The Spell - 5. Chapter 5

It was midnight, and Michael was outside an ER. After pacing for a few minutes, he pulled out his phone to call someone. “Yes?” Isaac answered on the other end.

Michael was choking up. “Hey, yeah, this is Michael. You did a spell for me a few months ago.”

“Yes, the lottery winner.”

Michael fought back tears. “Yeah, well,” Michael began and froze for a few seconds. “Look, I’ll pay you anything to reverse it. Please.”

“I told you up front, that spell can’t be undone.”

“Then let me pay you to save his life.”

Isaac paused. “Ah, the love of your life?”

“Yes.”

“You went back to him?”

“He came back to me.”

“And now he’s dying and you want to save him?”

Michael began to cry. “Yes.”

“Leave him.”

“What?”

“You want him to live, leave him.” Isaac paused. “Good night.”

Isaac hung up, as Michael stared at the wall in front of him.

*          *          *

It was a month later, and Michael and Pierre were at a restaurant. They had just finished dinner and were drinking wine. Pierre looked bored and kept checking out the waiters. "You said you wanted to give me something?” Pierre asked.

“Yes.”

Michael pulled out an envelope and gave it to Pierre. Then, Pierre looked inside and smiled. It was a cashier check. “What is this for?”

“I think you know.”

“What?”

Michael became uneasy. “It’s, um, a going away gift.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“You are.”

Pierre froze, snickered. “You’re breaking up with me?” Michael didn’t answer. “No one breaks up with me.”

“Well, I’m breaking up with you.”

Pierre glared at him. “People only like you for your money.”

“And you’re different?”

“I don’t need your stupid money. My family—“

“Then give it back.” Pierre only glared at him. “That’s what I thought.”

Pierre got up. “Fuck you.”

“Give me the house key. I’ll call you tomorrow to pick up your stuff.”

Pierre grabbed his key chain and started to take off the key. “I cheated on you, a lot.”

“Congratulations.”

Pierre flung the key at him and stormed off.

*          *          *

It was a month later, and Michael looked haggard and exhausted. He was standing in front of a large leather case, which had an envelope taped to it.

He unzipped the case, revealing Brendan’s angel painting. He smiled.

He took off the envelope, opened it, and unfolded the letter inside. It said, “Please stop blaming yourself for what happened. I miss you, and I’ll always love you.”

*          *          *

Michael was standing outside an apartment and looked rested and groomed. Moments later, Royce answered the door. “Oh my god, Mike,” Royce exclaimed.

“Hey, you want to grab some drinks?” Michael asked.

Royce smiled. “Welcome back, old buddy.”