Delicately she held the thick stems of six full calla lilies tied together by a blue ribbon matching the rich nearly navy color of her dress. Identical arrangements with more closely trimmed stalks marked the ends of each row of seats. She was glad she’d invested the extra five hundred in the faux pew edging. Aesthetically it looked better than pillars and it matched nicely with the wooden chairs she’d rented to replace the metal folding ones Rowan had previously arranged for.
Pausing at the end of the aisle, Sarah stood for a moment beneath the trellis she’d managed to rustle up at very nearly the last minute. Fed between its cross supports, Sarah and Laney had threaded the last of the blue ribbon, some of the silvery white satin left over from Rowan’s dress and white tulle sprayed with silver glitter. When they were done, it looked as though decorating experts had been consulted.
Laney wore a classy navy skirt and sports jacket, a lace trimmed camisole giving a hint of silver against her bronze skin. She was one of less than two dozen guests on Toby’s side and she watched on tearfully as her friend exchanged a long stare with the brother she had raised. The organist continued softly to repeat the last twelve bars as she waited for the maid of honor to take her spot. Already staining his face, Toby let the tears flow freely as he stepped forward to gather his sister’s hand. His lips fell gently to her knuckles and Sarah felt the hot rain fall from his eyes. Taking to her tip toes, Sarah kissed his cheek. He seemed to have grown another six inches in that moment. Quivering blooms were left to the security of only one hand as she rose the other to her eyes to wipe away the drops which hung heavy on her lower lids.
She felt like grabbing hold of him as he walked back to await his bride. He was that scared, orphaned little boy, that needy juvenile whose world had been forever changed. He wasn’t ready to leave her, to start his own life. He needed her and more importantly, Sarah was reminded how much she need him. Suddenly, the expense, all of which Sarah absorbed herself, was all worth it. His face said everything. In his eyes was more happiness than any price tag could apply to. His joy was her reward.
Surveying faces, she guessed at the identity of most of the people eyeballing her. She assumed the ten or so men and women sat on the bride’s side had been acquaintances of some sort since Rowan had commented she had no family which she could ask to serve as witness to the wedding. Across the aisle were about twenty of her brother’s guests. She recognized some of them as old school chums who’d well since lost their boyish charms, replacing them with more handsome and sometimes rugged features. They had been not much more than hormonal teenage boys the last time she had seen them. Some had visited her place frequently when Toby was still her responsibility. The others must have been more recently made friends or coworkers with whom he’d found a special connection, enough so that it was his wish to have them partake in the joys of his special day.
When the Wedding March began, the heads of the guests swung over their shoulders. At first she was difficult to make out. Chicago’s suburbs had been blessed with unusually strong sun this day, brilliant beams of light which played off the silver in her gown giving her frame a metallic halo, making her look angelic.
Sarah saw the flowers a full three steps before the bride came into focus, six calla lily stalks, just like hers, tied with that silver ribbon, sprayed with glitter. Then she saw the mane of milk chocolate locks done up in an extravagant bouffant, more hair than she remember Rowan having, held in place with familiar finely spun silver combs, detailed and delicate. Her mother hadn’t been one to spend much time on fancy updos and Karen’s hair was always short, layered and stacked up the back of her oddly long head.
Blessedly, the several dozen people in attendance were almost all preoccupied with the advancing beauty to notice the way Sarah’s bouquet plummeted to the grass at her feet. It wasn’t that she was so taken with Rowan she went limp, in fact, she hadn’t relaxed at all. Her whole body had gone stiff, an eerie coolness beginning in her stomach filled her chest, froze her thoughts. It wasn’t until she felt the watchful stare of one of the women on Rowan’s side of the aisle, sat up front away from the rest of her guests, that she realized the flowers had even fallen.
Before they had been of no consequence to her, the three women who sat in the front row, each in long black gowns, elegant, stately. Rich hair, mahogany eyes, observant of her when they should have been watching their friend as she made her grand entrance. Now under scrutiny, Sarah bent quickly to retrieve her bouquet. On the way back to standing, the shadows of the trellis finally allowed her to take Rowan in fully, fighting back feelings of nausea the entire time.
The full skirt seemed rippled, like white cap waves, a thousand well spaced rows making her almost fluid from the narrow waste down. The bodice patched with golden accents and silver edging, the scalloped neckline, those accentuated shoulders and tapered long sleeves. The silvery white fabric she’d been working with for weeks now was at last familiar to her. But where would Rowan ever get the notion for that dress? Not some second rate knock off, not just a ball gown, but Sarah’s very own ball gown? Even the almost sapphire color of her dress was suspicious now. That peculiar blue color she couldn’t quite name, she had seen it before once too. All the questions about the fairytale, were they coincidence or something more? What reason did she have to torment Sarah with memories?
As the attendants took their seats, the rustle of a rumpled rayon skirt drew the attention of the flustered brunette. One of the woman she’d noticed earlier, focused on her, a dainty grin crossing her darkly stained lips. She seemed curious at Sarah’s reaction to the dress, growing more curious the longer she allowed the details to hypnotize her.
Damned if she would continue to entertain these ladies, Sarah looked away, focused on her brother. He looked down at his soon to be wife, took her by her right hand. Sarah accepted her bouquet when she offered it back and smiled politely as if seeing her the way she was dressed was as ordinary as seeing one of her colleagues in a suit and tie. “Doesn’t she look amazing,” Toby said, his thoughts coming alive through words almost involuntarily.
Finally thankful that her brother had agreed to this ceremony in the local park, Sarah breathed in the fresh air deeply and allowing the light lakeside breeze to dry the beads of perspiration forming along her hairline. She was too dignified to be so disheveled by a few yards of fabric and some twisted metal.
From beneath the ordinary pulpit Sarah borrowed from the telecommunication people at her office, the officiant withdrew a smudge stick. First he held it high in the air, chanting like a madman and stomping his Birkenstocks until the wide rim legs of his linen pants shook and the nearly knee length hem line of his matching tunic bounced. Then he lit the end of the stick, like some giant cigar. It took a few seconds to really get going and just when it did he blew it out again. The smoke circled him in a thin grey line as he sway the smudge stick side to side the entire length of his body, from head to toe.
