Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
“They wanted a baby, but, instead, they got me,” she says solemnly.
“I’d say they’re pretty lucky.”
Her eyes travel from the old, dry brushes on the drawing desk to the faded sketches and paintings hanging on the wall. A veil of sadness and melancholy shrouds her face. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you promise you’re not going to forget about me, Alex? Ever?”
“Of course I won’t.”
“But what if you do…” she gulps back tears. “Then what happens to me? I’m just forgotten and alone forever? Where will I go?”
There’s so much fear and desperation pooling in her eyes and trembling in her words; it guts me. Literally filets my heart. I don’t know what’s happened to this little girl to make her so worried about being forgotten, but it’s a feeling I’m way too familiar with.
I grew up unwanted and forgotten.
And when I finally found someone who did want me, I was terrified of losing her. I wanted irrational guarantees—some armor against the fear. I begged for assurance. Even in the end, I held on to promises and wishes, like they could somehow save us.
“Wait right here,” I say, and go off to the haunted-stuff corner. I rummage around until I find something I saw a few months earlier—a tiny red ruby heart ring set in a silver vine setting. I’m sure it’s old. The inside of the band is worn, but the stone glistens deep, iridescent red in the light. Penny watches me intently as I wind a small, thin piece of wire around and around the inside to make the band smaller.
“Give me your hand,” I say, and when she holds her hand out, I slip the ring onto her index finger. “This is a special ring. It once belonged to a forest princess. The fairies made it for her. Each of them gave a little piece of their heart to show how much they loved her and would always be with her.” Penny stares at the ring, her lips parted in awe, eyes wide. “Now it’s yours, so you can look at it when you feel lonely or sad, and know that me and Cherry and the forest fairies will always be your friends. Forever.”
“Wow,” she whispers, turning her finger from side to side. “I can really keep it?”
“It’s yours.”
“And you promise to be here forever?”
“Cross my heart.”
Suddenly, she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me so tight I can’t breathe. “Thank you,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “I still promise, too.”
After a few moments, I slowly disentangle from her, and she reluctantly lets me go. “Why don’t we start a new project? I’ve got some cool stuff over there, but I could use your help again.”
She nods excitedly, all worry and sadness banished. My fairy ring plan worked. “Yes!”
In under twenty seconds, she’s hauling an antique birdcage from the pile. We sand it and paint it black. While it’s drying, she scavenges through the old toys and carefully chooses a small plastic doll wearing a silver dress. She decides we should add glittery feather wings to it to make her look like a magical fairy like in my story about the ring. When the doll is finished, she gently glues it on the tiny swing in the birdcage. It’s her idea to line the bottom of the cage with moss, leaves, and twigs from the woods out back. She braids some thin vines through the bars, up to the top of the cage. To finish it off, I attach an old weathered chain so it can be hung.
“It’s so cool!” she exclaims, clapping her hands.
“It’s cool as hell. You did good,” I praise, holding the birdcage up. “In fact, I think you should take it home.”
Her smile wilts. “My mom won’t like that in the house. She’ll say it’s dirty and put it right back in the garbage all over again.”
“You’re probably right. You can keep it here, then.”
“Really? Can we hang it in the shed? With all the pictures?”
“I’m not sure…” I rub the scruff on my face, debating if it’s violating Bri to put something in her shed that she didn’t put there herself. Will the need to preserve her things and space ever go away? Or am I going to live the rest of my life with an invisible barrier around parts of my house and property?
“I think that’s where a fairy bird would want to live,” Penny says softly. “Surrounded by memories it can sing to. Don’t you?”
As I stare into her green eyes, my vision blurs and I can almost see Bri standing there again, animated and so genuinely hopeful, impossible to refuse and not want to give the entire damn world to.
“Ya know what?” I say with a slow nod. “I think you’re absolutely right.”
Laura arrives just as we finish hanging the birdcage from the shed ceiling, and Penny runs to tell her all about her day in one huge, babbling, run-on sentence. Cherry stands next to her with her tail wagging, barking along with every few words like she’s attempting to add to the story.