“You’ve been delirious with a raging fever for over a week,” says the voice I heard in my dream.
“Thank goodness, it’s finally broken,” says a second one.
“You almost died, dear,” says a third.
I blink my eyes several times. Slowly, everything comes into focus. I’m back at Faraway, lying in my bed. A vase of wild flowers sits on a stand next to me, and the Badass Fairies are hovering over me.
“You must have picked up something from that disease-ridden moat,” says Fairweather as she gently wipes my forehead with a damp cloth.
“I had to throw out my dress and bonnet!” tisks Fanta. “Flossie was able to repair the tears, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get out the stains or that awful smell.”
The events that have brought me here come back to me with the mad rush of a rockslide.
“You’re lucky that nasty crocodile we keep in the moat didn’t eat you alive,” adds Fanta.
There’s really a crocodile in the moat? I thought I was making that up when I gave Hook the brush off. Truth be told, I’d be better off dead than back here. I wish the crocodile had gotten me. Or The Huntsman had killed me.
I’m near tears when Winnie tiptoes into the room. She’s holding a tray with a tea caddy and cup. Her presence brightens my spirits a little.
“Hi,” I say feebly.
She smiles at me. She looks different. Maybe my vision is still impaired. As she gets closer, I realize my eyesight’s just fine. She’s lost weight. She’s a lot thinner.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” says Flossie. She and her sisters fly out the door.
Winnie carefully sits down on my bed, placing the tray on the nightstand. She plumps another pillow under my head, then pours me a cup of tea. She holds it up for me. I feel like a helpless child.
“I always give tea to my children when they’re sick. It makes them feel better.” Her soft voice spreads itself like a blanket on my chilled body.
I take a sip of the hot beverage. Chamomile. Elz’s favorite.
“Where’s Elz?” I ask, sounding a little stronger. Her bed doesn’t look like it’s been slept in for a while.
“She’s gone.”
I bolt up, knocking the teacup out of Winnie’s hand. “She’s dead?”
“No, no, Jane! She’s not dead! She’s gone back to Lalaland. The staff felt she was ready to start a post-rehab apprenticeship.”
My heart sinks. Elz is gone? I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to her.
“You missed her going away party. It would have been more fun if you’d been there.” Winnie reaches into her pocket and hands me a folded up sheet of parchment. “Elz made this for you.”
I unfold it. Before me, is a childlike drawing of two smiley girls hugging each other, one very tall and thin with long brown hair and a bow; the other, not as tall or thin, with short dark hair and a crown. Below the picture, the words “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” are printed in big block letters.
I burst into tears. “I wish I was dead!”
“Jane, you must never say that! Never!” Winnie holds me close to her. “Let’s get some fresh air. It’ll do you good.”
She helps me out of bed, letting me grip her body for support. Though I’m no longer in any pain, it takes all my effort to stand up. Clutching Winnie’s arm, I take my first step. My legs wobble. My body trembles. I’m much weaker than I thought.
As I limp down the corridor with the only friend I have left at Faraway, I feel something I haven’t felt since I was a little girl. Vulnerable. The Evil Queen, who once upon a time was not afraid to kill, is now afraid to die.
***
At lunch, a huge banner above the buffet welcomes me back. Everyone has signed it, except for Sasperilla. Rumpelstiltskin’s signature, written in large, ornate letters, sticks out like a sore thumb. He must really be proud of his name. I’m touched; it takes everything I have to hold back tears.
The best part of being back from the dead is that everyone’s so nice to me. They bring me my meal and volunteer to do my yucky chores. Even Hook’s on good behavior though I’m not sure how long that’ll last.
I’m surprised, to say the least, when Sasperilla sits down next to me and wraps one of her scrawny arms around my shoulders. Could she have she possibly become a new person while I was sick?
“I have a welcome back present for you,” she says.
With a wide smile, she dumps her plate of food on mine and then saunters off. Shame on me for thinking she could be nice. She’s just jealous I’ve lost weight from my illness.
After lunch, I retreat to my room. I’m still not well enough to go to group or meet with Shrink. Which is fine by me because I dread going to either.
Slumped on the edge of my bed, I stare at the empty bed next to mine. God, I miss Elz. Her homely face. Her fashion-challenged bows. Even her annoying singsong voice and her “lalalas.” Who’s going to get me up in the morning? Those stupid birds probably won’t even show up now that she’s gone.
I suppose I should enjoy having the room to myself. It’s only a matter of time until I get a new roomie. A new loony who won’t replace my Elz. As I pull my covers over me, I take another look at the card she made. “Best Friends Forever.” Holding it next to my heart, I close my eyes.
CHAPTER 15
Lalala! To my surprise, the birds fly in the next morning and pull down my covers. Hello, my little feathered friends! I’m feeling much stronger. And I’m starving--guess I must have slept right through dinner last night.
After breakfast, I feel well enough to join the others for morning meditation. Our sun salutations make me even stronger. I’m ready to face Shrink.
The climb up to Shrink’s office isn’t easy for me. I have to stop several times to catch my breath. When I finally get there, she’s waiting for me. That’s a first.