Stepping from behind the stand, he joined the couple. Smiling both lovingly and wickedly all at the same time, like an executioner standing by the gallows. Fanning the smoke over Toby and Rowan he spoke about cleansing, about alleviating the stress of the preparation, making them light of spirit so they may enter into their union with happy hearts, free to choose their destiny. “Sarah, come. Come Sarah,” the voice was as thin as the breeze and she almost didn’t respond until she saw the nature nut beckon her forth with his free hand. “Come Sarah,” he repeated.
Complying, she laid the bouquets on the ground and stood next to her brother and was ‘cleansed’ at his side. The aroma of whatever he had strung together with a thine ivory twine was pleasant, sweat, lavender and something else, something Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on, something very earthy. Not patchouli though, patchouli always made her curl up her nose, it smelled like medicine. This wasn’t medicine at all, this was something she longed to inhale. It occurred to her that it may have been some kind of marijuana as she heaved in the deep breaths, but by the time the idea registered in her head, she didn’t care.
“My sisters,” Rowan called over her shoulder. “Please, include my sisters.”
“But you told me you were an only child?” something in the recess of Sarah’s mind spoke out.
One by one they rose and walked slowly toward the others, each leaned in to kiss Rowan’s cheek and then the first stood by Sarah to the bride’s left, the second to the groom’s left and the last to the right of the bride. As they joined hands the officiant encircled them all wafting the puffs of smoke over them all.
“These women are as close to me as sisters, Sarah. As close as I hope you and will be some day. As close as you and Laney are.”
‘Had she told Rowan about Laney,’ Sarah wondered. Perhaps Toby had done it. It didn’t seem to matter much. In fact she was having trouble keeping a coherent thought in her head. Everything sounded like a song to her, and beneath the music, laughter. Happy, absolute laughter.
“Ladies, if you’ll take your places, I would like to begin our ceremony,” the officiant said. Almost robotic they returned to their original position. Extinguishing the smudge stick in a shell he set on the pulpit, the man in the linen tunic began, “Sons and daughters of mother earth, we unite here today to join Toby Williams to his life mate, Rowan Farthingale. As water is meant to flow from the lakes to the sea, so we follow the path that nature has carved for us. Sometimes we are meant to wander that path alone, and other times we find ourselves teamed together with another source and when we surrender to join with that source, we grow stronger, more powerful. And so Toby’s journey has brought him to this point where he will join with Rowan and together they will face the twists and turns that life has in store for them.
“We, as humans, cannot control the powers of nature for we have seen that if we lose respect for nature it will inevitably display its disdain. Now let me ask, Toby Williams, is it in your intent to be joined together with Rowan and do you vow to always raise her up, empower her and make her stronger? Do you accept her as her spirit is and of your own free will? Do you promise to bear with her the ups and downs of life, honor her always and respect her like the precious part of nature that she is?”
Without hesitation, Toby looked lovingly into her eyes and said sincerely, “I do.”
“Rowan, is it in your intent to be joined together with Toby and do you vow to always raise him up, empower him and make him stronger? Do you accept him as his spirit is and of your own free will? Do you promise to bear with him the ups and downs of life, honor him always and respect him like the precious part of nature that he is?”
She mustered up a tear filled, “I do” of her own and they looked at each other a long time before the continuation of the ceremony forced them to return their attention to the blue eyes which hid behind ashy auburn hair.
“A ring is forged with no beginning and no end, eternal, meant to symbolize forever...”
“Your baby brother becomes one of us forever...”
Sarah shook off the second voice, the one inside her head.
“And so I ask you now Toby, to place this eternity band on the third finger of Rowan’s left hand and repeat after me...”
“Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave...”
Instinctively her head was switching side to side, eager to find some external source for this voice, but unless the birds learned to speak, she was out of luck.
“And Rowan if you would do the same.” A minute later it was over. “All that remains to be said then is that as a licensed minister for the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Williams, you may kiss your bride.”
It was a fine kiss, one that made Sarah smile. Neither needy nor aggressive, not too passionate for a wedding, but not cold and hasty like some nervous teenager. It was sweet, welcoming, like coming home after a long time away and being greeted at O’Hare. It was perfect. But most importantly, her brother was happy. He had what he wanted.
Handing Rowan back her flowers, the music played them out. Sarah followed behind. The officiant dismissed the guests, one row at a time, the women in the black dresses last. They chatted, Sarah noticed from behind the rows of chairs. Perhaps they were making a donation to his ‘organization’. What was it Rowan said? She’d known them awhile, it’s possible then he was like an old friend of the family’s.
The guests filed out, hugging and kissing the lone three members of the bridal party commenting on the originality of the ceremony and the detail of Rowan’s dress as they made their ways to their cars. Two and a half miles down the road was the restaurant where they would hold the reception. They would congregate there, nibbling on whole grain crackers topped with goat’s milk cheese and organic vegetable paste. They would sip sparkling waters and expensive champaign. Sarah made certain a few bottles were available for the ones she knew to be drinkers, namely herself and Laney.
She’d made favors, silver white roses out of tulle, wrapped around delicate candied chocolates and tied down over the business end of heavy duty green plastic spoons. Laney helped her stick up streamers, banners and balloons. More tulle used to make a valance supported what might as well have been a million tiny fairy lights reflecting in the tiny pools of what in the silver dishes which made up the bulk of each table’s center piece. The caterer’s had agreed to light the floating candles inside each bowl in enough time that the guests would be significantly awe struck upon their arrival. She’d made the fairytale happen for Rowan, just the way she had promised.
They stayed behind, Sarah and Laney, stayed back with Rowan and Toby as the photographer snapped pictures, flashing this way and that and barking directions. Outside, Toby looked for his car. “Don’t tell me someone stole my car on my wedding day?” he sighed flicking the button on his key chain with no response.
Snagging the keys from his hand, Laney chuckled, “Hey Tob, let me drive this would ya?”
The confusion lasted only a few seconds until the clattering of hooves brought before them one of Michigan Avenue’s finest carriages. Toby looked at his sister, “Sarah, how?”
“The guy who takes care of the horses owed me a favor,” she smiled.
“A favor big enough to get them to bring a carriage all the way out to the sticks?”
She shrugged. “What can I say?”
He helped his bride inside. “Coming with us?” he asked his sister.
Pointing to his car which Laney was already bringing around Sarah confirmed that she would be keeping Laney company, “But don’t worry,” she added. “I won’t lose you between here and there.”
