Three Wishes (27 page)

He cuts two huge slices, but I hesitate to eat mine. Concerns about my weight have been ingrained into me over the past six months with Pete.

Joel notices my reluctance and guesses its origin. “You're beautiful, just as you are,” he says around a mouthful of cake. “Forget about what he told you and dig in.”

Without waiting, I do as he suggests. It's delicious, and sweet of him, though I'm worried about him using up a wish on something this frivolous.

“Are you going to save the rest of your wishes?” I ask him after we've almost licked our plates clean. We walk down to the water to rinse our sticky fingers, and I wrap my dress around my knees to keep it from getting wet. “As I say, there's no rush. I'm still learning, too.” Instead of going back toward the lifeguard chair, we spread the car blanket in the midst of the lit candles — genie light works well even on a breezy beach — and take a seat.

“Well,” he clears his throat and pushes a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, “I have something else in mind, but I hope you'll tell me if there are, like, wish rules I'm violating.”

“Oh, don't worry — I'll tell you if there's a wish I can't grant for you.”

“You never actually responded earlier, to what I had said, so I don't know if this is okay or not, but my second wish, now you're a free agent, is for you to kiss me.”

I sit with my heels in the sand, silent as I contemplate this wish. Memories run through my mind — the gentle support he's always given me, and the kind treatment of his little sister. The way I felt during our stolen Valentine's Day kiss. Then Leia's words from months ago come to mind, and I have to ask him, “Please, tell the truth. Did you only start liking me after I got this, um, this body?”

Joel sucks in air next to me and waits to respond. “Okay, I'm not going to lie. It's a definite bonus.”

I sigh and shift.
I knew it
.

“But you have to believe me. I have liked you for as long as I've known you. You were one of the first people to make me feel welcome when I moved here.”

He puts an arm around my shoulders, hesitating a bit as he pulls me closer. “Truth be told, I knew I was in the friend zone with you, and I thought you were way out of my league. So self-assured. So beautiful. You had your act together, lots of friends, and you just knew where you were going in life.”

I turn in surprise, about to contradict him, but he shushes me.

“And before I really got to know you, I didn't know how you might feel about dating, you know, a guy who wasn't white.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” I manage to get out before falling silent once more.

I'm at a loss. The scales have fallen from my eyes. I spent years wishing for Pete to notice me, when my dream guy was here all along. Waiting for me to figure it out. Forget about him being shorter than me. It's maybe an inch, tops. Not enough to keep us apart.

Perhaps being an adult now has brought me this maturity.

“Your wish is my command,” I tell him before crawling into his lap and kissing him like I never want to stop. There are years of unknown longing in this kiss. And it's so much better than an accidental, cheating hookup. All thoughts of Pete have fled, replaced by a near-ecstatic joy in Joel's revelation and my full powers. I can't believe this is real.

I break away long enough to say, “Is this an answer for you?” before going back to kissing him. At last, I am able to run my hands along the contours of his body, which I have seen for years in a bathing suit and never been able to touch.

“I could get used to this,” he says, catching his breath and tracing a finger along my jawline, which makes me shiver. “But I have one more wish. There's something I want to do, and I hope it works.” He helps me up to a seated position, kissing me again as he does so.

“I have been thinking about you and wanting to be with you for so long, and I can't believe the timing was never right before. But you just broke up with your boyfriend, and I don't want to be the rebound guy. Plus, I don't ever want to worry you're only with me because I wished it so.”

I start to argue, but he cuts me off. “You're amazing. I tried to tell you on Valentine's Day. I didn't mean to kiss you then, or cause problems with you and Pete by sending you those secret admirer flowers. Well, maybe a part of me did, but it seemed like the longer you were with him, the more you shrank. You've always been this incredibly confident, strong, competitive girl, and he was stealing away pieces of you.” Again, he cups the tetrahedron. “Anyway, I guess the point is, Genie, my final wish is for you to be yourself, and to be your
own
master.”