“Jane, it’s good to see you,” she smiles. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Would you like to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I say, collapsing onto the chaise. “I want to know when I’m getting out of here.”
“That’s up to you, Jane.” Shrink does a figure eight across the room, then hovers over me.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that you have to want to get better.”
“I do.” Surprisingly, I really mean it.
“Good. Then you must trust me. You must start opening up about your past so that I can understand the roots of your addiction and help you recover.”
My past. The words run cold through my veins.
“For tomorrow, I’d like you to write down as much as possible of what you remember about your childhood. Where you were born. Your earliest memories. Your relationship with your father as well as--”
“My father?” I cut her off. “I don’t know who he is.”
“Good. Include that detail. It’s important. And, of course, don’t forget about your relationship with your mother.”
My mother! My stomach knots up into a painful ball. Why can’t I just pretend she’s dead?
“You wrote on your assessment that your relationship with your mother was no one’s business. Well, it’s mine. I need to know about it.”
I take a deep breath. I’m not sure if I can go through with this.
“We’re running out of time for today, Jane. Do you have any questions?”
“Why didn’t The Huntsman kill me?” My eyes tear up. “I deserved to die.”
“No, Jane, you didn’t deserve to die. You deserved to live. That’s why he spared your life.” She pauses. “Did you know that he’s the one who committed you to Faraway?”
The Huntsman committed me?
The all-too-familiar chime sounds.
“Time’s up for today, Jane. I’ll see you here tomorrow.” She shoots out of the room, covering me in a cloud of fairy dust.
I linger on the chaise, unable to stop thinking about The Huntsman. Shrink practically made it sound like I should fall to my knees and
thank him. Give me a break! The hatred I feel toward him cannot be put into words. There’s no one who’s more deliberately and underhandedly messed up my life. Not even Snow White. She couldn’t help being born beautiful.
***
After lunch at group, Grimm introduces two new members to me.
The first is a teenage boy in tan overalls named Pinocchio. I would actually call him beautiful if it wasn’t for his nose. It’s as long as a parsnip.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
The boy stares at me. His expressive brown eyes remind me of my puppy Bambi. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he says.
He’s got to be kidding. Seriously, with a nose like that, he’s at least got to have girl problems. Suddenly, something happens that makes me almost fall off my chair. His nose grows three inches!
Grimm frowns. “Pinocchio, tell her the truth.”
“Okay, I’m a pathological liar. My father won’t stand for it anymore. So he sent me here.”
To my astonishment, the boy’s nose shrinks considerably.
“Good, Pinocchio,” says Grimm. “You told Jane the truth.”
Whoof! This place has gotten even more whacked.
The other new member is a frail, silver-haired man in a formal frock coat and bow tie, who must be in his seventies.
“I’m the Wizard. The Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz!” he proclaims.
“Yo, Oz. Show Jane some of your magic tricks!” mocks Hook.
The elderly man’s face and body twitch. He flushes with embarrassment.
Sasperilla bursts out laughing. “Maybe we should call him ‘The Wizard of Spaz.’”
God! Can she get any meaner?
“And, Sasperilla, we should call you ‘The Wicked Bitch of the West!’” says Hook.
“W-wicked Bitch! W-wicked Bitch!” chants Rump.
Go, Rump! His words shut the scrawn up. My hero.
To my surprise, Grimm moves the focus of the group on to me.
“Jane, would you like to share anything with us today?”
Is he out of his mind too? What makes him think I now have a reason to share my life with these whackos? “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Fine. Does anyone have any questions for Jane?”
Hook raises his missing hand. “So, babe, do you want to ‘hook up’ later?”
That’s it. I’ve had it. It’s time to set him straight. “First, my name’s not ‘babe’; it’s Jane. And second, I’d rather make it with a one-legged stinky cheese man.”
Stunned, Hook rocks back on his chair and topples over. He mutters a curse. Ha! Serves him right.
“Group’s over for today,” announces Grimm.
Hallelujah! I can’t take a minute more of these pathetic losers. I’m going to work hard with Shrink to get out of Loserville once and for all.
***
After dinner, I return to my room and work on Shrink’s writing assignment. I have writer’s block. I can’t get started. Or maybe it’s more because I don’t want to. Okay, I admit it. I’m afraid of writing down my past.
It’s a good thing there was a roll of parchment waiting for me. Each time, I begin with “I was born,” I can’t write another word and tear up the sheet. There’s a mountain of shreds next to my bed.
I need a new approach to my life story. Wait! That’s it! I’ll try writing my life like a story. I start over again and the words flow.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Jane who lived alone with her poor but beautiful mother, Nelle. Little Jane was always curious about her father, but whenever she would ask her mother where he was, she would reply, “Who knows!”
On her fifth birthday, Jane’s mother handed her a rusty, old tin cup. Every day from that day on, she had to walk miles to the village square where she would dance until her feet bled. Passersby dropped coins into her tin. When it was all filled up, she would limp back home. Her mother would take all the money and spend it on new clothes and makeup. She never bought Jane anything, not even a tiny toy.
The little girl’s mother had a large mirror that she kept in her bedroom. It was her favorite possession. She loved to look at herself in the shiny glass. Every night, she would dress up and admire her reflection. Then she would go out, leaving Jane all alone.
