Chapter 3: Trade Off

It was not quite noon when Alfie pulled into the winding driveway of Clarette Porcher’s impressive house in his rundown blue pickup. The people in her neighborhood always stared when he rolled up, as was their right, but he had come to be oblivious to it at this point. Sure, the first few times caused him to feel some annoyance, after all, Benton was a small town and sights of the rich and poor were closely blended together. His rusty Ford wasn’t the biggest eyesore to come across, and he resented the judgement reserved for it in their gazes.

He sat still for a moment in his seat, the engine off and the windows down. The cloying breeze of Benton was appreciated in such heat, as he could already feel a damp layer of sweat collecting over his brow and on the back of his neck. He stared through the windshield up to the posh house that he had been making more frequent visits to lately. A friendship born of necessity had loosely formed between him and the widow Porcher, back before she had become a widow. She had sought him out of her own volition, a shock for him, but not as shocking as his own compliance. He had a consistency to be selfish, and would have kindly told her to fuck-off for her need of his privilege, yet he had ended up hearing her out. It was probably pity, and he never realized he was the kind of man to be swayed by such a plight.

Taking the keys out from the ignition, an act he didn’t have to do, he withdrew from the vehicle and made for the porch. As he stood waiting at the door for her to answer, his eyes darted down to the street, expecting to be caught there as if he was in the middle of a crime. Something about these visits always felt seedy, worse than a housewife’s affair with her gardener. Alfie didn’t want to appear helpful, but he especially didn’t want to be discovered for his misuse of his privilege. His mind was put to ease however, with it only being just some passing dog walkers, and a Mass Cable Company van.

His eyes were brought back to the house as a silhouette passed by the front window to open the door. Clarette stood on the other side with a well-managed smile for him, a lie she didn’t need to bother with. He had been eager with curiosity to see her face of tragedy, and it was a little more scrubbed than he had expected. All the times he had seen her at Billy’s bedside when he had been alive, Alfie had witnessed the foundations of her strong resolve waning, but the train wreck he had anticipated now wasn’t there.

“Hi Alfie,” she greeted the same as always. A little stilted, but friendly.

“You’re looking well,” he said, in place of saying ‘you don’t look like complete shit‘. Though she may not have been dressed to impress in a dowdy plaid button-up and cotton pants, he could see the improvement on her clean hair and face. While he had never thought of Clarette as anything other than plain with her thin lips and mousy hair, it didn’t mean he never had a consideration for her. It was just once or twice, and only for the shortest matter of seconds when he was alone. It was just something bound to happen every now and again. “I’m not late, am I?”

“No, I was just cleaning up in the kitchen. Come in.” She waved her hand forward, stepping aside to allow him through the door. “Jo left a little while ago, so no worries about any awkward run-ins.”

He nodded, processing hearing ‘Jo’ and not quite liking the masculine moniker given to the known female, even if her quick to anger personality was rather aggressive for her sex. That was how Alfie remembered her of course. In his mind Jolene Brock was the same from twelve years ago, the sweetheart of his would-be affections. Sharp and abrupt, she had seen straight through him though. The Sokolsky privilege of resurgence made him a tad too comfortable with death and tragedy, and no doubt her mother had warned her away from him and his family long before she was in his sights.

“I asked Simon to find her in town,” he added, kicking off his grubby sneakers before following Clarette into her kitchen. The size of the place always stunned him. Billy Porcher was a sonofabitch that Alfie could have hated and envied for having such a picture perfect lifestyle he earned out of honesty, but there wasn’t much point, him being stiff in the ground now. Still, the house smelled of wealth (potpourri probably); and he was green all the same.

“That was good. She always got along well with Simon,” Clare spoke up as she started to tidy up the counter.

“Everyone does,” he said dryly.

“So,” she started, taking a seat across from him on one of the tall stools while he remained standing. There was a look in her eyes that corresponded with the little lift of her mouth, and Alfie didn’t like it. “Did you send Simon to keep her from returning early, or just to keep an eye on her for your own reasons?”

“What reasons could I have?” ‘And don’t bring up the obvious‘.

“Well, you spent a good deal of time lusting after her from afar, and not just in school, because you finished three years ahead of us. I remember you used to go out of your way to run into her in town.”

“She moved away twelve years ago, what’s your point?” Alfie said tersely, his gaze fixing on her with annoyance.

Clarette squirmed in her spot, and blushed decently for her mistake. “I was just meaning, that it’s normal to be curious.”

Sure, he was curious, about as much as a man with a splinter in his thumb was curious about the state of his infected digit. “Clarette, you invited me here to help you, and this was the only free time I had, so can we just drop the mistakes of the past, please? I’m not really in a reminiscing mood.”

