Leon’s Magic Love by Harrison Kim

On Saturday night, Leon and his friend Max  “The Rhythm Wonders,” played guitar and sang at Tom Kosk’s stag party.  Tom was engaged to Samantha Ciaccia, the wedding scheduled in one week.  He was already living with her, in a double wide trailer in the bush under Mount Baldy.

“Why does she live with Tom?” Leon wondered.

“Maybe because she has a great sense of humour,” his friend Max advised. 

“Do you think she’ll ever choose me?” Leon asked.

“Freedom what it’s all about,” Max answered. “Freedom of choice.”

Tom, a big burly fellow with a round mouth that puckered forward, drove steamroller for the department of highways.  His curly blonde hair fell over his head, which he always kept low, as if he’d bang it if he wasn’t careful.

Every night for the past two weeks, Leon had burned an inch off a candle as a last attempt to attract Samantha’s love.  It was part of a secret spell to be rigorously followed for a required 15-day period.  Leon believed he was a perfect match for Samantha.  Young, fit, and reasonably intelligent, a practicing magician and a caster of spells, doing his best to struggle through Grade 12.

Samantha was the high school secretary.  Her perfect teeth shone as she smiled and when she crossed her legs, Leon had to look away.  Every day he would find some excuse to go to the office and talk with her.  She enjoyed his magic tricks.

“Making a pen look like rubber is fun, but you’re a little young for me,” Samantha told Leon in her high squeaky voice.  Leon liked that voice; it reminded him of baby birds.  He liked Samantha’s skin-tone coloured lipstick and curvy body, he loved her pants with the fashionable glitter and was amused at the way she laughed at his pen trick.

Not only did Leon relentlessly burn an inch of candle every night, as per the spell details, he chanted Samantha’s name over and over. “Samantha Ciaccia, please come to me forever,” and the more he chanted the more connected he seemed to be. 

He acquired the ancient spell from Mary Stoodley, his wrinkly, jowl-jawed neighbor lady who played piano in a house surrounded by blackberry bushes.  She’d attracted her own husband, Old Mant, with the charm, although he now lived alone in a rustic two room cabin on the wilderness side of the lake.

“Spell wore off after fifty years,” said Mary.  “But you have to remember, there could be side effects. When you become enmeshed, anything can happen.  Every day you do the ritual, the attraction increases. And remember, you can’t miss a day!”

At Tom’s trailer, where the stag party was in full swing, all Leon could focus on was that final spell ceremony.  He needed to burn one more inch of candle, to seal the magic.  Samantha thoughts roiled through his mind all evening.  He did his best to play guitar and sing along with Max.  They strummed songs by “Creedence Clearwater Revival” and watched Tom chug a lug whiskey and bang on saucepans in a kind of jagged accompaniment. Samantha was out at her own stagette, “otherwise, she’d be dancing too,” Leon thought.  As he took a moment and headed for the washroom facilities, he glanced into Tom and Samantha’s room. He sure would like to be in that bed with Samantha tonight instead of playing music for a bunch of inebriated bachelors.

Three of Tom’s friends from the Department of Highways, Bob, Liam, and Augustus, sat in the party area all wearing different coloured cowboy hats. They tried to outdrink their host, standing up shakily, and slamming into each other as Max and Leon played “Bad Moon Rising.”

“Let’s hear “Susie Q” once more,” Tom demanded, his head bowed as he staggered around the living room in an awkward rhythm.

Max and Leon hit into another thirteen-minute version of that classic number. 

Leon imagined Samantha the whole time, her legs crossing and uncrossing, her body leaning over the high school office counter.  He imagined she’d burst through the door early and witness his talented musical chops.  The images of all the candle inches he’d burned the past two weeks sparked through his mind. He passed his guitar to Augustus, who could play a few main chords, and headed for the bathroom.   “Strum away with Max,” he told Augustus.

He slid down the hall in his socks, stood at Tom and Samantha’s room.  Something summoned him.  Maybe it was the smell of lavender perfume. Samantha always wore that scent.  Leon walked forward and closed the bedroom door.  There was a deadbolt lock.  He turned it shut.  A peculiar feeling came over him, maybe it had something to do with the flame he saw in his head, and Samantha moving in the middle of that flame, walking towards him wearing those glittery blue jeans.  Leon rummaged in the closet, pulled out a turquoise nightgown.  He checked a chest of drawers, found some interesting underclothes, and in a side closet discovered a number of bras.  He took off his own jeans and T shirt and put on the bra and panties.  It was rather difficult fitting the bra, but he’d seen the method on T. V.  a few times. Then he slipped the nightgown over top.  He crawled onto the bed and checked himself in the mirror above it.  He certainly was starting to resemble a school secretary.

