Sabbatical
The woman is sitting on the ground, cast in lovely dawn shades of gold and pink. Her legs are crossed, hands folded in her lap, and her lush white curls fall over one shoulder like an avalanche. There is not a speck of blood on her hands or on her pants, despite the pool spreading slowly beneath Sephie’s back. For some reason, that is what Sephie is most focused on at this moment—the blood is hot and wet and deeply unpleasant, and she envies the woman for not having any on her. The car that struck her and drew the blood is long gone, a hit and run, and the coffee shop’s customers will not come for their caffeine fix for almost an hour. Unless the woman shows a heretofore unforeseen interest in things like cell phones and emergency services, or a particularly helpful spook wanders past and kicks up a fuss, Sephie is reasonably sure that she will be dead by then, and the only thing to greet her regulars will be the sticky pool of red.
Sephie frowns, or at least Sephie considers frowning. Fine motor functions are slightly more difficult than usual. The coffee shop won’t be opened today, if she dies. This bothers her rather a lot—that’s years and years of her life in that coffee shop, and it seems absurd that something so transient as death should stop her from opening it and making cappuccinos. Maybe her spook will stand up and take care of it, she thinks. Spooks have done stranger things.
“I’ve been on sabbatical for thirteen years today,” the woman announces with a serene smile, looking down at Sephie.
She’s been answering that for years now.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie rasps, and the blood on her lips is salty.
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for ten years and forty-five days,” the woman announced with a smile as she reached the counter. Her hair was blue, deep and vibrant and braided away from her left temple to fall luxuriously over one shoulder, and her eyes were pale, silver-green-grey in the light.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said with a smile, a sleepy grin. Every once in a while, she considered being irritated with the woman’s updates, but she was just so damn earnest. “What can I get for you?” she asked, giving her apron a fastidious tug. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” the woman said, and Sephie nodded.
“I’ll be right out with that,” Sephie said as Mark pulled down a large mug and started to fill it with iced chocolate. “What are you reading today?”
“The Half-Blood Prince,” she said excitedly, showing Sephie the cover as if it was a precious treasure. She wagged a finger at Sephie sternly, tucking the book close to her chest, and added, “Don’t tell me anything!”
“Of course,” Sephie agreed easily as the woman left to take her seat at what they all thought of as her table. She’d sat there since Sephie got her job at the crossroads coffee shop in high school, since the woman was saying ‘I’ve been on sabbatical seven, eight, nine years’ when she came in and got her drink and sat down with her book. “Thanks, Mark,” Sephie said as the older man set the woman’s drink on the counter beside her elbow. “Hey, did you handle the spook in the back?” Sephie jerked her head toward the kitchen space behind the partitioning wall.
“I’m just going to do it now,” he said dismissively. “He’s not a very strong spook, it’ll be easy to scare him off.”
“Thanks,” Sephie called after him again as he picked up a white box marked ‘Barrons’ in blocky black letters and ducked into the kitchen. He waved a hand absently back at her and she picked up the mug of iced chocolate, whisking it out to the woman. “You enjoy that, miss,” she said as porcelain clicked on wood, and the woman only barely glanced up from the page to smile vague thanks. Her teeth were all in neat, tidy rows, like perfectly matched white marble headstones. “If you need anything, let me know.”
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for ten years and one hundred and ninety-four days,” the woman announced with a smile.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said. “Happy New Year,” she added with a smile of her own, and the woman looked startled.
“Is it?”
“January first,” Sephie confirmed brightly. She jostled the party hat perched carefully on her head to accommodate her ponytail. “I love New Year’s,” she added cheerfully. “So I figured this year I’d actually open the store for it.”
The woman’s smile was sweet and blank, a coy turn of her lips that made her wide pale eyes look almost childlike. “And this is…a celebration?”
“We’ve all survived another trip ‘round the sun,” Sephie said with a shrug. “We might as well celebrate it, right?”
“Some New Year’s,” the older man who had stomped through the door in the woman’s wake muttered. “Sunny and warm with every-damn-thing in bloom. ‘S not natural.” He gave Sephie a beady look and she kept her usual polite smile fixed in place—she did booming business by being open on holidays, there was no need to run off valuable customers. “Back when I was younger, we had proper snow for New Year’s,” he grumbled. “Seasons. None of this year-round summer crap.”
“You’ve mentioned that, Mister Benson,” Sephie said politely, wondering if she had ever seen snow. She had a vague image of a fluffy white substance that bit coldly where it touched her skin—maybe she had seen it once when she was younger. “So, miss, the usual?”
