~ part ten ~
“I don’t know,” George said. “You want me to stay?”
Em turned around to look at him. Her eyes reviewed George Burroughs’ worn face. He’d never been a handsome man. The last hundred years or so, his body and mind had taken on a sense of permanence brought by being immortal. He was incredibly alluring.
“Was everyone at the party today?” George asked.
“Everyone but you,” Em said.
“How was it?” George asked.
“I’m the only stable one,” Em said. “I see everyone all the time. Whenever anyone’s in town, they stop by. They were happy to catch up with each other, but me . . . I see them all the time.”
“How’s Giles?” George asked.
“Good. Happy,” Em said. “He has a big horse farm upstate, new wife — young, pretty. He’s happy for Viagra.”
“He’s a wizard,” George laughed. “What would he need Viagra for?"
“Don’t tell the wife,” Em said. “They don’t have kids, but he’s not worried about it. I mean, it’s not 1690. He’s talking about adopting from overseas.”
Em shrugged. George kissed the back of her head and moved out from behind her.
“Do you ever wish you were them?” Em asked.
“Them?” George asked.
“John Proctor, Rebecca Nurse, George Jacobs,” Em said.
“Those hanged who were reburied?” George asked.
“The human beings who didn’t transform, whose souls are at rest, probably because they were reburied by people who loved them,” Em said. “Their families’ love saved them from this.”
“Not really,” George said.
“I’d miss this,” George said. “I’d miss you.”
“And the other witches?” Em smiled. “It’s a barn full of frisky mares, Mr. Burroughs.”
“Just you,” George said.
“You’re swearing off the others?” Em laughed at the idea.
“I’m saying I’d miss you,” George said. “This.”
“You are a charmer,” Em laughed.
“Wanna make some magic?” George asked.
“I need to open the shop,” Em said.
George clapped his fingertips together. The “Be back later” sign appeared on the door, and an unseen mist appeared around the shop to discourage people from coming to the door. Em smiled. George held out his hand. With a blink of her eye, they were lying on her bed in a cloud of white sheets and comforters. Her bedroom was expansive, with large, double-hung windows that looked out onto the Boston Common. The floors were made of wide wood planks, and the walls were painted a faint yellow.
“I love this room,” George said. His clothing disappeared with his words. He glanced at Em, and she was naked. “And the woman inside it.”
“See, this,” George nodded for emphasis. “This is what we are alive for.”
“Mid-day screwing?” Em asked.
“Love,” George said.
“And magic,” Em said.
“Let’s make some loving magic,” George said.