“Right, sorry,” She said, bowing her head a little in disappointment. “It’s just, I feel strange getting straight to the point. I don’t want you to think I’m using you.”

“I don’t think that,” said Alfie, and Clarette smiled with relief. “I can see that you’re desperate, there’s no other reason you would have come to me, but I don’t think you’re a master manipulator. I could have retracted my offer to help anytime, if I wanted to.”

“But you don’t want to?” She quickly cut in with a small sputter of urgency.

“No. I wouldn’t deliberately waste your time, or mine, though I will admit your situation does present a chance for me to try my hand at teaching.”

He hadn’t instructed anyone on how to do something since he was a child, and that was to his sister, Theresa. She had performed a perfect backflip off of their back porch, only to miss the sofa cushions he had carefully spread out below for her landing. Their mother had rushed outside to the crying, and had quickly scooped up Theresa, like a football, to take to the ER. Their father had arrived at the hospital shortly after, and Alfie remembered sitting between his parents while Theresa had her arm X-rayed. She had ended up in a cast from a broken wrist, and consequently had earned him a lecture and punishment. In defense of his eight year-old self, Theresa had asked to be taught.

“I might be slow to learn,” said Clarette, bringing his attention back to her again. “I’m only a secondary resurgent.”

“That’s fine, so long as you don’t try anything without me there to help you.” He scratched at his light beard, wearing a thoughtful expression as he thought about a foreseeable problem. “Now that Jolene is staying with you, how does this work?”

“Er—I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose I could go to your house.”

He pressed his back against the granite counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shaking his head. “I work late nights, and I live in too public of a place. Unless you plan on sneaking out at odd hours, which I doubt you could, we’ll have to come up with something else.”

“I know you could come here, but I would have to tell Jolene why. I don’t think she’ll like it,” she said sheepishly.

“She wouldn’t want me here,” he scoffed.

“It’s not that. I mean, you probably wouldn’t be her first choice for a visitor, but there’s the matter of my being a resurgent. I haven’t told her, or anyone for that matter. You’re the only one who knows Alfie, I came to you because I was scared.”

He saw the truth of the fear in her eyes, a look he had worn at a time when he was young and stupid.

“You’re afraid your friends will treat you differently, and that someone like me could only understand,” he said. She began to sputter to defend herself, but he approached her where she sat, and laid his hands on her knobby shoulders to stop her quaking. “It’s alright. Sokolskys know where they stand with the other privileged in this town, and probably anywhere else for that matter. My family, we aren’t as responsible as we should be—as resurgents go—and for your sake I’ll try to work on that.”

She nodded with a shaky breath, and he took her shrugging shoulders as a hint to step away. “But how should I tell Jo and Maeve?”

“If you think me being there will help to take some of the pressure off of you, then I can do that,” said Alfie, with some reluctance. Jolene’s harshness he could handle, but he didn’t know what to make of the bigger one. He was unaware of her privilege, but recalled she used to wrestle in school, and therefore would likely throw him out the door or window like an angry troll. Hopefully Clarette would defend him, as he was beginning to lend her his trust. “Be prepared for the worst sort of reaction. Resurgency isn’t a desirable privilege, and its reputation is a grim one.”

“But they’re my friends.”

‘What does that mean?‘ “You’d be surprised to see how quickly that can change.”

He took a perverse pleasure in seeing her crestfallen look. It was the putrid emotions he felt and fed off of, being of a strong family line of primary resurgents. Misery and misfortune was commonplace, and he enjoyed watching it unfold. Unfortunately he had no great urge to see her weep today, not wanting a mess on his hands maybe, and he sought to distract her from the momentary concern of her friends.

“What’s this?” he indicated to the square boxed package discarded on her counter. The very mention of the item seemed to cause her embarrassment.

“It’s a sympathy gift, uh, a Ba Gua mirror.”

“I had no idea you were so Feng Shui,” he said, picking up box before she could get to it. “Who gave it to you?”

“Mrs. Brock,” she said, fidgeting in her seat as she watched him.

A passing thought came to him that perhaps the object concealed a hex, but he quickly banished the idea. The gift, after all, was intended for Clarette, not him. “Is it alright if I take it out of the box?”

“Go ahead.”

He broke the seal of tape and carefully overturned the box in his grasp until the frame of the mirror began to slide forth. Alfie had never held a Ba Gua mirror up close before, only knowing what he had seen from his sister’s books. The octagon frame of Clarette’s mirror was lined with bold streaks of red and green, and dappled with gaudy gold trim along the borders. The entire frame was the size of a dinner plate, while the mirror in the center was no larger than an apple. Its reflective surface was too small to reveal his entire face back at him, save for his blue eyes. Of course, the purpose of a Ba Gua mirror was not for vanity’s sake, but rather to repel negative energy.

