Chapter 4.23 – Elixir Mixer

April burst into the room like the first rays of morning sun. “Good morning!” she sang.

“Morning Apes.” Wyatt rubbed his temples and turned away from his effervescent daughter and back to his video game, where his character fell off the platform he’d so carefully landed on.

He could sense her bubbling in his peripheral vision and turned briefly to look at her, noting her outfit with a small smile. “That looks familiar.”

April visibly cringed and tugged on one of the sleeves on her brown sweater. “Oh,” she said in a small voice, seating herself beside him. “I didn’t realise Broof wore these in front of you.”

“What?”

“What?”

The pair looked at each other, confusion stuck between them as realisation dawned on Wyatt. “Oh! You thought this stuff was Hoggy’s?” he guffawed. “Apes, this stuff was Hoggy’s grandmother’s. He’s a sentimental guy, but it’s a bit weird that he still has it. Even weirder that it’s not threadbare. Where’d you find it?”

“In his closet, in a box right at the back.” She shifted beside him, humming a little song. Sometimes she was too bright and chirpy to face, especially when he felt as run-down as crappy as he did.

“Woah, you really like snooping don’t you? I think we need to have a chat about privacy, Apes.”

April pouted and dropped her chin to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s all right, he won’t mind,” Wyatt lied thinking of how meticulously his bearded buddy kept things and how much disarray April had probably left everything in. “Find anything else interesting in his closet?”

“No,” April replied, still a little sadly.

“Hey hey,” he said softly, lifting her chin and watching his character from the corner of his eye. The pixelated little fellow fall off the platform for the second time. “It’s okay, just don’t make a habit of snooping, yeah? Besides, that skirt is too nice to be kept in a box and heck knows it looks better on you than it ever would on him.”

April smiled a little, smoothing out a crease in the garment and admiring it as she did. “I wish I could have met Broof’s grandmother. Her clothes were so nice! Lots of scarves and skirts and silk. I would’ve worn a dress instead but I couldn’t figure out the ties on it.”

“Yeah, old-fashioned witch garb was overly complicated,” Wyatt said, losing interest. “Hey, why were you looking through Broof’s closet anyway? Didn’t you bring clothes with you?”

“I did but they’re not very fresh and I got mud on my other ones when I was running from the sun,” she said without elaborating. “And Broof’s laundry system is so complicated! Can you help me to figure it out? I can wash your things properly then.”

He shrugged and his character fell off the platform for the third time. “I can get another day out of this stuff.”

April wrinkled her little nose. “Wyatt! That shirt smells like feet.”

“Apes, I’m not gonna sit here naked while you wash my stuff and no way am I wearing Hoggy’s stuff. “Oh for—” he cursed as his character once more descended into the void at the bottom of the screen.

He dropped the controller with a groan. “My head’s not up to this,” he sighed.

“Take a break from it then!” April said brightly. “You can help me out.”

He groaned, “I don’t know much more about washing machines than you do.”

“Not with that, silly!” April giggled. “Melinda will know and she’s coming over later. I need your help mixing a potion…”

“Apes…”

“Please,” she whispered, giving him those puppy dog eyes. “It’s a gift for Melinda and I… I messed it up last time.”

“I know,” he mumbled, his head beginning to throb harder. “I just… I can’t right now.”

“You could supervise…?”

“…no.”

She bit her bottom lip but didn’t look as upset as he’d expected. “I’m sorry Apes, I want to, I just—”

“It’s fine, really,” she said and bounded off across the kitchen.

Wyatt watched her go with a huge knot in his stomach. The sound of her dragging the iron pot and repositioning the logs was both music to his ears and gave him a deep, foreboding sickness.

His fingers trembled as he tried to drown out April’s singing, tried to ignore her digging through cupboards and taking out random ingredients, and instead he picked his game controller back up.

He wondered if the fifth time would be the charm for making that platform or whether, once again, he’d fall into the abyss.

Chuck used to love it when the sun shone and the world glowed with the heat of the day. But not anymore. Now it just reminded him of his daughter’s lack of freedom, of her infliction.

The regular needle in his arm was another reminder, but he tolerated that with a strained smile. For Melinda. For Melinda he’d repeat in his head until his vision blurred. Until Moon declared him done and gave him a cocktail that made his wife’s cooking seem delicious by comparison.

Then again, he’d eat banana sausage surprise every night for the rest of his days to have things back to how they were.

Chuck slowly recuperated in the rocking chair in Moon’s living room. Lost to his thoughts of brighter days and barely taking in his surroundings, as his blood levels magically bumped up with the power of the potion he’d ingested. It would take a couple of days until he was able to donate again. A couple of days of feeling, frankly, pretty rubbish.

For Melinda.

He startled as he noticed that his daughter was seated on the sofa beside him. Melinda had always been a nippy little thing, but these days she could move like lightning, ever surprising him with her sudden appearances. He’d have jumped, had he had the energy, instead he only greeted her with a sleepy smile.

“Morning Mellybean.”

“Hey dad,” she murmured, looking over him with concern. “You look a bit pale, should I get Moon?”

“I’m fine,” Chuck lied, trying to merge the two Melinda’s that were swimming before his eyes. He shook his head to clear his vision, but that was a mistake, nearly tipping him from his chair. Melinda twitched towards him, no doubt to catch him, but stopped herself. As she had to.

The repellent Moon mixed into Chuck’s post-donation drink was very good at keeping Melinda at the arm’s distance she needed to stay to keep from biting him, but her will was often stronger than her revulsion. Chuck understood wholeheartedly. He thought back over her life, remembering all the times he’d sent her off for her day without giving her a hearty cuddle. He should have hugged her, every single day. It broke his heart to think that he may never hug her again.

