Robert

I push the cart to my old pickup truck and place my bags in the flatbed. After shoving the cart into an empty parking spot, I get in my truck. It coughs a bit before starting up. Thrusting it into reverse, I drift back and hear a car horn. I peer at the rear-view mirror and see a car maneuvering around mines and break immediately upon seeing the deserted cart.

As I peel out of the parking spot, I laugh to myself, as I see the person get out of his car to remove the cart. Driving by the grocery store entrance, I think about the cashier and the coupon. I was glad the supervisor came to fix that because I needed all the savings, I can get. Between my medical bills, old car and home repairs, and what little retirement I got from the outside world, money was tight.

Driving down Main Street, I catch a glimpse of the coastline. There was still a couple of hours left of sunlight. Maybe if I put the groceries away quickly I can grab a beer and sit out on my back porch. Having a nice quiet evening with the sounds of the waves and a cold beer in hand is happiness for me. It would be grand to have all of Spellbound Cove to myself.

Squealing to a halt in front of my home, I open the door without turning the knob before grabbing the bags of groceries. Magellan trots out his large coonhound ears flopping and he pants in greeting; as I scurry past him, I give a short hello. I place the last item in a cupboard and grab a beer from the fridge. The can didn’t get as cold as I would have liked, but it’ll do.

I push through the back screen door, holding it for Magellan and walk out the back gate. Making my way through the brush, I find the Adirondack chair I placed there years ago and sit in my favorite spot. Magellan plops his lanky self down next to me. A clear view of the beach lies before me and I can smell the sea breeze. Seagulls glide, weaving back-and-forth overhead, and I take a swig of my beer. The sun inches down behind the massive rock formations, obscuring my view of the beach. Scratching Magellan’s ears, I lean back, content.

Just as my old, achy bones settle into the Adirondack, a rumination comes, as it usually does. At first, it’s gentle, like mice clambering in an attic. Then the deliberate padding approach of a predator in search at sunset.

I close my eyes to the thoughts, only it amplifies the feelings. I think about earlier in the week; it started with reading bleak news at the library. Later, Suzi asked about Magellan. Does she care about him, or did she ask because she was concerned that I didn’t know how to take care of him? Maybe she thinks she knows best because she’s the expert on animals? My fist tighten around the beer can.

Then it was the car that almost ran over me. The new guy, what’s his name? Sebastian, he didn’t wait for me to cross the street, cutting me right off. Then had the nerve to say sorry. Did he even mean it? People say sorry as a knee-jerk reaction because what else is there to say? And today, the cashier didn’t want to accept my coupon. How would she like it if I told her she couldn’t use her coupon, knowing that every savings counted? She doesn’t look like she has any medical issues. Magic doesn’t take care of your arthritis; it doesn’t take care of your heart arrhythmia; it only opens doors or helps you write down notes. It’s useless for medical needs!

Magellan whines, he knows when I go down that rabbit hole of anger, I say, “Sorry, Mags. You know how people are, they don’t know how to act. They think they own everything and that they can do whatever they want. There are rules in the world, even with magic.”

Magellan gets up and places his large head on my lap, his eyes staring at me. I pat his head and the anger subsides. Drinking my beer, I let the sea breeze cloak me, I let the sea gulls lull me, and I let Magellan’s weight of his head anchor me. For a while that sustains me. Then Jessenia’s face appears.

Her face floats there, then the rest of her reveals itself. She is wearing her favorite purple blouse with dark denim. She wasn’t much into dresses and makeup, and she knew she didn’t need it. One of the things I loved most about her. Jessenia had confidence, and she accepted me. She seemed to understand me.

My eyes glisten and Magellan lifts his head and gives a low moan.

“I know you miss her too,” I say.

I empty the can and rise to get another. To drown out these thoughts, it was going to take a few more cans. In the kitchen, I grab a couple more, as the door closes, I notice the love note from her. She had such great penmanship. I could never write as well as she does, and writing was the only way people could communicate in Spellbound Cove.

The note was the last thing she wrote, and it was after a fight we had about my temper. It wasn’t much of a love note, but a reminder:

Don’t forget to live a life full of joy and happiness. You

don’t need me or Magellan or anybody else to give you that.

Love, Jessenia

A week after she had placed the note there, she was rushed to the hospital. I found her lying on the floor of the living room, a water pitcher next to her, water pooling beneath it. Magellan was baying loudly for my attention. Following the ambulance to the hospital was the longest ride I’ve ever taken, even though it was barely ten minutes.

An aneurysm is what the doctors had said. Jessenia died moments after I was told; they barely finished the last sentence before they were called in. Maybe if they hadn’t wasted time telling me what had happened to her, she might still be alive. They would have had the extra few seconds to resuscitate her. Maybe they shouldn’t have assumed that Jessenia was in the right hands of the nurses, that she was stable enough for them to slip out and talk to me.

I make my way back to the chair. My body feels heavier as I sit. Magellan takes his place next to me. I crack open another can and take a long swig, the mildly cold malt going down easy. The sky is awash in pinks, oranges, and deep blues. I smile and recall Jessenia dancing during our daily sunset ritual to what she called Nature’s Song. She believed that there was music everywhere in nature, one just had to be still to listen.

Tears stream down my ruddy cheeks. I close my eyes to clear my sight and as I slowly open them, it seems as though I can see her dancing. The tears shimmer causing a shifting, undulating shadow in front of me. I sit there squinting, enjoying the idea that it is Jessenia dancing to Nature’s Song.