text: Lying in the cold darkness of an empty room, I didn’t want to get up, there was no point! How many times can you get knocked to your knees before you just stayed down in the muck? This wasn’t who I was, or at least it’s not who I used to be, but here I am knocked down again, all in the name of Love. You see I have yearned for love, hunted it, tried to create it, and all to no avail. The rational side of my brain says to forget it and become the type of guy that I cannot stand. You know the one, the guy who uses women for one thing, treats them like trash, and just moves on, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. “Get that out of your head Jake,” I growled to myself, rising out of bed to start my day. Sandra had been everything to me. She was beautiful, spirited, and had brought excitement and joy to my life. We had lived together for two years yesterday, when she moved out with all of my furniture. I should have paid more attention to the signs that were right in front of me though. The questioning looks I would get when I started working night shifts and the cold meals left in the fridge, if there was anything left at all. Then the “girls' nights” started with a group of her college friends on my only nights off. I knew it was coming, but I chose not to see it; like a fool I was blinded by what I thought was love. Walking to the window I pushed the towel to the side to let the harsh brightness of the sun into the room. I still can’t believe she took the blinds when she left! Closing my eyes, I let the warmth and light envelope me, then the tingling started, like pin pricks across my skin. I had never told anyone why I worked nights, but it all started after Sandra moved in. We had gone to the river for a canoe trip where I got a horrible sunburn. After that, my skin always reacted the same way to direct sunlight; a slight tingle that intensified into excruciating pain. “Polymorphic sun poisoning,” the dermatologist called it. “It’s hard to say what caused it. I’m sure that severe sunburn didn’t help matters any, but it’s just something that you will have to monitor very closely from now on,” he said flippantly. Not caring anymore, I stood in the light until my skin turned red and the pain doubled me over. It took my mind off the betrayal. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this happened. Before Sandra, it was Janeane, and before her it was Chelsea, my high school sweetheart. They had all used me to help them financially and led me to believe they loved me, but they hadn’t. I’m not even sure they understood what love was. “She even took the coffee pot,” I thought shaking my head. “Why would you take the coffee pot, you don’t even like coffee?” I had asked when calling her phone. “Andre likes coffee and doesn’t have a pot and I am not about to go to Starborns all the time,” she replied. “You left me for Andre?” I had roared into the phone, unable to control my anger. Andre had been my best friend since eighth grade, my coworker, and my surrogate brother and the kind of guy who destroyed any kind of monogamous relationship he came in contact with. Always looking like he stepped out of a magazine, he was tall, well built, and had beautiful olive skin, a stark contrast to my alabaster tone. This was the last straw, I couldn’t do it anymore, so I didn’t. Leaving town had never crossed my mind before, this had always been home. I grew up here, but this time I saw no other choice, I had to get away. The house sold in a month and since it was my house and paid for, I at least had a windfall if needed. My work had accepted my notice without hesitation and didn’t even try to talk me out of quitting. Sad that I had been there, doing a good job, for fourteen years, but that’s life, I guess. All I owned fit in the small box trailer I had bought to haul the sound equipment that Sandra had taken as well. “If you don’t find a place, at least you can camp in the trailer for a while,” I told myself, trying to find a bright side. Leaving town as the sun broke the horizon, I steered my Tacoma toward the highway, set the cruise at 80, and never looked back. There was nothing left for me there and the road heading South was all that I wanted to see. Seventeen hours later I rolled into New Orleans tired, starving, and needing gas. Turning into the first Conoco station I came across found me being the only customer in the parking lot. Road weary, I stretched my back, walking a couple of laps around the truck and trailer before heading into the store. The attendant was a slim faced woman with an inviting smile and beautiful caramel skin. “You ain’t gonna find no place to stay in this town,” she said from behind the counter. “It’s Mardi Gras honey, and I’d be careful where I went in the city tonight, if I was you!” “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “Can I get thirty-five dollars on pump four and this Coke?” I asked, sliding forty dollars across the counter. “Is there any place that I might find something to eat?” I inquired. Shaking her head, the attendant took the money, ringing up my bill. “Only place you’ll find food tonight is at my house and since I never seen you before I will probably keep my gumbo to myself,” she said, smiling through her thick Louisiana accent. Opening my palm for the change she stopped, dropped the change on the counter, and started crying uncontrollably. “You poor thing,” she wailed. Confused, I looked to see if there was some kind of grotesque tumor erupting from my hand, but there was nothing, it just looked its normal pasty white. The woman grabbed my hand with a grip like iron, tracing the lines of my palm over and over, tears dripping from her cheeks onto my skin. “You poor man. How many times have you been hurt by those you loved?” she asked. Reeling from these words, I felt like a hole had been torn through me, revealing my soul to the elements. “Three times,” I stammered as my knees started to buckle and the room began to spin. “Focus on me,” she commanded, “you can’t pass out on me. It’s important that you stay awake.” My eyes locked onto hers, vibrant and amber with little green flecks around the edges, tears pooling on her bottom lids wicking through thick black lashes before sliding down her cheeks. "Molina" etched in black letters on a gold name badge, pinned to her red shirt. "Wha...What’s happening here?” I stuttered, trying but unable to pull away. “You will never find what you need if you keep looking for it so hard, baby. It has to come natural-like. The other person shouldn’t care about your money, your stuff, only you and what’s in your heart,” she sobbed. “You got a light in you still and all the darkness surrounding your heart is from the pain caused by others. You got to let that go!” Molina said, wiping her face with a tissue. How was it that a woman whom I’d never seen before knew so much about me? Was I still asleep? What was happening to me? As these thoughts bounced to and fro in my head, Molina looked at me with those piercing amber eyes. “I have the