The woman’s eyes snapped to Sephie from the irritable man behind her, who looked like he was rather considering continuing his rant. Her lips parted in a smile and she reached up absently to tuck her blood red hair back behind an ear, the thick coils brilliant against her skin. “Yes, I think so,” she said after a moment of consideration, hand slipping from her hair to the long silver chain that hung around her neck. Her long fingers tugged gently at the chain, but whatever charm weighed it down remained hidden under her shirt. She tapped the fingers of her other hand against the book she carried, which Sephie could just make out as the Odyssey, and added, “Oh, and can I have one of those hats?”
“Sure,” Sephie laughed as she gestured a commanding hand over her shoulder at Mark and reached under the counter.
The woman snapped the party hat onto her head with a delighted smile and told Sephie, “Happy New Year.”
“You too, miss.”
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for ten years and two hundred fifty-nine days,” the woman announced with a smile.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said. She gestured to the young man standing next to her, who looked like he resented the rising sun’s existence. “This is Jacob, I’ve been showing him the ropes while he’s home for spring break. Jacob, this is one of our regulars.”
“Jacob,” the woman said, as if rolling the word around on her tongue and deciding how she liked the taste of it. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet you,” she decided with her widest smile, white and crisp behind her bright lips. “I’d shake your hand but I’m afraid I’d better not.” She glanced back at Sephie and asked, “What do you think of Shakespeare?”
“I don’t like Romeo and Juliet much,” Sephie said promptly, used to the occasional unprompted query about literature during the course of the woman’s apparent quest to read every book in the world. “Too much melodrama. But it’s still Shakespeare. My favorite’s probably Twelfth Night or The Tempest. Why?”
“I saw a production of Hamlet last night,” the woman said. “I read Shakespeare back in my first year on sabbatical, of course, but I hadn’t seen a play of his yet.”
Sephie grinned a little. “It’s worth the money, isn’t it? What are you reading today, miss?” The woman pulled out the book delicately pinned between her ribs and her elbow to show off a beautiful hardcover edition of Frankenstein. “Oh, I love Mary Shelley,” Sephie said, not quite able to rein herself in enough to avoid reaching out to touch the smooth leather cover, running her fingers over the silver-embossed lettering of the title. Pulling her hand back, Sephie asked, “So, the usual?”
“That would be perfect,” the woman said, tucking the book back under one arm. Mark gave a cheerful wave as he started to fill a mug with the frothy cold liquid and Sephie shot him an appreciative nod over her shoulder.
Jacob reached out to the cash register and started to punch in the code, getting all of a few keystrokes in before Sephie’s hand closed over his wrist.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, cocking her head in confusion.
“Um…keying in her order?” he said hesitantly. “Am I doing it wrong? Iced chocolate’s two-fifty, right?”
Sephie released his hand with a chuckle, shaking her head. “No, you’re right, but she doesn’t pay.”
“She doesn’t? Why not?”
“Not since I’ve worked here, and I kind of doubt it before that,” Sephie said with a shrug, and the woman smiled. “And she doesn’t pay because…she doesn’t.”
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for eleven years and thirty-six days,” the woman announced with a smile.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said. “And a good morning to you, too. The usual?”
“Yes, please. Mmm, and a scone, please, are those cranberry?” Sephie grinned and nodded, already picking up a plate and the tongs from the display case.
“Good choice,” she said with a secretive wink, as if confiding a secret as she slid a scone onto the plate and handed it over. “Mark, can I–”
“Going to need a minute on the iced chocolate,” he called, poking his head out from the back pantry. “What did you do with the box of Barron’s, Seph?”
“I thought you had it last,” Sephie answered as the woman picked curiously at a corner of the scone. “I’m sorry, miss,” she added to the woman, “it might be a few minutes before we get your drink out to you.”
“Is there something wrong?” she asked, looking up abruptly from her scone.
“A spook came in a couple weeks back,” Sephie said with a shrug. “An old customer. He’s not too much of a problem, but we don’t want him blundering into our equipment. We had a close call with our stove yesterday, so we’re getting serious about getting him to ship out.”
“How are you going to do that?” the woman asked curiously, popping a tiny piece of scone into her mouth.
“Block him off for a few days, maybe a week or so,” Sephie said, shrugging dismissively. “Spooks learn where they can’t go after a while. You want anything else, miss?”
“Oh,” the woman said in surprise, glancing over her shoulder to see the beginnings of a line behind her. “I’m in the way, aren’t I,” she said, wondering. Sephie found it oddly endearing, the way the woman was always so shocked when she found herself to be blocking someone’s path. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just be…” She gestured over to her table and Sephie smiled.
“I’ll be out with your drink in just a few minutes,” she said warmly. “I know where to find you, miss.”
