Jason started the day knowing in his gut that Isobel was about to drop the It’s Not You, It’s Me speech. He’d seen the writing on the wall through his online love horoscopes and in the incrementally expanding amount of time between phone calls. He’d lost sleep and he couldn’t eat. And since the latest cutting-edge benzodiazepine hadn’t been granting him the serenity he saw on the faces of his fellow sufferers in the drug’s advertisements, he was desperate beyond words.
So he spent a month’s salary at an alchemist’s store in the same upscale mall where he was going to meet Isobel for coffee during her lunch break from the boutique, a shop with some French name he could never correctly pronounce.
While she waited at their table (no doubt preparing the It’s Not You, It’s Me Speech) Jason put two packets of sugar into his cup, and half a tiny vial of crimson-colored love potion into hers. Isobel uncrossed her arms when Jason set her coffee in front of her like a waiter. “Because I love you,” he said. He was afraid it would sound awkward, and the look on her face confirmed it. But the alchemist told him he had to say it for the potion to work.
After a few sips, the awkward look wore off.
She took the rest of the day off work. They promised each other forever, and he believed it because he’d shelled out for a true-love potion. Not a knockoff fall-in-love potion or a mere lust potion. Not a psycho-girlfriend-stalker potion or a make-her-undo-decades-of-progress-toward-gender-equality potion. It was a potion that made her want what was best for their relationship and made her resolve to do her best to provide it.
In Jason’s mind, he was just putting things back the way they must’ve been meant to be. After all, she was the one who’d flirted. She asked him out. There were other signs, too, according to every men’s magazine he could get his hands on. Plus, she was the one who wanted to know where their relationship was headed. But a month after she moved in, he started to wonder if all the fairy tales and made-for-TV chick flicks about the folly of love stolen with magic were true.
“You know,” Isobel said one night while Jason was rinsing out the spaghetti pot, “to me, a week-old mile-high pile of dishes used to be a bad sign. It usually meant a slob at best and at worst, some kind of jerk.”
“Excuse me?” he said, his defenses up. “You see me here doing them, don’t you? I’ve been busy this week, you know that!”
Isobel pressed herself against his back and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Oh, don’t be mad. I know that,” she said. “I’m just saying that I can’t wait forever for silverware, that’s all.”
Jason relaxed and set the pot atop the other drying dishes. “I’m surprised you let them sit this long.”
“Me, too,” she said. “It’s the new me, I guess.”
“So am I a slob or a jerk?” Jason turned around in her arms and nibbled her neck.
“Neither. Just a little insensitive, maybe,” she said in the kind, but brutally honest tone she’d developed. “But love is blind, right?”
Maybe too blind. Magically, Isobel had mastered the give-and-take of a committed relationship. She negotiated instead of nagged and made reasonable requests instead of giving ultimatums. She also seemed magically oblivious to the fact that Jason just wasn’t giving the same.
When he, for example, decided to break a date and hang out at Todd’s for a third night in a row, Isobel’s calm, cool, and collected response was, “I’m disappointed that you’re breaking your agreement with me, but that’s your choice, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, but Todd needs help,” Jason lied. “He’s going through a rough patch. He needs to work some stuff out.” He braced himself for accusations.
Instead, Isobel responded, “Well, I feel sorry for him. But I’m still going out. Fair’s fair.”
Jason supposed she was right.
Todd was Jason’s closet friend. That is, he lived a mere two floors down in the basement apartment of their absentee-managed walk-up. Whenever misery needed company, they sought each other out.
“I could just break the spell,” Jason said, pacing back and forth on the strip of carpet between Todd’s coffee table and the TV.
“Good luck with that,” said Todd. “Forget the fury of a woman scorned. The fury of a woman after a broken love spell could have legal consequences. Hey, so how many rape counts you looking at?”
Jason froze. “Oh, God.” The realization made him queasy.
“And even if you beat it, the civil damages? Forget about it.” Todd’s oily mane of longish dirty-blond hair didn’t move as he shook his head. “I told you this was a bad idea, but nooo…”
“You didn’t say anything about rape charges! You kept talking about free will.”
“Sad that appealing to your higher sensibilities didn’t work.”
Jason rubbed his stubbled chin, his forehead, then back into his receding hairline. “Yeah, well, desperation and sexual frustration aren’t the best mix, I guess.”
“You could always go back to the alchemist,” Todd said.
“Already have.” Jason reached into his jacket and pulled out a small vial, nearly identical to the one that held the love potion. Its liquid was a viscous green slime that barely moved when he shook it. “Cost me twice as much as the love potion. Goddamn racket, I tell you.”
“And you haven’t used it yet?” Todd said.
“I’m weak, okay? There, I said it. I’m weak, and I haven’t done the right thing when I should have, and I’m even less likely to now.” Jason stuffed the vial back into his jacket.
“Hey, lots of guys would love to be in your shoes,” Todd said. “Isobel’s one of the hottest pieces of—”
“Hey, show some respect, will you?” Jason said.