The photographer snapped a few more shots of the couple a top the padded seat in the back of the carriage. Toby waved back to his sister until she was gone from sight and then turned and kissed his bride. Sarah fell into the tiny car with Laney, looked over at her friend and sighed heavily, “Take me away Jeeves, I need a drink.”
“Are you sure you should be drinking?” she asked sincerely. Sarah looked puzzled. “I just figured after you all passed around that fattie, you might not want to put liquor in the mix.”
Laughing, Sarah admitted, “I know. What was with that guy? It was like at any minute I expected him to forget about the wedding altogether and run over to hug a tree.”
“He was creepy, but whatever was in that incense sure seemed to chill you out.”
Slipping on an amber pair of shades, Sarah leaned back in the passenger seat, “You act like it’s the first time I’ve ever had a contact high. Now stop being such a bitch and get me drunk.”
The perky brunette squealed a little tire as she pulled out of the parking lot, “As you wish.”
***** ***** *****
When they arrived at the reception, Sarah and Laney went in through the employee entrance as had been planned. They’d wait for the happy couple to show, then Laney would go and inform the band so they could announce the trio waiting in the kitchen. No sooner had they pulled open the heavy metal door at the back of the parking lot were they greeted by a tall man in a crisp tuxedo. “Hello ladies,” he smiled letting his bone white teeth lighten his mulatto face. “Champagne?”
Sarah took up a glass in each hand. Laney reached to accept one from her, but rather than passing it on her friend downed the entire flute like a shot. “Thank you,” she told the waiter when she returned the empty glass to his tray.
“Hey sweetheart, more power to you. None of the stiffs out there are drinking it.” He turned to Laney a bit so she could grab a glass. She nodded, but doubted very much that he even noticed, as he was immediately back around facing explaining, “I don’t get it either. I mean this is expensive shit, the kind of stuff people usually chug like beer at weddings. Somebody spent a pretty penny on all this...”
“Thank you,” Sarah interrupted downing her second glass. “Only the best for my little brother.”
“You did all this?” he asked indicating the champagne and the general hustle and bustle of the kitchen.
“Yup,” she replied procuring her third flute, sipping it this time rather than continuing to down them like lightning.
The waiter took her free hand in his and pressed his lips against the back of it. “Everyone should have a sister like you,” he said softly.
Sarah tugged her hand away, “That’s what my boyfriend tells me.”
“Too bad,” he acknowledged turning to leave.
“Sarah?”
When she looked at Laney her eyes said, ‘What?’ very clearly as she dipped into her flute once more.
“Boyfriend? Ashton? Really?”
“I would say so,” she told her friend, backing her statement up with a few of the details from the other night. Inside she felt a certain pride when Laney winced at some of the more graphic bits. “Wouldn’t you assume that means we’re dating.”
“I assume very little when it comes to the opposite sex Sar. Especially someone I know as little about as you know about Ashton.”
If she hadn’t had such a point, Sarah might have been more deeply offended, but it was true. She knew very little about Ashton over all. He was handsome, talented at love making, a great omelette chef, polite, a smoker. It stuck with her the next morning when she noticed the way he kept his business card tucked in the cellophane of his Marlboro box with a pack of matches. The cover of the matches was dark green with white italicized lettering spelling out something foreign, probably a restaurant. It wasn’t really a lot to know about a person, but he was charming and he seemed sincere, maybe it was enough. ‘Maybe?’ she asked herself. For a beginning, it’s plenty. “You didn’t have these reservations when you pushed me to take an interest in him.”
“Interest in him yes, but I didn’t tell you to start playing house before you knew who you were playing with!”
“Could we not do this here, please? I already feel like a complete spectacle.” Sarah downed the last of her champagne as she heard the employee entrance door swing open. Laney hugged her quickly and pecked her on the cheek indicating that she understood.
Toby’s cold hands felt like ice on Sarah’s open back as he grabbed his sister and swung her around. “I couldn’t have asked for more,” he shrieked. “I couldn’t have even asked for this,” he admitted as he set her down. “You are the best and most beautiful sister to ever be.” He kissed her cheek affectionately.
“Hush,” she reprimanded him as if he were still her little child. Straightening his tie and jacket, Sarah couldn’t help but tear up.
“Are we ready?” Laney asked, ready to inform the band.
“And you?” Toby broke from Sarah’s compulsive straightening. “You are an angel! Talking care of my sister, the way you do. Laney, you’re like another sister to me.” Leaning in to hug her he said in a mock whisper, “Rowan’s just lucky I found her before I had a chance to fall for you.”
Laney let out a shy giggle as her cheeks turned a rosy pink, “Yeah well she’s just lucky I used to think of you as my best friend’s geeky little brother otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking.”
“I am most fortunate on all counts,” she conceded charging forward to join the group.
“That dress certainly is unusual,” Laney commented.
“Thank you,” Rowan nodded.
“Where did you find a dress like that?” Sarah asked beginning to feel a little of the flush she had during the ceremony.
“I had it patterned,” she commented, “after something I’d seen in a book somewhere.”
“What book?” Sarah asked quickly.
“Laney, would you kindly inform the band that my husband and I are ready to be introduced.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” she stuttered distracted by Sarah’s contorted face.
“Do I or do I not have the most beautiful women in this building all to myself?” Toby said coming between the women and slinging an arm around each one. Sarah to his left, Rowan to his right. He held them each close and alternated soft kisses on their foreheads.
His wedding band was thick, flattened in the center like a signature ring. Sarah noticed that rather than his initials there was a crude, almost stick representation of a fountain, a variety of leaves hung over the spouting streams in an array. She couldn’t help thinking it was an odd insignia, but she wasn’t afford much time for analysis as she heard the band leader quickly end a piece with a rolling drum beat. “Ladies and Gentlemen if I could have your attention at the side entrance. It is my esteemed pleasure to introduce Miss Sarah Williams, sister to the groom.”
Through the applause, Sarah wore a pasted smile. Having the attention on her was most uncomfortable and being introduced as Miss when she had once been the one to wear the white gown almost humiliating. She walked quickly to her seat at the head table next to Laney. “And the couple of the evening, our newest husband and wife who have requested their first dance be a musical number infused with natures sounds. Here to dance for you to a melody entitled Cathedral of Trees, Mr. and Mrs. Toby Williams.”
