Mind Made Up

Day Fifteen. Tuesday.

The City.

It was two weeks ago, last Thursday, since I've been back in the city. It smells awful. Worse than when I left. I can't help but feel that it's not the city though.

I arrived late last night, past eleven. Traffic on the highway, wrong turn at the wrong street -- I don't normally drive in the city. I use public transit. But that was not an option for what I need, since I'll be packing the car with stuff -- clothing mostly, but a few odd items as well. I turned in to my apartment and all was quiet.

I didn't miss the place, to be honest. My childhood bed is so much warmer, and Castillo itself resonates of happiness. This place is drab. Of course, I can't help but think that my Castillo-colored glasses are affecting my whole perception of the place. But I suppose I have to live with it.

I set the alarm for six in the morning. Shower, get dressed, e-mail. Did about an hour of graphic design work -- a project I couldn't finish yesterday. Then, I get out to my local breakfast restaurant, quite literally across the street from my apartment. I eat there -- or used to -- at least once a week, mostly on weekends.

I'm not quite myself at first. I sit down at my booth. The waiter comes along, acknowledges me, takes my order, walks away. I peruse the local news like I used to before the recent changes. Nothing to report. Everything is drab there too.

It's only when I first look up that something obvious hits me.

No one's looking at me. At all.

I see the other patrons in their booths, a few at the counter, the waitress behind it, the other waiter shuffling back-and-forth. Men and women. All of them completely ignoring me. Not a glance.

The sensation is surreal, and I almost get a panic attack -- but I close my eyes, grabbing my glass of water, taking a small then a long sip, and reason myself.

I'm normal here, apparently.

It seems unbelievable after the last two weeks. I no longer draw all eyes on me -- no one seems beholden to my will, as if waiting for me to call them out. And no puppy eyes of love cast upon me at all times.

I feel so small.

The curious part of my brain forces me to investigate so I raise my hand to draw attention to my booth. The waiter sees me -- so does the waitress -- but neither of them rushes to my seat to answer my need. I do get what seems to be a traditional nod from the waitress, letting me know she'll send the other guy over. But that's it.

I'm nothing here.

Is that why, despite having this power, my father never left Castillo? With a power such as this, you could theoretically travel the globe. But wait, that's wrong. He traveled around the city, up to 100 kilometers away to the nearest down where Dolores and Irina live. So maybe there's a geographical limit further? The idea never occurred to me before, and it seems obvious why. My comfort was in Castillo and its people, so I had no reason to leave. I only came back to get my affairs in order so I could go back - forever.

The waiter finally comes around, and I decide I need another validation.

- Uh... this water isn't cold, I tell him. I'd like another.

- Seriously?

The sneer he offers me is priceless but troubling; I cringe back into my seat.

- Uh... never mind, I tell him.

- Your food will be out shortly.

It's a face full of judgement directed at me, something I haven't seen in a while. I didn't miss it, in all fairness, but at least now I know. I gave him a direct order -- or request -- and he laughed it off. He made me feel like I should -- ridiculed.

I realize after a moment of processing that this changes my entire outlook for the day; the revelation leaves me silent and anxious for a long while.

I get my meal and eat without thinking, tracking my plans as I see them unravel before me. I can't get my landlord to break my lease. I can't get Dolores' sons to talk to her. And whatever else might come up in this horrible day.

I pay my bill and walk out into the street, completely distraught. Having relied on this power for the last two weeks to get anything I want, I'm left without any resilience to cope with the sudden stress. I walk to a bench on the side street and sit down, staring into the empty.

I don't even realize when an old man sits beside me.

- You ok, son?

- I... no. No, I'm not.

I turn to look at him -- sixties, grey hair, a wise face. He gives me a smile.

- Don't know what's got you confused son, but you got a good head on your shoulders. You'll be fine.

How can I explain to him the process I'm going through? Is it even understandable at this point?

- It's unreal, I tell him.

- Life? Sure it is. But you gotta take what you got.

He introduces himself as Larry. I give him my name.

- Grant, whatever it is that got to you, you've got this.

- This won't make sense to you, but I've lost something precious to me. Something I don't think I can live without anymore.

