Letters to Zell
Page 25
Do you want us to help you put things together again? Fine. I hope you know we’ll help you through whatever comes next. As friends, we have to promise to listen to one another knowing that the frame of reference is love, whether the advice is right or wrong, whether you heed said advice or tell us to shove it up our asses.
What are you going to do? Will you stay in Oz? Drop a house on Dorothy the wayward gift-shop girl? Saddle up your unicorns and ride on to the next hitching post?
I know you feel like you’ve reached an impasse, a point where you and Jason can’t do anything but make each other unhappier. Maybe time heals that and maybe not. I know your heart’s probably smashed in a million pieces. But I don’t want to let anything else spin out of control while we all stare at our feet and let you “process your grief” or some banal bullshit.
I’ll be there. Actually, physically there. You just tell me when. I mean it. Snoozer and I will come to you.
I have to start doing something with myself anyway. Maybe there’s no place like home, but sometimes it’s the wrong place to be. Everywhere it seems I’m underfoot. In Will’s map room, at the café, at Shambles. I’m there but I’m not. I’m living in the present, but in the past, at the same time.
I miss her so fucking much. That incessant sparkle, the way she always jumped at loud noises, how she was always studying everything like it might have a secret compartment. I miss her stupid colloquialisms and ridiculous lacy collars and her prissy beaded slippers. I miss the way she dreamed of precious things and trusted us—even me—with them. I’d give anything to have five more minutes with her, even if she was dozing off. I’d tell her that she couldn’t go. That we need her. That I’m sorry I took her constant presence in my life for granted.
So let’s not take anything for granted anymore, okay?
Love,
B
From the Desk of Cecilia Cinder Charming
Crystal Palace
North Road, Grimmland
Dear Zell,
Bianca told me Maro stopped by a couple of days ago, so I was not surprised when Henry arrived in our throne room this morning. In fact, I had been expecting him.
I didn’t have to ask Edmund to accompany me, he was simply at my side. It was reassuring, to say the least, but I had the sudden, horrid realization that I’d never even asked how he was doing. He and Rory weren’t best friends, but I know he’s likely mourning, too. Mourning her. Mourning how our lives have been upended.
Grief is a selfish thing. When I look up from my own misery, I can see how much Rory’s absence affects everything and everyone around us, even indirectly. It’s like a strange ache that no one quite knows how to admit, how to heal.
And until Bianca told me of Maro’s visit, I hadn’t spared Henry’s frame of mind much thought, either. He wasn’t invited to attend her wake at the Swinging Vine. Nor the ceremony at the frog pond. Or the dedication in the tower before they started to rebuild the outer walls. No one had seen him out in weeks.
And it was no wonder. He looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes, and a three-day beard. Part of me wanted to punish him further. Ensure he felt as desolate as she had in the end. Trade his life for hers.
“Well, what can we do for you?” I asked, trying to look imposing. After all the months in the kitchens, my cold, unused throne made me feel like a child playing dress-up, a princess playing queen.
“I want to start by saying Rory loved you very much,” he said, hands to his heart.
I wanted to start by throwing up on him. “How dare you tell me anything at all about her.”
“Grimm’s sake, CeCi. We’ve all known each other for a long time. Don’t treat me like an outsider. It’s not like I didn’t lose her, too.”
I imagined the red mark my hand would leave if I slapped him. “Are you kidding me? You never wanted her in the first place.”
“That’s not true. It isn’t that simple. At first I did. I tried to explain to her that I didn’t want her to be . . . that maybe we just wanted different things. We weren’t compatible. It doesn’t mean that I wanted this. It doesn’t mean that I’m not hurting here.”
“Oh, you’re hurting, are you? Do stay and tell us all about it. Unless you have to hurry off and boink someone else. We wouldn’t want to keep you.”
His eyes hardened. “Fine. I’m a bad guy. Blame me. Whatever you need to do. But seriously, CeCi, can you call off your dogs? Maro says someone turned her in to the Swan Lake authorities for stolen jewels.”
