Born Under a Bad Sign

by Lannie Pihajlic

I stood there drenched to the bone in my underwear, with only a tenuous hold on reality. For some reason, I thought back to meeting Ronni. It was totally a random thing, meeting Ronni. She would say that it was Destiny, with a capital D. I didn’t believe that kind of thing. Not then. Now? Now, I don’t know what to believe.

#

We met during the break I had between the two classes I taught on Thursdays, General Biology II and Microbiology Lab. Maybe it was ‘chance’ or ‘inevitability,’ whichever, I was just hungry. I headed to a little eatery on campus called the Copper Nickel. The lunch crowd had already grazed, leaving precious little to choose from. I settled on a tuna fish sandwich that wouldn’t have impressed a second grader. Walking back to my equally unimpressive adjunct instructor office, which I shared with a dozen or more other adjuncts, I noticed a sign on the Emmanuel Gallery. It read- New MFA Exhibit: The Opening of Let’s Get Metaphysical by Ronni Murphy. I had about two hours before my lab class, so I ducked in. The Emmanuel Gallery used to be the Emmanuel Shearith Israel Chapel. It is Denver’s oldest surviving church building. It’s basically one room with white walls. There’s a large, circular window near the ceiling on the far back wall and alcove recessed windows on the side walls. Both were leftovers from the church’s history. It reminded me of going to my grandmother’s funeral when I was five. It was the first time I saw adults crying. I got their sadness, but they had this other emotion I hadn’t seen before- reverence. Their Catholic rituals, the series of standing then kneeling, left me even more confused. Adults behaved like this? It didn’t seem right to me. I didn’t know the word cult yet, but that’s what it felt like to me. A cult.

I marveled at the skill and surreal aspects of the large paintings in the Exhibit. Doors opened into different worlds, figures walking through shimmering surreal colors or flew in different planes of existence. One featured a translucent couple that allowed you to see their inner anatomy of bones and muscles. They held hands as they faced one other. A white light shone from their clasped hands. The light faded past their figures, revealing small demon-like figures in the dark around them.

In the back of the room there was a small crowd combing over the food table. A handful of students and couples were surveying the paintings. A young women in her mid-twenties stood back, watching the people. The artist. She was striking, with two large paint brush handles jutting atop her head of long red hair. She wore a form fitting kimono-type dress that was red, with black areas along her shoulders and torso. In the black areas were intricate golden flowers. What could be seen of her alabaster arms and calves contrasted nicely with her outfit. I was positively smitten.

I walked up to her and said, “Are you the artist?” She paused and looked at me kind of sideways, like a shy little girl.

“Guilty,” she said. Then gave a small titter.

“I love your paintings, they’re so otherworldly,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess I see things a little different. Alex Grey was one of my favs growing up,” she said. “My name’s Ronni. What’s yours?” Her eyes were a pale green. They were eyes I fell into, into her.

#

I’m not a classic ‘Lady’s Man,’ by any stretch of the imagination. I’m not super attractive, though my past girlfriends tell me I’m cute. I’m not a ‘bad boy,’ my personality’s more like a golden retriever’s. I’m kind of a geeky science type. I tend to move slow when a girl interests me. So slow, they often make the first move. Ronni though was giving me all kinds of green lights from the word go. She touched my arm when she laughed, which was often. She began pulling me by my shirt as she led me on a tour of her exhibit. There was a small wine bar past the food table. A short, pimply, freshman-looking kid glared at me from behind a tiny table. A plastic tray overhung the edges of the table. It was kind of ridiculous. The tray held a small clear plastic cup with a sign in hastily scrawled marker that read- Tip Jar. It held only a crumpled one and a few coins.

“Hi, Nathan, this is my friend, er…” Ronni said looking at me. I had told her my name, but she somehow had forgotten it already. How adorable.

“I’m Liam,” I said.

“I’m so embarrassed!” Ronni laughed. “I wanted to say Steve, but it seemed wrong.” She grabbed my arm.

“Liam and Steve are so close. Half the times people call me Steve, anyhow,” I said.

“Nathan, can you be a sweetie and give us two glasses of red?” she said. Nathan was scowling at me. I think I was infringing on his would-be girlfriend. “Nathan helped me get materials for my MFA project. He’s like my little brother.” Nathan wore a painfully forced smile as he poured cheap red wine into two clear plastic cups.