Taking to their feet, the guests in attendance rose and clapped their hands. Toby walked his new bride to the center of the small dance floor. Holding her tenderly, they spun in time to the magnificent musical piece they had chosen. Even the band stood back in awe as the recorded piece played, in awe of how fluidly they moved. Sarah sat back listening to Laney talk about how perfect they were for one another, quietly refusing to voice her most honest assessment to anyone.
Flute after flute of sweet liquid tolerance caressed Sarah’s throat washing down the organic greens, the hand raised salmon with tofu and baby carrots, and especially the wedding flan. By the time she was announced by the band for the toast, she found Rowan very nearly sufferable. “What do you say to your little brother on his wedding day?” Looking down at him lovingly she swept a stray hair back from his eye. “Since I was fifteen, you have been the best part of me. You were the one who taught me that I could love someone else more than I could love myself. Now I suppose you’re learning that lesson for yourself. And Rowan, it’s easy for me to see why you fell in love with my brother. So while I could wish you an unimaginable number of years of wedded bliss, but I haven’t got much experience with that, so I wish you all the happiness that Toby has brought me for as many years as fate grants the two of you. To Toby and Rowan!’
Glasses clanked and there were a few cheers. Toby kissed his wife and then his sister. “Thank you,” he whispered. Sarah smiled.
“Come on you sentimental bitch, let’s dance,” Laney said dragging her away from the table where Toby and his bride were getting ever more intimate. “You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said when they reached the tiled portion of floor. “Timmy loved you. Probably more than he’s loved anyone since you, he just wanted other things.”
“Things I couldn’t give him,” Sarah sighed.
“Be that as it may, it isn’t your fault that he couldn’t tough it out. He gave up Sarah, not you.”
“Did you even like Timothy?”
“Hell no,” she smiled. “That bastard ruined my chances of ever having you as my lesbian life partner.”
“Sorry, you’re not my type,” Sarah laughed.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan approach with the women she noticed earlier at the ceremony. “Sarah, my dear, I know there was some confusion earlier about my sisters, This is Mia, Darice and Kirsten. Our mother’s were all closest of friends and well I suppose you could say we’re carrying on that tradition.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Sarah lied as she shook hands and smiled politely. “So glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Mia said through a thin smile.
“It was a lovely ceremony,” Darice complimented quickly shoving a baked cracker with goat cheese in her mouth to keep from marring the feigned enthusiasm on her face.
Kirsten remained quiet, eerily so, just taking them in.
Rowan periodically glanced at Laney with interest until she final asked the blunt question, “Is this your date?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Sarah said. Darice coughed on some crumbs which must have scratched her throat when she gasped at that fact. “Oh no, not like that,” she corrected. “Laney and I have been friends since we were in college. She’s known Toby since he was a child.”
“We understand you raised your brother,” Kirsten said, suddenly interested in the conversation.
“I did.”
“We’ve all made a bit of a something for you, to say thank you Sarah,” Mia explained. “We realize how much you’ve done for our sister and our new brother-in-law.”
Kirsten had something in her hands, something Sarah didn’t remember having seen there and she had no clue where she’d managed to get it from. “It’s just a token Darice explained, hand made.”
Sarah took the cloth coated box from Kirsten. Wine red silk fitted neatly over a box, the folds meticulous, the fabric completely smooth. Lifting the lid, Sarah looked inside. “It’s beautiful,” she said and it was. It truly was beautiful.
“Have a good look at it,” Rowan instructed as she reached inside to pull one box free from the other. “Darice made the box,” it was a deep black mahogany box. “The engraving is Kirsten’s handy work,” Sarah saw an eye set in a sunburst and surrounded by a snake joined nose to tail in a circle.” The dance floor was beginning to crowd. Rowan guided them all to a nearby table.
The box was set directly before Sarah and she was made curious to open it by Rowan’s prodding. Inside the lid was another engraving, pencil thin in perfect script, ‘The serpent wise deals death to lies.’ “It really is magnificent,” she told Kirsten earnestly.
“Thank you, I learned from my father.”
“The herbs are from my collection,” Rowan added, “and Mia made the wrapping.”
“Well for having different mothers,” Laney commented, “you certainly all have a way with crafts.”
“Oh we’re all rather homebodies, I suppose,” Mia explained. “I’m sure that lends itself to working on crafts. Enough about us then, we’re all very curious to know more about Sarah and how she put her life on hold to raise our brother-in-law.”
“It’s nothing we should talk about on such an occasion,” Sarah said, eagerly re-packing her gift in an effort to change the topic.
Kirsten had no intention of allowing that. “Rowan tells us that her theme for her wedding is in part inspired by your own personal fairytale. I must admit to you Sarah, I’m a huge fan of fairytales. I find it absolutely fascinating that you should have one all your own. I’d love to hear about it.”
“‘Bout what?” a deep male voice asked from over Sarah’s shoulder.
“Toby?” she said surprised.
“Look at you all, sitting around like family already. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me!” he exclaimed. “So what are we all talking about?” There was a silence, a quiet hush over the whole table. “Oh, I get it, girl talk. I’ve interrupted something.”
Kirsten smiled her charming smile, “Quite the contrary. We were actually just talking about you. More specifically about how your sister raised you and the fairytale she used to tell you as a child.”
“Are you kidding. I used to love that story! Oh Sarah, won’t you tell it. I haven’t heard that thing since I was a kid.”
“
You’re still a kid Tob,” she chided. “It’s your wedding day, do you really want to hear some stupid bedtime story I read you as a teenager?” She saw his flopping ebony locks and took that as a yes. “Pull up a chair then, you can fill in the bits I don’t remember.”
“Sarah?” Laney asked curious as to why she would do this. She was so sensitive about any mention of her childhood, especially this particular memory. Very aware of what a strong memory this was, Laney had been privy to the heated battles of Toby’s youth when he had been convinced that the tale was more fact than fiction. Her eagerness to share this, with essentially strangers, seemed out of character to say the least.
“What?”
“Do you really want to do this?”
“My brother wants to hear his favorite story, Laney. Who am I to deny him?”
“I think you’ve had too much champagne,” she mumbled.
“Most tales,” Sarah began as the women at the table listened on more eagerly than Laney cared for, “start off with ‘Once upon a time’, but this story began long before anyone ever started telling it. This story began when the Goblin King fell in love with a young mortal girl, much too young to understand what something as expansive as love. Immortals do not love as you and I do. They do not feel things in the depths of their hearts, but rather with full force of their soul. They do not gift each other with conventional presents, they gift each other with magic, and the Goblin King had given this mortal certain powers.