She would often come and sit with him after he’d donated. To check he was coping and to chat lightly, even though he wasn’t usually up for deep conversation. Another fact that Chuck didn’t like. But right now, he focus was on keeping his daughter alive, in a manner of speaking. Watcher, he hoped it wouldn’t be forever. He was approaching elder, he wouldn’t be around forever.

Melinda often bore an expression that Chuck could describe as ‘grumpy’ – general teenaged angst, he’d guessed before, when life was normal. But sitting beside him, wringing her fingers she seemed especially down and preoccupied.

“How about you, Mellybean. Are you coping well? You seem a bit distracted.”

Melinda flicked her gaze away. “I’m also fine.”

He knew that was a lie, but having also just lied, he couldn’t really push that. He sighed heavily. “I’m not feeling fine, Melinda. I’m tired and sore. But it’s worth it.” He smiled as best he could. “And the bigger picture is bright; the sun is shining and I have book club tonight. I haven’t had chance to read the book, but the cover is interesting. Not that you should judge a book by its cover, mind.”

Melinda smiled. “You didn’t get round to reading the last one, either. Maybe I should read them for you and summarise them.”

“That could work. I blame your mother,” he teased. “She’s been obsessed with this supernatural soap opera lately and I can’t help but look up from the pages when it’s on.”

“Are things OK? With you and mum?”

“They’re getting there,” he assured her. “One day at a time.” He smoothed down a crease in his jeans and smiled at his daughter. “So, that’s what’s going on with me. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Same old, same old.”

She shrugged, but he was well-versed in the body language of his daughter. He saw the setting of her jaw, the tensing of her shoulders. He knew that something significant had happened since they last spoke. Perhaps she’d had a little tiff with April and now the pair were on frosty terms. He knew that little things could get blown out of all proportion by youngsters, it was probably something minor.

He rested assured that, like everything else, if he needed to know she would tell him, in her own time.

It was only when Melinda starting greeting the archway behind him that Chuck realised someone was standing there. Babs had come to drive him home. They took it in turns, each donating one day and driving the next. She looked just as tired as he felt.

“Are you ready?” Babs asked after she’d greeted her daughter and had a light conversation about aforementioned soap opera, which Melinda had sportingly participated in. Babs wasn’t quite as nuanced at picking up on the cues in her daughter, but she certainly had a way of making one forget their troubles with her buoyant personality.

He really loved his wife. He felt it again as she took his clumsy hand and gently led him to the waiting car. He hoped that whatever may have happened with Melinda’s relationship that she would take inspiration from her parents and see that not all arguments were irreconcilable.

He couldn’t seem to help himself. The unusual smell that April’s concoction was given off had drawn Wyatt from his game and caused him to hover somewhere behind her.

It was like a car wreck; he didn’t want to watch but he just couldn’t tear himself away.

“Stir widdershins,” April said brightly, reading from her potion book. “Widdershins, widdershins…” she tapped her chin. “Oh! That’s in a figure of eight pattern!”

“No…” Wyatt died a little inside as he intervened against his will. “That’s anti-clockwise, Apes.”

April didn’t look up. She nodded. “Anti-clockwise.” She began stirring too slowly. Wyatt’s body twitching towards her, dying to jump in and correct all these little mistakes she was making.

April sighed angrily. “What am I doing wrong?” she asked, seemingly to herself. “It doesn’t look right at all.”

Wyatt had to agree. He hadn’t see a potion look so wrong since Broof had tried to make a resurrection potion. Man, was Wyatt glad that Hoggy hadn’t succeeded, that would have been a disaster on so many levels.

April held up her spoon and the potion began to slip off slowly with a slurp, like slime. “Why is it like glue?” she gasped, fighting back tears. “I can’t do anything right!”

Damn it. Her tears always got to him. Wyatt dropped to his knees beside her, watching the purple gunk slide off her spoon.

“Let’s see,” he mused, his brain going a mile a minute trying to troubleshoot. “Does this potion use sesame seeds?”

“Yes, half a cup, I measured twice to be sure.”

“Hmm…”

“How finely did you grind them before adding them?” he asked, knowing that she hadn’t ground them at all as the pestle and mortar were not amongst the array of pots and pans in the sink.

April glanced at her book and dropped her chin. “…I didn’t grind them,” she admitted. “Oh! How foolish of me! Stupid girl. How could I miss that!” She threw down her spoon and wailed, “I can’t do this!”

“You almost had it—“

“I didn’t; I completely screwed up! Look at it! It’s rubbish!”

He couldn’t help but laugh as she threw a mini tantrum next to a cauldron full of purple goop. “Ah, Apes, you crack me up.”

“I’ll never be as good as you,” she pouted.

“Sure you will, you don’t become a master elixir mixer overnight, we all have to start somewhere. I also don’t think you screwed up too badly; I think this is salvageable.”

“It is?” she asked, wiping her eyes, which weren’t even wet, he noticed.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Stir a bit faster – break up them seeds.” He watched as she did this and nodded. “Yep, like that. It might not be as strong as it could be, but should still do the trick.”

“It’s not doing anything.”

“Here, let me have a crack at it – it’s all in the wrist.” Wyatt took the spoon and gave the pot a vigorous whisk, feeling April blossom beside him as the goop began to soften into a silky cream.

“It’s working!” she gasped. “We did it!”

“Yeah… I guess we did.”

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