Now, he would like nothing more than to try out the flesh toned lipstick that Samantha wore, and as he lay looking at himself in the bed mirror, he understood what it was like to be a pretty girl.  He liked it and sprayed some more perfume around.

“Maybe this is as close as I’ll ever get to Samantha,” he thought, inhaling a gawp of lavender tinged air.

He moved towards the side bathroom, just a toilet and a mirror and a tiny sink, but a cabinet there too, and upon opening it he found all sorts of makeup items.  He began to rummage. 

“Let’s see, this blush might look pretty good,” he thought, patting some on to his cheeks.
He stood staring at himself, trying to imagine it was Samantha standing there.  He found that if he focussed enough, he could almost see her within his own face.  He began a bit of a dance, whirling out of the bathroom and around the bed area. Then he pranced on to the bed itself.

He heard a click.  The deadbolt switch turned, and the door opened. Samantha stood holding the key, resplendent in her flowered blue jeans and matching lacey blouse.  Her face turned pale as Leon leaped off the mattress.

“Oh,” he said.  “You’re back early from the stagette!”

Samantha closed the door behind her.

“Leon?” she exclaimed.  “Is that you?”

“Pretty much,” said Leon. 

“It’s weird, I’ve been thinking about you more and more,” she said.  “I’m supposed to be focussing on my future husband.  Now it’s Leon, Leon, Leon 24-7. I knew you’d be here tonight with the music.  I can’t get you out of my mind, so I returned early.  And now, I open the door, and here you are dressed in my clothes!”  She paused.  “The guys are still staggering around out there.”  Then she sat down on the bed.  “Why exactly are you dressed like that?”

“I should change into my regular garments,” Leon told her.  “But these feel more like me.”

“I don’t know what to say, Leon,” Samantha said.  “Maybe you should make that change.  But I think I like you, just the way you are.”
Leon looked down at the turquoise nightie and his bare hairy legs and red socked feet. “I guess I should’ve put some shoes on,” he said. “And I feel the same way about you, Samantha.”

Samantha leaned back on the mattress.  “You’re quite attractive in that shade of blue,” she said, and slipped her arms around his waist.

A crash destroyed the mood as Tom burst through the door.  “We’re missing a musician!” he shouted. Then he saw the two lovebirds.

“What are you doing, Samantha?” he yelled.  “What the hell are you wearing, Leon?”

“Leon cares for me, Tom,” Samantha said.  “So much so that he wants to be me.”

Tom fell against the wall, smashing his big hands against it to hold his balance.  “I can’t believe this! Get out of here, you freak!” 

He backed up, staggered forward, waved his great burly arms. 

Leon stood up.  “Everything’s ok, Tom, we’re just having a cuddle.”

“Cuddle my ass!” Tom grabbed Leon by the shoulders and heaved him out of the bedroom like a sack of potatoes. Leon hurtled past the hallway and tumbled into the living room, where August and Max were playing “Down On The Corner.”  Liam and Bob grooved beside them, in separate armchairs.

They all looked up as Tom bolted in their direction, lifted Leon up by his armpits and shoved him towards the front porch entrance.

“You smell like Samantha’s perfume, you poof!”  He screamed. “I’m gonna get my gun and blow your balls off!”

“Jeepers, Leon,” Max shouted.  “What kind of outfit is that?”

“The candles are burning!” Leon yelled and tore off into the night.  “Don’t you love the scent?”

Tom grabbed his 30:30 from the gun case.  “Goddamn bullets are somewhere else.”

He tossed the weapon to the floor, and reeled outside, jumped in his pickup and started the engine.  In the headlights, he perceived Leon’s slim form barrelling towards the lake.  Tom stepped on the gas.

Leon ripped off his nightgown and bra as he raced down the stony beach and into the water, Tom’s truck beams showing him the way.  He jumped in, swimming wildly towards the other shore, the water cool and refreshing against his pumped up flesh.

Tom jumped from his pickup.  Leon turned to see him shoving an old canoe into the water.

“I’ll get you, you mutant!”  Tom yelled. 
Augustus and Liam came running from the trailer. “Let him go, Tom.  He’s harmless!”

Leon heard the canoe paddle swishing in his direction.  He dived under to throw off the scent, opened his eyes in the water and saw blackness, then resurfaced below the starlight.  Tom was paddling in the wrong direction now, towards the cat tail marsh.  Leon swam on, as quickly and quietly as possible across the narrow arm of the lake, towards a small cabin on the far shore.  He knew this cabin belonged to Old Mant, Mary Stoodley’s estranged husband.  As he splashed closer, he saw a candle burning in the open window.  He reached the shore, found his footing on the rocks, stepped across the beach stones to the cabin entrance.   As he knocked on Old Mant’s door he looked down, viewing Samantha’s pink underwear still wrapped around his thighs.