“Are you going to hang it up?” He asked as he considered the object in his hands.

Clarette made an expression of distaste, which she tried to cover poorly with a smile. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Just so you know, they must be hung with good intent,” he said while returning the mirror back inside of the box. “And you have to watch the placement of the Trigram symbols. I don’t remember the correct way, but you should find that out first.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” she said, a hint of teasing in her tone.

“I read things,” he commented dismissively. However, he was not so quick to dismiss the mirror, rather he felt a strange attachment to it. “I’m wondering, would you be interested in trading for it?”

“You want the mirror?” Clarette asked incredulously.

“I do,” he admitted, feeling crazy and a little bit out of sorts. “I would understand if you said no. It probably holds some sentimental value to you, but I would be willing to part with one of my family’s books.”

“A book on resurgence?” She asked excitedly.

“It’s nothing special, but yes. I think it would be a good read for you as we get started, and I don’t have any use for it anymore. All it does is take up space and collect dust, you’ll do more with it than I can.”

“You’re sure you won’t get into any trouble if you give it to me?”

No more trouble than he normally found himself in, but he didn’t let on about that to her. “No, so long as you keep it to yourself, and don’t attempt any of the spells on your own.”

“Oh I promise,” she said immediately. “And I’ll keep it hidden. Jolene and Maeve won’t know about it.”

If she was already starting in with secrets, he wondered how long it would be before she lost the trust of her friends. His influence was definitely to blame, but he didn’t feel guilty about the negative impact. With all the wariness surrounding resurgents, it made it easier to weed through the people in your life, and learn who was worth keeping in it. Those who were quick to doubt you weren’t necessary to keep around, or so Alfie had found.

“Alright then, next time I come by I’ll have it with me,” he said. “Or would you rather I have Simon drop it off?”

“No, I can wait. But we never got finished deciding which day works best for you to come over.”

“Sundays will work, if that’s alright with you?”

It was mid-week, and he could see the smidgen of dismay on her face for being made to wait. “Alright, Sunday I guess. Did you want to come over for lunch?”

“Actually I’ll stay for dinner. My days might be wrapped up in other things, but I’m set for evenings.”

“I’ll invite Maeve over too, get the bad news over with.” She sounded less than thrilled about it, and Alfie had no comforting words to give her.

“I should get going. I’ll be needed back soon, and we can’t do anything else today anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Clarette, standing up with a stiff and cracking stretch. “Jolene will probably be home soon too. No need to give her more reason to be my watchful protector.”

While that may have annoyed Clarette, Alfie thought it was humorous. There was a funny little image in his head of Jolene guarding Clarette from him, with a white horse and in armor shouting at him. It was a strange day to be sure.

He tucked the mirror under his arm and started for the door. Now that a plan had been decided, he was a little more at ease with the idea of being a guest in her house, though he didn’t know what to make of the dinner invite. He supposed he’d bring a bottle of wine. Alcohol was always a good ice breaker.

“Thank you again, Alfie, for coming to see me today,” she said as she went to open the door for him. “And for the muffins. I didn’t get to have any, but Maeve definitely enjoyed them.”

Accompanied with that was a genuine smile, and he understood how important her friends were to her. Alfie decided then that he would take measures to ensure she wouldn’t lose them. Good magic came from positive emotion, and her friends seemed to be the one strong influence in her life.

“They were homemade, so she won’t be able to find any more around here.”

“That’ll disappoint her. Of course, you could always offer up baking lessons?”

He gave a sarcastic laugh going out the door, “Sorry, my policy is one student at a time.”

“Then I’ll do my best.”

He said goodbye, and she waved politely from the porch before disappearing back inside of her home. The place was lonesome, but not nearly as much as it had been when Billy had laid inside, dying. Jolene’s stay had brought a new spirit to the house, even if it was not visible through the unkempt yard and gutters, and he had a suspicion that more change was yet to come.

As he started up his truck again he thought of the girl from school, and wondered what became of her life. Sending Simon into town was cowardly on his part, but he wasn’t fond of the past distracting him from the present. He would likely make the same choice again, given the chance.

With his life so intertwined with Clarette’s right now, he would come to meet Jolene again eventually, he just didn’t want it to be today. While he no longer felt the foolish feelings of a boy for her, he was certain she still felt the same for him; a strong dislike that stemmed from common word on his family. Or maybe he wasn’t giving her enough credit. Whatever the case may be, he let the thoughts dwindle as he started out for home.