I enrolled in the Department of Psychology at the University of New Orleans. But due to my parents’ constant complaints that I at any cost, should remain near our witch, I was transferred to the Department of Language and Literature a year later. Nobody had consulted me on this, of course. When I, in a fit of rage, burst into my father’s downtown office to express my thoughts on this matter, he, flashing a self-satisfied smile, handed me car keys. My car keys! A latest model, brand-new black Chevrolet Camaro. A gift from the Order as a token of appreciation for my “sacrifice”. I, like anyone else in my shoes, took the keys and instantly became the most ardent fan of literature. It wasn’t difficult, I had always enjoyed reading.
I remember how proudly Grandpa looked at me when I first pulled up at his house in the new luxurious car, to give Eric and this little devil a ride to the university.
My friend whistled, only managing one simple yet succinct remark.
“Well, well, well!”
Grandpa chuckled and turned to Eric.
“Good work is always appreciated, isn’t it, Jack?” he said, more with his eyes, and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Eric pursed his lips and scanned the interior as he settled into the passenger seat.
And then she came out of the house… She was wearing a short cherry red dress with straps and a plunging neckline that complemented her chest perfectly.The black high-heeled shoes made her already slender legs look even more beautiful.
Her long dark hair framed her pale face in soft waves, sharply outlining her cheekbones. Fire blazed in her blue eyes. She looked reproachfully first at me, then at her traitorous brother, who was trying hard to ignore her presence. She frowned and strode past us with an air of superior indifference.
“Need a lift?” I asked, making a titanic effort to make the question sound as polite and casual as possible.
“No, thanks. I’m riding with Claire,” Sabrina replied coldly and headed towards her friend’s old, wheezing Ford parked nearby. Eric chuckled strangely and stared out the window, as if not noticing that I was deeply hurt by such disrespect towards my new, freshly off the assembly line ‘girlfriend’.
And now a few words about Claire…
Claire – the most primitive creature that ever existed on planet Earth. At least, I haven’t met any else like her. Quite simple intellectually and unremarkable physically. She speaks first and thinks later, if she thinks at all… However, this doesn’t prevent her from being an amusing and cheerful person. It’s strange that she should have befriended someone as snobbish and arrogant as our witchy
“princess”…
Sabrina got into Claire’s car and they drove off, but not before Claire had blown her horn excitedly to say she found my new ride extremely cool. We drove to the university in silence; the mood had been expertly spoiled by a certain someone we all knew.
So, let’s sum it all up. At the age of twenty-four, I live in a quirky greenhouse house, own a splendid car, and a slightly crazy but brave cat… The cat! I nearly forgot to mention that I am an official and proud owner of a cat named Gigantor, whom I had found and rescued from a sewer on Toulouse Street. He had been rather bad and almost ready to depart this world, but still managed to pull through.
His eyes are like spinning saucers and his color a strange brownish-black; he is unapologetically obese for his breed, and has a disturbing habit of eating toothpaste.
The first time I had caught him in the act I got so scared and I rushed him to the nearest vet clinic. It’s not every day that you see your cat drop dead on the floor, literally foaming at the mouth. I was ready to swear on the Bible that my cat was
having an epileptic seizure until I smelled the sharp scent of mint. Every month now, consistently, I find a partially bitten, sometimes heavily chewed, tube of toothpaste. And Gigantor writhes in “terrifying agony of paste-plexis seizures.”
Having observed him for many years, I can confidently say that he gets a certain thrill from it. Occasionally, he has bouts of inexplicable heroism, and secretly watching how passionately and courageously my cat attacks the sprinklers installed in the greenhouse, I can assert with all responsibility that in his past life, Gigantor was none other than a brave and valiant warrior fiercely attacking a mortal enemy…
So, that’s how we live, me and my apathetic, toothpaste-eating cat warrior, alone in a greenhouse, surrounded by bushes. What else? Oh yes, the number of piercings in my ears has reached three. I got new tattoos. Also in stock: a best friend who’s a drunkard, his sister who’s a witch, but showing no hint of any gift whatsoever, an ancient Order, and…
The door to the lecture hall creaked softly and pulled me out of my self-analysis that would have made both Schopenhauer and Nietzsche feel jealous and lacking.
I raised my head, trying to make out the person who had so boldly interrupted my philosophical reflections. It was she, and she was late. Naturally. Lately, that’s all she’s been doing, being late. My curiosity satisfied, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.
“Sorry for being late,” Sabrina said in a quiet, low voice; it trembled, betraying a slight nervousness. “Well, well,” I thought, “someone is worried about missing out on learning” So, she does have a sense of duty after all, just probably buried so deep inside her that she herself doesn’t even know it exists.
“No worries, Miss Venters, please come in,” Mrs. Preston replied.
Satisfied again that nothing major was happening, I closed my eyes and tried to go back to my self-reflection mode when I felt a slight movement next to me.
“Hey, I’m actually sleeping here,” I grumbled.
“Oh, please, never mind me, as always” Sabrina replied.
I gave her a fleeting glance. Yes, beautiful as always. But something was amiss.
Where had all her animosity gone? Not even trying to kick me, as usual?
“I can’t believe my eyes. You actually sat down next to me. Is this a new form of self-flagellation?” I asked sarcastically.
Sabrina didn’t respond but kept staring at the lecturer, pretending I didn’t exist. I looked at her pale face. It seemed like she had shrunk even more, dark circles under her eyes, her hands slightly trembling. Something was up with Sabrina. The only question was how to get her to respond to this “What?”
“Sabrina,” I called quietly.
No reaction.
“Sabrina,” silence.
Oh, how annoying she can sometimes be – by simply ignoring me! Suppressing the burning desire to strangle her, I took her hand. It was cold and it was shaking.
Slowly, she turned to me.
“I thought you were sleeping,” she whispered coldly.
“It's hard to sleep when you're around, dear,” I purred in response. “But…What's wrong? You look troubled.”
“Nothing. Just tired. Lots of work, and then there's Eric…”
Sabrina frowned and freed her hand.
“I have no choice but to… Jack, please talk to him! Please! He’s wrecking the house! Maybe I’m exaggerating, but… Anyway… I can’t handle him alone,” she blurted out in one breath, biting her lip, staring at me expectantly for a reaction.
For a fraction of a second, it seemed to me that I saw a wild spark in her eyes.
She was indeed trembling slightly, sweat appearing on her forehead. Noticing me scrutinizing her, Sabrina casually ran her hand through her hair and glanced at Mrs.
Preston. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t about Eric going wild.
“How are you feeling, Sabi?” I whispered.
“Probably caught a cold, the weather isn’t great, and I was out on the street all day yesterday,” she replied.
“Caught a cold?” I