Little Red Riding Witch

[Rosalynd].

“ROSALYND!!!!” Gary, the director of 'Evenings with Enchantra,' bellows from across the room, like a flatulent walrus, his jowls flapping.

“Sir?” I respond meekly as I trip clumsily over my own feet, catching a vase full of artificial flowers. Not that I had to worry about it breaking. Everything is plastic: designed to look appealing but containing no substance.

“I don’t care what you have to do,” he spat in my face, chunks of half-chewed donut landing on the lenses of my practical, yet stylish, glasses. “We cannot delay the filming any longer. Enchantra needs to be on set in 15 minutes or I’ll find someone younger to replace her.”

I don’t deserve this abuse, but as my mom’s assistant, this kind of thing happens almost daily.

“We need to get this Halloween special filmed and edited by the end of this week!” Gary reminds me as I march down the hall.

“Yes, sir!” I salute giving him a backwards wave as I leave the room.

“If she isn’t here and ready to go, tell her we’re through!”

I have no idea how I am going to get her ready in time. She tends to be extra dramatic on filming day, Her natural tendency towards procrastination enhanced by stress-induced anxiety, she is a nightmare to be around. Like a cyclone, she creates disaster as she moves through a room, causing havoc in her wake.

The last time she was late it was because her latest “plaything” had dumped her. She was depressed and despondent, crying off her makeup, her face red and blotchy. We lost half a day of filming to her foul mood. This time, who knows what it could be? Maybe they put the wrong color M&Ms in her dressing room again. She threw a fit the last time she got a mixed-color bag instead of her preferred green.

“The green ones are an aphrodisiac,” my mother had explained. “Everyone knows that.”

Everything Enchantra did had to be either “dramatic” or “sexy.” She didn’t do “boring” or “basic.”

Except for having me. A plain, boring, shy daughter with nothing remarkable about her.

My entire life, my mother has made sure to remind me that I am the most “basic” thing she has ever created. After her brief affair with a married director, I ruined her career as a model and movie actress by being born. My father thoroughly denied I was his until a DNA test three years later proved I am in fact his child and that he is financially responsible for my care. Even with scientific evidence, he thoroughly denied that I was even his.

I cannot say I blame him. I wouldn’t claim me either.

As I walk down the hall, I pull my phone out of the leather satchel which I wear strapped across my chest. I flip through my text messages, hoping to see something from my sometimes boyfriend, Hunter. Lately, I’ve gotten the feeling that he might be trying to break up with me. I’m a bit hurt, but not entirely surprised. Boys never stayed interested in me for very long. They were often disappointed that the daughter of The Enchantra Grey was, well...me. Hunter, like all of the others before him, probably realized he could do so much better.

I have noticed that recently, everything has changed between us. No more cute “just because” text messages. No more surprise flowers. We’ve only gone on two dates in the last two months, and each time he’d drop me back off at my house, he would tell me he needed to rush off to rehearse with his band. I know that keeping a relationship alive when both parties seem to be overwhelmed can be difficult, but I have been willing to do whatever is needed to make it work. I even took time off from school to help his band with food runs, only to have him get mad one night when I stopped by with dinner for everyone. He told me that I was “embarrassing him” and being “smothering” and that as a couple we needed to spend some time apart because he “needed more space” to focus on his music.

I know what that means.

I close my phone, sighing as I reach the end of the hallway. An oversized gold star adorns the red door of my mother’s dressing room, 'Enchantra Grey' written across it in a bold, cursive font. As I lift my hand to knock, I stop. Coming from behind the door, I hear the rapid breathing and moaning of two people in the middle of a carnal act.

Not again.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I bang on the door. “Mother!! You need to be on set in 15 minutes!”

The moaning in the background started to grow louder, as if tuning me out was in fact turning her on.

“Enchantra!!” I shout again, banging harder. “You need to finish up, NOW, or you’re going to lose your job!”.

I stood outside her room for another 5 minutes before the banging and moaning stops. A minute later, my mom opens her door a crack, her dyed red curls hanging over her face in disarray.

“Oh, you’re still here,” she giggles. I don’t know why, nothing about this situation is amusing.

“Gary wants you on stage...” I look down at my watch, “...in 10 minutes.”

Her brightly-colored patterned silk robe barely covers her engorged breasts, even with her hand holding it shut. I can easily see the outline of her stimulated nipples pressing taut across the fabric.

Behind her, a hand reaches around to grab her at her crotch playfully. “Stop it!” she slaps his hand with a friendly swat, giggling again.

Pinching my nose and closing my eyes behind my glasses I try to erase what I just saw from my memory.

“Tell Gary I’ll be in makeup in 5 minutes.” Her face turns away, all attention on the person behind her. “Now shoo.” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand before slamming the door in my face.

“Fine,” I say under my breath.

I turn and begin to head back up the hallway when I hear a masculine chuckle followed by, “Is she gone, babe?”

I stand frozen in place, my heartbeat loud and fast in my ears.

I’d know that rough-edged voice anywhere.

I’m not usually the jealous type, but something began to burn inside me. Turning around and knocking on the door again, I get no response other than increasing moans. Taking another deep breath I do something I promised myself I’d never do again. I pull out my key and unlock the door.

Inside my mother is lying on top of her makeup table, its contents spread all over the floor in a fit of passion, her legs in the air in a wide V shape. Between her legs is a young man eating her out like she is the most delicious fish taco he has ever tasted.

