How Was Your Day? - Chaper 19.1

"You let one person into your shop and you invite the whole world in," Mr. Vaughn was grumbling.

Finnley had just walked in with his mom in tow, ready to seal the deal and become Mr. Vaughn's apprentice the moment his mother approved.

"Mom, this is Mr. Vaughn," Finnley said, clearing his throat. "Mr. Vaughn, this is my mom, Sophie Bale."

"It's a pleasure," Mr. Vaughn said. As Mrs. Bale turned to examine the antiques, however, Mr. Vaughn stepped over to Finnley. "You couldn't have just been one of those classic hero types whose parents abandoned you or died in a noble war? You couldn't be that neglected child whose parents wouldn't care if you wanted to do magic?"

"Nope," Finnley replied cheerfully. "I've got an average mom."

His mom turned around with an indignant look at that and Finnley clarified. "She's a great mom. She is definitely not neglecting me, and she cares enough to check out what her son's going to be doing. Besides, there are way more protective mothers out there." Finnley wondered for a moment - if his mom didn't have so much work all the time, would she be a full on helicopter parent? It was hard to remember what she had been like back before his dad had died.

"Neat store," Mrs. Bale said. "Tell me about the magic, though. Is it at all dangerous?"

"Yes, but it's hard to get to the danger point," Mr. Vaughn explained carefully. "There's a very clear line, and it actively has to be crossed. I'll make sure that we never even get close to that line."

"Hm," Finnley's mom replied. She meant for it to sound like she was suspicious of Mr. Vaughn, but Finnley could tell she was actually satisfied. "Right. And there are these creatures, these monsters in the forest. Could this magic help Finnley defend himself against them?"

"Yes, there are ways in which it could," Mr. Vaughn began. "I would not advise him to go looking for these creatures, as it would be easier for him to defend himself with magic than it would be for him to attack with magic. There are, however, many ways in which magic could be used as a defensive resource."

“Perfect,” Mrs. Bale said, and then she paused, like she couldn’t think of anything else to ask. “Could you... could you show me some sort of magic? Like right now?”

“Yes, I could.” He sounded a little irritated about it though. “What do you want to see? Classic levitation, I suppose?” His eyes landed on a fly that was buzzing around the room. “Ah. Now that would be a good demonstration.” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began to draw what honestly looked like a geometry problem to Finnley. Then he added in little words around the edges and handed the paper to Finnley. “Let me get some honey,” he said before clambering up the stairs.

Finnley exchanged glances with his mother, who merely shrugged, as if to say that he had been the one who wanted to do this. Mr. Vaughn came back with a small jar of honey and placed a single drop at the center of the piece of paper. The fly, lured by the honey, landed on the paper. Mr. Vaughn said a single word and almost instantly, the lines on the paper glowed blue and the figure that had been two dimensional rose from the flat surface to become a three dimensional cage around the fly.

Mrs. Bale and Finnley gasped in unison, and Mr. Vaughn chuckled. He tapped the outer edge of the cage and the glowing blue lines disappeared, sinking back into the paper. “You see, magic cannot be as dangerous as you think. Each spell must be linked to an object, to ground it in a way. Then, the magician must be present to activate that spell. The spell draws on the energy of the magician, and that’s about it.”

“When you put it that way, it almost sounds simple,” Mrs. Bale admitted. “Alright. I suppose it would be okay for you to train with Mr. Vaughnn, Finnley. Remember that you’re going to keep me updated, though, alright?”

“Of course,” Finnley replied. “Thanks, Mr. Vaughn, for letting my mom come in.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Mr. Vaughn replied kindly. “How is the ghost doing?”

Finnley’s brows pulled together. “Her name is Monica,” he said, a little too curtly. “And she’s gone, for now. Said that popping in and out for a whole day took a lot out of her, and she might not be back for a week.”

Mr. Vaughn nodded. “Make sure you remember why she’s here.”

“Right.”

Finnley pulled his mom out of the shop, where she turned to face him. “Monica’s a ghost?” She sharply inquired.

“Um, yes. Yes she is,” Finnley said uncomfortably.

Mrs. Bale looked like she was going to say something about how strange that was, and how he should’ve told her sooner. However, that expression cleared, and she simply said, “The poor dear. To have died that young must have been heartbreaking. You just tell her the next time you see her that she can come talk to me whenever she’d like.”

Surprised, Finnley looked up at his mother. She just smiled at him and tucked him close to her. “I’d better be getting back to work, though that break isn’t nearly as long as I’d like it to be,” she said as they got in the car. “If you want, I can drop you off at the hospital so you can visit Mia and her family.”

“That would be great,” Finnley said, relieved. He buckled his seatbelt and patted the side of the car, glad that it was still okay after the adventures that it had gone through. His mom hopped in on the other side and started the car, turning off the radio in favor of a CD. It was his mother’s favorite, and Finnley could still remember when Allie had once tried to teach him how to dance to those slow, sappy songs that Finnley had hated at the time. Oddly enough, he didn’t really mind them now. He watched as the years seemed to slip from his mother’s face as she hummed along to the old songs, and he quietly smiled. He missed this version of his mom.