“Here you go,” Nathan said.

“Here ya go, my man,” I said and dug out a couple of ones out of the front pocket of my jeans. I plunked them down in his tip jar. Ronni and I grabbed our wine glasses.

“Ciao,” Ronni said to Nathan. She slid her arm behind my back. As we left, Nathan’s eyes shot nukes at me.

I was having such a good time talking with Ronni, that I nearly forgot my lab class.

“I promise I’ll come back after teaching,” I said because Ronni had forced me to, but there was no need.

“The cost of breaking a promise can be high, Liam,” Ronni said in a thick Irish brogue. Then she patted my butt. I headed back to the Science Building tipsy. I hadn’t had feelings for someone that fast in years. Teaching that lab ended up the happiest teaching experience I had ever had.

#

I woke up to a painfully bright sun piercing my partly shut bedroom blinds. I got up and tripped on something. My cat, Jinx, hissed at me. I saw his black shape run out of my room. Sorry, boy. I looked at Ronni. She was still. I hadn’t woken her up.

I gently tugged the string of the blinds, allowing the other half of the blinds to release. I let the blinds down as slow and quiet as I could. The room sank into a soft darkness. There was enough light to see Ronni’s pale shoulder standing out from my dark blue sheets. I couldn’t believe she had come home with me last night. I slowly lay back down next to her. I took in a deep breath. Her scent filled my nose. I felt a deep, primal sense of satisfaction. This was an all-too-rare moment for me. Ronni turned towards me. A lock of her red hair fell on my arm.

“Morning, handsome,” she said. She was so direct. It was nice to wake up to a compliment.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I said back.

“Let’s get something to eat, I’m famished,” Ronni said.

#

Everything was going so well. It was a gorgeous morning. Our strawberry crepes were perfect. My companion was an angel fallen from the sky. I had sailed through the past year, my thirtieth, without so much as a date. Teaching took up most of my time. It was a craft that, two years in, I had far from mastered. My Dean had given me a new class every semester. I was forever inventing the wheel. I had to start from scratch each class, making new syllabi, new lectures, tests, and homework. I was perpetually behind and overwhelmed. Meeting Ronni felt like I had won the lottery.

When the bill came, my luck ran out. I reached into my pocket and my wallet was missing. This can’t be happening. Not NOW! I tried to play if off, but Ronni could tell I was panicking. She offered to pay the bill. I sheepishly accepted. I knew how poor being a student can be.

Or not. Ronni drove me home in the 2019 mint green convertible VW Bug her dad bought her for graduation. I still felt mortified about losing my wallet.

“I’m totally a daddy’s girl,” Ronni said, beaming me a smile the Cheshire cat couldn’t beat. She was so adorable. I could hardly believe I had known her for less than 24 hours. She made me feel so relaxed. Our connection was magnetic. I felt I should risk some vulnerability.

“So, I have a confession to make,” I said. She looked at me, then back at the road. A small v-shape dented between her eyebrows. I had discovered this was her puzzled look.

“I tend to lose things,” I said.

“You’re not alone. Everyone does,” Ronni said.

“I know, but, like with me, well, it’s this lifelong thing. I’d call it a curse, if I believed in them. My shoes, socks, my wallet,” I said.

“Who hasn’t lost a sock in the wash?” Ronni said. “I’ve lost lots of stuff.” She held up a hand to shield her mouth and whispered “even my purse.”

“Okay, when I say I lost my wallet, I mean, I’ve lost every wallet I’ve ever had. I’ve never ‘retired’ a wallet. Never had one so worn I had to replace it with a new one. This last wallet I had for nearly four years, a personal best.”

“Well, you really don’t know yet if you lost this wallet,” she said.

“You’re right, but I’m fairly certain. As an undergrad I worked for our campus parking,” I said.

“Rad job,” Ronni laughed.

“I got stuck in the main parking garage. The big one they call Lot H,” I said. “H is for Hell.”

“That one sucks, it never has enough spaces,” she said.

“Yeah, that lot pulled in over ten grand a day. They paid us minimum wage,” I said.

“H is for Hell,” she agreed.

“Now, it’s automated- gotta maximize those profits,” I said.

“Cha-ching,” she said.