“Maro got herself into that mess all by herself. Bianca simply asked a friend about how she came to be in Grimmland. It’s not our fault the reply included a warrant.”
“Rory’s parents have kicked Maro and me out of the castle. And my parents won’t receive us because they’ve heard she’s a criminal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Henry.”
“I’ve lost everything, CeCi. There’s nowhere for me to go.” Henry ran his hands through his greasy hair. Ed got up and mercifully poured us all a whiskey.
“How will you feel if your daughter meets a man like you? You’re lucky Rory’s father hasn’t asked Hook to give you a long walk off a short plank. All she wanted from you was your attention and your honesty.”
“I know,” he said. “I get it.”
“The only one who’s lost everything here is Rory. We still have lives to live. We owe it to her to live them well.”
“I fucked up, CeCi. Okay? Are you happy?”
“Of course I’m not happy. More misery doesn’t fix this. Which is why I think you need a new start. Don’t you think Rory’s family has been through enough? Without seeing the cause of their daughter’s catastrophic decision waltzing around with the baby she so desperately wanted?”
“This is my home,” he said, quietly. “I don’t want to be an exile like Fred. Like your father.”
I was momentarily dizzy. “Excuse me?”
He drained his whiskey. “No, really, Cecilia. Is there any scenario in which a bad man can make things right? Or do you just write them all off? Pack them somewhere you can forget about them.”
Ed made a move forward, but I stopped him. “Henry, if you stay, your child will grow up with whispers and glances from a kingdom that has twice had a rightful queen yanked from their hearts. Why not start over again somewhere new?”
He throws his hands up. “Running away makes me a better man?”
“Being a better man makes you a better man, you idiot. Having empathy, investing in your relationships, putting other people first will make you a better man.”
“CeCi, I can’t be any sorrier.”
“You did this to yourself, Henry. This was Rory’s home first. A home you laid claim to with your puffed-up stories. Next time around she’ll be woken up by someone who deserves her. And, if not, she’ll go find that person.”
“You kind of sounded like her just then.” I couldn’t place the look on his face—a strange mix of wistful and desperate.
My voice caught. “I hope I can carry half the optimism in my heart that she did.”
“I hope so, too,” he said. He lifted the empty glass toward Edmund. “Thanks for the whiskey.”
Then came the hardest part, as all the rage and pain flooded back in. I should have offered him the deal the minute he walked in. I suppose a part of me wanted to see whether he’d say anything redeeming, whether Rory had been right to hold out hope. Regardless, Bianca and I promised each other, for Rory’s sake. “Did you come here to ask for our help?”
“Maybe. I don’t know anymore, CeCi. I can see myself out.”
“If you decide you’ve come to ask for our assistance, we have an offer for you. Bianca and I have contacted Odette. No one will come to arrest Maro, if you accept our terms.”
“You’ve just explained how little you think of us.” He shook his head, bewildered. �
�Why would you help?”
“It’s not for you, Henry. It’s for all the kids who grew up missing their mothers. Me, Bianca, Zell. It’s for all the children whose fathers became ghosts; that’s all of us, too. It’s so little Henry or little Maro can have you both in a place you can all be happy. It’s so another princess doesn’t grow up wondering what love is supposed to be, what family is supposed to be.”
There were tears in his eyes. “I’m not sure I follow.” For a couple of heartbeats, I had to remind myself how much I hated him. What he had taken away from us.
I sat back in my throne. “Bianca’s father’s hunting lodge near Avalon was refashioned as a jail for Valborg. The property now sits empty. King Ludwig has agreed that Maro can serve house arrest for the jewels she took from Swan Lake. Meanwhile, you can hunt every day, should you wish. This will allow you to have a life with Maro away from both of your pasts.”
“That would be . . . perfect. Thank you, CeCi. Thank Bianca for me.”
