit back up; Susan was standing over her.
“
You will be going on a journey to your center, but you must first pass through ten doors. Ten levels, ten circles, ten rings; ten is the number of the universe. I want you to visualize yourself in the center of the rings. They are composed of fire, matter, earth, water; they represent the planets. They are your true family and they will lead you to the source of your power. My dear, you have forgotten your way. You have forgotten who you are.”
She poked Memphis in the center of her forehead. “But I shall help you remember. I will set it right.”
She kneeled down next to her. “Your energy has constructed a circle. In the middle is a vast expanse of black, empty space, and miles and miles of sheer darkness. But suddenly you see a source of light. This light is magnetic and you are drawn to it. Begin your journey toward the light. Feel its cool power. It is not the Sun; this light belongs to you. It is you.”
Memphis got up from the couch and began to walk toward the light. It was not warm or golden like the Sun. It was a light lavender color, almost white, and very cool. It pulled her forward; she felt the gentle vacuum. She looked around at her surroundings. She was no longer in the office; she was in some sort of tunnel, and pictures projected onto the walls. The moving images were scenes from her life. She wanted to stop to examine them. One was the time she met Jill, and there was one of the day she arrived at her foster home. There was even a scene of the first time her foster mother, Janet, hit her.
She looked away from the image of the little girl crying on the kitchen floor. She was no longer that little girl. She focused on the light. It had become brighter and she was finally upon it. It illuminated a doorway. She walked through and found herself standing on a rock surrounded by water. She didn’t see any way she could continue, unless she swam across. She looked down but was unable to gauge the water’s depth. Instead of panicking, a wave of calm went over her. She knew what to do. She dove into the water. She did not need to move her arms to swim. The currents overwhelmed her and they became one. She continued until she spotted another doorway. The water had parted and created an opening. She went through it.
She felt warmth on her face when she arrived on the other side. She realized that she was barefoot when she felt the grass between her toes. She looked up and saw that she was surrounded by columns that alternated between black and white. Some seemed to descend from the purple sky, and the others came up from the ground. They formed a path. She followed it while looking up at the sky. There were no clouds, no sun or moon, yet there was light. She suddenly felt like she was falling—she had not been paying attention and the path had ended. She had walked right off a cliff, but she was not afraid. She did not scream as she went through the portal. This was the way to her center—to her true self.
She landed softly on the floor of a marble room. It was cool and gray. There was an actual door instead of an opening. She walked over to it, only to find that there wasn’t a knob. It was engraved with an equal-armed cross. She touched the center of the cross and it became three-dimensional. She rotated it clockwise. The door opened and she passed through.
She was in what looked like a desert at night. She looked up; there wasn’t a moon, yet there was light like moonbeams. It illuminated a path and she followed it to a mass of rocks. She examined the massive pile that towered over her and saw engravings. She attempted to read them and determine where the next portal was. The symbols suddenly formed words that she could read and understand. “This is the Gate of the Moon. You have left the Gate of Man.”

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