“Now this mortal, as you might have imagined, was no ordinary mortal on her own, otherwise she would not have been the one to capture the eye of the Goblin King. This mortal lived in a world of flight and fancy. She believed in the most unbelievable things, imagined vividly the most unimaginable things. It was as if fantasy realms had been built just for her. Her room was filled with statues and figurines, books on myth and legend and she felt each one of them as deeply as if they had been entries in her own diary.
As with all great fairytales, this mortal had a step-mother and that step-mother was no more ordinary than was the mortal girl, for that wouldn’t have made sense, rather she was the cruel, manipulative step-mother that one read about in Cinderella and what have you. She captured the heart of the mortal girl’s father, bore him a child, and the mortal girl’s life from that day forward was one of servitude and slavery. She was never permitted to go out with her friends, as she was forever expected to give up any plans she had to stay home with their child and contend with his endless caterwaul. What little time she asked for herself to spend quietly in the park with her tales and her dog was so often disturbed it was hardly worth having in the first place.
“On this particular day, she and her dog had gone to the park, by the lake, much like the one where the ceremony was held today,” the statement sobered Sarah some, it had been much like the open field where Toby and Rowan had been married, without even knowing this story, or so she had claimed Rowan had gotten that dressed and planned for her gown. She was very aware of how illogical that was, but she was beyond the point of caring. Sarah was compelled now to tell her story, not finishing it nearly as impossible as denying it had never happened. Shaking her head quickly, like someone had a hold of her hair, she went on.
“The girl had run off to the field to practice the lines of one of her favorite stories in a dress she had sewn completely on her own out of bed linens. A project, which by the way, got her grounded for two weeks. It was worth it. The gown was magnificent for something done by someone so young. It was a simple shift with bell sleeves, pockets sewn into them for easy storage of any prompts or scripts she may have needed. A few bits of bunched fabric to accentuate the seam at the sleeves and a pair of curtain tie backs sewn together to make a braided rope to sling about her waist and a few faux laces at her neckline, all topped off with an old headband covered in ribbons and adorn with flowers she’d glued in place. A real mother would have been proud, would have admired her craftsmanship.” As if they understood because of their own craftiness, the sisters nodded. “But a step mother, a step mother can only see excuses to punish and condemn.
“The mortal girl had only just arrived there at her special place, only barely recited a few lines when the rain came in great torrents from the sky, as if her step-mother had special ordered it. She ran home, fast as she could, her dog at her heels. She was wet and cold and furious, but was she met with concern? Was she met with compassion? No, only chastising and berating. She flew to her room, eager to escape into the fantasy world which had welcomed her so many times before, but the baby in the next room wailed his endless wails. Screaming constantly as if nothing could satisfy him.
“She burst into his room, irate that he’d managed to finagle another one of her cherished collectibles from her room. She met his screams head on. Cry for cry. Screech for screech. With the hope that believing in things like goblins and fairies afforded young girls, she recited one of the incantations from one of her books. ‘Goblin King, Goblin King,’ she called into the night, ‘wherever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me.’ Nothing happened. Frustrated she tucked the useless child back into his crib. Silly incantations, she thought. What’s the point in writing something like that if it’s not going to work? But what she was too young to realize was that magic was often more simple than all those books and movies made it out to be. It was sometimes as easy as asking for exactly what you wanted.
“As she switched out the light, the mortal girl did exactly that and as quickly as her parents’ room had grown dark, her brother’s cries had become a memory.”
Toby was bouncing in his chair like an impetuous child, practically squeaking. “This is where it gets good.”
“The thunder outside the window may as well have been coming from the canopy of the bed for as loud as it had grown. On the balcony an owl batted against the french doors until they burst forth with such force the mortal girl crossed her hands over her face to protect herself from what she was sure would be flying shards of glass. Rather the owl seemed to, before her eyes, turn into a man. By now you might have guessed that no ordinary mortal, forced to suffer under the tyranny of no ordinary step-mother, would no doubt encounter some extraordinary owl and no owl was so extraordinary that he could become man, so this man could be no ordinary man. This was the Goblin King, in the flesh, before her.
“Our mortal was brave. She confronted him, and though she shrieked at his glamours and magics, when he explained to her how he had taken the child, how it was hidden in his castle beyond the goblin city protected by a massive labyrinth, when he told her the only way to prevent having the child turned into one of his goblins was to solve the labyrinth, our mortal joyfully accepted his challenge and set off to save her brother.
“This is also not to say that the Goblin King was not an impressive immortal. He was. Tall, dark, long wild blonde hair and the most mysterious eyes, mismatched and sharp, but tender. She almost felt like he had taken pity on her when he stood there in her parents’ room. The way he so genuinely said she was no match for him, as though he wanted to spare her the heartache of all that lie in store for her. The way he offered her thirteen hours as if she had been the one thousandth mortal to run the labyrinth and therefore entitled to some special prize. The way he’d come up so close behind her, warning her the path was longer than she thought. His breath against her ear, warm, sincere. At fifteen we don’t always realize what we do when we grow older, that being the magic that is making ones knees buckles with a simple phrase, making ones palms sweat just by being too near them, or how a gapping jaw is sometimes more than a display of surprise. Our mortal knew nothing of the magic of love in its initial stages and how much like hate it could be, so she mistook the crawling skin and queasy stomach and set her first foot forward on the amber sands of the Underground.
“There she met a dwarf. He was somewhat foul and just barely waist high. He tried to discourage her from going on, but it was no use at all. She was too headstrong. Her first lesson in the labyrinth, he taught her. Things aren’t always as they seem, speak carefully, ask the questions that you mean to ask.”
A waiter brought round some bottled waters and Sarah took one from his tray, telling this story was making her mouth quite dry. “That’s better,” she sighed. “In fact, many dangers awaited the heroine, just as the dwarf had told her, but many friends awaited her inside. There was the tiny worm who first helped her on her way. He’d offered her tea, showed her turns and twists in what she perceived as endless straight paths, gave her hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.
