Thanks to another note from Mum, Aspen discovered that the freezer was full of individual portions of food locals had brought over after Aunt Marcy’s funeral. They were still trying to decide which of the leftovers they wanted to eat when another knock came at the front door.

“No rest for the wicked,” they sighed as they closed the freezer and went to open the door.

Standing on the front step was a lanky man several inches shorter than them with blond hair and one of those round faces that might have been anywhere from mid-twenties to late thirties. He twisted his hands, looking extremely nervous. “Can I come in?” he asked softly.

Aspen smiled encouragingly and stepped back. “By all means. What can I help you with?”

“It’s a, uh, potion,” the man stammered, fidgeting uncertainly. “That Marcy always used to make for me. I’m almost out and. Uh. I really need it.”

Aspen nodded. “I can see how that would be concerning. Why don’t you take off your shoes and sit down? I’ll need to search through my aunt’s records.”

He nodded and kicked off his shoes before taking a seat while Aspen dragged a box out from behind the counter and carried it over to the table. “I’m Aspen. They/them. What’s your name?”

“Jake,” the man all but whispered, clearly struggling to get that much out.

“Nice to meet you, Jake.” Aspen opened the box containing their aunt’s records, which was really nothing more than about ten different notebooks and several file folders crammed full of loose papers. “Can you tell me what the potion was for?”

Jake paled, which took his complexion from ‘about as pale as Aspen’ to ‘corpse-like’. “Uh.”

Once again, Aspen found themself grateful for their time at HexaTech as they assumed their best Neutral Listening Face and waited their visitor out.

Finally, he gave in. “It’s a potion of seeming,” he mumbled. “To disguise my demon features and make me look human. I’ve only got a couple of days left and. I’m not. You know. Out at work.”

Well. That was certainly unexpected. “When did she start brewing the potion for you?”

“About two years ago.”

“Hmm.” Aspen eyeballed the stack of notebooks, then grabbed the third one down. They were able to confirm almost immediately that they had the right time period, but it took several minutes of flipping before Aspen finally found something that looked promising. “Does this look familiar?” they asked, holding out a scrap of paper with a spell sigil that had been paper-clipped to the likely-looking entry.

“Yes!” Jake exclaimed, his relief palpable.

“Okay, give me a minute here.” Aspen carefully reviewed the entry, relieved to see that while their aunt’s organizational system left a lot to be desired, she had kept meticulous notes that included details about the potion’s effects, required ingredients, instructions for preparation, and even dosage. They were relieved to see nothing that would prevent them from getting started.

“I can get this started right now and have some ready for you by tomorrow morning,” they said slowly. “But you may need to take more of it than usual since I won’t be brewing at the optimal time of the month, which is…” they checked the notes, then thumbed open the moon phase app on their phone. “In a week and a half.”

Jake scrambled up from the table. “I’ll get out of your way then,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Aspen smiled. “Come by any time after nine.”

Thankfully, Aunt Marcy’s potion ingredients were all sensibly organized. With the detailed instructions their aunt had left, it didn’t take Aspen long to prepare Jake’s potion and set it to brewing. Once that was done, they returned to the task of doing an inventory – since they still hadn’t located their aunt’s stash of candles, which were a key component in the spell they’d need to move Rav’s ghost.

Aspen finally found them in a tiny closet just off the kitchen - various lengths in a rainbow of different colors fully filled the top three shelves. With a pleased noise, they went to pull out the white candle that Rav’s spell would require. However, the thought of Rav prompted their traitor fingers to pull out a pink candle instead. Once it was in their hand, they found it impossible to put down, captivated by the possibilities.

Obviously, a love spell targeting Rav would be an incredibly unethical abuse of power. But, a small traitorous voice whispered, there was nothing wrong in casting an open-ended love spell for themself to remove obstacles to future romantic relationships that might come their way. The idea was tempting, so tempting. But could they really trust themself and their decisions about relationships after how colossally they’d screwed up their life to get to this point?