“Who be there?” came a rugged voice, and Old Mant opened up, a short, swarthy fellow in a green Tam and coveralls, his long white beard braided with red ribbons. 

His face fell as he beheld the panty boy.

“Wow, Leon, what happened?”
“I need some help,” Leon implored.  “I need to burn an inch off one of your candles.  Before midnight!”

“Maybe a towel would be more useful,” Old Mant said. 

“It’s part of your former wife Mary’s love spell!” Leon informed him.

“I guess she didn’t tell you about the side effects,” said Old Mant, handing the young man a giant white towel with giraffe pictures on it.  Leon pulled the cloth around his shivering chest and shoulders. 

“Thanks for not calling me a freak or something.” Leon said.

“The old ad hominem wouldn’t help anybody,” Old Mant stated. “I prefer the Socratic method.”

“Can you please spare a candle and a match?” Leon insisted.  “I need to finish this spell tonight.”

Old Mant took a white taper out of a cupboard below his wall collection of frying pans and handed over a green lighter.  “You must be feeling the love,” he said.

“I sure am!” Leon said. “Samantha and I are almost totally together.  I just have one last ritual to seal this forever!”

Old Mant stroked his beard. “It wasn’t something that would have happened anyway?”

Leon thought back on the events of the last hour.

“I don’t think so.  May I use your washroom to complete the ritual?”

“It’s the outhouse in the back yard,” Old Mant said.  “Old School.”  He stared at Leon’s soaking wet red socks.  “My wife Mary tried that spell on me, but she pulled back the final day.  Didn’t go through with it.”
“She never told me that,” Leon said. 

“I chose to stay with her fifty years anyway,” Old Mant continued.  “But once the final flame burns to the last level on the candle, it’s for always.”  He threw Leon a crumpled pair of pants.  “You kind of become part of each other.  Forever.  Think on that, youngster.”

The problem was, Samantha was all Leon could think of.  He grabbed the pants and lurched out into the yard.  The outhouse loomed beside a large blackberry bush.  He stopped in front of it and lay his magic making objects on the ground.

“Samantha Ciaccia, please be part of me forever,”  he chanted, and struck a match, then made a fingernail mark a little more than an inch down on the candle, stuck it in the ground, and lit it.

“Just bit to burn on this thin thing,” he thought, and stared into the flame.  He pictured Samantha and himself there, hand in hand.

“I’m only 18,” he thought.  “If I burn this candle to the appointed level, we will be together for the rest of our lives.”

He thought of the years ahead, listening to Samantha’s baby bird voice, lying with her on the bed, arms around each other, both dressed in various flowery outfits.  He stared some more at the candle flame.  The most important moment was the here and now.  The following week, the next fifty years, what did they matter in this moment?  Even Samantha’s age, twenty-three, seemed ages away from his 18.  One day, maybe in a century, they’d both be as ancient as Old Mant.  Leon would wear an old green Tam and braid his beard like a horse’s mane.  That would be a lifetime gone.

“A lifetime,” Leon thought.  “That’s quite a stretch of years.”  He looked down at the flame. “It’s my choice to burn this candle,” he yelled out loud. “I want to be you, Samantha!” surprising himself with his choice of words. 

He thought for a moment.  “But what about her choice?”

He remembered the words of his friend Max…. Samantha picked Tom first.  Wasn’t Leon choosing for her, now, with this magic?  Likely without this spell, she would go ahead and marry the steamroller man.  Unless she really did want Leon instead.

“I guess Tom’s already paid for the wedding cake,” Leon thought.

The candle stood almost at the one-inch mark. The flame seemed to burst brighter, take on added power as Leon thought again about spending his whole life with Samantha.

“What kind of a guy am I?” he thought, looking down at his hairy legs.  “Maybe it’s too soon to say.”

A pair of headlights turned into the driveway at the front of the cabin.  Leon ran forward and waved at the car.  It was Samantha’s vehicle, all right, but he couldn’t see the driver.  The car door opened with a rusty squeal.  Leon raced back to the candle flame.  He bent over and blew it out, just before the fire ate the magic mark.

Then he stood up, pulled on the pants Old Mant gave him, draped the giraffe towel around his shoulders, and dashed up the driveway to catch his ride towards the future.

Harrison Kim

Image: Pillar candls, extinguished against a black background with the hint of twigs from Pixabay.com