“Anyway, we got paid every two weeks. One time I went shopping after cashing my check. I was so excited to have enough money to buy anything I wanted to eat. I grew up poor. Anyhow, I walked up to the register with my cart overflowing. I still remember that cashier holding out her hand. Me, standing there like an idiot with no wallet. It was mortifying.” I said.

“Sorry. That sucks,” Ronni said. “It happens.”

“Another time, I took the Greyhound all the way to Oregon to visit a friend,” I said.

“The bus? Wow, you were poor,” she said, pouting out her lower lip in sympathy.

“The last bus stop before Portland, we stopped at a diner. I had a bowl of cottage cheese,” I said. “Later as we were driving down the highway, I realized I left my wallet in the booth at the diner.”

“Ouch,” she said.

Ronni was chewing on her lower lip, in thought. Finally she said, “The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.”

“Did you write that?”

“No, Elizabeth Bishop did. It’s from her poem, ‘One Art,’” she said. “I’ll read it to you later. I think it may help you.”

“You never cease to surprise me,” I said.

“Stick with me kid, we’ll go places,” Ronni said in a spot on Humphrey Bogart impression. She laughed. I smiled at her.

“Bogart?” I said.

“No, but it sounds like something he’d say. It’d be better if I was wearing a Fedora,” she said.

“Do you believe in luck?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose there’s the good fortune of certain things happening. You could infer these things are good luck,” I said. “But I don’t believe in, say, good luck charms or…” My eyes spotted a pink rabbit’s foot hanging from rear view mirror. “I mean, um, people can take comfort in any belief they have. Religious or otherwise.” I paused, before adding dumbly, “luck’s great.”

She looked at me out of the side of her eye. “Well, I believe in luck,” Ronni said.

I didn’t want to shit on her beliefs, but I was having difficulty coming up with anything to say. We both sat facing forward. Good or bad luck and really all superstitions to me were just ridiculous. The awkward moment stretched unbearably.

“I believe in good luck charms, too,” she said.

I was feeling really stymied now.

She pulled up to my house and stopped. I did believe in good timing and this definitely qualified as that. “This lucky rabbit foot has saved me from a couple of accidents,” she said. She was staring at me, her eyes squinted in a challenge.

“Good. I’d do anything to keep you safe,” I said.

Ronni flashed me a predatory, feline smile. I felt like a mouse. I knew I couldn’t win here.

“Thanks,” she said. “I suppose whatever has kept me safe we just see it differently. You’d still call it a kind of luck though.”

“I would?” I asked.

“Yeah, you’d just call it dumb luck,” she said.

#

The first few weeks Ronni and I were dating was a magical time. Like I was at the beginning of one of those few, pivotal relationships we get to have in life. We were the poster boy and girl for the saying that opposites attract. She was artsy. I couldn’t draw stick figures. I was into science. Ronni was metaphysical. She lived in a universe where potentially everything held hidden meaning.

One Sunday afternoon, we were walking in Washington Park along a small lake. She wore cream colored shorts and a lavender skin tight top. I marveled at the colors she wore. I couldn’t pull off either color, wouldn’t be caught dead in them, but on her, it was something otherworldly. She skipped ahead of me in excitement. She had found something and bent down, her hands out. I was lost in reverie, when she exclaimed, “A penny!” She stood up and spun around. She held out between her thumb and index finger a grimy penny. It was dark except for a tiny spot of dull copper in the middle. “Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck.”

“Or giardia. Were ten feet from the lake. That penny has more microbes than my student’s petri dishes,” I said.

“Liam, there’s more to this world than you believe,” she said. She put the penny in the smallest pocket I had seen on a shirt. Again, I smiled at the difference in women’s clothing. Who has a small pocket like that on a shirt? “Pennies not only bring you good luck, but they’re a sign.”

“A sign of what?” I asked. I tried to sound supportive.

“Pennies are a sign. A sign from a past loved one, or an angel. They’re telling you that you are on the right path,” Ronni said.

I suppressed a scowl. “So they’re sticking around after death, to place pennies in our paths?”

“Yes,” she said, as if she knew.

“Why not be direct with us? They’re out there flicking pennies in front of us and we’re left to divine what that means?” I said. “Maybe some kid lost it playing in the cattails.”

Ronni looked at me silently.

