Carrying grocery bags from the health food store across the street, Dalia opened the door to the centre. I could have sworn she was in the treatment room, but it was no wonder; outside the healing room, the conversations between David and I were always interrupted by the phone, a customer, or in this case, Dalia.

Dalia tore open the stuffed paper bag and removed a shake made of coconut water and coconut oil. She gave it to David, who loudly sipped it up through a straw and finished it within two minutes.

From my desk, I peered at Dalia as she put other items in the mini refrigerator: flax oil, sprouts, omega-3 raw chocolate, and a coconut. On the outside, Dalia appeared to be a put-together, sensual, self-sufficient New Age business woman. But, I could tell she struggled with control issues.

I remembered her statement during my treatment: Originally, it was hard for me to get David to be in a relationship with me. I wondered if they ever fought. Did she do everything for him? Was this what it took to keep a man like David?, I wondered.

On what had to be the hottest day of the summer, I woke up early to go see David for the second visit that wasn’t thwarted by a dream, or surprise phone call. I was confident that we would have a good session today.

I put on a few rings and soft makeup and wore a green t-shirt and pink cut-off jean shorts. Perhaps I made too much effort to go sit on the floor before a man who was going to close his eyes, but I couldn’t help it.

As I opened the door to the centre, I felt ready to take the reins on my session with David. I decided that David and I would have no secrets, and I was to tell him about my dream from the week before.

From behind the reception desk, Dalia sat clicking the computer mouse. She looked up at me and took a deep breath. She was tense.

“I made a mistake,” said Dalia.

“Oh. What do you mean?”

“I told David he didn’t have anyone this morning…I’m sorry, Mer. Can you come back later today? I am really sorry.”

I suddenly felt that she purposely forgot. It was like Dalia and I were fighting in an invisible battle for David-time. Or, was it all in my head? People make mistakes, and I had to get over it. But really, I just had trouble saying no to Dalia, gatekeeper of David.

“Ok. Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

I walked home, pondering the possibility that I was becoming dependent on David and that this was a mind-control test to see if I was too needy. Dalia was his accomplice. The two worked together, slept together, and ate together; I wouldn’t be surprised if they also thought together. But, I told myself to shove it. I was not in a relationship with David, and it was not going to become one either.

A few hours later, I returned to the centre. Dalia eyed me, and then went into the treatment room to talk to David. I waited in the lobby and wondered why I had even bothered to come back. Dalia came out of the room after a couple of minutes.

“You can go in now,” she said.

I entered the room again. I had barely made it to my seat when Dalia came inside again.

“Um,” said Dalia, lifting her head and eyebrows up to David. She mouthed something. David nodded. And then, she was gone. David and I were finally alone.

***

I looked down at the jeweled pillow, noticing David’s other various props: feathers, sage, a mortar and pestle, a gong. Part of me wondered if it was all real, and if I was just another pawn for this magician to play with. But I didn’t want to believe that.

He straightened his spine and looked me over. Unsure of where to begin, I looked at his face, mellow as the month of May. His eyes were wide open. I looked at him intensely, as if I was claiming his time.

“Well here we are,” he said.

“Finally,” I said.

“I’m back to life, and I’m yours.”

“Good,” I paused. “Um, I want to tell you something.”

“What?” He leaned in.

“Well…It was interesting to me, I mean, not interesting you got sick–I am very sorry you got sick, but actually, something happened with me the evening before I was to see you last, and, well I think I should share it. I mean, I don’t know what it meant–”

“What is it?” He inquired gently, leaning forward again.

“Well, I had a dream the night before that I was sitting here with you and telling you that I feared I made men sick, that I infected them,” I said quickly. I looked up at him. “And then, I got that call from Dalia.”

“Oh, wow.” He began to nod his head and laugh slightly. “And did that happen to anyone else in your life around this time?”

“Well, yes, actually. The night I had the dream, a guy I was supposed to hang out with for the second time, he called me while I was in a yoga class, and I had a feeling during the class that he had called and canceled, and sure enough he left a voicemail saying he didn’t feel well.” I paused.

“Did I cause this, David?”

“Maybe. We can make things happen if we want them to.”

“I didn’t want you to get sick.”

“I know, but it could have been a manifestation of something else you want. Or don’t want.” I didn’t know what he meant.

“You are a witch, and you need to be aware of that.”

I laughed and nodded.

“I’m not joking,” he said.

I grimaced slightly and looked down, nodding. For how much was I responsible? Maybe I created the entire relationship with David. Maybe I really did have a set of reins and was wielding them. I had found the flyer, shown up, I had gotten through Dalia to David, and now, I was sharing my life secrets with him. What was real, what was not real, and what was the difference?

“So, are you a witch?” I asked him.

“Yes, well, a male witch. My wife is, too.”

I wondered if he was speaking archetypically. I wondered if he told everyone that they were magical. And yet, I wasn’t in the least skeptical. Ever since I was little, I’ve believed in magic and have been drawn to the metaphysical.

“My wife is very intuitive with herbs.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“David, am I making things happen with my thoughts?”

“Yes,” he said.

***

After I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, were the three of us magic–just doing some witch head-butting? A few hours later, I bumped into the man I had dated two years prior, who reminded me very much of David. I hadn’t seen him since, when we departed in a subway station. This time, I saw him at a bus stop.