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for twelve years today,” the woman announced with a smile, flicking her damp curls away from the rain-slick skin of her cheek. They were peacock-green, now, rich and iridescent in the soft yellow lights of the coffee shop. Sephie worked very hard not to take it personally that the woman looked exactly as elegant as ever despite being somewhat akin to a half-drowned cat.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said, carefully dabbing up a few escaped drops of water from the counter. “Would you like a towel? It’s pouring outside, I haven’t seen a storm like this in years.”
“Oh, no, I’m quite all right,” the woman assured her, eyes dancing as she licked a bit of rain water from her full lips. Lightning flared brilliant outside the front panel of windows, casting the woman into stark black and white for a heartbeat, save for the slash of red at her mouth. “It’s glorious, isn’t it?”
Thunder roared overhead and Sephie grinned as she waited for it to pass. “From inside, maybe,” she said once her hearing had recovered. “I almost didn’t bother opening today, I doubt anyone else is going to come in. I even told Mark he could have the day off. So, what can I get for you? The usual? Or would you like something warm, what with the rain?”
“Something warm?” the woman asked curiously.
Sephie laughed. “Sure, we make warm drinks too. You know iced chocolate used to be served hot? It’s pretty good, too.”
“I’ll try it,” the woman said instantly, looking enthralled by the concept. “Hot chocolate, hm?”
“Yeah, that’s what they called it,” Sephie confirmed. “Do you want anything else?” The woman shook her head and Sephie nodded. “I’ll be right out with that. It might take a few minutes.”
“Of course,” the woman said cheerfully. “There’s no need to rush.” She retreated to her table and settled down with her copy of Paradise Lost, pages dry and crisp despite the downpour outside.
Steam coiled up from the mug, sweet with the scent of chocolate, and Sephie carefully piled whipped cream on top. She was silently debating whether she should surprise the woman with a bit of cinnamon and nutmeg as well when thunder boomed and, almost hidden in the sound, the bell on the door jingled. Sephie’s head snapped around in surprise, hands still steady on the mug of hot chocolate, and her eyes fell on another woman sweeping through the door like a hurricane.
This new woman was curvy where Sephie’s regular was slim, with masses of lush black hair falling in ripples almost to her waist. Her skin glowed bronze-red-brown under the rain water clinging to the curve of her jaw and the long bones of her hands. Her eyes flashed like black steel as she swept an imperious look across Sephie, dismissed her at once, and continued to examine the shop until her gaze landed on the woman in the corner, absorbed in her book.
The new woman was like a storm in human skin, as if the fury outside had been poured into a form, Sephie thought dizzily, feeling as if something wondrously terrible and beautiful had passed her by. She marched toward the woman in the corner as inexorably as the tide, and when they stood side by side it was like seeing a solar eclipse, blinding light and living dark overlaid with each other.
“Sister,” the woman in the corner said, delighted, as she looked up, and the new woman glared, arms crossed. “It’s been years. I should have expected to see you today, is this your storm?”
Sephie frowned slightly, wondering if she had misheard, but the new woman answered before she could consider it much further. “Hello, sister,” the woman said perfunctorily. “Where have you been?”
“I’m on sabbatical,” the woman said, seeming startled. “Surely I told you I was taking one. I’ve been on sabbatical for twelve years.”
“You have been missing in action for twelve years!” the new woman snarled, and lightning blazed outside. “Do you know the mess you’ve left?”
“I will catch up on my work as soon as I’ve finished my sabbatical,” the woman said calmly, and the black-haired newcomer made a noise that Sephie couldn’t help but find strongly reminiscent of an enraged lioness. Thunder boomed and the woman waited politely for it to finish before she spoke again, as if allowing an old friend to have their say. “Would you like to have a seat, sister? This coffee shop makes delicious food, if you’re in the mood to try anything.”
“I will pass,” the new woman said irately. “I expect you to get this foolishness out of your system and return to work before things spiral even more out of control than they already have, sister.”
“Of course I’ll come back to work,” the woman said, half-laughing, like the very idea that she wouldn’t was absurd. Sephie hesitantly walked out from behind the counter, mug in hand, and approached the two women, feeling a prickle along her skin as if she was venturing into a warzone. The woman smiled at her and nodded, accepting the mug, and Sephie gratefully scurried back behind the bedrock shield of her counter. “Of course I’ll come back to work,” the woman repeated distractedly, taking a slow, luxurious sip of the hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide and she hummed in delight. “After my sabbatical.”
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for twelve years and forty-nine days,” the woman announced with a smile.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have iced chocolate today, so you can’t get your usual. Do you want a minute to decide?”
“What would you recommend?” the woman asked with a hopeful widening of her eyes.
“Huh,” Sephie said in bemusement. “Um. God. I don’t know, maybe tea? It’ll have to be hot, our freezer was shorted out last night. We have a really delicious Irish breakfast tea, though, or jasmine if you’d rather have green. I like it with honey.”
