Dolores and the Witch Problem
Gael eagerly swung the door wide open for Dolores. The elderly woman smiled and gave him a polite nod.
“Tell me honestly, Dolores, why don’t you like me?” he asked with exaggerated sadness.
Dolores pressed a hand to her chest.
“Oh, Gael, how can you say such a thing?”
The masseur narrowed his eyes.
“Then why do you never come to me? You see everyone except me. Nico does your hair,” he began counting on his fingers, “and Lara gives you beautiful French manicures and pedicures. And me? Why am I always the one left out?”
Color spread across the old woman’s wrinkled face. Even beneath her discreet layer of foundation, the deep red patches were impossible to hide.
“Oh, Gael, I’m far too old for all that…” she said with an embarrassed laugh.
“And Rosita?”
Dolores pulled a face and waved him off.
“That woman can’t help herself.”
“This isn’t about that, Dolores. It’s about pampering. About relaxing.”
“But I don’t want to be moaning and wailing like that,” Dolores burst out. “I’d be mortified afterward.”
Gael laughed, then gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Most of my clients just lie there quietly and relax. Tell you what—let me give you half an hour for free. If you don’t like it, at least we’ll both know. So? What do you say?”
Shyly, Dolores slipped her fingers into her short, wavy hair and began twisting a small strand around them. She glanced uncertainly at Mia.
“When could you fit me in?” she asked so quietly it was as if she were afraid someone might actually overhear.
Nico appeared carrying a bowl of hair dye.
“Come on, Dolores. Let’s make that beautiful hair even prettier.”
With visible relief, Dolores hurried toward the wash station. She was glad the awkward scene with Gael was over. Closing her eyes, she waited for the warm water that always seemed to loosen every muscle in her body.
“So?” Nico jumped in. “What’s happening with your witches?”
Dolores pursed her lips.
“If you’d seen them a few weeks ago breathing fire on the roof in the middle of the night, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Nico shot Mia a look.
“They were breathing fire? Seriously? Didn’t the roof catch fire?”
The old woman’s eyes widened.
“I already told you—they’re the only ones on the street with one of those modern houses. The roof is flat so they can take off from up there at night. That’s where they hold their séances too.”
“You’ve seen them riding broomsticks too?” Nico asked with a perfectly straight face.
“Not exactly. But I know where they keep their fleet.”
The hairdresser burst out laughing.
“Fleet, Dolores? That’s quite a word choice.”
“Fine, laugh all you want,” she said with a dismissive wave. “But when you’re reading in the news that witches have put a spell on an entire street full of old people, then you won’t find it so funny.”
“And why exactly would they want to cast a spell on a bunch of retirees?”
“What do you mean why?” Dolores snapped. “To stir up trouble, obviously. Slash bus tires, move traffic signs around, let wild animals loose from the zoo… things like that. They want chaos. They want to paralyze the entire city.”
Nico was becoming more fascinated by Dolores’s logic with every passing second.
“Okay, but what would be the point? That wouldn’t exactly work out for them either. They live in the city too…”
“They have broomsticks! Are you even listening?” Dolores protested.
“I think you’ve been watching too many movies. You know those aren’t real…” He smiled. “Come on. Let’s go over to the mirror.”
Dolores reluctantly shuffled over to the other chair.
“The world today is completely different,” she continued bitterly. “There are inventions now we couldn’t even have imagined back then. Drones, satellites… oh, come on, son. Don’t tell me building a flying broom would be some impossible challenge.”
At that point Nico ran out of arguments. He didn’t believe Dolores had seen actual witches, but he had to admit modern technology removed quite a few limits.
“So what’s your plan, Dolores? What are you going to do?”
A determined smile spread across the old woman’s face.
“I’m already working on it. But I can’t say anything more than that,” she added mysteriously.
She adjusted the jewel-trimmed collar of her dress, then cast a meaningful glance toward her handbag.
A chill ran down Nico’s spine. He was beginning to worry Dolores might actually be planning something. He looked anxiously toward Mia, but the receptionist was busy scrolling on her phone.
“You can’t do this to me,” Nico said. “You have to tell me what you’re supposed to do against witches.” He pressed on. “What if I run into one? I need to know how to fight them.”
Dolores’s face fell.
“Fight them? Jesus Christ, what are you talking about? You mustn’t fight them. That only riles them up. You have to tame them.”
“Tame them?” Nico repeated blankly.
Dolores looked around, then leaned closer.
“Every creature has a weak spot.”
Slowly, she pulled her handbag into her lap and carefully fished out an old decorative tin.
Nico held his breath.
“Lavender cookies,” Dolores announced with satisfaction.
Nico blinked.
“What?”
“No one acts aggressively with a full mouth… and lavender calms the nerves.”