Dark Kisses – Black Magic Woman… Part I
Copyright @ calibeachgirl and Jim Crowell
All rights reserved, 2011
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Chapter 1: Surf’s Up
I Got a Black Magic Woman…
I Got a Black Magic Woman…
Yes, I Got a Black Magic Woman…
She's got me so blind I can't see…
Kendra Smith stopped typing into her laptop and listened to David Christy as he once again explained the difference between wavelength, frequency and sets of waves at the beach. Unfortunately, except for her, there were no surfers in class to appreciate the information; unfortunately for them, next week was a lesson on the history of surfing and she already knew from former students the importance of Pipeline.
She followed his Powerpoint presentation downloaded the night before, adding her own interpretation and comments as she saw fit. At least the others, if not exactly paying close attention, were quiet. Why take an elective science class if you weren't really interested in the subject, especially one as esoteric as oceanography?
Each morning, she sat entranced as he spoke about one aspect or another of oceanography and when they went on the whale watch trip, she finally made up her mind. As the bell rang, ending the class, she walked out, smiling. He was the one she wanted, even if he was white and thirty-five.
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"Are you sure, Kendra, ma petite fille'? I don't know if you're old enough..."
"Grand mère, I've got to try before it's too late. I've found the man I want and I'm graduating in just a few months and then..."
"Bien, Kendra, I'll help you but it's powerful things that you're wanting to do. You must be convinced because there's no turning back. If you're wrong it will only lead to bad things."
"Grand mère..." Kendra said, giving the old woman a look she knew would melt her grandmother's heart.
"Très bien, do you have what I told you to get?"
Kendra hesitated. There would be no turning back once the incantation started. She looked at her grandmother and then at the objects she had removed from her book bag. Magie noire... the ability always skipped a generation and the secrets shared were never known by her mother. It was better that way, Kendra thought. If her mother knew what she was going to do, there'd be hell to pay.
The young woman pulled out the ziplock bags, each one holding a separate portion of the love spell she was desperate to cast. Onto the black velvet she put the rose petals, the corn, and the rock she had taken from Christy's collection at school. From her finger, she pulled the silver ring she bought two years earlier at the antique jewelry store in Torrance. Another plastic bag contained hair from the hairbrush.
The old lady looked at her granddaughter and smiled. She went into her kitchen and soon returned with two leaves from her orange tree, a spool of white thread, and a small silk bag. "Do you have the dirt?" she asked.
"Yes..." Kendra dug around in her bag and found the last plastic bag with dirt from her back yard. "...and here's his pen and I took his picture and printed it out."
"Then, let us begin..."
It never occurred to Kendra to wonder if David Christy already had a girlfriend.
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"Oh, Mom, don't be silly. You need un petit ami, un amant, is all I'm saying..." Kendra put another piece of cookie dough down on the pan. "...et, il est l'un pour vous. Why just today..."
Carolyn Smith looked at her daughter. Lately all she could talk about was her science teacher at the high school. As the evening arrived, they giggled like two young girlfriends, eating the chocolate cookies watching Angela Bassett in 'How Stella Got Her Groove Back.'
Kendra looked at her mother, wondering if the incantation had already begun to work.
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Carolyn looked closely into the mirror and peered at the tiny worry lines near her dark eyes. She teased out her curly ringlets a little more, wrapped a bright golden scarf around her dark skin, then stepped back and looked in the mirror, once last time. Satisfied, she stepped into her high heels and immediately rose four inches to a full six feet.
Ever since her daughter started filling dinner conversations with praise for her oceanography teacher, she tried to close her eyes to the gentle prodding Kendra gave her at least two-three times a week to meet the man. What man could be that wonderful? Against her better judgment, Carolyn's interest in the man grew and grew; until she realized this would be her best and possibly only opportunity to meet him.
Michael was never around when Kendra made her impassioned pleas to at least try... at least, once... with the man. She wasn't sure what her son would say and didn't want to argue with him about it.
After her husband had died in Iraq seven years earlier, Carolyn had devoted her life to her two children, Kendra and Michael. Trying to keep them away from the path that had destroyed so many others, she lived the life of a devoutly chaste nun... quite a trick, she thought, considering she was a Southern Baptist.
Last month, the radio talk shows starting discussing black women dating outside their race; Kendra heard it and immediately suggested her teacher, David Christy. Michael said nothing and finished his dinner in a silent sulk. Carolyn was sure that he would be unhappy if she dated; she was sure he still lived in the unreal shadow of his father... and, the idea that she would date a white man... she really wasn't sure what his reaction to that would be.
Kendra's constant praising of the man finally led her to this desperate ploy. If it didn't work, then, she vowed to just give up but at least her daughter would leave her alone. It was just, when she cried at night, so lonely. But, she thought, what would a reasonably good-looking single white man want with a 37-year-old black woman with two teenage children? Kendra was probably SO wrong.
One last look into the mirror, a light and almost sentimental touch on her wedding picture... satisfied as possible, she left for the school. "You turned my world upside down," she said to the photo, "and before I knew what was happening, we were married." She wondered what HE would have thought but then, he should have stayed home.
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"C'mon, here's your food, you stupid echinoderm." As soon as he said it, David realized how silly it was to talk to a starfish, even one as active as this one. He tapped the glass as he watched the five-armed, bumpy-skinned animal slowly making its way across the glass of the aquarium and moving over the thawed piece of shrimp. Its tiny sucking tube-feet waved in the water like something from a space-monster movie and carried the shrimp toward its mouth.
In the next tank, several dark, green striped shore crabs, Pachygrapsus crassipes to be exact, savagely attacked their share of the shrimp. Each one grabbed a piece and scuttled back into a corner or tiny rock cave to eat its dinner.
He was glad his new 'pets' had acclimatized themselves to the glassy confines of their new home. The weekend before, they had been living along the rocky, wave-splashed breakwater near Venice Beach. It was amazing, he reflected, what you could catch with a little time, some pieces of hot dog and a California scientific collector's permit. Sometimes, he felt he was a character in Steinbeck's Cannery Row.
If the weather held up, he planned on returning the next afternoon to get some sea anemones. He had left small rocks for them to shift to and planned on just picking them without any problem; trying to get them any other way usually ended with a dead animal.
Against his own advice, David tapped the glass, watching them raise their claws at the unseen threat.
He glanced at his cell phone... four o'clock and time to get a move on, he reflected. It was Friday afternoon and he was still undecided about the last league basketball game of the season. Most of the team had been his students at one time or another and they had been begging him to come all week. He sighed, deciding to go home... his empty home. Basketball had never been his game and he doubted anyone would miss him, anyway. The games were always packed.
When he had returned to his old high school to teach, it was strange to be one of the few whites, mostly faculty, on campus. The students now arrived courtesy of the bus from the north side of town instead of across the street.
There was a hesitant knock-knock-knock; as he turned his head, he saw a slightly older woman at the door, her bright smile in sharp contrast to her mocha-colored skin. Her gleaming dark hair, in fashionable ringlets, had a touch of red highlights. Her face was strangely sensual, with delicate brows arching above eyes so dark and lips so lush they were incredibly erotic.
Tall, slender and fine-boned, she had a splendid figure and her dark coloring was set off by a form-fitting white jacket and short, yellow pleated skirt baring her incredible legs to just above her knees.
David stood there with his hands in his pockets, though he didn't remember putting them there. He seemed entranced the moment he saw her.