“Oh god, babe, your pussy tastes so good!” The young man says before going down again. She grabs a fistful of his bleach-blond hair in response. My cheeks are flushed red with both embarrassment and anger. She begins pulling his head up and down, controlling the movement of his tongue as it moves in and out of her slit.

Unable to watch anymore, I rush outside of the room, slamming the door.

Trying not to vomit, I remove Hunter’s contact number from my phone.

And then I begin to run.

[Rosalynd].

Crying, I run back down the hallway. As I pass Gary, he tries to stop me. Screaming unintelligibly, he grabs my arm roughly, forcing me to listen to his babble, my mind unable to focus on his words.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Rosalynd?" His nails dig into my flesh. "Where the hell is your mother?"

Thinking of exactly where my mother is, I snag my arm out of his grasp and throw the studio keys back at him. "Why don't you go find out for yourself?!" I get up really close to him, our faces only inches apart as I yell. "Fuck this place! Fuck this job! I'm done!"

For the first time in the 10 years that I've known him, Gary is absolutely silent. Like a fish, his mouth moves up and down as if instead of trying to say something he is gasping for air.

The metal outer door to the studio closes with a loud band and I find myself in the parking lot. It doesn't take me long to find my car, the distinct shade of rusted metal red easy to discern amongst the smooth and shiny rentals and new leases. I wish I could afford to rent or lease a car, but then I'd have to make payments and I can barely afford to dress and feed myself. My car, a 1998 Subaru Outback, might be the ugliest car in the lot, if not all of LA, but it is mine, it is paid for, and it runs...most of the time.

I'm digging through my fanny pack for the keys to my car when I hear big, large, heavy footsteps racing after me.

"Wait!"

I turn to see a young man wearing all black from his ripped Ramones T-shirt to his large knee-high boots strapped tightly to his calves with about a dozen strappy belts. His height, enhanced by both his platform boots and his spiked blonde hair, towers above me as he stands just above 6ft tall without all of his ornamentation, but seems closer to 7ft tall with all of his extras. His black eyeliner was blurring down his face and his black lipstick was smudged down to his chin.

He probably still had my mother's jazz all over his face. Just another thing I'll never be able to remove from my mind.

"Hey babe," he reaches for me.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" Screaming, I pick up my pace and practically run to my car. "Did you even wash your face before coming out here?"

He pauses in his tracks. Staring after me he whimpers, "I never meant for you to find out this way..."

"You mean at all."

"Well yeah, but, babe, you don't understand I..."

"Just stop," I beg, holding up my hand. "You're right, I don't understand." Holding my keys in my hand, I fidget with them to help me ground myself.

"Well, I guess this is...goodbye?"

"You think?" I scoff. "Are you even a little bit sorry?"

He pauses, his gray-green eyes connecting with my own. For a second I think he might really feel a little remorse, but then he says "I mean, she’s been my dream girl since I was thirteen and...”

I don't wait to hear the rest. I open my car door and start the engine. It takes all of my strength not to run him over as I veer out of the parking lot into traffic.

I am such an idiot.

I guess I should have seen this one coming. But how can anyone predict when things will go this far south? I mean, my own mom should have more self-control. He's young enough to be her son (although, to be honest, that has never stopped her before...). Now, whenever I think about any of the kisses Hunter and I shared, I'm going to wonder if he brushed his teeth first...

Oh God…

As I drive back to the condo I share with my mom, I find my mind searching every encounter between Hunter and me, mystified by what went wrong. I think back to all our awkward conversations, the way he looked at my mom when he came over to my house, all the times he made excuses to leave early, and...

Yeah, I am a damn fool.

When I get to my house I grab my oversized suitcase and pile all of my clothes and shoes I can fit inside. I also grab my backpack and purse and head for the car as fast as I can. I want to make some distance between this hellhole and myself as quickly as possible--before either my mom or Hunter comes looking. I don’t feel safe here anymore. I need some space, some time to get away from all this nonsense.

Sitting in my car, I scroll until I find the name of the person I miss the most in the world, my best friend Slone. Pressing “dial” I place the phone on speaker and head north.

After a few rings, I hear an excited "ROSEBUD!”

“Hi, Slone.” I stammer, glad that she couldn't see my tear-streaked face.

“You sound depressed, what’s up?” Even through the phone, she sounds sunny while also sympathetic.

“Nothing much, I just quit my job. And my boyfriend. I quit him too.”

"Whaaat!!" she screams into the phone, almost deafening me.

“And, I was hoping I might be able to stay with you for a bit…”

“Are you kidding?!!" her exuberance is almost contagious. Almost. "Yes! Of course, you can stay here!"

I smile at the phone, even though I know she cannot see me. But then I start to cry again as I turn onto the freeway headed north.

“Oh, Rosebud, what happened?”

I spend the next two hours telling her the whole story.

I am so glad I have such a good friend.

We grew up together, but she left me to go to college up in Humboldt County in the middle of the redwood forest. She has invited me to stay with her so many times, and practically begged me to transfer all of my college units up here and stay with her forever, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave my mom behind.

Until today.

“Don’t worry, Rosebud, we’ll get you hooked up with a hot lumberjack in no time!”

I start to laugh, my mood lifting. I miss her so much.

And as So Cal disappears in my rearview mirror, I realize I won’t miss LA at all.