Aspen’s hand twitched toward their phone, the urge to call Becks warring with the feeling that they were being ridiculous. Ultimately, it was mistrust in their own thinking that won out – Becks was a (mostly) objective third party that could be trusted to tell them if they were considering something foolish.

With a sigh, Aspen slumped against the wall and slid to the floor as they opted for a voice call, not up to dealing with Becks’ extensive vocabulary of sarcastic facial expressions.

“Sorry for calling first. Also, you have to promise not to make fun of me or I’m hanging up.”

To her credit, Becks’ response wasn’t sarcastic. “Okay. So what’s the crisis you’re having, siblet?”

Aspen made a small indignant noise. “Crisis?”

“You wouldn’t call twice in one day if you weren’t having a crisis.”

“I texted and you called me. Also, I think that after everything that has happened in the last two weeks,” they responded crisply. “That I am fully entitled to have a crisis.”

Becks chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, that checks out. I apologize. Please go ahead.”

Aspen stared at the pink candle in their hand. “Is it too early for me to date someone?”

“No,” Becks said decisively. “Next question.”

“Becks, I’m serious!”

There was a pause in which Becks didn’t make the expected cutting response. “Okay. What makes you feel like you shouldn’t be dating, then?”

“I just got out of a ten-year relationship.”

“Okay. A. Quantity does not equal quality,” their sister shot back. “And I think we’ve established that William was a piece of shit. And B, you’ve had one foot out the door for at least a year now. It’s not like you’re on the rebound.”

Aspen sighed, thinking of the number of conversations they’d had where they’d talked circles around their lack of feelings for William, unable to confront that the relationship had been damaged beyond repair for a long time. Looking back at how it had all fallen apart anyway made them feel even more stupid. “What if I’m not ready? To be dating people. What if I’m still too fucked up?”

“I don’t know,” Becks said archly. “Are you too fucked up about William to be dating right now?” They heard the subtext of their sister’s question loud and clear – practicing self-awareness was critical for any magician, but especially for a practicing community witch. Much as they hated it, Becks couldn’t tell them if they should or shouldn’t be dating.

Aspen sighed. “Okay. I hear you. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Becks said, mercifully refraining from teasing them.

Aspen hung up the phone, annoyed that they were right back where they had started. Part of them remained convinced that it was too soon, that opening themself to new relationships was a bad idea and they’d only screw things up. After all, they’d been so bad at running their own life that it had taken the death of a beloved relative and nuking their entire life from orbit, including their relationship with William, to get a fresh start.

Then again, maybe it hadn’t been entirely their fault their life had blown up. Maybe William had been a bigger part of the problem than they had allowed themself to realize.

“You know what, he was a piece of shit,” they muttered.

Decision made, they moved quickly and with resolve, assembling the ingredients they needed to cast this simple spell quickly, so as to not give themself time to second-guess the decision. Love spells like these had been among the most frequently requested when they were still freelancing, and it took them very little time and effort to make and charge the spell candle, which they left burning on the altar in the bedroom.

✯ ✯ ✯

After a full day of meeting people, getting acquainted with the house and its contents, and doing magic, Aspen spent the evening watching comfort reality television.

After seeing the potion safely in Jake’s hands at ten the next morning, it took them another full day to make the preparations needed to tackle Rav’s poltergeist. Banishing a ghost was a lot more straightforward than capturing and moving it would be and was something that would require a great deal of trust on the ghost’s part. As such, when making the ghost jar Aspen cast a number of spells designed to protect the contents from outside influence - rather than the other way around - to convince the ghost that Aspen truly meant it no harm.

By the time the work was done it was late in the afternoon and Aspen reluctantly concluded that as eager as they were to see Rav again, they were truthfully too tired for any more magic that day.

Instead, they snapped a quick picture of the ghost jar they had created and sent it to Rav.

Aspen
The Ghost U-Haul you ordered is ready.
When’s a good time for you tomorrow?

