The second time we go to the beach, Mili is quiet the whole drive. She grips the wheel hard, and when she makes a turn, her hands tremble. We ask her if it’s the spirits, but she insists she’s fine. I think she doesn’t want to give us another reason to be scared when she’s finally learned some elemental magic and we’re about to do a spell to try to bust open the realms.
At Conimicut, the sand is hard and damp under my feet, but the rain has stopped, leaving the sky a deep, deep blue color with only a slice of moon coming through the clouds. It feels good to be here—away from home, where I have to lie to Mami about why I’m not eating, and fight fatigue so she doesn’t ask why I’m taking another nap. But then I feel the weight of the page from Lindy’s spell book in my pocket. Heavy like a lie of omission, and thicker because it feels like it could be freedom.
Nat pretends to wave around a wand, teases, “It’s so dark out here. The perfect night for casting a spell.” Mili ignores her and lights a torch she set near a flat rock that’s close to the water. But Natalie’s words resonate, remind me that this night is the type of night the page in my pocket describes: dark, the moon a gibbous, by a body of water. And following the attainment of energy, which is what we’re here for.
“Inez, you good?” Nat asks, pulling me back to the beach.
I’m not, but I nod and watch as Mili holds up the jar she’s been playing with. We get closer to her, and I cringe. Nat says, “That’s fucking huge. Those are chilling in your basement?”
Miliani turns the jar over in her hand and twists open the lid. The spider inside is dead. It’s brown with long legs and a fat body. It looks as if hundreds of baby spiders are about to burst out of it. I find my stomach beneath my shirt, press till it’s sore. There’s only one growing inside me, only one baby I’ll have to birth, but the thought bursts my nerves open like the axons are splitting. An actual baby. To raise, and take care of, even though I’m still learning how to take care of myself. My heart is thrumming in my ears when Miliani sets the spider down on the rock and Natalie complains she’s going to itch all night. Mili proves the spider is harmless by poking at it with her finger. I mimic her by poking my stomach once more.
While we get ready for the spell, Natalie lights candles of so many colors they begin to melt a rainbow in my mind. Mili crushes herbs into a wooden bowl filled with seawater and a sprinkle of sand. The three of us take turns pricking one another’s fingers with a sewing needle to hold over the spider’s body until it’s swimming in our blood.
Mili reminds us how serious this spell is, how necessary. If we pull this off, we should be close enough to anchor Jasmine to this world forever. If we pull this off, we might be able to do anything. Thinking possibilities pulls words from the page in my pocket and decodes them like hieroglyphics. Puts the outcome of the spell within reach, makes it real. Mili says we have to focus like we’ve never focused, but I’m already there. Locked in. For Jasmine. And for me.
We join hands, forming a triangle around the spider, and chant the spell again and again. Nothing happens at first, but Mili starts to chant louder and suddenly my eyes burn and everything around us becomes fuzzy. But only until my vision clears with a sharpness that makes me think I’ve experienced evolution. The dark around us lights up with night vision, and the hairs on the spider stand out against the thick of our blood. The smell of rosemary and sea salt is so intense it coats my tongue. My fingertips begin to buzz. Natalie fumbles over a few words, looking down at our hands, but Mili’s voice rises loud enough to drown out the waves crashing against the shore. Against my chest, the obsidian pulses. Then a surge of static shocks us silent, and we separate, staring at our hands—until Miliani breathes in loudly and Natalie’s eyes brighten in the dark. And the spider, it spreads its legs like a flower and begins to move.
I scoot back from the rock, my fingertips still thrumming. Natalie covers her mouth. “Oh my god. Are we all seeing this? Is it really…?”
Mili leans forward, placing her hand in front of the spider. It climbs. Slowly stretching out over her skin. We watch as it makes its way to the middle of her palm and pauses there. “It is,” she says, her words colored by tears in her throat. “It’s alive.”
“We’re dreaming. I’m convinced we’re dreaming,” Natalie says.
“You can hold it,” Mili offers. “Feel for yourself.”