sight, honey. Got it from my grand-mamma, who got it from hers, who got it from hers. It goes back generations in my family, and it can be a curse, as well as a blessing,” she said releasing my hand. “Your pain is written all over you and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone hurting so much. You need help, baby,” she said quietly. “Is this real?” I asked, backing away from the counter. “As real as breathing,” she said softly. Lunging toward the door, I forgot about my gas as I drove out of the parking lot, convinced I could find another gas station. I raced down the street, turning right for a few blocks, then back left, finding nothing but blocked streets and closed businesses. I let out a sigh of relief as I turned the corner and saw a station with all the lights on. My breath caught as I walked in, seeing Molina, waiting with my change in her hand. “I said you need help,” she said, smiling. “How is this possible?” I said, turning back toward the door. “Don’t leave!” she said sternly. “Jake Bertrand, you started running away long before you ever left home, you just didn’t know it. My name is Molina,” she said, pronouncing it “Moe-Lynn-ae”. “You are losing it Jake,” I muttered. “You aren't crazy, just broken,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s a reason you found your way back here and it’s not because you got lost. I led you back here with my light,” she smiled. “I saw the lights when I turned the corner,” I stammered. “Everybody can see those lights, honey. That’s not the light I’m talkin' about. I prayed that God would send you back to me, so that I could help you and he did,” she said matter-of-factly. Slumping onto a stack of papers, I dropped my head into my hands. I was dead, that was the only explanation that I could come up with. I had to have fallen asleep driving, died, and was now stuck in this weird realm of confusion. As if reading my thoughts, Molina chuckled as she said, “You aren’t dead, and this is real. Now go pump your gas and come back into the store.” My mind spinning, as my body, on autopilot, went and did as she had told me to. I looked at my watch to see if it was still ticking, trying to wrap my head around the events taking place. Time ticked along just as it always had, rendering me at an even farther loss for a rational explanation. The pump clicked indicating the tank was full as the sound of a nearby private Mardi Gras celebration ensued. The scent of warm, sweaty bodies engaged in dancing and drinking floated on the winds of the night accompanied by the raucous music of New Orleans’ largest celebration. My mind settled as the music and laughter lifted my spirits. “You made the right choice coming here Jake,” I heard from behind me. The gas station looked dark and abandoned; I hadn’t even noticed the lights had been turned off. The voice sounded familiar, but the woman speaking to me wasn’t Molina. “It’s me child,” she said with that unnerving ability to hear my thoughts. “How is this possible?” I asked, no longer afraid of her presence. “I knew you were going to come along at some point in my life. I’ve waited years for you to set foot in front of me, at this moment right here,” she said, reaching for my hand. Without hesitation I reached for her hand surprised at the strength of her grip, she looked to be 90 years old, but the amber eyes still blazed brightly. Looking around I realized the gas station didn’t just look abandoned, it was and had been for many years. “Molina are you an angel, or something else?” I asked hesitantly. “I am simply a messenger,” she said softly. “Why is this happening to me?” I asked. “Oh honey, it’s because you are broken, baby,” she drawled, “I know how to fix you, but you have to listen, because I am only allowed to tell you this once.” My vision blurring, I hadn’t realized that I had been crying this whole time. “I don’t want to be broken,” I sobbed, falling to my knees. “Please help me!” I begged. “Stand up, take me in your arms, and kiss me,” she said. I rose to my feet, bent down slightly to look into her eyes, and kissed her with a passion I didn’t know I possessed. That’s when I felt it; the pull from the depths of my soul. I could feel all the pain and darkness leaving me as she pulled me into the kiss. Her frail body was changing under the touch of my hand, her skin no longer felt taught over her bones, her hair spilled in endless curls down her back as she was growing younger. Our bodies intertwined in this ethereal embrace, seeming to reverse time, in defiance of the natural order of all that I thought I knew. We broke apart, breathless, and wanting more. Before me stood the young woman I had seen earlier. “What just happened? How did you go from young to old and back again? I’m sorry for all the questions, it’s just that I don’t understand any of what’s happening tonight,” I said through ragged breaths. “You saved me, and I saved you,” she said breathlessly. “I was cursed by a Voodoo queen a long time ago because she was jealous of the love I had for a man she wanted. She took him away from me and cast a spell, locking me in this old body for all but a few hours a year during Mardi Gras,” she said quietly. “So, this is all some kind of dream, right? There’s no such thing as magic, is there?” I said incredulously. “You tell me,” she said, pulling me in for another kiss. I couldn’t resist her touch and relished in the delicate kiss, savoring the taste of her lips, the softness of her tongue against mine. Pulling back to revel at the ebony beauty in my arms, I couldn’t help but wonder how long this moment would last. As if on cue, she tilted her head to the side with a sly smile saying, “The only way to break the spell was to feel the passion of a man broken by love, but who still wanted to find it. Even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself,” she said as tears streamed down her face. “I have been under this spell for over a century, hoping that someday, you would find me,” she sobbed. “I don’t understand any of this, but I can’t deny what I am feeling right now. How can I feel love for someone I just met, who tells me they’re over a century old?” I asked. “I feel it too and to explain it would take a lifetime. Are you willing to listen?” she asked demurely. Puling her close to me, I whispered, “Only if you are willing to spend that lifetime with me,” kissing her softly. “There’s no place I would rather be than in these arms for the rest of my days,” she said, hugging my neck and nuzzling my jaw. We talked through the night, standing in that abandoned lot until dawn. As the sun rose over Lake Pontchartrain, her onyx hair shimmering in the light, I felt no tingling, there was no longer pain, just the warmth of her touch, and the radiance of her smile. “I’ve waited a long time for you,” she said, squeezing my hand. Pulling her hand to my lips I said, “I am glad you found me. Let’s go home!” We crawled into the truck and drove all day with the windows down, heading nowhere in particular, just happy to be together and in love.