Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Another odd scribble
It's hard for me when the ending comes to my head first and I have to get there from blank paper. But as the prompts kept coming I found my way to what first sprang to mind. If you haven't, you can meet Mariposa here. Thanks, Megg and Laini!
Due for a vacation we were more than happy to jet off for his co-worker’s
We finished lolling and were headed back to our room to clean up for the ceremony, but found something unexpected inside. The bed was made in that artful, exact fashion I always find so intoxicating when I slip in. The curtains were pulled, framing a postcard behind the sheers. But something didn’t fit. Something was … off. It was dusty! All over! Dust cloaked the otherwise Web-worthy photograph.
He ran his finger across the table and looked stunned. “It’s fairy dust,” he said. And then I saw here. At the base of the potted plant she had tucked herself in. Her skin was that awful grey I remembered her having when I found here in the Costco dairy fridge.
“Mariposa?” I fell to the floor but feared touching her. “Mariposa, are you cold?”
“Hello, dear. I just knew it was you. Who else would he have been with? And I knew it was him. So handsome, so gentle. So I knew it was you, too. And I crept into your bag … you nearly squashed me with your journal you know. How do you tell all those black sketch books apart? Anyway, that was yesterday. Today I hid from the cleaning lady. It’s you I need, dear. Will you help me once more?
There was no other answer: “Of course. Of course! After all you’ve done for us ….”
She interrupted me … usually it was the other way around. “You did that, remember? You believe. How are the babies? Do they still believe?”
“Oh, of course!” we answered together. She had secretly spent hours with our three kids while waiting for a ride home a few years back. Her magic had changed our lives. And now, here, her skin was dull and her wings didn’t look right and her fairy dust didn’t shimmer as before.
“Mariposa. Oh, Mariposa. Are you dying?” I couldn’t keep the crack from my voice.
“That’s hard to say,” she said. “Fairies don’t die as humans do, but we do change. I mean, my time as you’ve known me is ending. That’s why I need your help.”
She nodded to him to hit the showers. “I know why you’re here, Handsome. Let me see you all spruced up.” I saw my husband wipe a tear from his eye and nod his agreement. He left and she detailed everything.
When he returned, all dressed for the wedding, she shooed me off to make myself ready and spent some time with him.
“ … I crept into your bag … you nearly squashed me with your journal …”
He always complained that my “takin-the-kids-to-the-pool” bag was outlandishly huge, but I can’t bare to carry all those loose items. One bag makes it so much easier!
“How do you tell all those black sketch books apart?”
I couldn’t stop it. I leaned against the shower wall and sobbed.
When at last I returned I heard her say: “It will just be tonight.” She sounded so far away. “Tomorrow Brontay will be waiting on the beach. You must take them to her.”
He wiped another tear and nodded further agreement.
“Don’t you two look splendid together?” she said more than she asked. He was red-eyed and I was puffy faced. “Well, we’ve said our good-byes then.” Her wings flapped slowly as she carefully stood up. Her legs looked strange. Her thoughts came slowly. “Don’t be sad. There’ll be nothing of me to miss. … They will be all of me … as well as themselves. … They will be the next step.”
I tried not to think of her as the barefoot couple exchanged vows on the sand. But as the newlyweds danced in the moonlight I noticed the familiar glisten of fairy dust. We left earlier than we expected, but followed her instructions. We were not to return to our room for another few hours, and so sat alone on the patio of the hotel bar. Neither of us said much. Neither of us cried again.
In the morning it was just as she said it would be, her wings curled into a pod hanging from the potted palm in our room. He cut the branch carefully as I dumped the contents of my beach bag into a drawer. We rigged it so the pod would hang, rather than lying it on its side, then left to find Brontay.
As the hotel doors slid open I was struck by the intensity of the sound. How had I missed it these past days? The distant rumble of construction equipment echoing across the inlet stopped me for a moment.
“Please, please let Brontay find them a safe new home,” I whispered as I thought of Mariposa’s woods gone condo.
The goose stood still as a statue as we approached. The beach was otherwise barren. I held open the bag and, as my husband lifted the branch into the sunlight, the wings sparkled once more. Unfurling they revealed Mariposa’s daughters, two peas in a pod for a final instant. They took immediately to the air and we drank in their fairy dust as they spiraled around us. At last we were able to smile.
They landed on Brontay’s back and the noble bird gave us a nod. We stepped away. She took flight with the fairies on her back. And just like that, life went on.
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