Rav
[confetti emoji]
Pick you up at 11? If that’s not too early?

Aspen
[thumbs up][ghost]
See you then.

✯ ✯ ✯

Upon arriving, Aspen had Rav let them into the back area – he was more than happy to wait in the gallery while they worked. They were pleased to see that the area around Rav’s easel was looking a bit more normally disheveled, as it spoke to a willingness on the ghost’s part to compromise, and hopefully a more productive cohabiting relationship between it and Aspen. (Aspen wasn’t against the general idea of tidying - they just tended to get too overwhelmed by the inevitable futility of fighting entropy to do so very often.) The process of moving the ghost was anticlimactic, requiring only that they open the jar, light the small spell candle inside, and set a timer for the length of time the candle would burn.

While they waited, Rav gave them a proper tour of the gallery. Aspen was even more impressed than they had been on their first visit, blown away by the saturation of the colors and the quiet, still beauty in his paintings. Rav, for his part, was happy to have an interested audience, and the time passed agreeably as they chatted about Rav’s art.

The artist’s easy-going nature gave Aspen the courage to ask a potentially awkward question. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Thirty-two…?” Rav answered, obviously confused about the purpose of the question.

Aspen flapped their hands awkwardly. “Sorry, I just. I was pretty sure you were about my age – thirty, by the way – which begs the question - how did you afford all this? The studio and the gallery?”

Rav blinked, then laughed comprehendingly. “My uncle works in real estate,” he admitted sheepishly. “He bought the place and I’m repaying the loan to him directly.”

“Ah. A very millennial origin story.” Aspen grimaced. “Still. I’m glad you got the place.”

Rav smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”

Aspen cursed inwardly as their timer chose that moment to go off and excused themself to go and screw the lid back on the ghost jar, carrying it out more gingerly than was probably necessary. “Done and done. Let’s get your unwanted house guest out of here.”

When they pulled into Aspen’s driveway, Rav turned off the car but didn’t seem in a hurry to see them off. “I can’t even begin to thank you enough.”

“Thank me if it works.” Aspen shrugged. “And let me know if anything else weird happens.”

Rav nodded. “See you next week, I suppose?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Reluctantly, Aspen climbed out and walked up to the house, pausing when they saw a same-day package on their doorstep. “Perfect timing,” they exclaimed.

Once inside, they opened the ghost jar and set it down on the kitchen counter. They then opened the package, which contained three alphabets worth of small magnetic letters and a small magnetic whiteboard. Aspen made a show of putting the letters on the bottom door of the fridge. “Better than ‘once for yes, two for no, I hope. But I also got you this,” they said, indicating the whiteboard they were affixing to the freezer door. “In case that’s your preference.”

Aspen stared at the setup thoughtfully, then penned a message on the whiteboard with the included dry-erase marker. “Do you mind if I call you Dennis? Y or N?”

Satisfied with their handiwork, Aspen capped the marker and set it on top of the fridge. “I’ll just leave you to get settled then,” they said cheerfully. “Take your time.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Dennis did not, in fact, mind the appellation, apparently not having any strong feelings about names or pronouns one way or the other. Aspen had decided on masculine pronouns, since they had privately decided that his full proper name would be Dennis the Menace – for how frustrating he had been for Rav.

Unfortunately, with Dennis settled and the agreed-upon coffee with Rav not until next week, that left Aspen entirely at loose ends, without even unpacking to attend to. Worse, the cold February rain kept them from going anywhere, as their only mode of transportation was the bicycle they had unearthed (thankfully still in good repair) in the garage. They wouldn’t have a source of income until their registration with the College was processed, and they preferred not to eat any further into the insurance payout sitting in their bank account than they had to. So instead, they rattled around the house in a gloomy mood for the next two days, barely managing to take more than a cursory glance at their aunt’s more recent files.