Dressed in black, Mike approached me with squinted eyes. It was him, and yet it was not the him I had remembered. This Mike seemed slinkier, more feminine, and overly chillaxed, as if the polyamorous lifestyle he lead had started to wear him down. Now I heard he was monogamous, but he was not the earthy, caring Mike I remembered.

“What are you… doing down here, alone, late at night, Mer?”

“I’m taking the bus to my apartment.” Suddenly, he cared?

Mike nodded skeptically. He had always thought I didn’t look out for myself enough. I never believed him, but it was not like he was willing to take any responsibility in looking out for anyone but himself. From him, I had toughened and learned that the only caretaker for me was me. I decided that this was the moment I had to express what was never said, regardless of awkward circumstances.

“You know, I really liked you, Mike, you had an affect on me.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” Suddenly, my bus zoomed by. “Weren’t you—waiting for a…bus?”

“I’ll have to get the next one. It is not the end of the world. I am here talking to you.” Mike and I had a contract, after all, and this meeting was the grand closure.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone, Mer. You have so much affection to give.”

My bus came, and I cried the ride home, wondering if I had conjured the visage of Mike to hear these words. Or if David did it.

***

The next week, I worked at the reception desk at the holistic centre for the third time. As long as I answered the phone, took care of the customers, and kept busy, everything usually ran smoothly.

Today, Dalia had a few treatments in a row, so I didn’t see much of her. Even though it was a Sunday, Dalia’s customers still came at 8 AM, 9 AM, and 10 AM on the dot.

The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mer.” It was David. “Is Dalia there?”

“No, she’s in a treatment.–”

“Oh. Well I was going to come by and pick her up, we were going to do something, but I don’t really have a plan,” David confessed to me on the phone. “I guess I need to make one, right?”

Why was he looking to me for an answer—was I becoming some kind of go-between? I wondered how much longer I could do this. I didn’t like the feeling that I was their disciple or servant and furthermore, that I had let myself get sucked into the role.

“I guess you do…” I hung up.

Dalia came out of the treatment room and signaled for me to check out the customer: a well-to do, tall and classy, older man from New Jersey. He came over to the desk and sighed.

“Ah, feels great,” he said as I gave him his cup of electrolyte juice and an acidophilus tablet. It was his first time. I printed out his receipt for $125. He quickly signed and left in bliss. I was getting really sick of seeing people come out of their colonic with a false sense of renewal—that would only bring them back the next week.

Dalia snapped her head toward me.

“Did you tell him about the $360 package special?”

“Oh, no, I forgot,” I said, softly.

Dalia huffed. “I really want people to buy the three pack. Please endorse it next time.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” I hated packages that hooked you in. “Your husband called, actually.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to talk to you.”

“Ugh, give me–”

Flustered, Dalia took the phone from my hand. She walked in circles in the lobby as she dialed the number.

“We need to discuss our travels,” she said, calmly. “I am calling to discuss this with you. Is now a good time?”

Dalia’s 11 AM appointment walked in. She began to break down before my eyes.

“What?” Dalia mumbled tensely. She scurried over to the desk and whispered, “did it say in the book that I had an 11AM?”

“Yes,” I lied.

I accidentally did not tell Dalia about her 11 AM appointment who called just an hour ago. Another thing I forgot today. Bad girl Mer. I couldn’t remember all of Dalia’s items. Subconsciously, perhaps I was annoyed that I had to be the one to tell her. Couldn’t she look at the book herself? I didn’t understand why I was becoming a blank canvas for them to dump things on. Was I wearing some kind of sign on my head? I had to take it off immediately.

Dalia glanced at the client, smiled widely, and signaled for her to wait. Then, she stepped out of the customer’s view and threw her hand up as she angrily listened to her husband. She quickly went into the bathroom, a room where she could properly let go, I surmised.

“I feel paralyzed!” she shouted from inside the bathroom. I sat behind the desk in disbelief. Had she just brought the landline telephone into the lobby bathroom? In front of me? This is what happens behind the closed doors of the colonic places, I thought. Only I would have to use the phone for the rest of the morning after she brought it out.

***

Two hours later, David showed up, with a plan. Apparently, Dalia’s bathroom talk got his butt to the centre. Suddenly, the three of us were all standing behind the receptionist desk. There was no way this was going to be comfortable, I thought. I had my back to the duo. Dalia mouthed something. I could have sworn it was about my performance as a receptionist: She is just not doing well… Whatever it was, it was my signal to leave. I sharply turned around.

“It’s time for me to go—it is 1 PM,” I said. Dalia just stared at me. Then she snapped her head towards David, slightly perplexed.

“Pick up the laundry first, if you don’t mind doing one more thing…” She commanded gently. Her voice had a certain elasticity to it, like a drawn-out. high-pitched, whiny yearning rasp.

Minutes later, I returned with a frown and Dalia’s several pounds of laundry. I placed it down and packed up, smiling slightly. Dalia observed me.

“Ok, we’ll be seeing you next week.”

I wanted to tell Dalia that I didn’t want to be seeing them anymore. But I didn’t want to leave David.