I marched on with my diatribe. “People drop pennies all the time. Sometimes on purpose. Lots of people think we should stop making pennies because they cost more to make than they’re worth.”

Ronni had turned away from me. She faced the lake.

I so wanted to bring up confirmation bias, but I had said too much already.

“Well, I think pennies are a sign, from my grandmother. We used to find pennies
together. She always promised they were good luck,” Ronni looked back at me. That, was enough.

Oh boy. I didn’t want to argue or upset her.

“Have you ever heard of the cognitive psychologist Donald Hoffman?” I said.

Ronni shook her head. “His work is on how reality does not match what are perceptions tell us. I bring him up when I teach anatomy. He agrees with evolution, that the fittest survive.”

“Fittest, meaning?” Ronni interrupted, striking a pose with her arms flexed.

“No, not necessarily the strongest. Whatever traits an organism has that help it
survive and reproduce,” I said smiling. “Or the absence of traits, like my losing everything. Probably not great for survival.”

“Or reproducing,” Ronni laughed, “Losing things is not your most attractive trait, but you’re still cute anyways.” I laughed.

“Anyhow, he doesn’t think any organism evolves to see the world around them accurately. We just think we do, but we’re probably entirely off. Way off. He’s done a ton of computer simulations showing, in fact, organisms do best if they don’t truly see reality completely.”

Ronni walked back to me. She grabbed my hand. “Well, if we don’t see things as they truly are, then there’s more to things than meets the eyes,” I smiled. She finished in her damn accurate Irish brogue. “Could be my grandmother is telling me, I am on the right path. With you.”

#

Three months later, we were standing in my kitchen, about to head over to my parents. This was kind of a big deal for me. I felt anxious. I didn’t like to let my mom meet my girlfriends unless I felt confident in the relationship. I learned to wait three months into a relationship before telling her I was dating someone. My mom was forever nosy. She’d press me every conversation if I was seeing anyone. If I was, she became hyper-focused on them. How long had we been dating? What were they like? It was bad enough that I had hidden a couple of girlfriends from her. Which later turned out to be the right call.

Ronni was standing by my door, waiting for me to get my shoes on. “I can’t wait to meet your parents!” Ronni said.

“They’ll love you,” I said, squishing my foot down into my tennis shoe. I walked over to my kitchen counter drawer and opened it. “Just grabbing my keys and…” My keys were missing. That’s odd. I rummaged through the drawer. It was full of change, business cards, and various odds and ends. I opened the drawer next to this one. Occasionally when I was tired, I had mistakenly put my keys in this second drawer. This other drawer was for mail, mostly the junk variety, plus coupons, rubber bands, paper clips and any odds and ends that spilled over from the first drawer. “Um, I must have left my keys in the pants I wore yesterday. One second.” I started to run to the hall. Jinx was sitting right in the middle of the hallway entrance. His green eyes were starring, the intent stare of a cat, looking at nothing. “Damn it, Jinx,” I said as I jumped over him. I wished I had no worries, like a cat.

“Sure,” Ronni said. I ran into my room and found yesterday’s jeans crumpled on the floor in my dirty clothes pile. Ronni had kept threatening to buy me a hamper. I went through the pockets. They were empty. I checked on top of my dresser. An, oh-no-I-lost- my-keys panic was starting. Not now. I raced out of my room and back down the hall. I stepped over Jinx. Why do they do that? “Maybe they fell out of my pocket and into the couch?” I said to Ronni.

“Here, I’ll help,” she said. We both searched the couch cushions. I found only dirt, hair and a Dentyne gum wrapper. “Hey, I found a quarter!” She held up a quarter. “Too bad it’s not a penny.”

Ten minutes later and we had combed over my entire small house. My keys were lost. I knew it.

“I have a solution,” Ronni said, “I’ll drive!”

#

Ronni and my mom absolutely hit it off. They were instantly laughing and touching each other. It was like they were old friends. We were sitting at my parent’s kitchen table. My dad gave me a thumbs up behind Ronni’s back before sitting down at the table with a plate of cinnamon rolls. “Hungry?” he asked.

“These are Duffy rolls. To die for!” my mom told Ronni.

“I love Duffy rolls,” Ronni said. “So yummy!” They both were eating before my dad and I even grabbed ours.

“So, you were late because Liam lost his keys?” my mom said. I had this feeling my mom and Ronni had become a team. I was the opposition.