Unfortunately, they were enough of an extrovert to find the solitude extremely draining. And after ten years of being in a relationship, being alone was not something they had any practice at, even if it had been a long time since they actually enjoyed William’s company. And now that he was gone, their brain insisted on dredging up the few positive qualities they did miss and dwelling on them. Combined with the freshness of their grief for their aunt, it was easy to get caught up in feeling sorry for themself.

Finally, when the third day dawned clear and dry, Aspen made an effort to shake off the gloom. “Enough moping,” they scolded themself. “Time to go meet some people.”

They forced themself to get dressed, and took extra care with their makeup - knowing that they’d feel better when it was done. They dressed for the weather which while disagreeable was still far warmer at 7C than Toronto’s current windchill of -23C, putting on their favorite black sweater over a medium short black skirt (no sense in wearing anything that would get caught while biking) and a warm pair of thick silver leggings. Over top of all this, they wore a medium weight purple pea coat with a heavy silver scarf and tucked their hair (which needed recoloring) under a black toque.

Pleased that they were suitably attired for introducing themself as the new town witch, they pulled on their galaxy-print boots. “All right, Dennis,” they said as they tucked the box of business cards mum had left into their bag. “I’m going out to hand out business cards.”

The cupboard above the fridge rattled and Aspen looked up to see magnets reading GOOD LUCK. MAKE FRIENDS. (Dennis had an easier time with the magnets than the white board.)

Aspen smiled, feeling strangely encouraged. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll try.”

As they were locking the house, movement caught their eye. They turned to see a lanky goth teenager standing indecisively at the end of the driveway. As soon as they were spotted, however, the teenager panicked, hopped back on their bicycle, and sped off, leaving Aspen to wonder what had just happened.

✯ ✯ ✯

Figuring they might as well start with the local business owners, Aspen biked into downtown (such as it was in a town of not-quite-twenty thousand), planning to make their way down the main drag.

It was, at least, not as horrible as they had feared. Everyone they talked to was very friendly – they imagined it helped that no one was going to be rude to the new witch. Less optimal, however, was having the same conversation with well-meaning locals over and over. Yes, they were living in Aunt Marcy’s old house. Yes, it was very sad that she was gone. Yes, they were here full time now.

By the time Aspen had worked their way up one side of the block and down the other, they were feeling overwhelmed and tired enough that they almost skipped their last stop, a small locally-owned gym, before thinking better of it.

“Okay. Last one, and then we’re getting a fancy coffee,” they muttered to themself as they pushed open the door.

Unsurprisingly, the gym was fairly empty at two in the afternoon on a weekday, with only a couple of die-hards lifting weights near the back. At the front counter was an athletic woman with long dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, her close-fitting crop top and matching high-waisted grey leggings emphasizing her muscular build. She looked up as they came in and did a double-take, her warm brown eyes going wide in shock. “Oh my god!” She visibly stopped herself from using a name that was no longer correct. “Fahey?’

Completely unprepared to run into someone from far enough in their past to have known them pre-transition, it took a second to process their surprise. “Oh. Uh, it’s Aspen now,” they stammered.

The woman, who was maddeningly familiar, and yet wholly unknown to them, grinned and rushed out from behind the counter to give them a bone-crushing hug. Aspen frantically wracked their brain, distantly noting that she was a good half-head shorter than they were. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

It wasn’t until she released them and stepped back that they finally recognized their old high school friend. “Holy shit! Castillo? It’s so good to see you!”

“Got it in one,” she laughed. “I’m Nat now.”

“I feel so stupid, how did I not recognize you?”

“It might have something to do with the completely different look and entirely new gender,” Nat said with a grin and a hair toss.

Aspen grimaced. “Still, we were only, like, best friends…”

Nat’s smile widened. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Aspen grinned. “You should! You look great. Uh, they/them, by the way.”

“Got it. She/her for me. And.” Aspen found themself flushing as Nat gave them an appraising look and apparently liked what she saw. “Honestly, so do you.” Nat’s smile faded a bit. “Also, I’m so sorry about your aunt. I missed the funeral because I was visiting friends in Whistler. I had no idea you’d be coming out here, though, or I would have come and found you when I got back!”