Natalie backs up. “No, thanks. You got that.”
And Mili’s laugh sounds more real than it has in weeks. I hope, I truly hope, this means we’ll hear so much more of it soon, but her expression grows serious as she looks down at the spider and says, “We’re really going to get Jasmine back.”
It sounds like the first time she believes it with her whole heart. I think it’s the first time I truly believe it. We brought a spider back to life. We brought something back to life. I’m not sure how much of this was divine intervention and how much of it was us, but I can feel the power coursing through my body like it’s bonding with atoms, swirling with the blood in my veins, coating my lungs with each breath.
Mili lays the spider back on the rock, and as it crawls over a crack, she pulls me and Natalie to her. We hug and scream, and Natalie’s body shakes. And I laugh. I cry. We sit there watching the way our magic made a miracle—something that should be impossible, unreal, a fantasy, living here on earth after death. Evidence of our desire manifesting makes my own desires seem so close to being tangible I can feel it in the lightness of my limbs. But the feeling fades, and my thoughts are interrupted when the spider stops moving.
I let go of my friends and still the bones in my body, but I can’t still time. Mili leans over the rock to watch the spider curl in on itself. My bones betray me as they start to move. My leg mimics the spider’s, starting to twitch. Soon that stops too, and I choke on all the silence surrounding us. I find myself beside Mili, reaching out to touch the spider, softly, so softly, and still it withers down to nothing. Dust blending with the dark of the rock.
Like it had never lived at all.
I shake my head, again and again. But Mili puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I knew this could happen. Auntie Lindy said most times necromancy spells are temporary, if they work at all. The one with Jasmine will be different. She’ll have an anchor.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? And why don’t we know what her anchor will be yet?” Nat asks, her voice wavering.
Mili’s gaze flitters away from us. “Because my auntie’s still trying to figure it out,” she says. She bends to blow the dust from the rock, erasing the evidence of the spider’s existence. “And I didn’t tell you because it could’ve interrupted our intentions. It’s purer to believe it was going to live.”
Natalie nods, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “So we still did it?”
“We still did.”
She reaches for Mili and they hug, and they talk to each other, to the moon, and I think they talk to me. But their words blur and thin out, and all that’s left is the sound of my breathing. I try to remind myself we made something incredible happen, but it doesn’t stick. What does it mean that the spider didn’t stay alive? What does it matter if it decomposed to dust and was carried off with the wind? I shift my body away from them, my hands fluttering like the beat of my heart as I reach into my pocket and hold the folded page up to my face. What if this was my only chance and now it’s gone?
“Inez,” Mili says, touching my back. I turn and look into her face. A smile spreads her cheeks wide, until it doesn’t. She scoots closer to me, brows low and close. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not going to work,” I say, and hearing the words out loud makes me want to curl in on myself, shrivel like the spider. I see what my future might look like.
A life with a child. Under my mother’s roof, while she helps me with night feedings after working sixteen hours a day to provide for all of us. Victor putting his video game away to hold the baby when anxiety racks my body. Aaron selling drugs to buy diapers. Papi only getting to see his grandchild through pictures in the mail. All the times they’re not able to be there for me, and I have to raise a child I didn’t want. And my body—never belonging only to me again. Growing and changing for a life that will come before my own. My body forever at the will of anxiety, of pregnancy and postpregnancy, of a baby who will need my mind, my soul, to help it thrive and grow. And magic can’t fix it.
Magic can’t stop my body from making me a mom.
I sob, push my fingers into the sand, try to steady myself through the shakes.
Natalie’s on my other side now, stroking my hair. “What’s wrong? Talk to us.”
“The spider was supposed to live,” I whisper. “It was supposed to make us stronger.”
Mili looks at Nat, then back at me. Her voice is careful, like she’s talking to a child. “But it did work. Didn’t you see? We brought something back from the dead. We’re stronger. Can’t you feel it?”
“But it didn’t stay alive,” I say, my voice rising some. “It’s not enough.”