He hands the tet back to me, and the genie-master bond between us vanishes as I grant his final wish. To my amazement, we watch as two visible bonds now grow between the tetrahedron and me. I feel my power surge again, and I know with every ounce of my being I made the right choice.

“I almost don't want to move,” I whisper to him, tucking away my tetrahedron and linking my arms behind his neck. “I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and find out this was just a dream.”

He responds by kissing my forehead and pulling me closer. We stay out on the beach all night, talking and watching the sun rise over our new life together.

Shaking my head in awe, I marvel at this outcome. I worked so hard for so long to make it work with Pete. But by listening to my instincts and embracing my true nature, I got my own three wishes. Instead of Pete, it was Joel who told me he likes me, he kissed me, and now we can live happily ever after… with enough wishes to last another three hundred thirty-three years.

It turns out my life is a fairytale, after all.

Love wishes to perpetuate itself. Love wishes for immortality. — Mortimer Adler

Between prom and graduation, Joel and I enjoy a carefree week together, a delicious taste of the summer to come. The weather is gorgeous, warm and sunny, and we take long walks on the beach each day, featuring plenty of ice cream, picnics, and sometimes hanging out and skipping rocks through the waves. It feels like the end of so many things — my childhood, high school, and my relationship with Pete — has lifted a great weight off me. Rather than miss what was, I am looking forward to what will be.

On the morning of graduation, I take out my mother's diary — for the first time in over a week.

You've been busy
.

“So much has happened — and, Mom, I'm my own master. I can't believe it.” My enthusiasm bubbles over as I relate the details to her.

I've never heard of such a thing. I'm amazed and so happy this has happened to you. This makes you powerful, indeed. It's exceptional to be freed from your need to have a master. Don't ever take that for granted, and make sure to make every wish count.

“Oh, I will,” I reply. “But now, it seems like almost all of my wishes have already come true. I still wish, well — Mamère and Papa are absolutely wonderful, and I love them with all of my heart.” I sigh, almost unwilling to think, let alone say out loud, what's on my mind. “But still, there's a part of me… and I know it could never happen, but I guess I wish you and Dad could be here.”

With my pointer finger, I trace the edges of the diary, allowing a single tear's-worth of self-pity to drip onto the now-blank page.
Wow.
I need to lighten up on this big day. What a drama queen.

Fanning the pages of the diary, I marvel at how it's empty of words once more. I put the diary down with a
thump,
which sounds almost like a pair of feet stomping. I pick it up again, and the pages fan of their own accord, as if someone is blowing on them. A shiver rolls down my spine when I sense a presence in my room. I glance around, hitting every corner and crevice, but it's empty. I exhale and shake my head.
You're losing it!
With a laugh at myself, I put the diary in my nightstand and glance in the mirror to start getting myself ready for the ceremony.

My heart's on overdrive when three figures appear in the reflection, and only one of them is mine. Whirling around, I reach for the edge of the bed behind me, to help keep me upright. I glance back and forth from the mirror to the two people in front of me. They're wearing smiles and outdated clothing, but otherwise they look just as they did in their photos, only eighteen years older.

My parents are standing here. In my room. They hug each other, then grab me in their arms and squeeze me so tight I almost can't breathe. “You did it! You did it!” they both tell me.

Did… what? I thought I couldn't wish anyone back from the dead.
I freeze and step away, openmouthed. In a total daze, I start feeling lightheaded. I sit down on my bed to regain my bearings, pinching myself and then staring back at them.
No, it is not a dream.

“It was your brilliant idea, Geneviève!”

“I couldn't have done it without your support, Matt!” They babble on, talking over one another and trying to explain to me, and then interrupting each other's explanation, to the point where I can't understand anything at all.

“Okay, stop! What in the world is going on? You guys are supposed to be…” I let myself trail off. I couldn't exactly tell them they were supposed to be dead.

