So Fey: Queer Fairy Fiction
Page 37
"Boo!"
William's eyes bolted open. The word still thundered in his ears as Mary's face appeared nose-to-nose with him. He pushed himself back from the desk. The chair rolled backward until it crashed into the office wall behind him. His heart pounded. His breathing short and heavy as he held his arms aloft in front of him defensively.
Mary laughed wildly as she lifted herself off the chair and knocked it backward. Flying head-over-heels in a rolling motion, she looked like a single colored ribbon in a badly repetitive rhythm gymnastic routine.
"What the hell?" William barked out in between heavy panting. "I have a headache, not the hiccups!"
"Not anymore," Mary cried out. She stopped rolling and righted the chair with a wave of her wand before sitting back down, holding her stomach. Cobalt tears flowed down her cheeks. "Your headache is gone."
William stopped to think about it. His heart began to slow down to a normal pace and his breath evened out. The pain in his head had vanished. "You're right." He whispered and gave a nervous laugh.
He looked across the desk and saw Mary holding a box of laundry soap imitating a television commercial.
"Ancient Chinese Seeecret." The box disappeared.
William's smile grew and then froze. An idea raced through his mind. He felt color rush into his cheeks and warm his skin. He shot forward crossing his arms and leaning over the desk. He delightedly studied the petite woman on the other side.
"How would you like to work with people who are ill?" he asked.
He could tell from her expression that she was contemplating the proposal. A warm feeling started within him. His business intuition assured him she was perfect for the job. He waited until she returned his smile and watched as she happily nodded.
William sat back in his chair and turned to his computer screen. His fingers clacked away and a fleeting flash of pictures went by until a listing of referrals appeared in the cyber window before him. He put his finger against the screen to hold his place on the desired entry.
"Bailey House is a hospice for people who are dying as a result of HIV infection." There was eagerness in his voice. "And they need staffing."
"I can't stop death, only transform it," Mary replied. "Hellooo, I thought we already went through this. Remember? The whole finger-pricking thing?"
"I remember," William said. His smile and enthusiasm remained intact. "A lot of these people suffer from dementia. Some of them are asleep and won't wake up before they die." William bit his bottom lip. He held his breath before continuing with guarded hope. "If you have the power to bring some ease to them, it would give them some light to look toward in a very dark place. I'm sure you would be able to help them in more ways than you could possibly imagine."
Mary glowed brightly. She clapped rapidly and a powder-blue globe of light formed around her hands to warm the room. The more she applauded, the brighter the illumination became.
Suddenly, she froze and peered through the light ball at William, a graven look on her face.
"There won't be any problem because I'm a faerie, I hope?"
"You'll fit right in once you have a uniform."
Mary whirled the wand over her head in a spiral motion. The lights surrounded her and sparkled. Before they faded, she stood dressed in the traditional nurse's outfit, except colored a pastel, sky blue. She spread her arms and bowed.
"Muuuch better." William could barely contain his laughter. "You'll be fine."
William leaned back and scooted the chair comfortably up to his desk. He bent his head downward and took the furry troll-topped pencil back in hand, rubbing it between his palms to get the wild blue hair as fluffed out as he could. He scribbled a name and address on the aquamarine-colored notepad. In a single action, he tore the paper from its stack and slid it across to the woman in front of him.
"Go to this address and ask for Mr. Anderson. I'll give him a call and tell him to be expecting you." He offered her a warm smile.
"Thank you," Mary said. She took the paper and looked over the address.
"If you need me to, I can draw you a map. It's only a short bus ride."
"Oh," Mary smiled and cocked her head. "I'll just call the Pumpkin-Coach. Their driver will know how to get there." She nodded assuredly. "He's a smart mouse."
"Well, Ms. Mary Weather," William stood and reached over to shake the petite hand. "Good luck, and it's been a pleasure to meet you."
"Thaaannnk yooouuu," she sang and vigorously pumped his arm. She hovered over his desk to not offset her balance. She then let go and glided around to the floor. She half skipped and half trotted to the doorway. Before leaving, she stopped and turned around to face him one more time.
"I just have to say it," she called out.
William lifted his head from the notes he was making on her file. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders waiting for her to explain.
"If you smiled a little more," she paused, "maybe you wouldn't be so Grimm!"
Mary Weather threw her head back and erupted in ringing laughter as she turned and left the office. The glockenspiel of ringing echoed behind her.
William smiled broadly. He shook his head at the crazy, delightful woman that just left his office. Without looking for it, his hand reached for the phone and he dialed a very familiar, seven-digit number.
It rang three times.
"Hello," he said to the receptionist on the other end. He used his best and most professional phone voice. "May I speak with Mr. Anderson, please? Thank you." He waited, letting his eyes roam over the notes he made. "Christian! It's William at Pantheon Placements." William instantly relaxed into friendly conversation. "I'm sending over a potential... no, she's not a nurse, but I think she will do very well helping out.... What? No, more like a candy striper but she's to be paid. Trust me, even those with dementia will react positively with her. She's an eccentric.... If I meant freak, I would have said freak, she's eccentric." He continued mumbling to himself more than anything else, "and she has a fetish for the color blue. What? Oh, nothing. Never mind. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Let her grow on you. She has a way to make everything feel all right. I have no doubt she'll do an excellent job. Yeah... no, really no problem. You can buy me a drink later, how 'bout that? Okay, 'bye."
William hung up the phone. An intimate smile lingered on his lips as he filed away the notes and put the folder in the "Placed" file bin. He had a gut feeling that Mary would be able to at least brighten the haunted dreams of those souls in that hospice. It warmed him to think that with a wave of the wand, maybe, just maybe, those who were suffering could still have a Happily Ever After.
Eric Andrews-Katz has been writing since he could hold a pen. He studied journalism and creative writing at the University of South Florida and eventually moved back to Gainesville. He has a successful Licensed Massage Practice and currently, with his partner, calls Seattle home. Eric is currently working on his second novel and a collection of short stories. He considers himself fortunate enough to count his parents among his closest friends.
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Acknowledgments
The inspiration for this book falls to the marvelous editorial team of Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling. I would have never envisioned So Fey if I had not been involved with The Faery Reel. Terri also helped by suggesting several authors she felt would be perfect contributors and many of them ended up in the pages of what you are holding. Greg Herren encouraged me with the book from concept to end result.
I appreciate all the submissions I read for the project and doubly appreciate the patience of the authors picked for the book. I can honestly say that each and every one was a pleasure to work with.
I'm reminded of my childhood and the debt to the elementary school nurse who discovered my love for fantasy (and monsters) and allowed me to skip classes and read her son's Dungeons & Dragons rulebooks in her office. Thanks, Ms. Schulman, wherever you are.
Most importantly, I need to offer special thanks to my family: my mother who has always believed in
my writing, my father who taught me the whims of deal-making, and my sister, Susan, who has always been there with a friendly ear and helpings of homebaked warm cookies and milk. Without their love, I would be lost and this book would never have happened.
About the Editor
Steve Berman happens to have many crowded shelves of books and odd toys and plush creatures. He's been a finalist for the Andre Norton, Lambda Literary, and the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards. He worries if he could find shelf space for any of these, if he ever won.
One of his favorite sounds is a cat's purr.
He lives in southern New Jersey.