It was yet another beautiful July afternoon for Ruth as she sat patiently at her favorite restaurant, one nestled right along the river. The aqua blue water gleaming in the summer sun hastened her thirst as she sipped away at her drink in hand. Glancing at the surroundings of her fellow diners colored in various shades of happiness, her thoughts could not help but dive into the depths of her soul on that afternoon, as the well of her life force had been tainted, poisoned if you will. Just as one may know not of the presence of arsenic from atop a well, nor too would anyone have been able to discern her troubles from the reassuring, persistent smile she flashed to the outside world in spite of it all.     

A young twenty-two year old Canadian woman was Ruth, both shy and friendly as well as smart, despite lacking an element of common sense that had inflicted great pain upon her. A minor qualm here and there over the preceding months had escalated into a heavy sadness for the young woman, and instead of facing the problem head on, she swept it aside to a place so many of us have swept problems of our own, underneath the rug.

     “You’re late,” Ruth exclaimed as her boyfriend Wayne took his seat in a disillusioned, disgruntled, and disgusted manner.

     “How about hello, you couldn’t spring me one of those?” he asks, clearly upset. “I need a drink or three, to say the least.”

“What happened?” asks Ruth.

“Ruth, you know how Mr. Clark and myself have occasionally butted heads? Well, one thing led to another, an argument ensued, and, I lost my job,” he replies.

“You got fired?” Ruth remarks in a shocked tone of voice, shaking her head as Wayne buries his head in shame, taking a deep sip of his complementary water. “I don’t know, why you always have to be right when it comes to your boss, what are we going to do now?” she declares.

“I’ll think of something, you know how I always am able to pick up the pieces and right the ship. I just need some time that’s all, but in the meantime, you can do your part and find a job,” replies Wayne in a demanding tone of voice.

“Wayne, I made it clear to you months ago, I’m working thirty hours a week at the clinic at my internship for credit. If may not pay, but it’s going to open so many doors for me. Maybe...” she responds, before trailing off.

“What?” Wayne replies.

“Maybe we should not have jumped in and moved in with each other,” Ruth remarks, the two continuing playing a game of argumenta and counterargument back and forth for the duration of the meal. Although the artillery fired back and forth may not have been up to par for a debate team, it was still heavy enough to inflict serious damage, with the casualty consisting of Ruth’s preparation for her school internship. Such battles were but fodder for yet another journal entry in the book of Ruth, with the most famous and important passage composed of the tense relationship between Wayne and herself, an ongoing struggle that always saw Ruth on the losing side.                     

The couple has been together for the better of three years, with the dominant Wayne maintaining an ironclad grip over his lover, controlling her with the manipulation of a sweet talking con artist. The arrows aligning his quiver consisting of a persistent pattern of physical, verbal, and emotionally abusive behavior towards Ruth, restricting her from spreading her wings and preventing her from living life to the fullest, as the form of government imposed in the apartment was nothing short of totalitarian rule. At this point in time her steely mind and golden spirit had been stained, tarnished and crushed into smithereens, as the soft heart of this good-natured girl is all that remains of her once pleasant and enjoyable existence.                Having lost yet another battle along the way of losing the inevitable war, Ruth sets off early one morning like a fisherman in search of a great catch, only the fish that she is hoping to land comes in the form of suitable summer employment. Eventually coming across a help wanted sign in the window of what appears on its face to resemble a credible establishment, Ruth opens the heavy glass door aligned with an array of bells, entering a quaint, small café bordering on chic, dubbed the Café Cauldron.

“How are you today?” a woman politely asks from behind a counter.

“Fine, thank you. My name is Ruth and I noticed your help wanted sign?” she responds.

     “Yes, come right in my dear, my name is Linda, and my lovely assistant here goes by Cheryl, we put our heads together and came up with the idea of this festive little partnership,” says the woman.

Examining the two of them, Ruth discerns that the women appear to be in their forties, each dressed in heavy dark clothing bordering on mysterious in appearance, each also emitting an unusual aroma of incense and powerful aura that takes the mysterious vibe to the next level.

     “Have you ever worked as a waitress before?” Linda asks.