“Yep, Liam lost his keys,” Ronni said.

“How could you lose your keys, Liam?” my mom asked.

“Honey, it happens to the best of us,” my dad said.

“He lost his wallet the day after we met,” Ronni said. I felt my face go flush.

“He did?” my mom exclaimed. “Oh my god, that boy!” My mom said it like I was not even there. I wished I wasn’t. I knew what was coming next. “Liam has lost things his whole life.”

My dad got up, taking the empty cinnamon roll plate to the sink. He knew, too. “Growing up, he lost his shoes, his mittens. Once he ran home a mile from school because he forgot his money for picture day. This is the third set of missing keys I’ve heard of. Liam loses everything.” Ronni was nodding at my mom while taking small bites of her cinnamon roll.

I’d have crawled up and hid in my cinnamon roll if I could have. Instead, I chewed in silence.

“Maybe he’s being haunted by something?” Ronni said. No one said anything. Her words just floated out there. I felt we were all giving her suggestion a respectful amount of time as if we were thinking on it, but would then move on.

“Haunted?” my mom asked. And we’re not moving on.

“Yes. I read about these things, called Cleptochauns.” Ronni said.

“Oh. Yes! They’re also known as Finder Keepers,” my mom said.

How can I jump in and stop this crazy train?

My dad’s eyes met mine. He shook his head, like he was fearful our captors would hear us talking mutiny. I leaned against the counter next to my dad. We drank our coffees, watching the show unfolding.

“We’ll have to talk about this later. Neither Liam or his father believe in anything woo-woo,” my mom said as they proceeded on full speed into Woo-Woo Land. “Not even aliens.”

“Oh, they’re here,” Ronni said. “For sure.”

“I know,” my mom said. My mom paused, then did a showy dramatic turn of her head towards me. “You know, Liam, this all leads back to your birth.”

My dad put one hand over his eyes. That means we’re plunging down some rabbit hole.

“My birth?” I asked.

“Miriam, are you sure now is the time?” my dad asked pleadingly.

“If not now, when?” she said, shooting my dad daggers. “Back to your birth day, I should say,” she said.

“You know you were a home birth, right?”

“You’ve told me this a million times,” I said. “Also, how difficult I was.”

“And still are. Well, you know how your birthday is the 14th? Well, it isn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“Your birthday isn’t the 14th. Technically,” my mom said. “You see, I didn’t want you to have to bear the weight of being born on the 13th. Friday, the 13th, specifically.”

“Jesus, are you serious?” I said, my voice an octave higher in genuine disbelief. “You were born 11:58pm, Friday the 13th,” my mom said.

Ronni’s jaw hung slack enough it could have hit the kitchen table. She watched my mom like she just announced the second coming.

“How? How is this even possible?” I said. “You broke the law.”

“Well, I just fudged your birth certificate,” my mom said. “I had to, Liam, after I consulted the charts.”

“You read charts, too? That’s so cool!” Ronni said.

She turned to Ronni. “Yeah, it is. I feel I can trust you, Ronni so I’m just going to say it. I, am 1/32nd Chippewa, and as such, a representative of the Native Original Peoples,” my mom said.

I hate it when she says this. I winced. My eyes flicked over the ferns in tan macrame plant holders hanging from the ceiling. My mom was the whitest person I knew. My hand went over my eyes. I realized I was acting just like my dad, but the darkness felt safe and helped shield my embarrassment.

She then dramatically turned to all of us. “Liam was born Friday the 13th, 1986.

That’s not just any Friday the 13th. Not to one of the Peoples who reads charts.”

“Totes respect,” Ronnia said. “My grandmother was from Ireland and a well
known Seer.”

“Oh really. I sensed there was a reason I liked you,” my mom said. “I used to read for my church group. I went by the name Psychic Karen Strong Bow, the Reader, and Metaphysical Healer.

“Great name!” Ronni said. “My grandmother went by Molly Ailbhis the prophetess, reader and tin whistle virtuoso.”

“Absolutely wonderful tag line,” my mom said. “I’m actually doing a reading with my luminous energy group this afternoon. We’re all post-menopausal. You should come.”

This was turning into one of the weirdest moments of my life.

“Liam, please sit down,” my mom said solemnly. I felt my dad’s hand patting my shoulder. I looked at him. He grimaced, nodding at the table. It was the look of a veterinarian about to put down a dog.