- Not a girl?

I have a frightening thought: what if leaving Castillo actually cut my power short? What if I never regain it? Obviously, Larry sees the fright in my eyes. He catches my attention with a sharp 'hey'.

- Now listen here. I don't care what it is. You don't give up.

- I can't do this without...

- You don't call yourself a man and give up. Hear me. Lost my first wife to cancer but did I stop? No. Married another. Lost my first job to a moron. Got a better job. There ain't no battles you can't win if you fight hard enough.

I'm trying to listen to him but the fear isn't letting me go. I rise.

- I'm sorry, sir, I just can't.

As I start to walk away, he calls me out.

- Whatever you think you lost, young man, it's still in you. You just gotta fight for it more. That's the true test of a man!

I'm far enough away on the street that I don't hear him anymore, but I just turn a corner and lean against the building, panting -- breathing itself has become arduous.

- This is nuts! I tell myself.

But the man's words yet resonate in me -- his determined look also. I close my eyes and try to calm the panic that's risen in me. I lived without this power before all this started. Granted, it's made my life that much easier, but I managed it. It's feasible.

Then, I think back on all my projects -- no, more like all my relations back in Castillo. Do they depend on this gift? If so, my whole life just shattered and everything I've been building will crumble like sand. Even if I were able to regain my confidence in my own natural abilities, how can I ever hope to carry out the rest of it without this supernatural influence? It seems impossible.

I take long deep breaths, again trying to reason myself. I have to assume that, at some point, my father tried to leave the area of Castillo. He soon found out that his own gift didn't operate outside, so he would have returned. I have traces of his abilities (through the pictures he took of his conquests) as recently as one month before his death. This means his power returned. It stands to reason mine will.

It takes me several minutes to commit that reasoning to feeling.

I haven't lost anything yet. But my prospects outside of Castillo have become quite limited. While I am certain I can hire movers to get my stuff to Castillo, the landlord won't break my lease. That's obvious. He's stingy, like most landlords. He would only break it if I had someone to cover the remaining time.

The situation with Harry and Hank, Dolores' twin sons, is even worse, considering they haven't' spoken to their mother in years. I have very little in the matter of arguments to convince them to apologize to her, let alone pick up the phone to call her.

At least, I'm no longer horny, I tell myself. But I'm guessing that has equally to do with my current terror.

A couple walks by, casting a worried glance at me. I must look like a mess. I need to move from here. I decide to head back to my apartment. Once inside, door locked, I sit at my computer to ponder my next move -- there's still work to be done, I suppose.

The movers are the obvious choice. I just need to book an appointment with them and rent their services. I don't need my gift for that. Besides, I can do it all online -- one of the advantages of the city that Castillo doesn't fully benefit from. Yet, I tell myself.

It takes me almost an hour to get through the process -- I feel it should have been much quicker but I'm having trouble keeping focus. The cost is steep, but I can afford it with my new salary. I need to get someone to handle my moving out. I was going to ask a friend with whom I've shared work, but it seems doubtful now they'll do it just out of the kindness of their heart, or me asking. It just means I'll need to return on moving day to coordinate with the team. The idea almost makes me gag -- this power has really taken over my life and its loss is the most terrible of truths.

I suppose if I wanted to get rid of it -- the power and influence over others, the sex drive, the sometimes lack of control -- that would be a way. But then, I'd have to forget everything about my future plans -- and how much hurt would that cause everyone back in Castillo! I'd be the most hated person ever -- worse than my father. I've given my lovers such hopes! I can't back down.

I avoid another panic attack with deep breaths and watching videos of dogs cuddling with cats. It takes way too long to manage my emotions, but I achieve it. I don't check the time because I don't want to add to my worries.

My phone rings. It's Elena Brighton, Lulu's personal assistant. I answer.

- Hello?

- Hi. Is this Grant Hammond?

Her voice sounds like she doesn't recognize me. I'm stumped for a moment, then answer.

- Of course.

- Ok.

Something's wrong but I dare not ask.

- What can I do for you, Elena? I ask.

- Ah! Yes.

