The Fairy Trail

by Catherine Ras

  “Tyler, slow down or I’ll have to carry you home.”

  He pulled on Maggie’s hand. “Come on, mommy. I want to see where the fairies live.”

  “Tyler, we talked about this. The fairies won’t be there. They’re gone. They left after you were born.”

  “How do you know that? My teacher said fairies never go away.”

  “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if you don’t see any.”

  They entered the woods where Maggie had gone so many times seeking out the help of the fairies. She had come here the day after she found out about Mike’s suicide. She placed the pebble, the last gift she was given, next to the tree stump where the fairy who had bestowed it upon her lived. She said thank-you and then left.

  She hadn’t been back since.

  Tyler’s teacher had read Peter Pan to her students, and he was enthralled with Tinkerbell. He asked her if Tinkerbell lived in the woods where his mother’s fairies lived. She smiled at him. She was never sure if he really listened to her when she told him the story of her fairies in the woods. “Let’s go see,” she answered.

  Tyler ran from tree to tree trunk inspecting every crevice, every root, and every hole. Several trees later he plopped down on the ground clearly disappointed.

  “Why won’t they come out?” he asked his mother.

  Maggie sat down next to him. “We don’t need them to,” she replied.

  “But I want them to. I want to play with them. They fly you know.”

  Maggie’s face beamed. “Yes, I’ve heard, but I’ve never seen it.”

  His tiny face swelled with surprise. “You’ve never seen them fly?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Tyler jumped up and twirled around. “Then they have to come out. They have to show you how they fly.” He ran down the trail shouting, “Come out fairies, come out. Where are you?”

  Maggie ran after him. When they reached the part of the trail where the trees thinned and the marsh grasses increased, he stopped short of the board walk that continued the trail through the swamp. He turned and looked back.

  “We’re not gonna see them, are we mommy?”

  “It doesn’t look that way, honey…at least not today.”

  His ears perked up. “Can we come tomorrow? Can we come every day until we see them?”

  “We can’t come every day, but we will come again. I promise you. Okay?”

  “Okay. Let’s go back this way,” he said as he pulled his mother back toward the part of the trail where she told him the fairies lived.

  Laughing, Maggie went along with him. “Okay, okay.”

  Once again, he began to inspect the trees. He stopped. “Mommie, show me which trees you saw the houses in?”

  He’s too smart for his own good, she thought. She never said anything to anyone, including Charlie, but sometimes she hoped that Tyler was Mike’s child and that he only got the best of him—one being his intelligence. For the rest of it, Maggie worked hard to make sure he was kind, considerate, thoughtful—all the things her parents and Mike were not.

  “Show me, please?” He said with that cute, childish face and those eyes that became so round and soft she just couldn’t refuse.

  “What the heck,” she said, avoiding the word “hell” that he just started mimicking a few days ago.

  Maggie took him to a tree with a huge knot about four feet high. “There was a purple door here with a rope ladder so the fairy could climb up and down,” she said pointing to the knot. “Her name was Aspara.”

  “You know their names?”

  “Most of them.”

  “Show me another,” Tyler squealed.

  She moved him up to a stump. She picked him up and set him down on top. “You are now sitting on Fuchsia’s fairy house.”

  Tyler’s mouth gaped open, and he immediately jumped down. He turned and looked at the stump. “I didn’t break the house, did I? Did I hurt her?”

  His mother laughed. “No honey, you would have only done that if the house and the fairy showed themselves. Right now, it’s a regular tree stump that you can sit on.”

  His scrunched up face told her he was thinking it through.

  She squatted down in front of him. “Look at me,” she said turning his chin. “You cannot tell anyone about this...not your teachers, not your friends.”

  “Why not?”

  “They won’t understand. They will think you’re lying.”

  “You’re not lying, are you?”

  There was that intelligence she struggled to deal with more and more each day. She sighed. “No honey, I’m not lying. But everyone thought I was lying too because no one ever saw them but me.”

  “Did momma see them? Does she think you’re lying?”

  “Momma has never seen them, but I’ve told her about them—kind of like when I tell you fairy tales. I’m just not sure she’d believe me if I told her they were real.”

  “Can I tell her we visited the fairies today?” He climbed back up on the stump and inspected the trees.

  “Of course you can. As long as you tell the truth—that you didn’t see any.”

  “But you said they are here.”

  “Yes, I did, but today,” she emphasized the word today, “we didn’t see any.”

  He tilted his head. “But we will one day, won’t we mommy?” He smiled.

  She grabbed her son from off the stump. She didn’t want to say yes because she never wanted him to need help like she did. She didn’t want to say no because she wanted him to believe in magic and the fantasies a child can dream. Instead, she gave him a big bear hug. Then she said, “Let’s go home and tell momma what a great walk we had on the Fairy Trail. Okay?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  When they got home, true to his word, Tyler sat down on Charlie’s lap and told her a story. He included things he heard in stories from his mother, from books they both read to him and stories from his teachers at school to make one very imaginative world where fairies of all kinds lived in tiny houses all through the woods dancing and singing and helping humans.

