Before I knew it, it was the Fourth of July. I had been spending less and less time at St. Kate’s, gravitating toward Nick and the band and the girls that ran with them. I was starting to think I could pick and choose my future—being brash like Annie, working hard like Bridget and Diane, taking or leaving a man like Cheryl.
Nick and I met the guys, Kathleen, and Cheryl in Powderhorn Park. The city was buzzing with an energy that felt familiar, yet wholly new to me. It reminded me of Solstice. Everyone was in a celebratory mood and had their own way of showing it—Nick with illegal fireworks procured from the back of a truck in Woodbury.
The smell of fresh-cut grass and hamburgers and gunpowder and the cacophony of fire trucks and honking horns and a brass band made me nostalgic for the Friedrich Fourth of July parade. I thought sadly of Annie, whom I hadn’t spoken with since Solstice out of fear and shame. She’s not family. I wondered what Annie thought of my act on Solstice, but I couldn’t bring myself to call her.
It was the first year that I would miss out on our tradition of meeting late along the parade route past where the princesses disembarked from their floats to claim our spot in front of the dumpster. While Lake Street was otherwise packed with families and little kids and dogs in festive bandannas, like magic, our spot was always reserved for us. We sat on the curb and leaned our backs in tank tops against the dumpster’s hot metal side and stretched our legs into the street, just in time to see the Shriners’ big finale.
Minneapolis’s Fourth festivities put Friedrich to shame, though, and I was dazzled by the city’s budget and capacity for celebration. Hiawatha Man was playing an outdoor event in the park that evening, eschewing the traditional patriotism of the official city fireworks on Nicollet Island for a more raucous, grassroots affair. There were other bands and folk singers and antiwar speakers in the lineup from noon to midnight, and Cheryl had a group from SDS there.
I was impressed by the way the guys mobilized in the early afternoon when they wouldn’t play until at least six o’clock. I wasn’t prepared for the sea of people and patchwork of quilts and blankets covering the park lawn edge to edge. People were out in full force. It felt like pure chaos and I loved it. I was relieved that Jim had had the foresight to beat us there to stake our claim with a baby-blue bedsheet flanked by Styrofoam coolers and a tiny charcoal grill, undoubtedly borrowed from his parents’ garage. Some traditions couldn’t be shaken: we unloaded our all-American picnic of hot dogs and buns, condiments, and store-bought chips and cookies. One of the guys mixed plastic cups of whiskey and warm Coke, and we sprawled on the thin sheet over the parched midsummer grass as Nick and Jim charred hot dogs. Kathleen passed me a cigarette, and I took it with an inward shrug. I dragged on it slowly, trying not to cough, trying to look like Annie would.
Other people, friends, came and went as they made their way to their own picnics or made their way closer to the stage. Sometimes Nick didn’t introduce me, or someone would stop by to talk to Mikey or one of the other girls, but I didn’t mind. I was content to take in all the people. Besides, it was easier not to read them accidentally, to not be tempted to glance at their energies, if I didn’t know their names.
A name could bring the thin veil crashing down between worlds. As much as I would’ve loved the energy of the vibrant, living, breathing crowd around us—it made me feel young and invincible—the act of accidentally reading that energy shackled me to Friedrich and Magda and my birthright, whether I liked it or not. But my hands relaxed as we played cards, and although I knew I was not entirely like the others in the group, I felt more at home with this band of misfit music geeks, hard drinkers, and unapologetic women than ever in my life. By the time of Hiawatha Man’s set, I was more relaxed than I had been in months.
I didn’t know yet how to fully be myself without magic, but I wished I could bottle the magic feeling of that day and wear it forever.
A few days later, a newspaper headline caught my eye in my daily scouring of the classifieds.
“More Drought for Western Minn.” announced the front page of the Star Tribune.
It bothered me all day, and when I returned to St. Kate’s for supper that evening, I headed upstairs to the phone first, willing Mary to pick up.
Maybe it worked, or maybe my mother and Magda didn’t answer the phone anymore.
“Hello-Watry-residence-who’s-calling-please?” Mary exhaled in a monotone.
“Mare, it’s me,” I said. “I—I wanted to check on you. How are things there?” I asked.
“Not good, Lisbett,” Mary said sharply. “Magda can barely keep up, but she won’t let me help besides water charms. Folks are uneasy since Solstice, but we have a huge line every day for water charms.”
I was relieved to hear there were still clients at our door.
“It doesn’t sound so bad then, Mare,” I ventured. “I’m sure it’s not—”
“It’s bad,” Mary hissed, cutting me off. “Magda is cleaning up your mess, and the town is barely hanging on through this heat wave. I am defending you left and right to our neighbors, but it’s getting harder to do that the longer you’re gone. You should be here.”