“Jasmine’s going to—” Mili starts, then stops short. She stares down at my hand and snatches the page. She reads for a few seconds, then her eyes pierce through me. “You’re the one who took a page from my auntie’s spell book?”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d look at me like you’re looking at me now,” I say.
Her mouth opens, then closes. She runs her hands over her face and passes Natalie the page. Nat gasps and leans to grasp my shoulders. “A spell to cause a miscarriage? What are you thinking?”
I shake my head, place my hands over my stomach, and say, “I don’t want to keep it.”
“Then let’s go to the clinic,” Nat says.
“I can’t. I can’t ask you guys for the money, and—” I cut myself off. I have reasons, but I don’t know how to explain the rest to my friends in a way they’d understand. I wish I didn’t have to explain; I wish they knew without me having to say that it’s not as simple as going to a clinic. I wish Jasmine were here to tell it to them.
“But,” Nat says, “we’ll figure it out.”
“Even if we do…” I pause. My voice cracks. I feel like I might splinter. “I can’t.”
“Why not? What are you not saying?” Mili’s tone is sharp, but her eyes are softer now.
“I can’t have an abortion in a clinic. Do you remember all of those protestors outside of it? The signs?” I chew my lip. “I do. Sometimes, I see them when I close my eyes.”
Nat says there’s nothing wrong with having an abortion, not to let those people get to me.
“You’re right. There’s not,” I say. “But what happens if those people are like my people, huh? What happens then?” I dig my nails into my scalp. “What about my mom? What about my brother and my priest and all the people at my church? And what about my dad? What if the abortion record follows me and the immigration court uses it against us?”
Natalie’s mouth slacks a little. She looks over to Mili. They can’t understand. I don’t know how to make them, but I try.
“I prayed,” I say. “I asked God if I’d be forgiven if I went to the clinic, and got no answer. There was no sign. Then days later, I happened to find the page. Of all the books, hundreds of pages, it was in my hands.” I point a shaky finger at Nat. “Not yours. Not Mili’s. Mine. And there was my sign. And maybe, maybe the sign was from God, maybe it wasn’t, but suddenly the page was in front of me and it felt like one. It feels like one.”
Nat shifts and hugs herself. Mili looks at me like she’s examining my insides. “You do realize you’re talking about a sign in the form of a page with a spell that sounds like it could kill you, right?” she says. “And you thought we’d be down for it? You trust us with your life?”
“I do,” I say. “Of course I do.”
Mili sighs. She puts her hand on my knee, squeezes. “How much have you thought about this? You were just talking about keeping the pregnancy.”
“I thought I didn’t have a choice.” My throat aches. I swallow. “And since then I’ve thought about it so much it feels like my brain is splitting, and I don’t know much of anything, but I do know I don’t want to be a mother. What if God was willing to show me another way so maybe I wouldn’t have to be one? What if God is giving me a choice to use the same free will I use every time I do any other spell?”
Mili clenches her jaw. The fire from the torch makes her skin glow. After a moment, Natalie rubs my back. “That makes sense,” she says, her voice reassuring, cooling my fire. “I can see why you’d feel that way. But what about Aaron?”
Remembering the excitement on Aaron’s face and how hurt he might be makes me hurt, too, but Aaron already has siblings to take care of. So I tell Nat, “The baby is going to push his life in a bad direction. I know it. This feels like what’s best for the both of us.” I look down at myself. “But none of it matters. It won’t work. I don’t have any choices left.”
I want to scream, but I don’t. My body feels heavy, and I can’t cry anymore. All I can do is turn to look past them into the ocean. We stay in silence so long I think I can fall asleep right here, stay until this night disappears. Natalie puts an arm around my shoulders. I can’t even look at her. “Talk to me,” she says.
“It hurts so much,” I tell her.
She pulls me to her chest. “Shh.”
“I don’t want to have a baby.”
