That Willful Human Magic

Kyle called it a love-hate relationship. Kendra just called it amusing.

Either way, it seemed they could never be rid of each other after her spell broke. Years passed, and despite all odds they never quite lost touch. It wasn't like they tried. They never wrote letters or called or put any effort into communicating. Yet, somehow, Kendra always had an obnoxiously expensive outfit turn up in her closet on Christmas and roses fell from the sky like magic at Kyle and Lindy's wedding.

Kendra was there when their first child was born, while Lindy was passed out with the baby in her arms. Kyle looked at her then and he swore she smiled when all he could say was, "Thank you." She never answered, but pressed a thumb to the baby's forehead and blessed her with luck.

Kyle was there when Kendra finally met her match. He laughed for hours when she turned his lucky business partner mute for a week, then he paid for their honeymoon in Paris.

She cursed him twice more, blind for a month when he upset Will, who she had grown fond of, and impotent for another month when Lindy gave birth to their second child after twenty-four hours in labor. He bribed her favorite hairstylist to chop it all off and dye the remnants pink.

They weren't friends. They didn't have anything in common except pride and hardheadedness, but apparently that was enough. Kendra laughed, but Kyle called it magic.