“My mess? But Magda—” I started.
“I’ve gotta go,” she cut me off, uninterested in hearing my side of it or unwilling to. “If you’re not going to come home and help, don’t bother checking on us.” She hung up without another word.
This is what I wanted, I reminded myself.
I couldn’t help it, I still felt responsible for the people of Friedrich. It was our duty to care for them. I had wanted to loosen Magda’s grasp on my life, but I didn’t want the town to suffer. I hoped Mary was stepping up, but even then, it made me burn anew: If Mary is perfectly capable, why isn’t she good enough for Magda? Why won’t Magda let her help?
The longer I stayed away, the more I had to admit I missed my magic. My fingers were burning with uncast charms, and it was killing me to cut myself off from the ice floe magic. I was starting to slip up. After Magda’s raven, she had left me alone, and I didn’t know why. Maybe she was just too busy with things at home, but I found it strange.
And the more I got to know Nick, the more I wanted him to know the real me, which felt impossible.
When I headed back down for supper, Sister Margaret and Sister Kate were waiting for me outside the dining room. Sister Kate looked sheepish, but Sister Margaret was resolute.
“You’ve broken curfew too many times, Miss Holbrooke.”
I got stares from some of the other girls heading into dinner. Bridget hovered near the dining room doorway to eavesdrop.
“We’ll need you to pack your things by tomorrow morning,” Sister Kate added with her eyes on the ground.
I stared, waiting for them to say more. When Sister Kate didn’t look up, I impulsively said, “Fine. No need. I’ll be gone tonight.” Deep down I had known St. Kate’s wasn’t for me. I wasn’t a good Catholic girl like Diane or Bridget. I was becoming something else.
I couldn’t bear the idea of answering questions from the other girls at dinner, so I headed back up to my room, rolled my few belongings into my backpack, and left St. Kate’s in the dust.
When I showed up at Radgard’s with my backpack, Nick didn’t bat an eye. Maybe he didn’t realize I was carrying everything I had to my name at the moment, or maybe with all the time we had been spending together, he had expected this at some point. I had the feeling he was used to transients of all kinds flowing through his bar and his life. Maybe nobody has ever stayed, I thought sadly. But Nick looked at me like he was ready for me to slide right into his life and said nothing as I waited for him to lock up for the night.
We had starting walking back to his place when, after a few blocks, I tripped over something soft. I squinted into the midnight shadows, and there was Sam, my mother’s big gray tabby cat, his white paws practically glowing in the streetlight. His fur was dirty and thick with sandburs, but it was definitely Sam.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said.
“What’s that?” Nick asked, his hand finding my waist.
“Look,” I ad-libbed. “There’s a stray cat.” Sam revved his engine and swirled around my ankles like he hadn’t been sent there by my mother, like he was a normal tabby cat. I wondered how long it had taken Sam to find me.
“Right on,” Nick said with a shrug.
“Do you mind if I bring him home? I think he likes us,” I said. Sam helped by rubbing Nick’s ankles too.
“Whatever makes you happy,” Nick said. He leaned down to scoop up Sam, and I was relieved when Sam cooperated.
I instinctively reached out to take Sam from Nick, tossing his long front legs over my shoulder like my mother would. Sam scrambled up my shoulder, finding purchase with his claws in the fabric of my blouse.
“Whoa,” Nick said, watching us situate ourselves.
“I had a cat growing up,” I offered. That was true, at least.
Sam rode home like that on my shoulder, like he had done with my mother a million times, and Nick and I talked about music and dinner and were cocky enough to make plans for a few more summer weekends. All the while, I could feel Sam’s ears twitching with interest against my hair.
At Nick’s, I found myself staring at Sam, who had made himself comfortable on my pillow while Nick showered. Mom knew where I was, which meant that Magda did too. I didn’t quite understand, but it felt like my mother’s plea for me to come home.
“What does she want from me?” I asked the cat in question, knowing full well that he couldn’t answer me. As my mother’s familiar, Sam’s unspoken language was decipherable only to her, as Mickey’s was to Mary.
Sam licked a paw nonchalantly.
“If you’re supposed to be a messenger, you’re terrible at it,” I told Sam. How bad was it at home that Mom was getting involved? Is my family safe? I wondered suddenly. Maybe the fallout from Harry’s was even worse than Mary had let on.
Dorothy? Do I have to go home?
Yes, mein Liebling. It’s time, came the answer.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I wasn’t ready to face whatever awaited me at home. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Nick. I felt myself wanting to reveal more of my true self to him. I wanted more time to figure out exactly how to do that.
Now? I asked again.
Go now, Liebling, before it’s too late, Dorothy whispered.
Soon, I promised.
Sam froze midlick and eyed me above his whiskers. “Soon, I swear!” I told him.