One night, Jane snuck into her mother’s room. She put on one of her mother’s pretty dresses and looked at herself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fairest one of all?” she asked. To her delight, the mirror replied, “Your mother is fair, but her beauty is bland; You, My Queen, are the fairest in the land.”
Jane loved this game of make-believe. She secretly played it again and again. Then one evening, her mother came home early and surprised her. “How dare you dress up in my beautiful clothes and look into my mirror!” she screamed. She beat Jane so hard that the little girl could not dance for weeks.
When Jane grew up, she married a King and became a Queen. She never had to worry about her mother or money. Ever again.
THE END
I quickly reread my story. It’s perfect. I even got in the no-father detail. Shrink will be pleased. Exhausted, I crawl into bed, surprisingly looking forward to my session with Shrink in the morning. I’m one step closer to going home to my castle. And my magic mirror.
CHAPTER 16
After morning meditation, I’m stress-free and determined. All the better to see Shrink. I’m not going to let her get to me today, I promise myself as I head over to her office with my story in hand. Actually, I bet she’ll treat me with the respect I deserve now that I’m opening up about my past.
Clutching the story to my chest, I lie restlessly on the chaise, waiting for her arrival. Things are back to normal. She’s late.
Finally, she flies in like a storm, showering me in fairy dust. Without a word, she wrenches what I’ve written away from me. My eyes stay glued on her as she shoves her glasses onto her head and immerses herself in my words. She’s actually quite pretty without those ridiculous bug-eyed spectacles. Maybe, if she’s nice to me today, I’ll do her a favor and tell her to stop wearing them.
She rolls up the parchment and flips her glasses back over her face. “Jane, you’re quite a wordsmith. You should consider a career as a writer.”
Is that all she can say after I’ve spent hours pouring my heart out? I honestly thought she’d do a somersault and, at least, schedule my release.
“What’s interesting about your story is that it’s written in third person and is completely devoid of emotion.”
“It just came out that way,” I say defensively. “Every time I started with the word ‘I,’ I got writer’s block.”
“That tells me you don’t like being the little girl in the story. You want to be detached from her.”
I tremble. It’s true. “I hated my childhood!” I blurt out.
“Good, Jane. You’re showing some emotion. Now, tell me why you hated it.”
The tears that have been welling up in my eyes roll down my face. “My mother.”
“Why your mother?”
Memories flee my head like prisoners that have been holed up for life. Tears of grief mingle with tears of relief as I start spewing the horrific things she did to me. The beatings…the burns… the dunkings…the lies…the nights alone…
“She abused you, didn’t she?”
I wipe my tears and nod.
Shrink looks at me kindly. “Jane, it’s understandable why you’re crying. You are in pain. You’re revisiting painful memories that you’ve suppressed for many years.”
She lets me weep for a few minutes before continuing.
“Jane, let’s dig deeper. Can you remember the meanest thing your mother ever did?”
How can I ever forget? “I found a little puppy. She killed it!”
I sob as I relive the memory. I’m doing the chore I dread the most--washing a load of my mother’s soiled clothes--in the river near our flat. Oh, how I hate the rancid odor left behind by her conquests; it
nauseates me. Scrubbing the last of her many gowns, I glimpse a furry little body drifting by. Bambi! The river’s strong current is pulling him down stream. I have to save him! I jump into the river, and though I’ve never swum before, swimming comes naturally to me. All my mother’s dunkings have taught me how to hold my breath under water, and my arms are strong from years of hard labor. Battling the current, I catch up to my puppy and manage to pull him to shore. He stares at me with those big brown eyes, the same eyes that melted my heart when I first found him. Except now he’s a lifeless, little bundle of wet, matted fur. Tied tightly around his neck is a green scarf. My mother’s! My hands trembling, I unknot it and fling it back into the river as if it were a deadly snake. As it slithers out of sight, I cradle Bambi in my arms and watch my river of tears flow onto his cold, still body. I bury my sweet puppy, and for days, I remove the mud embedded deep beneath my fingernails to forget.
“Are you okay, Jane?”
Shrink’s voice brings me back to the moment. To my horror, I’ve bitten my fingernails down to the quick. They’re red-raw and sting from my tears.
“I don’t know why I’m crying so much,” I splutter. “I had my puppy for less than a day.”
“It’s okay to cry.” Shrink gently flicks away my tears. “People get very attached to their pets no matter how long they’ve had them. You loved Bambi, and he loved you back.”
My tears let up a little. I did love him.
Shrink presses on. “Jane, did you love your mother?”
My blood churns. I hated her for all she did to me. And for what she did to Bambi. “I wanted to love her,” I say at last.
“Did she love you?”
“No!” I bolt upright. “She only loved herself!”
Shrink flutters closer to me. “How do you know that?”
I close my eyes and see my mother all dressed up, leaning into her mirror. In a scarlet (her favorite color) dress, cinched tightly to accentuate her tiny waist and plump up her breasts; her thick, dark hair draping her shoulders like a cape; her thin, painted red lips pursed. “The only thing she ever kissed was her own reflection.”
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