“It seemed for every up, she had a down. After all, if I hadn’t mentioned it before now, the labyrinth was a cruel and terribly unfair place. The first being a challenge at a set of doors. One door led to certain death, the other would allow her to carry on, if only she could solve the riddle. It wasn’t easy, but a heroine doesn’t become a heroine by failing. Naturally success was short lived, as just inside the doors was a shaft that opened up and swallowed her. Thousands of hands reached out from the walls, grabbing, groping, dropping and catching her before they finally asked her to pick a direction. Not every decision a young girl makes is wise and this was no exception. The mortal was trapped in a dark, cold oubliette.
“Then the most extraordinary thing happened. That dwarf who’d showed no interest in her at first was there at her side, eager to help her out of the labyrinth. Even as they made their way through the dark tunnels of the labyrinth, even when the Goblin King came to warn him about betraying his orders, the dwarf stood at her side.”
Jareth had been particularly intimidating in the tunnels Sarah recalled. “The Goblin King had such an oppressive manner, leaning in, hovering over her until she could barely breathe. The mortal chalked it up to nerves and as she watched the fluid movements of his leather clad hand as he took away some of those precious hours he’d just given her, she’d mistaken the captivating smoothness of his gesture for magic. I suppose it was, but it was more too.
“She and the dwarf had pushed him too far. The mortal realized that as they ran down the tunnels trying to escape a huge circular menagerie of spinning blades. She heard the dwarf call it a cleaner and she couldn’t help wondering about the type of cleaning it was meant to do. But he helped her escape, nonetheless, and once they were above ground again, in a giant hedge maze, they felt stronger. Together they happened upon a wise man who was no more help than a stone, but the mortal’s world had no such thing as designated wise man with talking hats and immortal wisdom.
“It wasn’t until they heard the deep cries of a beast in the distance that the dwarf showed his cowardice and ran off. As it happened, the beast was really no beast at all, but a tender creature being tortured by some goblin guards. The mortal girl freed the beast and he befriended her. Now armed with a giant beast, she felt even more as if she’d conquer this labyrinth.
“Just as her confidence grew, two doors materialized. Unlike the first set of doors she met, neither door here knew where it led. She’d chosen right up until now and gathered that changing her mind was no use when it hadn’t yet failed her, and so she and her new friend entered the right door into a massive forest, littered with cobwebs and greenery. It was both frightening and majestic all at once. In most fairy tales something dangerous waits in the wood for those who journey too far, who ignore the path for the distractions of the forest. This wood was no different. In seconds, the huge beast she’d entered the forest with disappeared as quietly as a cloud falling from the sky. She was alone and calling for her friend the dwarf when they appeared.
“They danced and sang and did all sorts of the most ridiculous things, tugging off their body parts and tossing them about, befuddled by the idea that the mortal girl was not so easily disassembled as they were. Fierys, they called themselves, but the mortal fought on, tossing the heads of her attackers aside until finally the dwarf who had by now developed a knack for saving her at the last possible second dropped her a rope which she climbed to safety on the side of a tall stone wall. This was the wall which surround the bog of eternal stench, an aptly named obstacle which separated the fiery forest from the paths to the goblin city.”
“The goblin city?” Mia interrupted.
Toby waved his hand at her, never looking away from his sister, “Just wait for it,” he advised. “Nobody tells this story like Sarah. Nobody.”
“The smell from the bog defied words and the walls were collapsing beneath them, so carefully they inched along a ledge of the wall, but just before they reached the end, the ledge gave way and they landed in a small patch of dirt where they had found the previous misplaced beast. Together the trio set out to the only bridge which crossed the bog.
“A small fox guarded the bridge, he and his dog, well steed as it were to him. His permission was the necessary requirement for using the bridge, but he seemed so intent on withholding it. The dwarf was the first to trick him, eagerly running across the bridge while the tiny fox was busy fending off the giant beast. It was the mortal who finally solved his riddle by merely asking for his permission. I told you magic was sometimes this easy. When the mortal set foot on to the bridge she realized just how old and shaky it was. Much like the narrow ledge of the wall, the bridge took little wear to crumble beneath her feet. Only a quick reaction saved her from the bog as she clutch the pliant branch of a bare tree overhead.
“It was then the mortal learned that the beast had powers of his own, power to call upon the rocks They rolled in from the shores, rose up from the bog and created a path that was safe for her, the beast, the fox and his ‘steed’ to cross. Their party numbered five now and victory seemed only steps away, but no good story goes that smoothly.
“Beyond the bog was another patch of forest. The tiny fox assured her the paths in these woods would have her to the goblin city by morning, but as the wise man had warned her, ‘the way forward is sometimes the way back.’ They had all been walking so long, exhausting their minds and bodies, they were all so hungry, that when the dwarf offered her a perfect fleshy peach, she didn’t resist biting into it eagerly. The effects of the poison inside were immediate and just before she fell into dream, she saw her friend walk off, disappointed in himself for the part he had been forced to play.
“What followed was a dream so real, it could hardly be called a dream. The mortal was clad in a gown as glamorous as the one that Rowan wears now and thrust into the middle of the most ornate masquerade she’d ever imagined. Everyone laughing and acting lewd, debauched. She smelt the stale liquor on their breath as they cackled at her. Ever constant she seemed to search for him, the king. He had been the one to bring her here after all. She’d catch a glimpse of him somewhere, between two dancers, in a mirror, around the edges of the countless chandeliers. His voice filled the room until he seemed everywhere and no where all at once, and that was when she found him, or to be more accurate, he found her.
“The Goblin King wore a finely tailored suit, sequined blue, nearly the color of my gown, only richer, deeper, like Neptune’s eyes must seem when he’s prepared to launch a storm upon the sea.” Sarah stared forward, lost in her own reverie, recalling the way he looked at her across the room, around the other attendants as if they didn’t exist to him. “The color from his coat stolen and streaked in that feral blonde hair that looked nearly cemented in place. She gasped at first when he took her roughly into his arms able only to concentrate on those oddly mismatched eyes and the melody which rang from him like a bell, came from his lips like the song of the bird hatches so naturally from between their beak. This too must be his magic, or so she thought, hypnotizing her when she had better things to do. Now you and I both know better, but then, then the girl knew nothing, nothing near what a girl in the arms of a king should know.