She acknowledges it's me because I call her name, but I don't think she would have otherwise. She continues.

- I have a new file for the contract that I uploaded on the server. I just wanted to make sure you got it.

- Thank you. I'll check it out.

- Are you ok? Your voice sounds weird, she tells me.

- A bit of a cold, I lie. I'm fine.

- OK well... have a good day.

I wish her the same and hang up.

- My voice, I mumble.

I speak a few sentences, randomly. I can't discern the difference, but clearly she could. And I'm guessing so could every other person. Something about my voice has become distinctive and is making people act favorably towards me. At the moment, it's not there so Elena must be thoroughly confused, if that's the driving force behind people's submission to my whims.

I'm learning so much through this terrible moment.

I dare not call anyone else that knows me from Castillo.

I decide that looking at the project will take my mind off my troubles. The good news is that it does. The bad news is that this single page alone adds at least two days of work, and I'm already behind on some things -- since I hadn't planned to do any work in the next few days.

When it rains, it pours.

The image of the old man returns to my mind. His words of encouragement, mostly. 'Still inside me', he says. But he can't know what he's talking about. I understand what he meant by it, but this is way beyond any wise man's gentle opinion of support. We are dealing with supernatural forces!

It occurs to me that since the start of this new journey, while I have been inquisitive about its origin, I have not found many answers, and those I did led nowhere practical. My ancestor being a pirate, helping found Castillo, the ring being passed down through generations, a curse of some kind of unknown effect and practicality. None of it gives me a clear way to grasp the intricacies of my situation. Add to this my recent learnings from this morning and I get a headache.

I'm not ready to face my landlord yet. I know I'm stalling, but I need to focus on something else or I'll crack. So I decide the internet might hold a solution.

I start to search for Castillo. Curses. Power of Love. Domination. Pheromones. Voice control. Whatever else I can think up.

The results are quite random, or at least they seem to be. It takes a lot of sleuthing, and mostly time, to find one article that seems to relay some information about my place of birth. An old research paper someone wrote about fifty years ago, which has since been digitized and added to a collection of ODD STORIES FROM THE COAST.

People claim that Castillo was founded in 1842, but that is a falsity. The town was incorporated that year, but the initial founding dates back to 1837. People also claim that its founder, Hammond, was a pirate, but there are no sources to back that up other than a newspaper article claiming something along those lines, published outside of Castillo by someone with a shady reputation. The year of foundation is set earlier in the unoffificial version because of the controversy that surrounded the landing of 1837. Though it is presented as rumour, a few historical sources point to the fact that Hammond was a polygamist -- having as many as a hundred wives, all very devoted to him and his family. While the number is made up, we have the names of at least twenty women who are said to have been in his entourage in 1837.

When the town needed to be incorporated in order to become part of the country, a government representative visited Hammond and forced him to marry one of his wives -- renouncing all others. While officially, that is true, we can suspect that the Hammond harem continued.

Quickly, however, the local faith emerged and Hammond had to abandon his ways, else he be excommunicated and chased off his own city. He died rather young, forty-eight, leaving a strong memory which quickly turned to rumor.

As for the tales of his piracy, it is mostly attributed to the treasure he kept in his home, suggesting their source as ill-gotten goods from pillaging. However, Hammond never owned a ship, nor was he even known to be a sailor other than in the port. It is more likely that his treasure was part of gifts received.

An anonymous source which seems reliable but sadly cannot be identified claims that most of the women in his harem were in reality slaves that he rescued, buying them off their masters. The source speculated that he probably also stole from (and maybe killed) these masters, which is where he would have earned his resources. Another source, a noted historian, believes that he was also offered gifts by many people, though the nature of why those gifts were made to him remains unknown, as there are no notable transactions in his affairs.

The name Castillo itself is Spanish, meaning Castle, but there is no trace of Hispanic heritage in Hammond's family, who are from British descent.

This is the most information I ever found. I realize that Mary, as good as she was, searched mostly in the local library, not online. That's because it's where I asked her to look. As for the genealogist, he focused strictly on paper documents.

I should have looked at this earlier, but I suppose the gift horse analogy comes to mind.

