Chapter Four

Mute and Dumb

Veda

Salinger had it all ‘worked out’ because he took me to a restaurant inside a hotel that had valet service. I didn’t want to be impressed, but I couldn’t help it. Antony, and the other boys, did not understand that I wanted to be romanced in an adult way. On dates with them, I ended up at mechanic shops, skate parks, or drive-throughs. Their lack of insight made it much easier for me to dump them.

 Salinger and I sat down at an immaculate table and inspected the menus. I was surprised when he didn't let me order for myself. He ordered escargot to start, salad, seared salmon, and cheesecake. I couldn't think of a less appealing lineup, but I decided to give him the thrill of orchestrating the date his way.

When the waiter was gone, he got down to business.

“I hear you're graduating from high school next month.”

“Yes. Intarsia and Fair Isle are too. Antony as well, if that's of any interest to you.”

“Do you have plans for the fall, then?”

“I'm supposed to pick a university and take education and art, so I can work full time at the school.”

“Is that what you're going to do?”

I smiled waspishly. “I haven't told a soul what I plan to do. What makes you think I'd tell you?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” he conceded, falling back to sip his water.

“Well, continue. Aren't you supposed to fire questions at me so you can decide if I turn your water into wine? Please, continue.”

“This is friendly chit-chat,” he said. “Not even I want to come on that strong. Even if we could someday be madly in love, invading your space like that could never be the first step.”

I frowned. “Then I'll invade your space.”

His head swung around, intrigued.

“What's your book about?” I demanded.

Salinger cleared his throat. “It's called Across the Chessboard. You might think that's a cheesy title, but I have been working on it since I was eleven.”

“How did you suddenly get it to work after so many years?”

He cupped his hand around his mouth as if he was about to tell me a secret. “I got it to work when I was fifteen, but I didn't tell anyone.”

“Why?”

“It's not very impressive. Even when I was fifteen, I realized it was childish. I wanted to do something better before I started showing off. It was my secret. Unfortunately, my father found it a few months ago and his long-dormant pride was revitalized. My coven has the opposite problem as yours—a lot of men and no women. He wants me to get married and bring a wife home immediately. He's even built me a house. If I had been able to keep my book a secret, I wouldn't be here now.”

I latched onto the idea of a house. “Are you saying you would take your wife home to Whitehorse to live?” I gaped.

“Of course. Not to be rude to Edmonton or anything, but Whitehorse is infinitely more beautiful.”

“Is it really beautiful to see all that pitch-black during the zero hours of winter daylight?”

He nodded understandingly. “Spring is hotter, faster. I can't believe your wretched weather down here. I was sweating in my shorts before I flew down.”

“So, have you written any other spell books that work?”

“No. I’ve been trying, but so far, nothing has felt right.”

“June told me she read your book.”

“She loved it,” he bragged.

I refrained from snorting. “Of course, she loved it. She loved it because there were no human sacrifices, no endless nights of torture, and no plagues when you’re the only doctor.”

He stroked his chin. “Have you read the books in your library or is that only what you’ve heard about them?”

“I’m seventeen. They’re forbidden. The matriarchs go out of their way to make sure children don’t read them.”

“They’re less strict back home. I’ve read a few. They were pretty old and awful. My father writes spell books too, but I haven’t read them. They’re intended for a female audience. He can’t even give me pointers. That might be why I haven’t got my second book right. I’m here to read some of your coven’s books and interview a few other writers. When I write a spell book, it must be different from the others. Better. After dinner, I'm going to interview a spell book author.”

I inclined my head to indicate I wouldn't mind coming along.

The appetizers came. I had never had escargot before. It was everything I wanted, but didn't know how to ask for. It was garlic, cheese, herbs, and the softest French bread I'd ever had. The snails were in there too. I couldn't explain how they completed the dish, but they did.

“Good?” he asked knowingly across the table.

“So delicious I can't explain,” I said between bites.

The salmon came right after. I had never had grilled salmon before. My experience with salmon was mostly in tea sandwiches and though I enjoyed them, the grilled variety was completely different. It was mouthwatering. It was served with a salad that had dressing I had never tasted before. There were garlic mashed potatoes that finally gave me the garlic I was craving after the escargot.

“You know, I didn't think much of you not letting me order for myself, but I have to hand it to you, you did it well. Did you do some divination before you came?”

He avoided my eyes—embarrassed. “Yeah.”

I was impressed he was able to do a reading that led to a successful end, and even more impressed that he didn’t mind admitting it.

The dessert was impeccable. I didn't know raspberries were my favorite fruit, but the cheesecake convinced me. I felt very satisfied as we left the restaurant. Even though a dinner date is the bread and butter of dating, I felt close to feeling romanced.