  Charlie gave Maggie a look that said don’t fill his head with folly mixed in with the proud parent for how creative her child could be.

  “It sounds like you had a wonderful time,” Charlie said to him.

  “I did, momma. I just wish I had seen them like mommy did when she was a kid.”

  Charlie looked up at Maggie. “Maybe mommy saw them in her dreams like you will tonight when that little head touches the pillow.”

  Tyler jumped down off her lap, a scowl on his face. “You don’t believe, but I do. Mommy would never lie to me. I’m going outside to play.” He ran out the kitchen door to the back yard that was now full of green grass surrounded by a clean and stable wooden fence, filled with toys and a small swing set.

  Maggie took one look at Charlie and followed him out. She called back, “Don’t start with me. He’s well-adjusted. No one will pick on him like they did me.”

  “You know if you keep filling his head with stories, they just might,” she yelled back.

  It was the one bone-of-contention between them. Charlie had seen the abuse Maggie took in school, and she didn’t want Tyler to endure the same. Neither did Maggie, but she promised herself a long time ago, she would never lie to her son.

  He wasn’t like her. Everyone who met him adored him. He was smart, funny and imaginative, but he didn’t let his imagination run away with him—most of the time. It was what she used to do to get away from her miserable life. But Tyler’s life was good. She knew that. He had more love in his five years than she had had in twenty-seven. There was no reason for him to run to the woods other than to play

  She walked outside to find their son building what appeared to be tiny houses with his toys and whatever else he could find in the yard. When he finished one, he would study the yard then strategically place it. She smiled when she realized he was making his own fairy trail.

  She knew when he grew older, he would forg
et about the fairies. For now, she joined him in his playful fabrication.

  Chapter Forty-four

  He’s only ten years old,” Maggie cried.

  Charlie reached across the table and took her hands in hers. “We’ll do everything we can, anything we can to get him better. I promise.”

  They sat at the corner table in Leena’s Diner where they always sat whenever they patronized the restaurant. Aunt Agnes was in town, so she suggested they take a night off so she could watch her favorite great nephew.

  One month prior, Tyler woke up with headaches. A few days later, he was vomiting. Being first time parents, they ran him to the doctor’s for the slightest of accidents or illnesses, so they expected the doctor to pat them on the shoulder and reassure them it was just the flu like he did every other time.

  But he didn’t, and it wasn’t.

  They found a tumor on Tyler’s brain—Medullablastoma, a fast growing malignancy. After the diagnosis, all Maggie heard was surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. Every facet of her brain shut down—emotional, logical, and rational to anything else the doctor said after sixty percent survival rate.

  “He’s just a boy,” she whispered through her tears. “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “They don’t even know if it’s operable. What if it’s not?”

  “Then we find another doctor. There’s a whole world out there full of doctors. We’ll keep looking until we find one we feel confident with.”

  “How do we tell him? How do we tell him his life ends at ten years?”

  “Maggie,” Charlie said sternly, just short of scolding, “That’s not the way we’re going to tell him.”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Aunt Agnes gave us the night to discuss how we’re going to tell him, so let’s discuss it. Okay?”

  Maggie opened up her menu. She closed it and set it down. “I’m not hungry.” She picked it back up again. “How do we tell him?”

  “With as much honesty and love as we can.”

  “That seems like such a lame answer.”

  “Do you remember the promise you made to me?”

  “Charlie, it’s not the same.”

  “Do…you…remember?”

  “Charlie, come on, that was different. This is Tyler’s life, and he could die.”

  “The trick is to go….”

  “Stop.”

  Charlie reached out and took her hands once again. She held Maggie’s gaze. “The trick is to go through the easy and the difficult together, with honesty, love, and support for each other and….”

  “And lots of popcorn.”

  Charlie’s smile was comforting. “How about we go home, put in a movie, and make some popcorn. We’ll put Tyler on the couch in between us. We can wait until morning to tell him. Agree?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  They made their apologies to Leena and left a decent tip for the waitress. On the way home, they discussed what they would say to Tyler. Maggie didn’t stop crying until they pulled into the driveway.

  Charlie handed her a Kleenex.

  Maggie flipped the visor down. “Oh, my God, my eyes are so red. He’ll know something’s wrong.”

  “You go right upstairs and put a cold cloth on your eyes. I’ll get him into the kitchen and have him help me make the popcorn.”

  Maggie took her hand. “Thank you.”

  “We’ve got this.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Charlie squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to find out.”

  A half hour later, Incredibles 2 was playing on the television. Maggie cleaned up her face, and Charlie, Tyler and Aunt Agnes made the popcorn. They sat on the couch together laughing, tossing popcorn in their mouths and being the family Maggie dreamed of having for the rest of their lives.

  Maggie looked at her son. When he looked up at her, she tousled his hair. She couldn’t lose her son. Charlie was right; they would keep searching for doctors until they found one that could cure Tyler. Until then, honesty, love, support, and popcorn would have to do.