     “When I was sixteen, I...excuse me?” Ruth asks as Linda and Cheryl begin engaging in soft conversation inaudible to the ears of the young job searcher.

“Um, I have a resume here if you would like to take a look at it?” Ruth inquires further.

     “No, no need to bother with that,” Linda says as she looks Ruth down from head to toe, as does Cheryl, as if they are conducting an examination. “You will do. When can you start, how about Saturday?” asks Cheryl.

     “Saturday would be great, you took the words right out of my mouth, thank you both very much, I look forward to working with the two of you!” declares Ruth, as she exits the café.

     “More than you could ever know, my dear,” utters Linda as Cheryl displays a huge smile, Linda’s muttering resembling a slight cackle...

     Over the ensuing weeks Linda and Cheryl take quite a shine to Ruth, who loves working as a waitress at the bustling little café, an establishment boasting that it brews Ontario’s most delectable coffee, each cup including a hint of magic. Bonding immediately with the women, it is no wonder she finds herself taking refuge and comfort in them, as she enjoys the calm hours spent outside of the wake of Wayne’s presence.

     It is as if the café has rekindled her spiritual fire within, allowing her brain to once again process the long lost emotions of happiness and self-esteem as Ruth also slowly begins sliding open the gateway to her soul, sharing with Linda and Cheryl many of Wayne’s lesser qualities, among them how he has sheltered her within the past year away from her family and friends. The cheerless boyfriend even managed to rid her of her cat, citing an allergy to cat dander to scapegoat the feline after being stricken with the flu one weekend in the heart of winter, an allegation Ruth knew lacked merit, yet all she could do was give in to his demands in order to avoid his wrath.

     Occasionally Ruth slips, confessing to the piercing scars adorned across her body and soul caused by the harsh words and physical actions of Wayne. Insisting, of course that he is not to blame, as she emphatically plays the defense mechanism playing card on the table, quick to point out his finer qualities: Wayne provides for her, he is in love with her and wishes to be with her, although Ruth is spinning quite a web as the meat and potatoes of these claims truthfully happen to reside in the past tense. No matter, as either way the assertions fall upon the deaf ears of her superiors.

Linda and Cheryl may be novices in the realm of business, having created their partnership and lighting the cauldron a mere month before, yet they were hardly born yesterday, understanding quite well what was going on behind the scenes of this young maiden, as they had seen it before with others. They were keen on the realization that despite her shiny, bubbly personality, dark secrets lay underneath the surface with this one, a truth they sensed long before the girl began opening up, and they are keenly aware that many more secrets remain concealed from view. Oh, how Linda and Cheryl knew about such things all too well...

It is funny how wisdom grows on us with age. One need not have obtained a wealth of collegiate degrees, or even have amassed a great deal of wealth for wisdom to develop, although the fruits derived from such will certainly help. No, as long as one opens their eyes, ears, mind and heart, over time wisdom will have a way of arriving, sometimes slowly, and sometimes in great bursts.

Needless to say, the ownership of the Cauldron failed drawing an interest in the conniving and dubious Wayne, who likewise exhibited a strange feeling about the owners and the café from his early visits inside of the coffee shop. Over time, Wayne begins resenting Ruth’s newfound friends at the café, growing weary and jealous of their influence on the girl and her time spent with them. While closing the shop one night, Linda and Cheryl overhear Wayne yelling at Ruth as the two leave for the evening, screaming at her over something they know to be meager and insufficient, the two women glaring at each other as Ruth bows down with her tail between her legs yet again.

Grateful towards her bosses the following evening after being allowed to leave an hour early to spend time with a friend for a birthday, a very close and dear friend of seven years that she has not seen in several months, at closing time an impatient Wayne enters the café, growing frustrated with what he believes to be his slow moving girlfriend.

“What is taking her so long?” Wayne declares to Cheryl.

“Ruth has left for the evening,” she replies.

“She went to that birthday party, didn’t she? She was forbidden to go, Lucy’s brother has been infatuated with Ruth for years!” cries Wayne.

“I suggest that you vacate at once, your presence is no longer welcome here,” Cheryl replies rather sternly.

“What ever happened to the customer always being right?” responds Wayne.

