Chapter Eleven - Erin Vam
Cyrene
The crowd gets up and claps as I close the show. My earlier meeting with Erin Vam was canceled due to her busy schedule, but I know I am finally going to get to meet her now. This isn't just my debut, it is Erin Vam’s debut collection as well. I saw Dell the moment I stepped on the ramp and then saw him again when I stopped the show. I am about to acknowledge him with a smile when the designer, Erin Vam comes out.
Dressed in a fuchsia tea dress, wearing three-inch heels, I see Erin come out. Her hair bounces behind her back, the bright green neon streaks standing out in the light. She is wearing cat eye glasses, and her face looks oddly familiar. She smiles as she glides down the runway, waving at the crowd. She places her hand in the small of my back and pushes me forward along with her.
“Surprise,” she whispers in my ear.
“What?”
“It’s me,” she says.
I turn around and look at her face, taking in the details. And then I go beyond shocked, past petrified and straight to stoned. It’s the head bitch.
“Minerva,” I gasp, “It’s you!”
“Good to see you too, my wayward witch.”
Erin Vam. I turn the name around in my head. Erin Vam is Minerva, I realize as I unscramble it.
Once the show is over, we head to the backstage. I want to go talk to Dell, but I need to talk to Minerva first. I have so many questions. The remaining models flit about and disappear. Minerva offers me a ride. We head to a restaurant.
“Tell me everything,” I say, my mind still reeling. “What? Why? How? I have so many questions.”
“Sweetie, I have a life too.”
“Yes, but why didn’t you tell me?”
“That would have defeated the purpose,” she says.
“What purpose? I thought you were busy being a head witch and all.”
“Cyrene, my dear, you are a gifted young witch,” she begins. “But you have always tried to run away from who you are, never accepting yourself, never finding peace. If you focused on living a life instead of running away from who you are, your life would have been so much happier. I am a head witch and I do that well. But that has never stopped me from having a life in the world. I never stopped myself. And look at me now - I am a successful designer.”
“You could have told me all this earlier,” I say.
“Then you wouldn’t have learned your lesson,” she says, giving me another knowing look. “I know you, Cyrene. I have known you since you were a baby. You never listen and that’s okay. You learn your lessons yourself when you figure things out on your own. It is totally okay,” she wheezes, “but it takes longer.”
“So, you were the one who made Fred be nice to me?”
She nods in approval. “I couldn’t let a man change my most prized witch.”
“You are talking to me like you are very fond of me,” I say forthrightly.
“I have always been fond of you. You just filled yourself with so much hate that you couldn’t see. Hate blinded you.”
“I still dislike you for those meetings,” I blurt out. “I mean, Skype, WhatsApp, FaceTime…we have all this technology and you force us out at midnight.”
“One day, you will know why. You have much to learn,” she says.
I open my mouth to speak again but she raises a hand. “Let what I said sink in.”
“I just have one more question,” I say, joining my hands together, pretending to plead.
She smiles and tells me to go on.
“What happens when a witch falls in love with a dragon?”
“What happens when an American falls in love with a Brit?” She says, gesturing around with her hands. “What happens when an African falls in love with an Asian?”
“That’s different,” I say. “I have heard it is an abomination.”
“Oh, you watch too much TV,” she says in a slightly scolding manner. “Love comes from here,” she says, pointing to her heart. “It is the same in all beings, whether they are dragons, werewolves, fairies, witches, or humans—Love is just love.”
“So, I should go ahead with the dragon?”
“Not if you are still calling him the dragon.”
“His name is Dell,” I say.
“Cyrene,” she says, straightening her back and getting serious. “I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do, not beyond what the coven demands of you. Your personal life is yours, has always been yours and I can’t make your decisions for you.”
“I know, I know,” I say. “It’s just that I don’t want to fuck it up and make another mistake.”
“If you don’t make mistakes,” she says, “you don’t learn. After all, it is only human to make mistakes.”
“But we are not human, are we?”
“Not if you keep telling yourself that you are not one,” she said. “Cyrene, you need to change, learn to adapt, for I see a storm coming your way. If you don’t utilize the sails, you will drown.”
“So, I go ahead with Dell?”
She smiles, gets up and leaves—just like she turns around on her broom and swooshes away.