Natalie tilts her head and looks me in the eyes. “I know,” she says. “And I know it’s not the same, but I remember feeling so helpless when my mom was in that coma. I had to do something, and I remember feeling like magic was my only option.” She kisses me on the cheek and turns to look at Miliani. “Can it still work?”
Miliani doesn’t hesitate. She nods grudgingly, and it’s so hard to believe that I stare at her, willing her to say it out loud. She doesn’t, but Nat says, “After all Inez has done for me. Gone through for us. Maybe we should try?”
Miliani stares up at the gibbous moon, wrapping her arms around herself. After what feels like a long time, she says, “If she’s sure.”
Natalie grabs my face with both of her hands, looks at me awhile, then stands up and helps me to my feet. I feel like I have whiplash. “You’ll help me?” I say.
She leans her forehead against mine. “We said no matter what.”
The tears come again. I glance at Mili, but she’s looking down at the scar on her palm.
We strip down to panties and bras. I take off the crystal necklace. Obsidian is used for protection, and I know I can’t wear it when we try this. We walk into the water. Natalie jokes about never getting in again after this, and I’m not sure if I laugh out loud or just think I should laugh. Everything becomes a little blurry as we get waist-deep. We shiver. We grow quiet. I form a cup with my hand and sip some seawater. The salt thickens my throat and feels like sludge going down. This spell is different; there are no words to chant. I’m so cold I start to shake. Natalie and Miliani touch my stomach, and my nerves bubble there. But I’ll only be under for sixty seconds. I’ve held my breath longer than that swimming in pools and playing at this same beach. I take a breath when they each place a hand on my shoulders. Miliani’s eyes—soft with love I know is for me—are the last I see before I’m pushed under the water. At first, it’s easy. I feel and focus with intention, and pray to God. I pray I won’t need forgiveness after this. I pray that if I do, I’ll be able to get it. I pray for strength so I won’t panic and risk needing forgiveness for something that won’t even work. But some seconds later, my body begins to go on alert.
My arms flail. I grasp one of their hands, try to peel them away, try to rise. They continue to hold me down, and my breasts ache and burn, and no matter how many times I blink, I see nothing but darkness in front of me. But then, I remember my baptism, and the trust I put in God, in a priest, and it helps me put my trust in my friends so I’m able to relax and concentrate on my whole body. Making it feel like mine again. Making it belong to me. And I start to see a faint glow around me. I feel weightless. I think I might float.
But suddenly, Natalie and Miliani yank me from the water. My body jerks. I’m dazed. I choke up what I swallowed. I reorient myself and see my friends in front of me. And I feel the same. Exactly the same heaviness I felt before we started. “What happened?” I say. “It was too soon.”
They don’t answer with their mouths; they answer with their eyes. I feel their fear before they push their bodies closer and bury me with it. My own fear rises as the glow around us grows brighter. I might not be breathing when I notice the dozens of clinging jellyfish surrounding us—their bioluminescent bodies swaying in the water and giving off a green light. We stiffen, try to clamp and cling to one another like barnacles. Bile rises in my throat. My pregnancy feels like a rock between us. I blink in and out. From this moment to the one before. Then it starts to rain.
It pours down on us, thunder and lightning crackling over our heads. I stumble back, and Mili grasps me, but the jellyfish spread their glowing tentacles and start to swim away, the green fading as they go. The water turns dark again, and so do the thoughts in my mind. It was wrong. It was all wrong. They pulled me too soon because nature said it was wrong. Maybe God. I feel nauseous. I feel tired. I feel pregnant. They pull me by my arms and lead me out of the water while rain makes ripples around us and lightning brightens the sky.
On the ride back home, my clothes stick to my skin. Natalie sits beside me in the back seat, trying to talk to me, trying to comfort me, but then gives up and begins to flip through her camera. Her fear is still palpable. The jellyfish, the spell. I watch her body shake. Miliani drives slow. The rain is coming down so hard I wonder if she can see the road in front of her.
Halfway to Providence, the pain in my heart is too much to bear, and I can’t help but say, “It didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work.”