Together, they sit down on my bed, one on either side of me. I back up to the wall where my pillows are propped up. Trying to control my shaking, I hold my hands up to stop them from moving any closer.

My mother sighs, like a real live mom. “Eugénie, you remember from my diary Guy Maroc — my former fiancé?” she asks.

I nod. Of course I do.

“Well, I wasn't able to finish the story in my diary of what happened after I broke off our agreement. You know Guy's family, like mine, the de la Bouteilles, is a powerful and old genie line. As you know, when Matthew, your father, and I were banished, we settled down here, and for a while it seemed like we would make a happy life for ourselves. What we didn't know was Guy was biding his time, gaining allies with the other males of his clan, waiting until after you were born to make his move.”

She reaches out a hand to touch me, but I recoil, still unsure what my parents are. Grimacing, she pulls back, not meeting my eyes.

“Guy and some of his male relatives banded together and sought us out in St. Philomena, where they made a wish so powerful, there was no way I could stop it without my own allies, and without my own power.” She glances at my father and he nods for her to continue.

“So, alone against my enemies, there was nothing I could do about the wish, which made us both invisible to you, our daughter. Living in a state of suspended animation, almost like ghosts, we were permitted to observe you, but could not speak to you, embrace you, or let you know how much you were loved. Nor were we allowed to communicate our state of being to you. It was a kind of purgatory, seeing you living your life but not being able to be a part of it — and not to mention, if you did turn out to be a genie, you would have no one to guide you through the process. Truly torturous — this was what Guy had in mind when he and his family made the wish.”

My mother looks pained as she recounts this — and I can't imagine what it must have been like.

Then my father breaks in. “But your mother had the brilliant idea of using her childhood diary — imbued with generations of genie power — to counsel you on becoming a genie, in the hope someday this would happen,” he says. “We knew if you weren't a genie, there was no use in telling you your family history, but if you were, there was a tiny chance of a happy ending. We thought you might be able to reverse the process. You, our beloved daughter, have saved the day for us all,” he adds, eyes shining.

I inch toward them, almost ready to believe. “So, do Mamère and Papa know?” I ask.

“They believed we were destroyed by Guy. We weren't able to tell them before we disappeared, so they'll be… surprised to see us back.”

“I'll say. This is all so much to take in.” Still dazed, I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, pausing between words. “Can — can you give me a little time to process, please? And then I'll go and try to explain to them what's going on. So… I'm going to go downstairs, and you two stay here. Okay?”

I climb off the bed and walk downstairs, dragging my feet. I should be ecstatic, but somehow I'm just overwhelmed. How will I explain to my grandparents their long-lost son and daughter-in-law are back from the dead?

“Honey? Are you all right? I thought I heard voices upstairs,” my grandfather asks from the kitchen doorway, suds on his hands.

I hear water running, and the clang of pots and pans.

“Genie?” My grandmother comes out into the living room with a dish towel and waves a hand in front of my face. “Pat, let's get her to the couch. Something's wrong.”

Together, they guide me over and seat me against the cushions. “She's in shock or something. Let's help her lie down, and put her feet up, just in case,” Papa says.

They ease me back, but after a few moments of breathing carefully, I shake my head and start to sit up.

“Take it easy, sweetie,” they caution, but I face them both anyway.

“You may be the ones who are in shock when I tell you this,” I say.

“What's wrong? And what were those voices?” Papa asks.

“Okay, sit down first.”

They comply.

“You know, um, I'm a full-blown genie now, right?” I still feel awkward talking about this with them, but they both acknowledge with a careful nod they know but don't understand what I'm getting at. “Well, guess what? I'm a super-
powerful
genie!”

“Oh, that's great, honey. We're happy for you…?” My grandmother trails off.

“So, when I was reading, you know, the diary from my mom, well, I made a wish I never thought could come true, but, uh, I wished I could have my parents here with me. Ha ha! Isn't that… funny?”