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Authors: Shani Petroff
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and kindness fill this brew. Make the drinker a good person in everything they do,” she chanted, and the more I watched, the more anger (or maybe it was the bad blood I inherited) bubbled up inside of me. I wasn’t good. I never was. And this was her fault. She helped make me this way. How could my mother —a woman who was always searching for a way to ward off evil and find eternal bliss—wind up with the devil for a husband and me for a kid?
“How could you marry the devil?” I finally shouted.
Mom dropped her spoon in the pot. “Angel, you startled me,” she said, fishing out the utensil with a ladle. Her back was still toward me.
“Well?”
Mom lowered the stove to a simmer and took a few of her meditation breaths. “Ohm. Ohm. Ohmmmm.”
“Mom,” I interrupted.
“Just a few more. Please,” she said. “You too.”
I joined in, if only because I didn’t want my bad side to take over again. But I couldn’t focus. I didn’t want to breathe. Well, not that kind of breathing, anyway. So, I let her take two more breaths, and then I demanded an answer.
“I knew you’d ask,” she said as she moved to sit on Buddha. I took the seat next to her. “I thought I’d know what to say,” she started, “but I don’t.” There was a moment of silence, then it all started pouring out.
“I didn’t know he was the devil—not at first,” she began. “I had a completely different life back then. I certainly didn’t make potions and play with crystals. In fact, I didn’t even believe in the supernatural, or heaven, or anything like that.”
I couldn’t imagine my mother back before she got into cleansing spells and all that junk she adored.
“My name was Margaret Mitt,” she continued. “I was an assistant professor at NYU. Lou was a professor there, too.” She shook her head. “I only found out later that he took the job as part of a bet with one of his shady friends to see how many souls he could muster up in one semester.” She took a deep breath. “We fell in love. At least, I did. It was hard not to. He was charming, handsome, smart. We got into all sorts of debates over spirituality and good versus evil. I didn’t know he had inside knowledge.”
She looked down as she went on. “We got married, I got pregnant, and then I saw him trying to get one of the freshmen to sign over her soul. He whipped a contract out of thin air, then made it disappear in a burst of fire. I called him on it, and he told me everything. I was terrified. I packed my bags. I had to get away from him. And I was going to, but not surprisingly he’s a pretty convincing guy. He promised me that he’d change his ways—that he’d quit being the devil. I loved him, so I stayed.”
I hadn’t noticed that my nails were digging into my palms until Mom took my hands. She breathed in and out a few more times then continued with her story. She told me she came home early one day and heard Lou talking on the phone. He was bragging about how he got the soul of one of the deans. That’s when she decided to leave for good. He tried to convince her to stay, but she didn’t want me growing up with him as a father.
Mom squeezed my hands hard. “I made him promise to stay away. He said he would, but only until you were an adult. I got as far away as I could. I gave up my career, changed my name, and learned everything possible about the devil and how to ward off evil. I thought I could keep him out of our lives. Obviously it didn’t work.”
It was a lot to take in. Mom pulled me in for a hug. I rested my head on her chest. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I was kind of scared. I still had one more question. “Am I evil?”
“Of course not,” she said holding me tighter.
“How do you know? I’m part him.”
Mom moved me back so I was looking right at her. “Because I know,” she said. “I know you. You’re nothing like him.” Only, when she said that last part, her voice got higher. It was her tell-tale sign.
“How could you marry the devil?” I finally shouted.
Mom dropped her spoon in the pot. “Angel, you startled me,” she said, fishing out the utensil with a ladle. Her back was still toward me.
“Well?”
Mom lowered the stove to a simmer and took a few of her meditation breaths. “Ohm. Ohm. Ohmmmm.”
“Mom,” I interrupted.
“Just a few more. Please,” she said. “You too.”
I joined in, if only because I didn’t want my bad side to take over again. But I couldn’t focus. I didn’t want to breathe. Well, not that kind of breathing, anyway. So, I let her take two more breaths, and then I demanded an answer.
“I knew you’d ask,” she said as she moved to sit on Buddha. I took the seat next to her. “I thought I’d know what to say,” she started, “but I don’t.” There was a moment of silence, then it all started pouring out.
“I didn’t know he was the devil—not at first,” she began. “I had a completely different life back then. I certainly didn’t make potions and play with crystals. In fact, I didn’t even believe in the supernatural, or heaven, or anything like that.”
I couldn’t imagine my mother back before she got into cleansing spells and all that junk she adored.
“My name was Margaret Mitt,” she continued. “I was an assistant professor at NYU. Lou was a professor there, too.” She shook her head. “I only found out later that he took the job as part of a bet with one of his shady friends to see how many souls he could muster up in one semester.” She took a deep breath. “We fell in love. At least, I did. It was hard not to. He was charming, handsome, smart. We got into all sorts of debates over spirituality and good versus evil. I didn’t know he had inside knowledge.”
She looked down as she went on. “We got married, I got pregnant, and then I saw him trying to get one of the freshmen to sign over her soul. He whipped a contract out of thin air, then made it disappear in a burst of fire. I called him on it, and he told me everything. I was terrified. I packed my bags. I had to get away from him. And I was going to, but not surprisingly he’s a pretty convincing guy. He promised me that he’d change his ways—that he’d quit being the devil. I loved him, so I stayed.”
I hadn’t noticed that my nails were digging into my palms until Mom took my hands. She breathed in and out a few more times then continued with her story. She told me she came home early one day and heard Lou talking on the phone. He was bragging about how he got the soul of one of the deans. That’s when she decided to leave for good. He tried to convince her to stay, but she didn’t want me growing up with him as a father.
Mom squeezed my hands hard. “I made him promise to stay away. He said he would, but only until you were an adult. I got as far away as I could. I gave up my career, changed my name, and learned everything possible about the devil and how to ward off evil. I thought I could keep him out of our lives. Obviously it didn’t work.”
It was a lot to take in. Mom pulled me in for a hug. I rested my head on her chest. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I was kind of scared. I still had one more question. “Am I evil?”
“Of course not,” she said holding me tighter.
“How do you know? I’m part him.”
Mom moved me back so I was looking right at her. “Because I know,” she said. “I know you. You’re nothing like him.” Only, when she said that last part, her voice got higher. It was her tell-tale sign.
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