“She sway in his arms, as pliable as the branch she’d clung to only hours earlier, so able to bend, so easy to break, but he handled her like glass. A few of those cemented blonde strands stroked her hand as it rest on his shoulder and she found it was much more like spun silk than cement. She would have let him kiss her then, if it hadn’t been for the laughter and the keen observation of the others in attendance at the ball. Everything about his posture made it seem inevitable, the way he kept staring at her mouth and while the idea hadn’t occurred to her before now, it refused to leave her consciousness in that moment. Soon enough the grandfather clock began to toll. There was so little time left, she couldn’t dance, she certainly couldn’t waste time kissing the Goblin King, not with her brother’s life at stake. The mortal girl broke free of his firm embrace and ran to the mirrored borders of the room. In her hand she clutched a nearby chair and with all her might she hurled the two items together until they shattered.
“When she awoke, the girl was spread eagle atop a mountain of junk, her memories as broken as the mirror she had shattered. Why was she here? What did she require so badly? She felt the weight of the peach in her palm and looked down. A tiny green worm made its way from the pit and crawled over the peach flesh. Revolted she tossed the fruit away and struggled to rise.
“Suddenly the heap moved and the girl was met by a little old junk lady laden with bits of things she considered treasures. Crafty as the woman was, she led the mortal to a replica of her home, convinced her that she wanted to stay here with her things and began to strap them to the heroine until she too began to look much like the junk lady herself. But it was the book, the book the mortal found on the dresser, the one that she had tucked in the pocket of her gown when she was at the park earlier that day. That tiny palm sized thing that reminded her why she was here. When the girl called the things around her junk, the illusion crumbled and there to lift her up were her friends, the fox, the dog and the beast.
“Onward they marched toward the goblin city where they were met by a giant metallic soldier wielding an axe. It was the dwarf who would appear in his traditional last minute style to expose the fraud for nothing more than a robot. The tiny group fended off the protectors of the gate, but once inside the goblin city they were met with more opposition, but this was a band of fighters for the right and they would not so easily be undone by a few goblins and their arsenal. The beast called on the rocks and the tiny army fought their way into the castle, but this was not the last great battle which would ger her back the child.
“Once the goblins had been defeated, it was up to the girl to journey into the king’s castle and face the Goblin King on her own, for that is the way all great victories are won. Her friends promised to be no more than a call away, should she need them and that knowledge eased her. Up the spiral staircase she went until she met a landing. The room around her looked like it had been brought to life from an M.C. Escher drawing, stairs that went nowhere and doorways with not floor on the other side, ceilings to walk on and walls to climb.
“When the king appeared, he was clad in black leather, in spots accented by a blood red crushed velvet which may have captured more of her attention had he not brought the child with him. The mortal watched on fearful as he defied the laws of gravity with his crawling, carrying on with a glass ball given to him as if it were some toy. The king too seemed immune as he sprang up from beneath the floors on which the girl stood and faded into thin air as he paced passed her. When at last she saw her brother sitting still on a landing far beneath where she stood, the mortal girl summoned all of her courage and leapt to him. As she fell, the room around her burst apart, huge chunks of stone hung in midair and the notion in her head that she had expired.
“From the darkest doorway emerged the king, all in white, smug. He circled her, taunting her with his superiority and making ridiculous promises of insurmountable periods of time no teenage girl could conceive and talking about emotions no one her age could understand, not fully, not with the power he meant them, but he went on. She couldn’t speak as eloquently as he did and she had no magic to counter his, so she relied on her books once more. Verbatim she spoke, ‘Through dangers untold and hardship unnumbered I have fought my way here through the goblin city, for my will is as strong as yours..’
“There he was offering up one of his crystals again, all her dreams contained inside. She didn’t even look, perhaps if she had, she’d have seen her truest wishes and then the tale I tell you now would have been a different one entirely.” For the first time telling this story, Sarah marveled at the honesty of what she had just said. Oh yes, were she to have looked into the crystal Jareth offered her all those years ago and learned about herself the truths she seemed to need to bury, the story she was telling would have been much different, and there may not have been a wedding to tell it at, or a groom to have the wedding for that matter. “But our heroine stood fast. ‘My will is as strong as yours, my powers as great...my powers as great...’ You see, the mortal girl had always had trouble with that last line and her unforgiving step-mother had interrupted her rehearsal today, making recalling it even more difficult. Repeating the lines leading up to that one, she stared at the ground, imagining her simple white dress, with the secret pockets and she pulled out of that pocket an invisible red leather book with gold lettering and flipped to the final pages where her eyes read words that didn’t exist in the world, her mouth repeating them almost involuntarily, ‘You have no power over me.’
“Her statement echoed as the Goblin King’s robes fell like tattered sheets and he was gone. While she watched her effect on his world she couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of regret for what she had done. But the mortal girl still didn’t understand why she was feeling like she had just lost, why she wasn’t happier to see the Goblin King fall. All those feelings he’d brought out in her would all make sense but not until many years later, when seeing him again, summoning him with any number of combinations of words she tried failed to bring him back. Years later when it occurred to her just what kind of devastation she might have left behind it almost shadowed the fact that when she returned home her baby brother was snug in his crib, sleeping. Almost.” Reaching over, she tasseled Toby’s hair.
Just then the band leader approached their table, he knelt subtly and whispered, “Ms. Williams, I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s time for the last dance.”
“Yes, yes of course,” she stuttered some, mentally still in that story telling mode she’d been immersed in for almost a half an hour now. “Toby, time for that last dance.” She embraced him hard, suddenly filled with tears that refused to stay behind her eyes, but rather stained the rented shoulders of his tuxedo. “I can’t believe you’re married. I can’t believe you’re not mine any more, that I took you so much for granted when you were.”
“Hey Sar,” he said softly as he lifted her sad eyes to his. “I’ll always be yours sis, forever.”
“So what was the simple phrase that wished away the child?” Rowan asked.
Even Toby wrinkled his nose in disbelief at her question. “Come on honey,” he said taking her by her arm, “one last dance and then I get to take my wife home.” He kissed her sweetly.
No sooner had they left the table, did Kirsten turn to Sarah, “So what were those words, Sarah?”
“Huh?” She was still in somewhat of a daze from hearing her brother speak to her the way he had. “Oh, ah, I wish...”
Laney quickly interrupted this confession, “I’m sorry. It’s been really great getting to know you all, but Sarah and I have last minute things to work out with the caterers and the band, the hall rental, those sorts of things and I know you’ll understand when I apologize, but we simply must go.”
“Of course,” Darice said graciously. “If there’s anything we can do to help...”