“Hey, screw you. ‘Show some respect,’” Todd scoffed. “Please. I didn’t put the whammy on anyone.” He took a self-satisfied swig of his cheap beer.
Jason took two steps over to the kitchenette and helped himself to his own beer from the fridge. “Like I said, I’m weak. Happy?”
“Very much so,” Todd said. “Still, if you can bite the bullet and break the spell, you’d be a better man than me. You really think you could do it?”
Jason’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket, silenced the ringer without looking, and shoved it back into place. “I have to. Jesus, I can’t live like this anymore.”
Todd threw his head back and laughed so hard his oily hair actually moved. “Damn, she’s got you on a tight leash. She calls you twenty times a day, doesn’t she?”
“Not really,” Jason said. “Two, three times, tops.” The phone chirped twice from his pocket. “Sad part is, that’ll be the voice mail telling me she hopes everything’s all right, and if I don’t call back, that’s okay, ’cause she’s on her way out with her friends.”
“Again,” Todd said, “let me reiterate my confusion about what the hell the problem is.”
Jason chugged some beer. “It’s just not normal. I break a date to come hang out with your dumb ass, she gets mad for two seconds—”
Todd played air-fiddle and laughed when Jason flipped him off. “Yeah, and then she goes about her business like someone capable of living life without you for a bit. Boo-freaking-hoo. I say, enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Guaranteed to last forever, or my money back,” Jason said.
Todd sat his beer on the coffee table, using an upside-down picture frame as a coaster. “More than most people get,” he said.
Jason stumbled into his living room after eleven. Isobel still wasn’t home. He sprawled out on the futon, tossing aside two of the four beige throw-pillows Isobel made him pick out as a compromise. It, like most of the other admittedly small compromises he made—paintings on the walls, a single vase of flowers on an endtable—took some getting used to. It also made him wonder exactly who was under whose spell.
The voice mail Isobel left was, as predicted, to let him know that she’d be out, though she’d rather be with him. That he needn’t wait up. Jason thought he should allow himself the respite to think things out.
After fifteen minutes, he called her.
“Hey, Sweetie!” Isobel answered. “Did you get my message?”
“Yeah,” said Jason. “You know, I shouldn’t have bugged you. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“No, it’s okay! We’re at The Brew Pub for Irish coffees. You should meet us!”
“Nah, that’s okay. That’s what I get for not picking up before.”
“Aw, Babe. You sound sad. You want me to come back?”
He did, and he knew she’d come running back if he asked. “No, no. I’ll just see you when you get back.”
“Okay. Oh, I forgot to ask you. What Snooty Food do you want tomorrow? I was thinking—”
“You know, whatever you want, dear,” he cut in. Then, softening his tone, he said, “Seriously, surprise me.”
“Okay…well, I should go, then. Love you!”
“Me too!” he said, trying to match the gush in her voice. He owed her at least that much.
Snooty Food Nite was a recent development. Cheeses that weren’t in individually-wrapped slices, smoked meats, mango salsas, and the like ritually followed with French press coffee and a movie. The sorts of foods found in those kinds of shops Jason, his family, and his friends wouldn’t be caught dead in. It, like every new thing Isobel introduced him to, was another example of the lengths she was willing to go to bring them closer, to find something they could both share. Which only showed him how far short he fell.
Jason quietly watched Isobel slicing sashimi, nicking herself and yelping every time she looked away from the fish to refer to the cookbook propped on the microwave. “You see what I go through for you?” she asked, holding up her finger and smiling.
Enough was enough.
After dinner, Jason usually made the coffee, but this time Isobel got to the French Press first. “I’ve got this,” she said. “Just sit down. Go pick out the movie.” It figured that she’d want to switch up the routine the one time he needed it to be business as usual.
Jason picked up the top DVD, whatever it was, from the pile of rentals on the floor and slipped it into the player. He didn’t have a Plan B, so he just sat in the corner of the futon with his tiny vial of green, viscous fluid palmed in one hand, ready to deploy if and when he got the chance.
Isobel came back with the coffee but instead of pouring it out, she sat and looked at Jason. “Okay, I wanted to wait until, I dunno, the mood was right or something, but I just have to tell you….”
Jason’s eyes darted back and forth from Isobel’s eyes to her stomach. Then, with his own smirk, to her chest.
“Stop,” she said, laughing and crossing her arms. “So, what do you think?”
He was surprised at how level-headed she was being. “You were so scared last time,” Jason said. Not to mention justifiably pissed off.
“Still am,” Isobel said. “But things are so much different now. We’re different now.”
“This is true,” said Jason as he gently cradled Isobel’s head against his shoulder, mostly so that she couldn’t see his face.
Jason put his bid for selflessness on hold. The prospect of fatherhood seemed better than the probable consequences of breaking the potion’s spell. He even thought he could get comfortable with the idea. He was proud of himself, in a way.
