10-FEB-2002 18:18: A Deal is Struck
Excerpts: A Witch's Book of Dreams ~ Karri Allrich
Gallagher was napping in the chaise lounge next to the fireplace when Tess urgently tugged at his sleeve. "Wake-up!" she pleaded.
He shot forward in his seat. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "What is it?" He reached out for his glasses on the end table and placed them on the bridge of his nose. "Madame, you're pale as a ghost!" He struggled from the chair feet and grasped at her arm. "What's wrong?"
"Something's happening, Gallagher."
"Are you alright, madame?"
"Something's happening," she repeated as she sank slowly onto the lounger.
"Look!" she shouted, and she pointed to a spot on the wall of Apartment 311A of the Cloud Cuckoo Land Motel.
Gallagher snapped his head in the direction Tess had pointed, and sure enough, there was a small orb of golden light radiating outwards that hadn't been there before.
"What is it?"
Tess was doubled in two on the lounger. "It's happiness," she groaned. "It's My Happiness."
Confusion appeared on Gallagher's face. He shifted his gaze back and forth between the glowing spot on the wall and Tess' stricken form on the lounger. "Shouldn't that be a good thing?" he asked at last.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Tess dropped the book she'd been holding, lurched to her feet, and stumbled toward the bathroom.
"Madame!" Gallagher shouted after her, "Should I? Do you need? Do you... Do you want me to come in there with you?"
Tess reappeared in the door frame and leaned weakly against the jamb. "It's okay. I'm done. Water, maybe? Could you get me some water?"
Gallagher dashed to the kitchen as Tess limped across the floor to retrieve her book and take a seat once more upon the lounger.
"Here you go, madame. Not, not too much now," he chastised as she greedily drained the glass.
"Ahhhhh, I was thirsty. Thank-you."
Gallagher sat down on the opposite lounger to face Tess. "My goodness! What happened, madame? You frightened me! Are you all right?"
Tess nodded. "I am. I will be. I was reading my book, this book," she said as she thrust it toward him. "Read it. Read that page. Right there!" she demanded as she jabbed at the book with one finger.
Gallagher took the book in his hands, adjusted his glasses, and read:
TURQUOISE: THE AESTHETIC BLUE-GREEN STONE OF
THE SOUTHWEST THAT INDIGENOUS PEOPLE REVERED.
TURQUOISE IS ASSOCIATED WITH THE THROAT CHAKRA
AND ENHANCES ONE'S ABILITY TO USE CREATIVITY
EXPRESSIVELY, TO VOICE ONE'S TRUTH AND SPIRIT.
TURQUOISE IS CONNECTED TO SPIRIT AND SPIRITUAL STRENGTH.
He set the book down in his lap. "Yes, but what does it all mean, madame?"
"Someone's helping me, Gallagher. I know it! I can feel it! I'm getting better," Tess blurted in rapid succession. "And now that something is happening, parts of it are happening very quickly. I can feel that little spot on the wall right here inside me," she said as she put a hand protectively on her belly.
"What made me go looking through all my old papers to find that poem about THE TURQUOISE CRONE, Gallagher? And that book -- that one right there! How did I end up with it in my hands? How did I know to go to the library and take it out? I haven't been to the library in months, yet suddenly, I find myself having to go there and I pluck a book off the shelf just because it looks semi-interesting and then, it turns out that it's got such a big piece of the answer in it."
"What answer?!" Gallagher leaned forward and took one of Tess' hands in his. "I'm worried about you, madame. Please tell me what's wrong. Are you depressed?"
"No," Tess said with a shake of her head. "I'm not. I'm not depressed. That's not it. I'm dispirited. That's exactly what I am."
"Madame," Gallagher said in a somber tone, "Should I be the least bit concerned you might be suicidal?"
"Oh no," Tess protested. "Of course I'm not. Not at all. Why, you'd have to put a gun to my head to get me to kill myself! Ha! Gun to my head. Get it, Gallagher?"
He sighed deeply. "I got it madame, it's just not really all that funny. He tugged at her hand. "What should I do? I don't know what to do to help you. I'm sure that keeping your apartment tidy and bringing you meals is helpful in its own way, but obviously you need more help than that. I think you should see someone," he declared.
Tess pulled her hand from his. "I did see someone," she said. "And she's a very nice lady and she was helpful in her own way but it's $140 for an hour, which isn't even really an hour -- it's more like 50 minutes, but she'd let me stretch it out most times into 57. And Gallagher, I just can't justify spending that kind of money. That's almost a whole week's worth of groceries."