I sat down. My mom reached out and grabbed my hand. Then turned and gently took hold of Ronni’s hand.

“Okay,” my mom said, her voice unsteady. She looked into my eyes. I could see she was holding back tears. I felt that at minimum, I had terminal cancer. “The charts do not lie. Sometimes the stars align just right. Then, a person born is said to be blessed for life. Their fate is a good one. In other times, the stars align in unfortunate, abhorrent positions. A sign that portends of ill omens.” She wiped away a tear. “You, Liam, were born, under a bad sign.”

#

Ronni walked through my living room, holding aloft a burning bundle of sage in one hand and a long white feather in her other hand. Her ‘smudge stick’ smelled like the worst stinky weed ever. I worried how difficult the smell would be to get out of my whole house.

“I’m trying to get everywhere, but it’s most important I smudge the high traffic areas,” she said. I was trying to be polite, so opted to say as little as I could. She was trying to help me.

“Is it okay if I start grading my Microbiology tests? I’m supposed to return them to my students tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah, sure. But can you feel it already?” she asked.

“Feel what?” I said.
“My smudge stick is white sage. It’s radiating feminine energy,” she said.

“I, uh, like that,” I said. Jinx walked into the room, his head aloft, curiously sniffing the air.

“The Latin word for sage means healing,” Ronni said. “Goop says it releases negative ions and…”

I interrupted, “Negative ions are called anions. Like the opposite of Jinx. He’s a cation.” I smiled exaggeratedly at my dumb pun as I held Jinx up.

“Whatever, Smarty Pants. You might want to get rid of your black cat, too,” she said, looking at me with a distasteful face.

“Never!” I said, hugging Jinx close to my face.

“Just kidding. You need him and his animal totem energy, especially right now. Plus this medicinal smoke also kills over 90% of airborne bacteria,” Ronni said as she wandered down the hallway to my bedroom.

Unqualified bullshit brought to you by Goop. Gwyneth Paltrow is making a fortune misleading entire generations.

“I know what you’re thinking, Liam. You need to focus your intentionality. We can’t fix everything if you don’t take this seriously,” she said loudly.

“I’m with you, Ronni! 100%!” I yelled back. I grabbed the stack of student tests I had left on my bookshelf and plopped down on my love seat. I selected my red pen from my jar of pens on my coffee table. Jinx curled up next to me. His paws began flexing, or ‘kneading the dough,’ as I called it. I had gotten through a third of the tests by the time Ronni came back into the room. Apparently she was done smudging.

“I’ll sit over here since you and Jinx have a bonding rapport right now,” Ronni said. “He’s trying to help you, too.”

I looked at Jinx. He was purring. Maybe.

Ronni settled into my recliner with her backpack. She pulled out a book and opened it at her purple bookmark. She read in silence.

I noticed her mouth moved as if she was speaking the words she read. How cute. “How did the smudging go?” I said.

“It went well. We’ve at least cleansed your house,” she said. “I’ll have to see what else I can do to free you of any bad energy. I read that being born under a bad sign doesn’t necessarily doom someone. It can just mean you’re more likely to attract darkness.” I stared at her. It continued to floor me how casual she was with this. It reminded me you’ll never know even your own partner as much as you think you do. “Let me know when you’re done grading. I have an experiment I want to run on you.”

“An experiment? Do tell,” I said.

“Well, Science Boy, you’re not the only one capable of using reason to test things out. Here,” she pulled out a pen from my pen jar and dug a notebook from her backpack.

I was intrigued. This was a side of Ronni I had never seen. “We’ve worked out when it haunts you,” Ronni said.

“We?” I said.

“Your mom and I. You are definitely plagued by a Cleptochaun.”

I burst out laughing. “Cleptochaun?” I said.

Ronni stared at me unblinking.

“What’s that?” I asked in earnest.

“The Old Irish, and my grandmother herself, called them,” she switched to her Irish brogue, “Finder’s Keepers.”

I laughed. “If you says so.”

“To start my experiment, we need you in the right state of mind.” Ronni said with narrowed eyes.

“My lab tests can wait. Let’s do this now!” I said. I was so in. I could feel tingling on the back of my neck.
Ronni continued staring at me, like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t. I felt as in the dark on what would happen next as a laboratory mouse.

