"That's right!" CC scouted at the TV, sloshing champagne onto the carpet as she raised her glass dramatically. "Click him off, girlfriends! Jack Nicholson wasn't cute, anyway—it was the three of you who really had the magic the whole time."
CC hardly noticed her unsteadiness as she got to her feet to dance the Woman's Magic Victory Dance while the movie credits rolled.
"Mr. Phone." She took a break from her Victory Dance to catch her breath. Fleetingly, she wondered just who had eaten all that KFC.
Mr. Phone seemed to be smiling at her from his place on the couch.
"Do you know that women have all the magic?"
He didn't answer.
"Of course you don't—you're a phone!" CC giggled. "You didn't even know I was twenty-five instead of twenty-two." She laughed until she snorted. "But you do now. And after watching that most excellent movie, you should know that women have magic, too."
Mr. Phone seemed skeptical.
"It's true! Didn't Cher and Michelle and Susan just prove it?" CC wobbled, but only a little. "Oh, I see what you mean. You think they have magic, but you don't really believe that an ordinary woman, like me, could have magic."
CC couldn't be entirely sure, but he appeared to be willing to listen.
"Okay. You may be right, but what if you're not? What if women really do have something within them, and we just have to find it? Like they did." CC felt the spark of an idea, and her brow wrinkled in an attempt at concentration. "They didn't believe it at first, either, but that didn't stop it from working. Maybe it doesn't matter if you're ordinary-looking, or if you're new somewhere and you don't have any friends yet." Or, CC's mind added, if your birthday has been forgotten. "Maybe all it takes is a leap of faith."
And a milky light flashed in the corner of her left eye, breaking her concentration.
What the…? A little shiver of trepidation fingered its way down the nape of her neck.
The light was coming from behind the closed drapes that shrouded the patio doors leading to her balcony.
CC checked the VCR clock. The digital numbers read 10:05 p.m.
"Must be the streetlights," she told Mr. Phone, but her eyes remained riveted on the captivating glimpse of brightness. The sliver of light she could see had an odd quality, totally unlike the sterile brightness of streetlights.
"Could be headlights from a parked car." But as she said it she knew it couldn't be true. Not in her top floor apartment. Car headlights didn't shine up. They also didn't have a quality of warmth that made her want to bathe herself in them.
CC's feet took her to the drapes before she consciously told them to move.
"You asked for some magic," she whispered. Slowly, like she was moving through the sweet twilight between awake and asleep, she reached up and parted the curtains.
"Oh…" The word came out on a breath. "It is magic."
The full moon hung perfect and luminous above her as if the goddess Diana herself had placed it there as a birthday offering. It bathed the riot of potted plants that crowded the balcony in a warm, opal-like glow. She quickly unlatched the glass doors and stepped out into the gentle warmth of a late October night.
CC's balcony was large, and it looked out on a greenbelt that divided the apartment complex and an upscale neighborhood. The amazing balcony was the reason she had decided to stretch her budget and afford the rent for the pricey apartment. She loved to sit there and let the comforting sounds of the greenery melt away the tension that too often clung to her from work and could even stubbornly stay with her through her kick-boxing class and the warm bubble bath soak she so often took after class. She had spent many evenings there, as was evident by the comfortable wicker rocking chair and the matching whatnot table that was just the right size to hold a book and a glass of something cold. Nestled in the middle of the lush plants was her favorite piece of balcony furniture, a mini version of a chimenea.
Tonight the creamy color of the chimenea caught the moon's caress and reflected its light like moonlight off the sands of an exotic beach.
Suddenly, she tilted her head back and spread her arms, as if she could embrace the night. The full moon filled her vision and she felt her body flush, like she was being saturated in the light of another world.
And her head snapped up.
"It is true," she said to the listening night. "It must be true."
And an idea was born, conceived of champagne and moonlight. CC grinned and whirled back through the open glass doors. Practically skipping, she rushed to her bedroom, already unbuttoning her air force uniform. The dark blue skirt and light blue blouse pooled with her pantyhose and bra.
"Step one."
Naked, CC pulled open her pajama drawer and pawed through it until she found the long, silk nightgown that lay at the bottom, ignored for her more practical cotton nightshirts. A uniform is good for work, but not for magic, she told herself and pulled the pale gown over her head, loving the erotic feel of it as it slid down her naked body.
"I will wear this more often," she promised aloud.
"Step two." She moved resolutely to her spare room, which she had recently begun to set up as an office. So far she had only had the time and money to buy a computer desk and chair for her five-year-old computer. Her books were stacked neatly on the floor, waiting for the bookshelves that she had promised them. She flicked on the overhead light and started searching through the piles of old textbooks, accumulated over the past seven years while she haphazardly took college classes, never sure which field she wanted to major in. CC combed through texts that ranged from Anatomy and Physiology lab guides to Basic Business Accounting 101.
"Here you are!" She pulled out the medium-sized text that had been hidden under an enormous Humanities tome. It was entitled, The Matriarchal Era—Myth and Legend. CC fondly remembered her semester of Women's Studies and the witty Professor Teresa Miller who had made that class one of her all-time favorites. She could still hear Ms. Miller's expressive voice reading aloud words that had been authored in an ancient time when women had been revered and even worshipped.
"Where is it?" she mumbled to herself as she scanned the index, her finger lightly going down each row of names, finally stopping near the beginning of the G's.
"Gaea!"
She sat back on her heels, turned to page eighty-six, and read aloud: "Gaea, or Gaia, was an Earth goddess, the Great Mother, known as the oldest of the divinities. She ruled magic, prophecy and motherhood. Although Zeus and other male gods took over her shrines during the emergence of the patriarchal insurgence, the gods swore all their oaths in her name, thus ultimately remaining subjected to her law."
CC nodded her head. This was exactly what she had been looking for. Gaea was the Mother of Magic. Flipping back to the index she turned pages till she found the R's.
"Rituals! Earth Ritual page one-fifty-two." She shuffled through the slick, white pages and made a victorious exclamation when she found it. "Ha! I knew it!" Silently she read the ancient invocation, tugging on her bottom lip in concentration. When she had finished reading, she took the book to her desk and sat quietly for a moment, then with a satisfied smile she wrote a single sentence in blue ink on a piece of plain white Xerox paper and folded it once. Bending the page to mark her place in the text, she headed back to the living room, book and paper in hand.
This time when she stepped onto the balcony she brought with her the book, the piece of paper, a clean champagne flute filled with cold water, a box of long-handled matches and a determination that showed clearly in the square set of her shoulders.
The chimenea was just big enough to hold one block of fragrant pinyon wood. Deftly, she fed its small mouth and lit the dry pinyon. Then she moved to a long, thin planter that was hooked to the wrought iron balcony railing. She caressed the velvety leaves and bent to inhale the tangy fragrance of mint.
"It's a lucky thing that I have such a green thumb." She smiled.
Choosing carefully, she snapped off the tops of several of the larger plants.
The spicy scent of burning pinyon rose from the chimenea like mist. The smoke hovered around the balcony. Clearly visible in the moonlight, it twisted and lifted in the warm breeze like ocean waves. CC's breath caught in excitement as she hurried to position herself in front of the chimenea. She placed the cut mint on the little table next to the glass of water and the piece of paper, then she opened the book to the turned-down page. With a growing sense of excitement she cleared her throat and began to read.