QOD: The love potion you made tastes terrible. How will you drink it?

Said he loved me but I knowed even while I’m smilin’ into them clear gray eyes he’d go on and do me wrong. I’m thinkin’ give it six months, maybe seven. Ain’t never had no love affair last longer than that, though it sure ain’t hard to catch an eye and get a man pantin’ like a dog on a hot day.

Get me a call from Gran ‘bout five months into that one. I’m givin’ her this reason and that why I ain’t got time to leave Bascomb right now. She get on about how she’s old and getting’ palpitations and all but didn’t like to say and get me worryin’ ‘bout some old lady who was nothin’ but trouble nowadays anyhow. So I says fine ‘cause I know once she get herself into this vein, it ain’t gonna get better.

Crazy old woman look fine to me when I get there. Bouncin’ around fixin’ me this and that and sayin’ be careful not to spill nothin’ on the quilt stretched out on her boards. It’s a special one the ladies is sewin’ for the reverend’s second daughter’s boy’s third baby. Mite big for a baby, I says and she smacks my arm and tells me don’t be silly. Babies grow.

Gotta sit and hear all the news first, how Miz Tyler and Ben Reed gots this feud startin’ over Joy Holly’s south field, how young Cat what carved them pretty soap animals up and died, how that old miser moneybags Pendergrass got him a color teevee and everbody’s makin’ fools of theirselves over it. I nod, makin’ noises in the back of my throat, thinkin’ she gots screws knockin’ loose and bouncin’ ‘round in her head. That feud over Joy Holly’s field, for instance, been goin’ on long as I remember.

Tells me finally she got this big secret to hand me ‘fore she dies. I got cousins and such so why me? I say, and her eyes goes all spooky and she says the magic done choosed me so there’s nothin’ a body can do about that. Next day she gets out her mortar and pestle what somebody in the family been cartin’ ‘round since the Civil War, and bottles of vinegar and what not. We goes out walkin’ for a bit and she’s pullin’ up this and that green bit, tellin’ me to pay attention, which you know I ain’t doin’ but I’m smilin’ and noddin’ so as not to hurt her old feelings.

Get back to the house and she got me choppin’ and grindin’ and mixin’ this and that. Only thing I recognize on my own is the orange. First I gets scrapin’ the skin, peelin’ off little flaky bits, and then punch a hole and squeeze the juice into a little glass. Gran puts this and that together, stirrin’ like a madwoman, and finally gives it a sniff. Open, she says. Rollin’ my eyes, I drop my jaw, ‘cause I know this old biddy and she got no problem smackin’ a descendent with a wooden spoon. Just a drop on my tongue and for half a second I taste the orange and then my mouth’s afire. I get to chokin’ and grabbin’ for water and when I can see again, that old woman’s pouring the stuff into a vial. She give me that and a card she got the recipe writ out on.

So what I got here? I say, and she lays a finger aside her nose, winkin’ at me. The no-fail love potion, she says, and I wait a whole minute, but she ain’t laughin’ nor even crackin’ a grin. Don’t believe in that, I say. She shrugs them old shoulders and says magic don’t give a hoot if I believe or not. Want somebody to fall in love true and forever, she says, you pop a hair of someone desirin’ love into the vial, wait at least a day but no more than a week, then you got to get the intended to swallow ‘bout a teaspoon of it.

Okay, you gotta be seein’ this comin’ a mile off. Don’t believe in it but a month later I just gotta try it. Elsewise my Jim’s gonna go harin’ off ‘cause that’s what men do. Got some enchiladas from that stand down on Spruce and I drip some of Gran’s goo real careful. Jim’s always sayin’ he don’t mind hot stuff, but he’s got him a time getting’ that particular hot down his gullet. Gets finished coughin’ and wipin’ tears off his face, he gives me a smile and heads straight for the milk of magnesia.

I’m feelin’ a tad guilty at the weddin’ but I’m thinkin’ if I tell him, he’s only gonna laugh at me. Ain’t ‘til we go on up to show Gran our second young’un that I catch this look zippin’ ‘tween Jim and Gran. I’m lookin’ back and forth between ‘em and the thought I been took wriggles into them pink and gray convolutions called my brain. For one second I’m mad as some chicken poked upside down in the pickle barrel. ‘Course I been right happy all this time and truth is, I ain’t got no serious problem keepin’ on with that. Gettin’ took now and again ain’t all that big a deal. I pick up Gran’s wooden spoon and give ‘em both a friendly little smack.