Beautiful Curse

Chapter Six

The weekend ended way too quickly, and on Monday morning, everything went back to my new, horrible version of normal. By the time I showed up to the art room after my classes, I was in a foul mood.

Ms. Amboulia took one look at me and declared, "Chopping wood is just what you need."

She led me around the back of the shed to a pile of discarded lumber. "We need this chopped smaller for the wood kiln. Make the pieces about this big," she held up her hands in front of her torso, "but don't worry if you chop them smaller." The art teacher hesitated for a minute. "Can I trust you not to do harm to yourself with that ax?"

I looked up at her, startled. True, I'd been depressed lately, but I didn't think I'd been that low. "Of course! It's just been a really crappy day."

"Fine. Take your frustrations out on the wood, not yourself." Ms. Amboulia disappeared back into the shed, and I pulled out my iPod and set it on shuffle. With music filling my ears, I fell into an easy rhythm with the ax and was surprised when I ran out of pieces of wood to chop. The pile had seemed so massive to begin with, but now I was surrounded by small logs ready for burning in the kiln. I hadn't even noticed the work, not really.

I set the ax down and went inside, taking my ear buds out as I walked. Ms. Amboulia looked up in surprise as the door creaked, and I smiled.

"That's done. What else do you want me to do today?"

Ms. Amboulia looked at the clock and then looked back at me. "That's a lot for one day. Why don't you head home and take a nice bubble bath?"

I stared at her. Ms. Amboulia didn't seem like the bubble bath type. She chuckled.

"You were attacking that wood with a vengeance, girl. Soaking your muscles is just what the doctor ordered."

When I got home, I took her suggestion and filled the tub. After a moment's hesitation, I grabbed the jar of mint and lemon scented bath salts that Mom used to love. She had left them, but I still felt guilty using them. I dumped the salts into the water, inhaling deeply. The sharp scent brought tears to my eyes.

I used to sit on the edge of the tub in my bathrobe and paint my toenails while Mom soaked in the water. It had been one of our weekly rituals: spa time, Mom had called it. Some weeks, we would braid each other's hair, and other weeks we experimented with Mom's vast makeup collection. I never really cared much about the makeup, but Mom enjoyed it, and I liked spending time with her.

As I eased myself into the hot water, I felt a pang of loneliness. I missed Mom so much: maybe things wouldn't be so bad if she was here to talk to. But she's gone because of me. I lowered my head into the water and blew bubbles through my nose, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt I felt whenever I thought about her.

I stayed in the tub until my skin was wrinkled and the water was lukewarm, and I would have stayed longer if I hadn't started to shiver. When I was getting dressed, I checked the clock and felt a twinge of anger. It was almost eight, and there was still no sign of Dad.

The weekend had been perfect, but once Monday came around, I should have known better than to expect that things had changed for good. I checked the garage to be sure, but his car wasn't there. Resigned, I sighed.

"Come on, Rex. Duty calls." The dog panted up at me happily as I clipped on his leash and we headed out into the crisp, cool night.

I shivered, pulling my light fleece closer around me. Fall was certainly here; I'd be wearing boots and a winter coat soon. I hadn't really minded the walk to Mac's every night so far, but once I was faced with another harsh Ohio winter, the short walk would really become a chore. Maybe, I thought, Dad would stop going to the bar once the weather got cold.

When I reached Mac's, I was surprised to see Dad standing out front, waiting. There was another man with him, and at first I thought it was Joe. Then the man stepped out of the shadows, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

I'd never seen him before, but there was something about the stranger that frightened me. It was as if I was looking at a magic eight ball and had caught a glimpse of a future that I didn't like. I approached the men cautiously, and Dad beamed.

"There's my little girl, right on schedule!" He clapped his hand across the stranger's shoulders, pulling him forward.

"You're right, Peter, she's certainly lovely." The man stared at me hungrily, and I dropped my eyes. Rex growled beside me, but neither of the men seemed to notice.

"That's what I tried to tell you, before you gave me this shiner!" Dad laughed heartily, and suddenly I realized that this was the man who had been in a fight with Dad on Friday. That was only three days ago: why were they acting like best friends now? I eyed the stranger suspiciously, trying to keep my face turned away from his gaze.

"I once knew a strong woman named Psyche." He paused, studying me. "Your name means 'soul', did you know that girl?" The stranger spoke softly, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I glanced at him from under my bangs, but then I looked away fast. He was staring at me with an intense expression, and I took a step backward.

"This here's Mr. Merk, Psyche. Isn't he a hoot?" Dad chortled, and the man extended his hand to me.

"I'm pleased to meet someone as lovely as you, Psyche Jones."

I hesitated, but I didn't want to be rude. I shook his hand as fast as I could. His skin was cold and smooth, like stone. Rex growled again, and this time Dad noticed.

"Don't mind the dog, Hermes. He's all bark and no bite." Again he clapped Mr. Merk on the back.

"Indeed." The man looked down at the dog for a moment, and I felt Rex stiffen beside me. I glanced down, surprised. He seemed to be frozen in place. His eyes were still glistening, but every muscle and shaking jowl had stopped moving.

"Come on, Dad, let's go home." I put my hand on his arm, steering him away from the stranger at the bar. After a second, Rex trotted along behind me, and I decided that I must have been imagining things. He was fine.

"See you tomorrow, shall I, Peter?" Mr. Merk called after them.

"You can count on it!" Dad waved happily as I propelled him to the car.

Once the car doors were shut and we were out on the street, I asked, "Why are you and that man friends now?"

He laughed. "Nothing like a fight to bring men close together. I'm glad he was there to meet you: now he knows I wasn't lying when I told him how beautiful you are." He sighed, leaning his head against the glass. "You're the most beautiful girl, Psyche. I'm lucky to be your father."

I was sick of hearing him compliment me, but I didn't know what to say that would make him stop, and I drove in uneasy silence. When we got home, I checked all the doors twice and pulled down the living room blinds before I went to bed. Even though I knew the house was safe, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in some kind of danger.