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “Honey is good,” she mused. “So sweet. Yes, jasmine tea, that sounds perfect. How did your freezer short out?”
Sephie shook her head. “It’s that spook that came in yesterday around closing time,” she said, frustrated. “Jumpy bastard, sorry-for-the-language-miss. Bad tempered, too. We were going to just wall him out like we’ve done with the others, but he managed to get the drop on us first. Shorted the electronic lock on the pantry on his way in, too, so even if we’d had a chance before he starting wrecking things, we couldn’t have gotten to the box of Barron’s we keep in there. And you know how spooks are—we’ve got some salt lying around, but no iron, and that’ll just piss him off.”
“Why not just get rid of him?” the woman asked.
Sephie smiled. “You really do live under a rock, don’t you, miss?”
“I don’t believe so,” she said, scarlet eyebrows furrowing. Sephie shook her head in amusement—the woman really was hopeless, for all that she was demonstrably a genius when one got her onto the right subjects.
“We’ve called an eradicator,” Sephie said with a shrug. “But he’ll be a few hours, so for the time being we’re hoping for the best and staying out of the kitchen.” She tipped her head back and forth nonchalantly. “We’ve had bigger issues, I suppose.” Reaching out to drop a bag of their jasmine blend into a mug, she added, “Few years back we had three spooks come in at the same time—car crash out front.”
“Oh my,” the woman said as she watched Sephie deftly fill the mug with boiling water.
“Yeah,” Sephie said with a shrug, giving the tea bag an expert swirl through the water. “It’s the crossroads out there—no stoplight. We get a few crashes a year, but that was the worst one I’ve seen yet.” She held out the mug to the woman and grinned a little. “We should have the freezer back online by tomorrow, so you can go back to the usual.” The woman curled her hands around the mug and smiled as she nodded her thanks and retreated to her table.
***
“I’ve been on sabbatical for twelve years and three hundred sixty-three days,” the woman announced with a smile.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie said. She paused in her morning once-over of the counter, somewhat delayed today, and the damp rag stilled on the tile. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” the woman agreed, brushing a pale lilac curl back from her face.
“And what are you reading today?” Lily asked as Mark filled a mug with foaming chocolate.
The woman beamed, holding out a small trade paperback with a black design on the red cover—like a chandelier seen from below—and the word Sunshine written in gold across the top. “It’s by a lovely woman named Robin McKinley,” she said, stroking the spine fondly. “Have you read any of her work?”
“No,” Sephie said, smiling. “But I’ve seen you with her books. Would you recommend her?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the woman said with an emphatic nod. She paused, head cocked, as she tucked the book back under her arm. “You know, I’ve read dozens of books on your recommendation, but I do believe this is the first time I’ve suggested one to you.”
Sephie chuckled, her rag resuming its steady circles, and she remarked, “Well, you know what they say. The more things change, the more they stay the same, and all that. Although I don’t think I’ll ever get through quite as many books as you do.” She smiled. “I’ll have to get one of her books on my Kindle so we can talk about it tomorrow.”
***
The woman is sitting on the ground.
The sun is rising in pretty gold and pink.
Sephie is bleeding and the woman is bloodless.
The coffee shop is not getting opened.
“I’ve been on sabbatical for thirteen years today,” the woman announces with a serene smile, looking down at Sephie.
She’s been answering that for years now.
“That’s nice, miss,” Sephie rasps, and the blood on her lips is salty.
“It has been,” the woman says pleasantly. “My sister may not agree with me, and certainly I’ll have a lot of cleaning up to do, but it’s been delightful.” She sighs, toying with the chain around her neck. She twines the links around her slender fingers and, for the first time, the charm is lifted free of her shirt, winking in the light. “I suppose nothing can last forever, though,” she muses, then laughs. “Well. Some things do.”
“Like what, miss?” Sephie asks faintly, watching black and white spots fizzle in and out of her vision. Like snow on a TV screen, she thinks to herself, and wonders how she should tune herself so that she gets reception again.
“Oh, you know, this and that,” the woman says with a wave of the hand not fiddling with her charm. Then she raises both hands and stretches luxuriously, like the great rise of the ocean just before a tidal wave crashes down, and rises to her feet. She is bloodless, her hands are clean.
“I think thirteen years is long enough, don’t you, Persephone?” the woman asks, and unclasps her necklace. The chain spills into her palm like water, a silver puddle trickling between her fingers. The long-hidden charm shimmers in her hand and Sephie goes staticky for a moment, vision full of spots. When she can see again, the woman is smiling down at her, leaning her weight on a tall scythe. A slim silver chain winds around her wrist, and the light of the rising sun glints off the blade like the memory of lightning.
The last thing Sephie sees is the fingers of the woman, reaching down to touch her cheek.