“It’s what Rory would have wanted. But should Maro return to a life of crime or you return to a life of excess, we can and will rescind the arrangement.”
“Yes. Of course. I understand. Thank you. I’ll repay you both somehow.”
“Please don’t. Just do one thing for us: Live honestly, okay? We’ve all jeopardized too much because of lies.”
Ed squeezed my hand and stood to take Henry’s elbow. He gave him the map and keys, and with a shake of hands, it was done.
I think—I hope—Rory would be more than proud. Of all of us.
Love,
CeCi
She Found Herself in Sunset
Important Fucking Correspondence from Snow B. White
Onyx Manor
West Road, Grimmland
Rapunzel’s Unicorn Preserve & Petting Zoo
Post Box 4242
East of Oz
CeCi,
This place is fucking awesome. The grass is an obnoxious green. The lake is so clear you can see to the bottom—all the fish and rocks and plants. Sitting behind everything are cute little hills covered in shaggy pines. It looks like a painting. Hell, it probably was a painting once upon a time. The trip from the portal into Oz is long, but the scenery totally makes up for it.
I’ve also found it’s pretty hard to be unhappy around a bunch of unicorns. They’re always frolicking and sparkling and begging for apples. (Although you have to be careful. They’re a little like Snoozer—they’ll eat damned near anything.) Visitors file in and out all day long from sunrise to twilight to visit them, to rub their noses or make a wish or to push a finger pad to the end of a sharp horn. Even though they’re warned, there are always long lines for a bandage.
Snoozer is having a blast. He’s pretty hot on rolling around in and/or eating unicorn poop. He also loves playing with the kids, chasing squirrels, napping under the trees.
Zell puts on a brave face, but she’s pretty scared to go this alone. After all this time (and all my excellent lectures!) she’s still having trouble believing in herself. But I know she’ll be okay.
Jason’s been living in the barn. He plans to move back to Grimmland soon. Since Zell and the kids will be back and forth, his mother will have to permanently rescind her asinine ban. They aren’t calling it quits, exactly, just taking some time to figure out what they both need. What they both want from life. And how to be honest with each other about it.
Three months ago, I would have told you such an exercise was pathetically futile, but I’m not so sure anymore. I think everyone should try anything they can to be happy, to stay as far away as possible from the ends of their ever-fraying ropes.
“I never thought it would be like this,” Zell says. And of course she didn’t. None of us do. We all stumble around, trying to land in a place that makes us happy. When she first left, I blamed her for running away, but she wasn’t. She was taking the first step. I only just understood how many steps come afterward.
We’ve been misinformed by the ones who came before—inside the Realm and out. There is no perfect contentment. Happily Ever After isn’t an ending, it’s the journey we take from here.
Zell’s staying, and I understand why. She says if she comes back to Grimmland, she’ll blame Jason for her failure and it will guarantee their dissolution. I think Zell feels trapped by the walls of a castle after all those years imprisoned in the same grey stone. I’m sure Jason is trying to understand, but how could he? His greatest trauma was wandering blind through a place not unlike here, wild and windy and full of trees, until he found Zell again.
They’ve each discovered their strongest selves, but maybe those strongest selves have grown to need different things. He hates the memories of the forest. She craves the turretless sky. Life is too short to live resenting the person who’s supposed to be your best friend.
If I’ve learned anything about the past year it’s that maybe none of us were listening to one another. Maybe we weren’t even listening to ourselves. I’m listening now. I hear you, CeCi. I hear Zell.
I hear Rachel, too. I started a letter to send once the portal is repaired, but I can’t seem to get it right. I can’t figure out how to tell her about Rory and explain how I can’t possibly leave anymore. I wish I could have one last date, thank her for everything she did for us. But saying good-bye to her forever over dinner would be impossible. It’s hard enough to do in writing.