  ***

  Neither Maggie nor Charlie was able to sleep because dread kept them tossing and turning. They were ready for the conversation with Tyler—they knew what they were going to say, but it didn’t alleviate the overwhelming sadness they would have to bury while they spoke to him.

  When they walked into the kitchen, Aunt Agnes had cooked one of her famous breakfasts with French toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. Tyler was drawing a happy face on his piece of French toast with the syrup. On another plate sat his scrambled eggs and bacon because he didn’t like his food to mix—he especially didn’t like syrup touching his eggs.

  As they sat at the table, Aunt Agnes placed plates in front of them. They both took small helpings of eggs and one piece of bacon. All the while, Tyler kept an eye on them.

  Aunt Agnes delivered steaming mugs of coffee to the table and then placed a kiss on the top of Tyler’s head. She excused herself from the kitchen to make a phone call to Tony who was still at the hotel packing.

  When she left the room, Tyler stopped eating and watched her go. He looked at Charlie then Maggie. He set his fork down on his plate.

  “Spill it,” he said.

  “What?”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  Maggie just about fell off her chair, but Charlie sat stoically.

  “What makes you think we want to talk to you about the doc…?”

  Charlie put her hand on Maggie’s thigh and squeezed.

  Maggie took a deep breath. “Yes, honey. We want to talk to you about what the doctor said.”

  Tyler took a bite of his French toast. “Okay, what did he say?”

  Charlie began the rehearsed speech they had practiced throughout the night. “The doctor found a tumor in your brain. That’s what’s been causing your headaches and vomiting.”

  Tyler didn’t say anything.

  “Honey, do you know what a tumor is?” Maggie asked fighting back the tears.

  “Yeah…something that doesn’t belong there.”

  “That’s right, honey.”

  He took a bite of his eggs. “Do they know what it is?”

  “It’s called Medullablastoma.”

  “That’s an awful big word. Is the tumor as big?”

  Maggie’s heart was breaking.

  “Any sized tumor seems big, but no, honey, it’s not as big as you think,” Charlie answered.

  “Then take it out,” he said matter-of-factly.”

  “The doctors aren’t sure they can.” Maggie said to him looking down at her plate.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not in a real good place,” Charlie said. “Where the tumor is located makes it hard to take it out without doing damage to your brain.”

  He put his fork down again. He sat back and folded his arms. “It’s gonna grow in my head, isn’t it?”

  “Not if we can help it,” Maggie answered quickly.

  “If they can’t take it out, and it’s gonna keep getting bigger, then what happens?”

  “There is medicine they can try and something called radiation,” Maggie said.

  “Okay. Tell me about it.”

  For the next hour, Charlie and Maggie explained chemotherapy and radiation to Tyler. He listened with intent and asked very intelligent questions for a ten year old.

  “Do I have a choice?” Tyler asked after listening to the list of side effects.

  “No, honey. You need to do this to get healthy,” Maggie insisted.

  Charlie looked sideways at Maggie who ignored it.

  Tyler had to live. She couldn’t lose him, so no, she wouldn’t let him have a choice.

  Chapter Forty-five

  “Don’t you think he should have a choice?” Charlie asked with apprehension.

  “He’s just a child. He can’t make that kind of decision. No. No way. This surgeon says he can take it out, so he’s
having the operation.”

  Charlie put her hand on Maggie’s. “Only one doctor out of all the doctors we’ve talked to said he could do it. All the others said it’s too risky. They all said to try chemo and radiation first. Maybe that will shrink it enough to untangle it from the brain stem and then they can take it out without so much risk.”

  “Don’t you see?” Maggie cried. “Even Tyler knows it’s growing. How big are we going to let it get before there’s too much irreversible damage?”

  “How much risk do you want to take?” Charlie stared hard at Maggie.

  Maggie stood up. “He’s not your son!” she shouted, then ran out of the room. As soon as she ran out of the house, she regretted what she said. She would apologize later and hope that Charlie could forgive her. She didn’t mean it. Tyler was Charlie’s son too, but….

  There was no but.

  Maggie ran as fast as she could to the forest. She didn’t like any of the options they had. Surgery could kill him or paralyze him or cause any other numerous damages to the brain. Radiation might burn parts of the brain that shouldn’t be touched, and chemo—well, there were loads of side effects that were more than unpleasant.

  No, the fairies had to help her. They had to get rid of the tumor.

  She hadn’t realized she was in the woods on the trail until she was out of breath. She bent over, placing her hands on her knees and took several gulps of air. When she stood up, her mouth fell open at the sight before her.

  All of the fairy houses were visible, and each fairy that lived in them was hovering above them, their wings flapping furiously and quietly.

  In the center of all the houses was a new one she hadn’t seen before. The tall, narrow house boasted a very blue door with a mushroom awning. It was perched upon a stump, but the door and upper section was attached to a tree. A ladder dropped from the stump to the ground, but Maggie always wondered why they needed ladders—after all, they could fly

  A fairy all in white whose body shone like the full moon in a dark sky was standing on the stump in front of her house with her arms at her side. Maggie’s heart was so heavy she thought her sorrow might dull the shimmer of the tiny magical being, but the outline of her small body was bold