"Maybe if you talked to her she could adjust the rate, some therapists do that," he offered helpfully.
Tess bit her lip. "I don't want to do that. I don't like doing that," she said. "And besides, I don't think I need to. I'm pretty good at helping myself. I knew to come here and make this place, for example. And obviously I have some people in high places helping me out. And look how much progress I've made just in talking to you!"
She fell silent.
"That's it, Gallagher!"
"That must be why you're here! god must've sent you to me. I didn't choose you. You just fell straight into my head -- bunny slippers and all. And ever since you got here I hardly shut up. I like talking to you, Gallagher. You're easy to talk to. You can be my therapist, okay?"
Gallagher stiffened and put his hands to his chest. "Me?" A low chuckle rolled out of him. "Madame, I've been trained as a butler, not a psychologist!"
"Yeah, well . . . so what? My mother was the best kitchen-table psychologist who ever lived and she never went to psychology school. What's more, I'll bet she's helping me. I'll bet she's here, right now! Not only that," she added, "but that's what I'm going to be just as soon as I get myself out of this mess."
"What? A dead mother?"
"Ha! No," she said. "I'm going to be a psychologist. And I've already completed my first two assignments and I even got a good grade! So you see, there's nothing to worry about. We'll be perfectly fine."
"I don't know about this, madame. It just seems to me that you should be talking to someone a little more skilled than I."
"More skilled! More skilled?" Tess' mouth dropped open. "What are you talking about? god picked you herself! What could be more skilled than that? Besides, I don't want to talk to anyone else -- I talk good to you. In fact," she said with a haughty toss of her head, "I've decided that I refuse to talk to anyone else, except you."
"Madame, please . . ."
"I'm holding my breath until you say yes!" Tess took in a breath big enough to swell her cheeks.
"This is ridiculous!" Gallagher retorted.
"I can't hearrrrrrrrr you," Tess said as she put fingers in both her ears.
"Madame!" Gallagher leapt to his feet and began pacing around the room with an agitated set to his face. He stopped behind the opposite lounger and leaned forward to place both hands across its back. "Fine!" he snarled. "I'll do it, but you can't smoke in here anymore!"
Tess' fingers dropped out of her ears. "What?!" she demanded sharply. "That's blackmail! That's bribery!"
"It's only illegal to bribe an official," Gallagher returned smugly. "And you're not an official. Also, if I may be so bold, if you'd wear something other than pajamas it might improve your mood and disposition."
Tess gasped and climbed up on her lounger so she could stand taller than Gallagher. "I am NOT changing my pajamas just to please you! These are my mother's pajamas! She left them to me! And I'm a pajamorist anyway," she sputtered.
Gallagher threw his hands up in the air. "What in god's name is a pajamorist?!"
"It's a person who loves many pajamas," she sneered. "So there."
"If you're going to be childish about this, I'm not doing it."
"I'm not being childish, I'm having a hissy." Tess crossed her arms defensively over her chest and stamped one foot. "There's a difference."
"Fine. Whatever. I knew this wouldn't work." Gallagher made ready to leave the room.
"Wait!"
Tess clambered off the lounger to follow him. "Don't go," she pleaded. "I'm down to the bone here. We'll make a deal. I won't smoke during the sessions and I'll keep my cigarettes in another room the rest of the time so I don't smoke as much.
Also, I'll lift the toilet seat after I use it so you don't have to, and . . . I'll get rid of that stupid fuzzy peach cover! I don't like it anyway. But I'm NOT giving up my pajamas," she warned. "Besides, it's not like I'd ever ask you to give up your bunny slippers."
Gallagher paused for consideration. "Fair enough then."
"Really?" A smile lit up Tess' face. "You'll be my therapist?"
"It would seem you'll have it no other way."
"Cool! When should we start? What should we talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"Hmmm." A shadow passed across Tess' face. "I don't know either, but somewhere in there . . . we'll have to talk about the war."
"Fine," Gallagher replied. "We'll start tonight. After dinner."
"Okay," she agreed. "That works for me. And Gallagher?"
"Yes, madame?"
"Do you think you could maybe wear a jacket with some patches on the elbows? And smoke a pipe? It would be," Tess shrugged her shoulders up and down, "You know... Therapist-like."
"Madame!" Gallagher growled.
"Okay, okay! Geez, you don't have to be so testy about it! Tonight. I'll see you then."