Speaking of dinner, your instructions have done nada for Zell’s cooking. Perhaps you can host a hands-on culinary camp for single princesses. (I’m sure the Rhumba-ing Raynas would sign up in a heartbeat.) Thank Grimm I brought a valise full of ketchup. Even Snoozer won’t eat Zell’s meals.
Regardless, you should visit. You’d like it here. It would be good for Zell. Arthur and Bea have gotten so big. And most of the time, they aren’t very sticky at all. Besides, you can get them spun up on sugar, then leave.
Rory would have liked it here. I hope she can visit the twins’ grandchildren someday. Hell, the unicorns might be running a preserve for Fairy Tales by then.
See you next week.
Love,
B
From the Desk of Cecilia Cinder Charming
Crystal Palace
North Road, Grimmland
Dear Bianca,
I hope you’re continuing to have fun at the preserve, and I hope you’ve picked out some nice unicorn stationery for your letter to Rachel. One word of advice, though: Don’t rush into any decisions. Rory’s absence has colored everything in a strange way.
I’ve said this before, but staying in Grimmland won’t change what happened. It doesn’t bring Rory back. And someday when that knife edge of pain we’re feeling starts to dull, your heart will be filled with something else. A yearning, a regret—even that resentment you were talking about with Jason and Zell in your last letter.
I bet Zell herself would tell you—even as her marriage falls apart—that it was worth it to try. Think it through, Bianca, before you let your dream go. We’re all still here, standing behind you, believing in you.
As for my own dream, I’ve skipped so many classes I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to graduate with my class, even if the portal were working. I’ve started to miss Outside, though. I wonder how Phil is doing, whether he’s eaten at the teriyaki gyro truck or tried the mystical cronut. Whether he’s made Eric the surprise breakfast of a lifetime. I can’t imagine how much you must miss Rachel.
So I decided to stop wishing and start doing. As the first order of business, I headed to the Clock Shop to see how I could help speed things up.
Solace was all gentle smiles and murmured greetings, at first. A small pack of villagers were making a trek to Neverland, so I waited until they’d finished, looking into the yawning torsos of the clocks around the room.
“Cecilia. You’ve finally come.” Solace spoke from a darkened hallway.
“Oh, the timing of everything,” she said, coming closer, though not quite looking at me. “I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you, but it never seemed to be the right moment.”
“Rory’s . . . decision . . . it caught us all off guard. I’m sorry for that day—”
She waved me off, guiding me to her quiet office and gesturing for me to sit. “To build the portal in Briar Rose’s tower, I used a small piece of the main portal here in my shop.”
I felt my stomach sink. “And that piece is gone.”
“Quite,” said Solace. “Actually, the damage started earlier than you think. The piece of the original clock began to smolder when Bianca was separated from her bracelet. By the time Rory pulled the three of you through, the piece had been incinerated completely.”
“The prickles,” I said, looking at my hand. “It was fire.”
“As it stands, neither of the portals is functional. No one can go Outside. Not even the birds.” She gestured to her front window, where a field of pigeons sat idly pecking at the ground. “Something must be done. And, as such, Malice, Figgy, and I have come up with a compromise.”
And that’s when she dragged me to Figgy’s, where I was assigned a brand new set of Pages. The owl assured me that, unlike Rory’s second set of Pages—filled with nonbinding embellishments—mine are very much real.
Love,
CeCi
Important Fucking Correspondence from Snow B. White
Onyx Manor
West Road, Grimmland
Z,
It’s my first week back, but my new husband cannot wait to lecture me about moving forward, keeping up my momentum. He says I owe it to Rory to follow through.
Is that true, Zell? I don’t know what I owe anyone anymore. I used to know, but I’ve lost track. I feel like I’m moving at a gallop and then, all of a sudden, the horse throws me and I can’t get out of the fucking mud. It’s like everything is slow and cold and wrong. And yet, it’s less wrong than yesterday. And even that makes me feel guilty. I have to figure out a way to remember and keep living at the same time. Some way to let her know we never forgot her but still went on. Is that even realistic?