Three

CHIARA

WHEN we reach the restaurant, my driver pulls up directly in front of the doors and helps me out of the car.

“Thanks, William. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave.” He will wait for my call somewhere else, probably in the pub we have passed on the way here.  

He tips his hat to me in agreement and then he is off. Meanwhile, I walk up to the entrance of the restaurant.

I do not recall having eaten here previously. The outside is elegant and modern, and the interiors look intimate and cozy.

But most essentially, the smells emanating from the place are delicious.

I can see through the windows that almost all the tables are occupied.

So how come I have never heard of this restaurant before?

It doesn’t seem to be a family-oriented place though, since there are no children in sight. The patrons that are seated and eating dinner have their faces up and turned towards... me?

Interesting.

I frown. That’s confusing.

They are all really looking at me, watching me. Why the hell are they? What is this place?

My spidey sense is vibrating furiously. I’m starting to think I know what’s going on as I follow the hostess to where my reserved table is located.

It’s not in the more public part of the restaurant.

We enter a hallway and stop in front of one of the private dining- room doors.

As soon as the hostess opens the door and I see my dinner companion, everything clears up.

“Mom.”

My mother gives me the most engaging smile in the world. “Hello, darling!” And as beautiful as a swan gathering herself up to fly, she stands up from her seat to go to me.

We kiss and hug like long-lost playmates.

(If you stay long enough here, you’ll see this is common in our relationship. She is more like my sister, and they say it’s a mental something in the Mundane world. ADHD. Whatever. She’s the most unusual mother in the world and it’s in the best way.)

As I get hugged tightly, I close my eyes. I smell her favorite perfume as she giggles excitedly at my being here.

I miss her and I always love her Rose with a hint of Jasmine smell. It strongly brings me back to when I was a child playing on the grass while my parents flirted beside me. They were always so in love…

I miss seeing them together.

Why does my father have to be Mundane?

“Well then, honey, you’ll not be you,” my mother once said earnestly.

Well, I know that. But it doesn’t make it any easier that I feel like I get the better in the bargain than the people who made me.

The feeling of guilt has always stayed and there are always points to amend it. Even though my father is a Mundane, he is one of the best ones out there, always doing something big to save the world and help others who aren’t as strong, much like his wife is doing on her end of the world. They are the two strongest people I know.

And they have to be best separately because of systems they need to adhere to.

They belong together.

But they had to split to protect and uphold each other.

And they are my parents, which means I have to be strong, too, and not complain because I haven’t heard them do so ever.

So when I raise my head from her shoulder, my face is beaming at her with my love as she pats my cheeks as if I am still twelve.

“I knew it. What are you about now, Mom?” I ask when we are seated. “Is it a new assignment again?”

“Well, it is, of a sort,” she answers. “One moment, darling. I’ve already ordered you a glass of their amazing red wine.” She winks at me. “It’s magickal.”

Almost immediately, a glass of wine appears in front of me, along with a menu. No wonder I haven’t heard of this restaurant. It isn’t in my part of the world.

So I am inside a magickal territory. I wonder suddenly how William is faring, but I don’t worry because I know something like that is taken care of if my mother is involved somehow.

Mom watches me avidly as I look through the menu. “The food here is impeccable and you’re going to love it. Order whatever you want, darling. It’s my treat.”

I stare at her. “This is a restaurant for Magickals. Those people outside were staring at me, Mom. Like I’m… kind of a… freak.”

My mother reaches out and takes one of my hands in hers. “No, sweetheart, but you’re not seen often and they must be curious, as you know. Most Magickals are gossip. You are my daughter, and I’m kind of famous here for being a junior elder,” she says as she preens a little. “But don’t worry, these walls don’t have ears,” she informs me as she sees me looking at specific walls. “That, their food and wine are what I like best about this place.”

I take my order… a beef steak kind for the main course, greens on the side, and a second helping of the wonderful wine to follow.

We start talking after the first course arrives, but not about why I am here.

Instead, I give her news about my father without a preamble because I know she likes that.

Sometimes, she can’t control the look of longing on her face when I tell her simple things like me and my father enjoying chicken soup and popcorn while doing a movie marathon on a Saturday evening.

She gives suggestions when I mention his diet. And I know before I leave I will be bringing home a few boxes of gifts from her for me and my Dad from the Magickal world.

By the time we’re resting on our wine on a couch by the side of the room, I’ve told her about what’s happening to me at work and she’s telling me about some of her less private—and less dangerous—endeavors.

You know. Like right now, she’s onto a report that there’s a family of dyads missing from the forest they have lived in for centuries, and that’s just peas.

She once handled dragons who shapeshift as old women in a Mundane village in Germany, tending goats.

“So, what am I really doing here?” I finally ask.

Mom pauses to sip her wine and gather herself together.

I knew what that means.

This is my mother’s stalling tactic when what will follow is something she isn’t sure I will like.

It means the Council will have something to do with it.

The Council of Magick has been after me since I turned eighteen because they insist to acknowledge my birthright as a magickal with ritual and all.

But I know that will entail service to literally the government of the Magickals, my life run by them.

I do not begrudge my mother’s choice. She loves serving the Magickals and loves being sent on missions by the Council that will serve her brethren.

But I am not my mother.

I am not just a Magickal, I am also Mundane.

And I want control of my life, as much as I can hold of it.

I also want to be in a position that will protect Mundanes, or I can look out for them. They are already clueless about what’s really in this world. I have always thought they are marginalized, and I can’t abandon them.

Nor will I leave my father alone.

And I know, as I stare at my mother’s somber face, that she has thought of all of this, too.

“There’s no way to say this except to just say it. So... the—”

“The council sent you,” I finished for her.

Mom stare at me. “So will you let me finish?”

“Mother...” I reply, “All the secrecy? Making sure people at home think I can get away and it’s all work-related so no one will look for me tonight, at least? Arranged in a way that Dad will now know you’re the one I’m meeting? This is cloak-and-dagger Council stuff. Are they still interested in recruiting me?”

She smiles indulgently at me. “Darling, though you don’t like to acknowledge your powers, you do have them. You have an obligation to your people, too.”

“They already have the lot of you,” I complain, meaning her and the nameless and faceless Council who didn't need to appear physically to influence my life. “What about the people of my other-half self?”

She sighs. “So there’s the part where I say you’ll have to let me finish first.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get this done so I can… enjoy more of this wine.” I amend it by the end because I don’t want my mom to think I want to leave her because of my issue with her Council.

I don’t want to ruin the dinner that has been most enjoyable so far.