that I can see you again later?”
I nod, though I want to ask him not to go.
Logan kisses me on the forehead and walks to the door. “I’ll text you later.”
I lock the door behind him and pass the living room heading back to the kitchen. I feel that a small amount of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. I look around and assess the mess I made before Logan had gotten here, the only mess in my step-mother’s immaculate kitchen, that she designed herself. The tan walls and white trim bringing out the most beautiful tone of the dark oak cabinets, her granite countertops glimmering beneath the lights. Well, all but the area that was still covered in coffee grounds.
I push the coffee maker back against the tile backsplash, put my mug back in the cabinet and reach for some paper towels. I open the faucet and before I can get the towel to the water, it splashes forward, dousing the napkin. I slam the faucet closed as I stare at the napkin in my hand. “That didn’t just happen.” I wring out the paper towel and unable to help myself, I stare at the water dripping into the sink, willing it to do something.
Nothing.
“Maybe I need to be more specific.” I say out loud to myself. I clean up most of the coffee grinds and put the paper towel in the trash. I grab another and hesitate for a moment before opening the faucet again.
“Go.” Nothing.
“Splash.” I say, trying to command the water to move. Nothing.
I watch as the water is running, I place my hand at the other end of the sink, and picture the water doing what it did before. No words, just picturing the water. No sooner did the thought begin, did the water splash forward again. I slam the faucet shut again and put my free hand over my mouth. I think of the waves pounding the rocks at the beach, and the vortex in the cup the other night and realize I have finally controlled one of these ‘events’
My heart is beating so hard I feel like it’s going to burst. I feel the adrenaline running through me, or could that be something else? No, I cannot think like that. One step at a time. I wring the paper towel again and clean up the remaining grinds.
As soon as I toss the paper into the trash my mind begins to wander to the things that Mr. Wentworth had told me. Power over elements . Considering that up until now I hadn’t had great luck with water, I was secretly grateful for never having been around any flames when I was very emotional. Suddenly, the first night at the coffee shop with Logan comes to mind. My emotions running high and the unforeseen wind storm that formed outside. I walk over to the window and pull the flowery curtains to the side. No wind.
“OK, maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion. If, and that is a big if, I do have any powers, it doesn’t mean that I have THE powers that the favorite, or chosen one or whatever that witch will be called will have.” By now I am pacing the kitchen as I talk out loud to myself, happy that no one is around to witness it. I am tempted to skate tonight to see if I can see the ice flurries again and wonder how I would even make that happen. If I could make that happen.
My head starts to hurt as all these thoughts bombard me at once as well as the entire conversation from this morning and my conversation with Logan. I would have to say that it seems even more surreal than my conversation with Mr. Wentworth. I have never confided in anyone like that, let alone allow them to see me so vulnerable, but with Logan I couldn’t help myself. I want to keep my walls up around him and I can’t. I walk into the living room and throw myself on the sofa in the hopes that with some rest, my headache will subside.
The heavy pounding on the door yanks me from the deep sleep. I reach for my phone that has fallen on the floor. Six forty two, two missed calls and six texts. I sit up quickly and rub my face. Holy crap, I slept the entire afternoon , I push myself off the sofa and walk to the door,
I nod, though I want to ask him not to go.
Logan kisses me on the forehead and walks to the door. “I’ll text you later.”
I lock the door behind him and pass the living room heading back to the kitchen. I feel that a small amount of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. I look around and assess the mess I made before Logan had gotten here, the only mess in my step-mother’s immaculate kitchen, that she designed herself. The tan walls and white trim bringing out the most beautiful tone of the dark oak cabinets, her granite countertops glimmering beneath the lights. Well, all but the area that was still covered in coffee grounds.
I push the coffee maker back against the tile backsplash, put my mug back in the cabinet and reach for some paper towels. I open the faucet and before I can get the towel to the water, it splashes forward, dousing the napkin. I slam the faucet closed as I stare at the napkin in my hand. “That didn’t just happen.” I wring out the paper towel and unable to help myself, I stare at the water dripping into the sink, willing it to do something.
Nothing.
“Maybe I need to be more specific.” I say out loud to myself. I clean up most of the coffee grinds and put the paper towel in the trash. I grab another and hesitate for a moment before opening the faucet again.
“Go.” Nothing.
“Splash.” I say, trying to command the water to move. Nothing.
I watch as the water is running, I place my hand at the other end of the sink, and picture the water doing what it did before. No words, just picturing the water. No sooner did the thought begin, did the water splash forward again. I slam the faucet shut again and put my free hand over my mouth. I think of the waves pounding the rocks at the beach, and the vortex in the cup the other night and realize I have finally controlled one of these ‘events’
My heart is beating so hard I feel like it’s going to burst. I feel the adrenaline running through me, or could that be something else? No, I cannot think like that. One step at a time. I wring the paper towel again and clean up the remaining grinds.
As soon as I toss the paper into the trash my mind begins to wander to the things that Mr. Wentworth had told me. Power over elements . Considering that up until now I hadn’t had great luck with water, I was secretly grateful for never having been around any flames when I was very emotional. Suddenly, the first night at the coffee shop with Logan comes to mind. My emotions running high and the unforeseen wind storm that formed outside. I walk over to the window and pull the flowery curtains to the side. No wind.
“OK, maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion. If, and that is a big if, I do have any powers, it doesn’t mean that I have THE powers that the favorite, or chosen one or whatever that witch will be called will have.” By now I am pacing the kitchen as I talk out loud to myself, happy that no one is around to witness it. I am tempted to skate tonight to see if I can see the ice flurries again and wonder how I would even make that happen. If I could make that happen.
My head starts to hurt as all these thoughts bombard me at once as well as the entire conversation from this morning and my conversation with Logan. I would have to say that it seems even more surreal than my conversation with Mr. Wentworth. I have never confided in anyone like that, let alone allow them to see me so vulnerable, but with Logan I couldn’t help myself. I want to keep my walls up around him and I can’t. I walk into the living room and throw myself on the sofa in the hopes that with some rest, my headache will subside.
The heavy pounding on the door yanks me from the deep sleep. I reach for my phone that has fallen on the floor. Six forty two, two missed calls and six texts. I sit up quickly and rub my face. Holy crap, I slept the entire afternoon , I push myself off the sofa and walk to the door,
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