“You tend to be wrong more often than not,” exclaims Linda, confronting the man as he replies with a look of disbelief painted across his face.

“I have better things to do than argue with a couple of hags,” Wayne declares walking towards the door.

“Wayne, you have made known your feelings towards us, now it is my turn. Leave Ruth, or you will be sorry,” warns Linda.

Chuckling for a moment before clearing his throat, his tone of voice grows serious. “Why don’t you two stay out of my business, out of our business, and stick to worrying about your own business, before it goes out of business!” responds Wayne, looking about the café.

 Little does he know it, but horrible things are on the horizon for young Wayne, at least in his dreams that night. Falling asleep fighting his restless mind and angry emotions, a game of tug of war erupts between his thoughts of the café owners and those of Ruth spending the night at her friend Lucy’s. Bitter resentment of the two sparring sides converges as the journey through the night comes into focus, as a nightmare takes clear form.

“What, what is this?” he asks, grabbing the bars of a heavy black cage suspended in the air, a prisoner caged like a wild animal. Peering down at the floor, a line of thirteen candles is encircling him, the thick smell of burning wax heating the room and flooding his nostrils. From out of the distance two figures emerge, his adversarial acquaintances Linda and Cheryl, only now the two are floating in mid-air with a devilish glint in their eyes, beaming bright green in color, a stark contrast to the molten black robes the two have decorated themselves with.

“What is this? What are you two?” Wayne asks, the anger and animosity in his words replaced with a quivering fear.

“The two of us are practitioners of witchcraft,” declares Cheryl.

Noticing a pentagram chain dangling from her robe, Wayne responds. “I knew it, fantastic as it sounds, I knew that something was off with you two, and your coffeehouse. What are you Wiccans planning to do with me?”

“We are not Wiccans, Wicca is a lighthearted form of witchcraft, an appetizer of black magic, that worships the Earth. The two of us practice a significantly older, slightly darker, variety, a Pagan form of witchcraft more heavily steeped in the furthest reaches of the occult,” boasts Cheryl.

“Now, are you going to leave Ruth?” chimes in Linda.

“This is just a dream, this isn’t real. So no, get the hell out of my dream and my life, go back to where you came, to hell with you both, which is probably the same place,” Wayne cries out.

Holding hands, Cheryl and Linda close their eyes and begin delivering a chant, casting a spell upon the abusive malcontent: “Freyja, of the many names, join us. Freyja, of the golden tears, join us. Freyja, claimed by Thryn, join us. Freyja, driver of cats, join us. Freyja, who shares the slain with Odin, join us. Freyja, lender of falcons’ flight, join us. Freyja, mistress of nature, join us. Freyja, your servant Linda/Cheryl calls you! Come to me now!”

Shielding his eyes from the fiery glint surrounding him, the witches and most of all, the unknown, Wayne looks down at the floor as the candles begin to burn brighter and hotter, rising up and engulfing him as the witches look on with glee. Leaning towards him, Linda offers a final morsel of advice. “Heed this warning. If you so much as see Ruth again, let alone touch her, we will make certain that you be done away with.”

With that the intense nightmare subsides, giving way to the daybreak of morning. Shaken to say the least, as the many beads of sweat shimmer across his body, placing his hand over his still pounding heart, Wayne exhales deeply.

“It was a dream, that is all that it was. It was my imagination, things have been stressful as of late and she has pushed me to the edge. Merely my imagination, it was no sign or warning from them, but I was right. Those hags, they can’t get me in my sleep if they’re out of my life. Ruth is quitting today!” he declares aloud.

Much like Ruth would never admit how the bouquet of roses composing her life would more accurately resemble a bouquet of nails, Wayne would never admit the relentless pounding in his chest and burning sensation scattered about had such an effect on him. Nor would he admit the thoughts that raced through his mind, pertaining to whether Linda and Cheryl really were masters of witchcraft, capable of casting a deviant spell upon him. Had the whole thing been a dream, or did they somehow utilize some unknown power to visit him in his subconscious?                                  As more and more minutes begin ticking off the clock, Wayne’s feelings of fright soon depart, as his usual feelings of frustration come flooding back, soon turning to the familiar resentment towards Linda and Cheryl, leaving him determined to strike back...

