Confess

                                    

                                          
"I should take you home." Namjoon spoke up after a few minutes, reaching out for the teacup that'd been sitting untouched between my hands. 
I fiddled with my fingers while he emptied the cup, gathering his keys and leading us to the parking deck without another word. We rode in silence, with only the sound of heat blowing through the vents of his car and a late night radio show playing low in the background. I kept my eyes cast out the window, embarrassed now and sure that I'd feel even more mortified by morning. 
When he pulled up in front of my apartment building we sat there for a minute, searching for the words to conclude an awkward but telling encounter. After another tense moment where I pulled at the door handle and he pushed at the lock until we found enough coordination for it to open, I got out with a mumbled word. "Thanks." 
I vomited every drop of alcohol I'd consumed into the kitchen sink when I got upstairs and laid back on the couch, sure that even in five years I'd be thinking back to this night with shame. 
When sunshine burst through the curtains the next morning I turned over, burying my face into the crook of the couch in a plea for darkness. My head throbbed with a dull ache and there was a gross taste of alcohol at the back of my throat that made me gag. 
"Come on Sel, I know it'll take you all day to recover so you may as well get started." Faye set a glass and plate on the coffee table in front of me. When she pushed my legs from the couch to make room for herself I sat up, chugging the glass of water on the table until it was nearly empty.
I quickly scarfed down the toasted egg sandwich she made for me, not having eaten since the afternoon before. By the last crumb vague memories of the night were resurfacing, Faye picking up on my disgruntlement easily. 
"I went to his house last night." My eyes widened with my confession and realization.
"Who's house?" Faye asked between taking a bite of her own sandwich.
I slumped back in my seat with my answer. "Namj—Mr. Kim." 
She dropped her sandwich on her plate, pausing and starting again a couple of times before she replied. "First of all, you walked there, alone in the middle of the night? I should kick your ass. Second, what happened?"
I wracked my brain in search of a clear memory, shaking my head in frustration. "I don't know. I remember riding in the elevator. He was in the middle of grading tests and gave me tea. His fiancé wasn't there," my brow pulled together, "actually, she didn't seem to be anywhere. There wasn't a single picture of them in the apartment or anything that looked like it might belong to her."  I tried to recall a single word that we said to one another, a muted vision of us still and staring into the other's eyes. 
"Lets just hope you didn't do anything embarrassing, outside of going to his apartment." She giggled into her coffee mug. 
Her statement made me groan as it was the norm for me to abash myself when drinking, the likelihood that there were regrets to be had higher than not. 
After deep cleaning the kitchen sink I took an extra long shower, immediately slipping into a pair of pajamas for a day of nothingness. We immersed ourselves into a true crime marathon, snacking nonstop and debating theories of unsolved cases.
She fell asleep during a special on a case where they weren't sure if the death was caused by an accident, the husband, or an owl of all things, and I turned off the TV, wrapping her up and heading to bed. 
I tossed and turned until three in the morning, having listened to soothing sounds and heard Faye get up from the couch without being able to fall asleep. My head was clouded again so I gave in, turning on the bedside lamp and reaching into the top of my closet for the books Mr. Kim lent me.
While chewing on the gummy candy I kept in my nightstand I opened the first book to read, the chapters fitting more of a bulleted journal entry style of writing, early accounts of gifts bestowed by witches and the families who'd been blessed. 
I was entranced by the notes of a man who risked his life to save a witch who was set to be burned at the stake, aiding her escape and gifted with a plentiful harvest that would provide for his family every season, and of a couple who regularly provided a safe haven for covens, blessed with fertility. 
With the book spread out on my bed I hunched over to read, leaning further into the pages when I recognized the name and date that started it all.
    Margaret Adams (1567)
        Provided shelter to Maleficis Infinitum
        Gifted with the power of love through soulmate connection
        Gift bequeathed by Elvira Candella
That was all, but it was something more, the name of the coven and the witch who used her magic to provide an all powerful love to the women in my family feeling like everything. 
I woke with my cheek pressed against an open page of the book, wiping at the tiny drop of drool that spotted the paper. I closed it, remembering the new information I'd discovered and writing it down on a sticky note before changing. I dropped the books and every paper clipped document from the box that held my family's history into my bag, off to research further with unlimited coffee as an aid.
I chugged two cups and found mention of the Maleficis Infinitum coven twice more, two other witches gifting those who gave their support with the healing of a woman near death and a message from a lost lover. The table I sat in front of was covered in the ordered newspaper clippings of my family and disorganized sticky notes I'd been writing on, my head buried in the first pages of the book that showed the art connected to the stories I read. 
"Ms. Wright?" The sound of Mr. Kim's voice made me glance up from my reading. I hadn't realized that the intense thrumming in my chest was from him rather than the adrenaline of discovery. "How is the research going?" He tilted his head to the side, his curiosity struck by the spread of newspaper clippings. 
I placed the open book on top of them, hiding the personal effects I knew he would have questions about. "It's going well." I gave a simple answer.
He adjusted his focus quickly, nodding at me. "Sorry to disturb you. I shouldn't have been looking at your notes. I look forward to reading your paper."
The drumming quickened as he turned away, in anticipation for what I was about to do. "Mr. Kim, can I ask you something?" He turned around at my call and took a seat across from me, his brows raised as an indication for me to continue. "Do you believe in all of this?" I placed a hand on top of the books.
"In the stories and myths?" He pursed his lips.
"Yes, specifically the ones in this book." I clarified. 
Still, he never took too long to reply, assured in his answer. "I believe that most things hold some truth, even myths and legends." 
I sighed, looking around the cafe to ensure no one could hear me, empty other than Mrs. Johnson who worked through her Sunday cleaning tasks behind the counter. I leaned closer to him, keeping my voice low as I asked. "What if I told you that it is real and that one of the families in this book is mine?"