I browse through other records, all trivial or not relevant, until I come upon what is said to be the portrait of Hammond. I click on it and contemplate my ancestor. The portrait is hand-drawn, in the realistic style of the era. And I spot the ring immediately.

The ring!

I get up and look through my clothes from last night. This morning, I was able to get fresh clothes from my own drawers. But my dirty clothes, those I've been wearing for the past two weeks in Castillo, are still on the floor. I look through the pockets and find the ring. I put it on yesterday to show to my mother -- and I never removed it until last night, going to bed.

It seems to shine in my hand.

I slide it on.

Suddenly, I inhale without thinking about it -- as if I'm taking in my first breath ever. It almost numbs me. But then, I breathe normally again.

The ring.

Maybe that's what it's for.

But then why wouldn't my dad use it? There's still so much I don't know. But I need to test it out.

My next door neighbor is a stay-at-home mom. Her children are two and four, with her during the day while her husband works. She's as good a target as any. I stumble into the hallway, still a bit dazed, and knock on her door.

- A minute! She yells through the door.

I pause, collect myself, then smile. The door opens. I hear children's voices behind her, from her living room. We have barely talked in the two years they've been living here, but she knows who I am.

I see the light shine upon her face as she sees me with a different light.

- Oh. Grant. Hi.

- Jenna. Hi. I was wondering if I could... borrow a cup of sugar.

- Of course. Come in.

It's back. I'm back. I could cry. And then, I'm fearful. She wants to invite me in. I can't let that happen. Because as much as my power of suggestion has returned, my horniness has ramped up to eleven as well. I catch the tiniest view of her cleavage in her dirty shirt and I start getting hard instantly. I have to defuse this now.

- You know what, I tell her, I'm good. But you are so kind for offering. Listen, I want to ask you a few questions. Can i?

- Sure.

- Are your kids ok?

She looks back.

- Yeah. They're playing with blocks. They're fine.

- It won't be long, Jenna.

She waits for me to speak. The rush of power is intoxicating but I can't let anything untoward happen here. Jenna didn't sign up for this.

- Tell me if there is anything you need to make your current life better. Your husband, your kids, yourself. Anything.

I see her undress me with her eyes, but she doesn't go there, at least not in words.

- Well, money is tight a bit, but we're managing. I'm more concerned about Bertrand.

- What about him?

- He's overworking himself to make ends meet. We had car trouble and medical costs recently.

I nod in understanding.

- Jenna, very soon, you'll receive some money. It will be a cheque to help cover the costs.

- Really? How?

- I got into some money recently. Listen, I'm moving out. Going back to my home town.

- Oh... what a shame.

I refuse to play into her desire, as much as my body wants to. She is happily married woman with a good husband and two young children in the other room. I will not be a monster here.

- How much do you need?

- Five thousand, about?

- You'll have it within two weeks. Tell Bertrand you won into in a contest. If he doesn't believe you, let him call me. I'll convince him. You still have my number?

- I do.

We had traded it once, for emergencies.

- Don't call me for other reasons, ok? Take care of your family before anything else. They are what matters.

- I agree.

I'm ready to leave.

- So... it's goodbye?

- Yes.

- Can I hug you?

I can't deny her that. I nod yes. She pulls me in and squeezes tight, taking in my smell. I let her linger there for a moment, then push her off.

- Don't worry, Jenna. You'll be fine without me. You have a loving husband and beautiful children. You'll be fine. You don't need me.

- I don't need you to be fine, she replies.

I step back and wait -- she closes the door. I run back into my apartment and jump face first into the bed -- and then I scream into the pillow, the loudest scream I can mutter even though it is muffled.

- Fuck!

It's not just the rush of my powers returned. It's the sheer exertion of willpower not to have Jenna kneel in front of me and suck me dry. But I can't hold it anymore. I need someone's voice in my ear. But for the life of me, I don't know who to call!

I'm stripping naked even as I struggle with my phone, trying to access the naked images I've taken of all my partners (it also includes the images I've transferred from my father's collection). I'm hoping the first one to pop up will give me an answer as to whom I should be calling. But I can't get the blasted file to open with just one hand.