“Okay, I’m fairly certain I can make this happen, but you have to trust me,” she said.

“Of course I trust you,” I said.

“Good. Here, I’m going to write down what you are going to lose next,” Ronni held her notebook close to her chest. She opened it up and wrote something down. She tore out the piece of paper, folded it, and put it back into her backpack.

“Mysterious,” I said. My hair felt like it was standing up.

She walked over to my living room curtains and pulled them shut. She spun back to me. “Okay, stand up.”

I did. Jinx jumped off the couch, annoyed I had woken him up.

“Now, take off your clothes,” she said.

“What?” I said incredulously.

“Take them off,” Ronni said, her eyes wide and commanding. I began unbuttoning my shirt.

Ronni went back to the kitchen. “I left smudge stick on the sink,” she called. It was lit when she came back.

I threw my shirt on the couch arm rest and looked at her.

“Pants, too,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. I took off my pants and tossed them on my shirt.

“So, um.” “You can leave your underwear on,” Ronni smiled, “For now.”

“I like where this is going,” I said.

“Shush! Now, close your eyes and put your arms out in a T,” she said. I complied.

“I’m going to clear the bad energy off of you. Starting at the top, around your head.”

I could feel the heat of the smudge stick. I felt Ronni waving her feather, wafting me in the sage’s pungent smell as it spun closely around my head.

“Now down your arms. Your palms. Lots of energy is released through our palms.”

Somewhere inside I was laughing. Mostly though, I was oddly feeling really into this.

“Down your torso. Legs. I’m going to lift each foot so I can release the energy in the soles of your feet.”
I smiled when I thought souls of your feet. I felt giddy. I felt heat as she lifted each foot.

“Now, hold on. We need you in the right emotional state,” Ronni said.

“Can I open my eyes at least?” I asked.

“NO! Not until I tell you,” she said. She snickered.

“What the Hell?” I said. I heard a nearby floorboard squeak. She had left the room. I so wanted to open my eyes. But, I resisted.

“Hang on,” Ronni said, her voice distant. I heard the same floorboard squeak and felt a wave of air as Ronni in a hurry came up close to me again. “Almost ready,” she said.

I felt a tickle on the top of my chest.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I did. Ronni held her feather touching my chest at arm’s length. She was wearing a red bra and panties. She moved the feather down. She smiled.

I stood speechless. She took a step forward, kissing me. “I want you. Now,” she said. She kept walking into me, forcing me back. She practically shoved me down on the couch. Thank god Jinx had moved. I saw him perched on the recliner, his green eyes watching us. Ronni lay on top of me. I forgot all about Jinx. My shirt and pants made a not half-bad pillow. I had never seen her so demanding. She was kissing me so passionately. This was crazy! This was awesome!

“How’s Mr. Tiddlywinks?” she said.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Great,” I said. I reached up behind my head. I found my pants and reached into their front pocket for my wallet. Ronni was kissing me, down my neck, to my chest.

“More like Voyeurchaun, the little pervert.” Ronni muttered.

What did she say? I opened up my wallet. Then, my eyes about popped out of my head. My condom was missing.

“What the serious fuck?” I said. “I’m missing my…”

Ronni put her hand over my mouth, muting my words.

She peered deep into my eyes, like she was trying to tell me something. She shook her head, a silent no. She rolled off me, pressing her index finger to her lips. She stood up and grabbed her backpack.
What was going on?

“Let’s check what my hypothesis was,” she whispered, reaching into her backpack. She pulled out the folded paper. She opened it. In her hand writing, it read: The next thing you’re going to lose is- your condom.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?”

“I had to do that to you,” she said.

“You can do that to me,” I said, “any time.”

I was so confused. Was she mad at me because I lost my condom? “It’s okay. Hang on.” I got up and ran into my room. I had an entire box of condoms in my nightstand. I flung open the nightstand door like it was an emergency. It was empty. That’s impossible. I walked back into the living room.

“Very funny, Ronni,” I said. “Well, not really. This is just mean. Where did you hide them?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been reading, talking with your mom,” she said, her voice animated. “All your life you’ve been haunted by a Cleptochaun. It’s a, um, mean little sprite,” she said. “It feeds on the psychic energy of its victim’s heightened emotions, especially frustrated states.”