“I mean. Thanks? But also. What are you doing here?”

Nat made a face just as the door behind them opened. “Listen, I’ve got back-to-back-to-back clients coming in. Do you want to catch up when I’m done at five?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. That would be amazing.”

Before Aspen quite knew what was happening, Nat stood on tiptoes to give them a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you soon,” she said with a wink, then moved to greet the newcomer, who was apparently the first of her three clients.

Aspen awkwardly ducked back outside, only becoming aware as they stepped outside into the cold early March air that their face was extremely warm, and their heart was pounding.

✯ ✯ ✯

The twenty-minute ride home was more than enough time for Aspen to tie themself in knots over the encounter.

The first thing they did after arriving back at the house and pulling off their boots was stomp into the bedroom, where they made a series of emphatically bewildered gestures at the pink candle stub on their altar. “Very funny!” they shouted impotently. “Absolutely hilarious!"

Realizing that yelling at a candle was going to get them nowhere fast, Aspen fumbled their phone out of their pocket.

Aspen
I’m so sorry to be such a disaster, but can I call?
In full on Bisexual Panic here.

Becks called ten minutes later. “Aspen, hey. What’s up?”

“My life has turned into a Lifemark movie,” Aspen groaned, flopping dramatically onto their bed. “Thirty year old enby leaves the big city, including their terrible partner and the job they hate, to move to a beautiful small town, has meet cute with beautiful stranger before running into The One That Got Away.”

There was a choking sound on the other end of the line.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Aspen grumbled. “Even I think it’s ridiculous, and I’m living it.”

Becks didn’t laugh, but Aspen could hear the grin in her voice. “I assume the beautiful stranger is Rav, but who is The One That Got Away?”

“Remember that guy I was hopelessly in love with in high school? The wholesome football player?”

“Maybe?”

“My best friend? The one that was over all the time?”

“Oh my god, that himbo you tutored, then pined for the rest of high school? The one you wanted to smash from orbit?”

“Not a himbo,” Aspen bristled, unable to argue with the rest of Becks’ description. “Anyway. Especially not she’s Nat now. I ran into her at the gym just now when I was dropping off cards around town. And we’re going to catch up when she’s done with work.”

This time, Becks did laugh – gleeful peals that made Aspen smile despite themself.

“It gets worse,” they groaned.

“I’m on the edge of my seat. Continue.”

Aspen’s cheeks flushed as they thought of how Nat had looked in her form-fitting gym wear. “She’s even hotter post-transition, somehow? I don’t even know how it’s possible, but she is.”

“How is that worse, though? I’m not seeing how that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s bad because. You know. I mean.” Aspen blew out a gusty sigh and struggled to collect their thoughts. “Seeing her made me realize all those old feelings are still there, you know?”

“You poor baby.”

Aspen snorted. “What am I even going to do about tonight? I don’t know that it’s a date, but if it is… what do I do about coffee with Rav next week?”

Becks’ answering sigh was a mix of fond and exasperated. “First, it’s coffee, not a betrothal. Second, por qué no los dos?”

“What?”

“It means ‘why not both’.”

“I know perfectly well what it means. But--”

Becks cut Aspen off. “You can date more than one person.”

Aspen scoffed. “I’m still not convinced I’m not too much of a disaster for one relationship, let alone two.”

“Look. Stop being a weirdo and go get dinner with the hot jock, okay?” Aspen heard Rachel yell something in the background, which Becks then repeated for Aspen’s benefit. “And send photos.”

“I will not,” Aspen said firmly, then hung up.

- - - -
Thanks for Reading!

If you enjoyed, take a moment to review or leave a comment? Your enthusiasm gives me the willpower to keep going!

If you’d like to see more like this, please consider subscribing to my patreon to read two months ahead in HTML, ePub, or PDF.