That afternoon at the café, Linda and Cheryl are in a rather gleeful mood. “I happened to sleep quite well last night, how about yourself? Linda asks her partner.

“No cloud could dare compete with pillows in the name of softness, slept like a baby I did,” Cheryl responds with a smile.

The good feeling reaches a premature conclusion, as Ruth enters the café, tears streaming down her face, and covering up a badly bruised left arm and a right eye that is slightly discolored, and of the darkened variety.

“Ruth?” Linda begins, before being cut off.

“We were in an argument, and it turned into a fairly significant fight. I came home about an hour ago to change, and Wayne was hysterical, screaming at me about attending that birthday party, ordering me to quit my job here, and cursing the two of you. I told him that I had it, that it was over and I was leaving him, and he...that bastard beat me. I can’t hide this. It’s over though, done, finite, game over. We’re through, I can assure you,” Ruth announces.

“If you would like to take the day off, it would not be a problem whatsoever, dear,” offers Cheryl.

“No, I enjoy the Café Cauldron, you two have become like family to me, I am comfortable here, this is where I am completely at peace,” declares Ruth, flashing her million dollar smile knowing that her spirit will now be able to soar once more in the aftermath of her totalitarian lifestyle.

“Everything will be just fine from now on, just fine, you have taken care of yourself and you need not worry any longer. You have done the right thing, and we are both very proud of you,” Linda offers with a hug.

Three days pass before Ruth enters the café doors clutching a note left behind from Wayne.

“I had been planning on moving out of the apartment, but I have not seen Wayne since the fight. The damnedest thing occurred, he apparently left behind a letter that he wrote, stating that he will leave me alone from this point on. The choice of words and language used, it really does not sound like Wayne at all. This whole thing is extremely confusing and mystifying,” declares Ruth.

“That is an excellent choice of vernacular yourself there,” replies Cheryl as Linda slides her an elbow, amounting to an order of silence.

“Well, sometimes in life, things just do not make sense, but they happen for the better. Anyway, I am happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long time,” Ruth declares.

“Hold that happy thought for one moment. Taking into consideration the fact that you have had a rocky couple of days, along with how you have been such a great friend to the two of us, and a top-notch employee of the Café Cauldron, we have a little surprise for you, a little present from the two of us,” states Linda.

“You two didn’t have to do that!” exclaims Ruth, her eyes widening with excitement as she sees the present being carried out of the back room and towards her by Cheryl. “Wow, I cannot believe this, what a great gift!” she remarks, in a most joyous fashion.

The three turn their focus to the black cage, featuring a new furry little friend and companion for Ruth.     “We thought this cute little critter could keep you company and make things right, given what happened to your old cat,” Cheryl declares.

“He’s beautiful, what is his name, where did you get him?” Ruth asks.

“It is all thanks to Freyja, a friend of ours in the trade. You can name him whatever you would like,” Linda says in a coy whisper.

Marveling at the soft black cat and his silver whiskers, Ruth notices something slightly unusual about his eyes, lacking the familiar slit slicing through the center.

“He has the most lovely pair of eyes, I cannot place my finger on it, but I have never once seen a cat with eyes like this in all my years,” explains Ruth.

Leaving for work that day, Ruth gazes into the eyes of the cat as a heavy feeling of déjà vu wraps around her mind like a warm blanket providing protection from the cold. How appropriate this atmosphere of protection, seeing as how it is almost as if she has seen these same pair of eyes glaring at her before...

Pausing dead in her tracks, slowly turning around and staring up at the Café Cauldron sign as it wobbles in the wind, a worrying thought falls upon her mind. “Could they be?” she utters. “Could he be?” she asks aloud to herself, looking back down at her new cat. “Nah, couldn’t be,” she declares, shaking her head with a smile draped across her face before walking home...

     The power of friendship, one qualifying among the more underrated of life’s necessities. Sometimes we lack the strength to rise above our troubles, and require a slight push of momentum comprised of positive energy to help us find the light. Of course, sometimes a siphoning of negative energy is appropriate for such an endeavor. After all, one may have to use darkness to uncover said light.

 

END