“Is this a joke?” I said. Clearly she wasn’t joking, but I didn’t want to ask what I really was wondering- is she on drugs?

“Every time you’ve lost something, it’s when you needed it. Losing the object stopped you. Without whatever you needed, you couldn’t do what you wanted to do,” she said. “You wanted to go sledding? It hid your mittens.” Ronni was getting more worked up. “This is a nasty little bit of evil, Liam.”

Jinx jumped off the recliner and stood next to Ronni, facing me. His hair was standing straight up. He began to hiss, at me.

“On picture day- you lost your money. You lost your wallets, when you needed your money,” Ronni said. Her voice sounded like a mad, crazy person. “It hid your goddamn keys the same moment you needed to drive me to meet your parents.” Jinx growled, the horrible whining growl cats make before they fight another cat. “And it hid your condoms, when you wanted me!” Ronni yelled. In the blink of an eye, she reached into her backpack. She spun back around towards me. A wet spray pelted me.
I blinked, water dripping from my eyes. Ronni was holding a super-soaker water pistol. I stood there dripping wet. I smelled thyme, of all things.

She pointed her pistol at the floor between my legs. “Look,” she whispered.

But she didn’t need to. I felt him. His small hands were clutching the backs of my calves. I looked down at what I felt. He was some mad thing. This dripping wet, misshapen leprechaun that looked like he was tweaking on meth. He seemed ripped straight out of a fairy tale. Jinx was wailing. The thing on my leg snarled back, revealing he was missing half his teeth. I felt horror. A heartbeat later though, I felt rage. All my life, this is what had caused me so much misery?

“You!” I bellowed (the one and only bellow in all my life). The small man- creature looked up at me. His face was the picture of embarrassment, his mouth a little O. Then, he disappeared.

I stood there drenched to the bone in my underwear, with only a tenuous hold on reality. I wasn’t sure anymore about anything. I truly wasn’t sure if meeting Ronni really was destiny with a capital D. But it didn’t matter. I was grateful I had. She had saved me.

That was my last thought before I passed out.

#

I woke up but kept my eyes closed. Through closed eyelids, there was an orange/red shimmering from the light above. The world was still out there. If, I opened my eyes.

I took a deep, slow breath. Darkness suddenly covered the orange-red glow. I smelled Ronni. I opened my eyes. Ronni’s eyes hovered over mine. Her eyes held me. They were filled with such concern. She was leaning over me.

“Are you okay?” Ronni asked. She sat up and the ceiling light hit my eyes a little too harshly. I shielded my eyes. Ronni sat the floor on one side of me, Jinx on the other. I was feeling…I didn’t know what to call it. My whole world had been turned upside down.

“Yes and no. I feel so…so,” I struggled to find the words.

“Gobsmacked?” Ronni said.

I laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose if ever there was a right time to use that word, it’d be now.” I slowly sat up.

“Well, life can do that to ya,” Ronni said. I rubbed my head with both hands.

“So, you worked that out and planned your experiment all on your own?” I said.

“You’ve been rubbing off on me,” she said. “I didn’t know exactly where he’d be, but I knew his kind hates cats. Cats are one of the few animals that can see them.”

“And the water makes it so everyone can?” I said.

“Thyme does. I put it in the soaker. I used the water as my medium,” she said.

“Damn. I am so impressed,” I said. “So, science still works?” Ronni winked and
smiled at me. That did it. I was going to be alright. Wherever I now was, she was with me.

“Science is still probably the best tool we have to understanding,” Ronni paused and shrugged, then gesticulated her arms wildly,” whatever this life is. It’s part of what I love about you. You are so grounded.” Her words sunk into me, enveloping me with a sense of comfort. Of home.

“You know, all the other times you lost something with me, I always made what you wanted to happen, happen,” she smiled. “I bought breakfast. I drove to your parent’s.” She reached into her backpack. I heard a plastic crinkling noise. She continued in her Irish brogue, “I make things happen. Sometimes we both just want the same things.”

The world, it turned out, was a more magical place than I ever imagined.

Lannie lives smack dab where the Great Plains meet the Rocky mountains with his wife, two poodles and two cats. He is a former college biology teacher (shudder) and current art teacher (chef’s kiss). When not writing or making art, he likes to find inspiration in the Wilds.