The Keeper of Happy Endings

by Barbara Davis

“Dreams are like waves, babe. You have to wait for the right one to come along, the one that has your name on it. And then when it does, you have to get up and ride it. This dream has your name all over it.”

Every soul creates an echo. Like a fingerprint or signature that becomes infused in the things around us. Who we are. Where we belong. What we’re meant to bring to the world. No two echoes are alike. They are ours and ours alone. But they’re incomplete—one half of a perfect whole. Like a mirror without a reflection. And so each echo is constantly seeking its other half, to complete itself. That is what we look for in a reading, a sign that the lovers’ echoes are a match.

“We’re all a collection of our stories, chérie. Our joys and sorrows. Our loves and losses. That is who we are, a tally of all our agonies and ecstasies. Sometimes the agonies leave a mark, like a bruise on the soul. We do our best to hide them from the world, and from ourselves too. Because we’re afraid of being fragile. Of being damaged. That’s what makes us kindred spirits, Rory—our bruises.”

But I’ve come to believe we create our own curses and carry them through life because we’ve been told it’s our lot. We’re taught to relive our mothers’ heartaches, to accept their sufferings as our own, and pass them on to the next generation, again and again, until one of us at long last says no, and the curse is finally broken. Because we’ve discovered a new kind of magick—the kind that comes with choosing for ourselves, with saying I will do something else, be something else, have something else. This was the lesson Maman was trying to teach me the night she slipped away. There are no curses. Only patterns meant to be broken. Dreams to chase. Hearts to hold. Magick to make.