“No, thank you, but we’ve worked most of it out in advance, we just need to make final payments and tip the wait staff. Sarah couldn’t possibly..”
“No, no, I couldn’t. It was my pleasure to do that for them and to meet all of you. Thank you all again for the lovely and unique gift.” Sarah shook the hands of all three women.
It was Mia who pulled her in and hugged her tightly, “I’d really like to ask you about that fairytale sometime. Just give me a call, my numbers in the box.”
Sarah shook her head vaguely and excused herself, but not before Mia could shove the gift which she had very nearly left behind into her arms. “Don’t forget.”
“How could I?”
***** ***** *****
Sarah sat at a table in the back of the hall. The clean up crews worked around her and Laney as they gathered up the centerpieces and rented decorations which would need returned the following Monday. Sarah held her head. She could feel the thumping of her blood against the thin skin of her temples. Her head seemed to harden until she grew so top heavy her head fell into her hands.
“Hey girl,” Laney’s hand made soothing circles on Sarah’s exposed back. In response, she clutched at her friend’s waist and began to sob. “Hey, Sar, c’mon. This has been a hard thing for you, Toby’s wedding. It’s brought up a lot of delicate memories. You need to sleep it off sweetie. Let’s get you home. The world will look better from your bedroom window, kay?”
“Oh Laney,” she looked up at her with huge mascara circles staining her face, streaks running down to her cheek bones. “Did you ever feel like you would never be happy again?”
Grabbing a left over napkin, she wiped at the black tar on Sarah’s face. “No honey, but if it looks likes this. I don’t want to.”
That evoked a tiny giggle, “Thanks a lot.”
“C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
***** ***** *****
When they arrived at Sarah’s complex, Laney shuffled her and the boxes onto a service elevator bypassing the guards at the front desk who she knew Sarah wouldn’t have wanted to see her as she was. Once inside the apartment, she stowed the boxes away in the hall closet. Sarah stumbled to the end of her bed, eager to get free of the silver heeled shoes she now refered to as horrid metal spikes. Behind her neck she fiddled pointlessly with the clasp of her dress, whining audibly when it refused to yield to her.
Laney came in as the whine grew to a near scream and batted away her friend’s fumbling fingers so she could undo the clasp. Sarah held the diamond shaped bodice against her chest as she dragged her feet along the carpet to the bathroom. From the doorway, she looked back sorrowfully at Laney, “You’ll be here when I get out?” Laney nodded.
It had been a long time since she had seen Sarah look this bad and her heart ached for her dear friend. No one knew the things she’d seen and felt, not like Laney did, not even Toby. Laney had been there when that fairytale had seemed so very real. She sat up nights watching Sarah call the Goblin King, seeing him never come, and then burying her life in Timothy as if he were her last chance at salvation. She hid as much as she could from everyone else convinced she needed to protect them and the whole time no one was able to protect her. Laney made a cup of strong black coffee and found Sarah in a night gown spread across the center width of her bed. Her body was still wet in spots from the shower and the silk of the gown clung to the curves of her figure. Stuck to the sides of her face were wide sections of her dark tresses. Laney put down the mug, the steaming sobering liquid inside. Extending a hand, she pulled Sarah up to sitting and proceeded to run a thick toothed comb through Sarah’s hair with ease. Caring for Sarah this way made Laney’s maternal instincts kick in, but now was no time to debate the woes of not yet being in a committed relationship where the opportunity to bare a child could so easily arise with her seemingly barren confidant.
Muscles in Sarah’s legs seemed to be turned off, her knees together, her ankles spread as wide as her shoulders, her ankles turning her feet inward. Laney put her back together like a scarecrow after a windstorm and handed her the coffee.
“How much did I tell them?” Sarah asked.
“A lot, not everything, but enough. I have to tell you, I was rather surprised the way you went on. It was as if you were entranced, and yet you managed the presence of mind to tell the story in third person, which was to your benefit I think” Sarah sipped the coffee slowly content at the warmth it spread through her hands. Laney saw her growing more rigid, more like there were bones beneath her Tuscan pink skin, blushed by the hot liquid which had caressed her inside and out. “They were just too interested Sarah. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but it bothered me.”
“Why would they give two shits about a fairytale?”
“I don’t know sweetie,” Laney admitted folding her arm around her friend, stroking the ends of her still damp locks. “I don’t know, but they were. I just can’t believe you opened up to them the way you did.”
“You shouldn’t of let me drink so much.”
“Let you? I could hardly stop you! Must have had two bottles of sodies all on your own.” The women hadn’t used that expression since they first met in college. One of the girls in their group managed to score a bottle of champagne for a party they were having and being that neither of them had tasted the honey colored liquid before, they affectionately named it a ‘sodie’ after the way the bubbles tickled their face like ginger ale poured cold and fresh from a can.
Sarah leaned back against the headboard and clutched her skull with her free hand. “If I hadn’t drank so damn much I wouldn’t have even mentioned the fucking Goblin King!”
“Yeah well, it wasn’t like a drunken confession Sarah. It was too articulate, it was like, like you wanted to tell the story.”
Sarah handed her the coffee now sick of the bitter taste on her tongue. “Yeah, cause discussing my embodied dissolutions with complete strangers at wedding receptions is a past time of mine.”
“Sleep this off Sarah honey. You’ve got a lot of skeletons to face come the light of day and you’re just not ready to do this now.” Sarah nodded. Laney pulled down the bed sheets and Sarah put herself in a position to crawl between them. Laney handed her two aspirin and the coffee, one last time, to down the pills, which she did with a disagreeable face and a quick ‘yuck’.
Swinging her legs between the sheets, Sarah looked up at her good friend, now hung over her, a look of concern on her face. “Stay with me tonight?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Laney looked at the clock. It was damn near the middle of the night anyway. She pulled a tank out of Sarah’s drawer, her height, or lack there of making it almost long enough to be a night shirt, but for decency she added a pair of sweat shorts, then she brushed her hair lose of all the fixative she’d put in it that morning and crawled in with her friend. They faced each other in the bed, glad to be in the company they needed and to have the companionship they craved. Laney brushed the stray hairs from Sarah’s face. “Sweet dreams honey,” she reassured
“God no,” Sarah said, already fighting the sleep that so desperately wanted to take her over, “the last thing I want to do is dream.”
***** ****** ******