The real shock didn’t set in until the ultrasound made it official. A boy. Isobel had to drive them home. “I can see it now,” she said. “It’s going to be like those sitcoms. I’ll be in labor, driving myself, while you’re the one nervous and doing Lamaze.”
“So, you’re still—”
Isobel glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “I thought we went over this already. Why, do you think—?”
“No, no. I’m with you, one-hundred percent,” Jason said. He rubbed Isobel’s knee, smiling. “Eight weeks. Eight whole weeks.” Which meant she conceived three whole weeks before night of the potion. It would’ve been nice had they been blissfully in love then, but this was somehow more honest.
“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Isobel said.
“What does?”
“Eight weeks ago, I was wondering if it was just about over. I was asking myself, what the heck are we doing? But then we worked it all out, somehow.”
“Yeah. Great time to get you knocked up,” Jason said.
“Point was, you did. At what should’ve been the worst time. But it’s all worked out. Like it was meant to, or something.”
“Mm-hmm” was the only response Jason could muster.
“You know what’ll make you feel better?” she asked. “Snooty Food!”
“Whatever you want, dear,” he said.
“Mm, you know what I’m in the mood for? Chicken and pesto pizza,” she said.
“Why not?” Jason got on his cell just as the car pulled into their parking space, and arranged for their comfort-food repast to be delivered. He handed Isobel some money and asked her to wait upstairs. “I’m just gonna check in on Todd.”
“Now?” Isobel said. “You don’t think we maybe have some stuff to discuss, first?”
“I know, but I said I’d check on him,” he whined.
Isobel stared straight ahead and sighed. “Nice. Really nice.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right—”
“No, that’s okay,” she said. She took a long deep breath and that seemed to re-center her. “You go.”
“Just a few minutes, I promise. Then, I’m all yours. I just gotta…you know.”
“Yeah. Boy time. I know,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll talk about that, too. Just don’t let Todd give you any weed because he doesn’t have any cigars.”
“Holy crap, dude! Holy effing crap!” said Todd.
This was more the sort of reaction Jason had been looking for from Isobel. Todd proffered the smoldering joint that had almost fallen out of his mouth when he heard the news. “Here. Bet you need this more than I do.”
“Can’t,” Jason said. “I promised.”
Todd shrugged and took a hit. “So, she’s finally making an honest man out of you, huh? That’s good. Start setting a moral example for your misbegotten spawn.”
“Right,” Jason said. “Some moral example.” He sank onto Todd’s couch and covered his face with his hands. “Spike a girl’s drink, knock her up, and not necessarily in that order. I can just see it, sixteen years from now. ‘Just like my dad taught me!’”
“I’m all for moral, but I’m all for practical, too,” said Todd before he took another, longer hit. “If you don’t want her to have it, can’t you convince her to…you, know….”
“Doesn’t work like that. It’s never worked like that. Haven’t you been paying attention?” Jason dropped his hands onto his lap.
“Then if I were you, I’d be pouring more love potion down her throat.”
“Doesn’t work that way, either,” he said. “One dose it all it takes.”
“Thought your vial came with two?”
“That’s for if I screwed up.”
“Thought it was in case you wanted another one.” Todd chuckled. “Well look, if you really think it’s worth it, there’s always the other potion. Just be aware, rape accusations’ll be the least of your worries.”
Jason reached for the joint and took a thoughtful hit. “This is true,” he said. “Something’s gotta give, though. This just isn’t right.”
“Do what you gotta do, then,” Todd said. “Just don’t come asking me to, like, babysit or something.” He started giggling. “I’ve been wiping your ass for long enough.”
Snooty Food Nite passed quietly. Isobel didn’t interrogate Jason on how he felt or what he thought. And if she smelled anything, she hadn’t mentioned it. Not yet. But she couldn’t hide the expectation on her face. Nor could she avoid musing aloud, “A little Jason-and-Isobel. How about that?” as she patted her stomach.
“So,” Jason finally said, “I know we’ve changed. But, are we ready?”
“You tell me,” she said.
“Guess we’ll have to be, huh?”
“Guess you’ll have to be. Are you?”
Jason pushed himself up off his chair. “Well—” he began. “You know what, I need some coffee first. Go pick out the movie. I’ll be right back.” Before she could speak, he went to the kitchen and set some water to boil. What he really needed was another joint or maybe some Irish coffee of his own. Because at this point, only one option made sense.
In a moment of dope-induced clarity, he resolved that fair was fair, that he really did love Isobel, and that he was going to start acting like it.
After pouring the water onto the grounds in the French press, he pulled out the small hard-plastic vial with its one remaining dose of crimson-colored love-potion, and poured it into the pot. He let everything steep, and plunged it.
When he brought the coffee and two mugs out to the coffee table, Isobel took the pot to pour. As she offered Jason his mug, he asked her, “Why do you put up with my antics, again?”
“Because I love you,” she said.
“Oh, good,” he said, taking the cup.
“So, am I ready?” he mused as he took his first long sip. And the next thing he said, he said because he really did love her.