The Absurdity of Fairy Tales

fourteen

trigger warnings: discussions about death/suicide, mental breakdowns, eating disorders

..

So now I bear my soul to you,

Flaws gaping and exposed,

And I wonder if you'll still

Love me like you used to.

..

"I was thirteen," I say, clearing my throat roughly. My voice is shaky and stripped raw. Nick, pressed up beside me, says nothing, watching me with careful eyes. "I wasn't feeling well. I used to get like that sometimes, you know. I'd just feel sad and angry all the sudden. I never knew why, not really, but my parents understood. I never even had to say anything. They always just knew."

"Days like that, they'd drive to this little creamery along the 280. Roseanne Scoops. It was San Francisco's Milly's, this little place we could call ours. Sometimes, when I was feeling better, I went with them. We'd each get a double-scoop cone and sit in the back of my dad's truck, talking and singing and laughing until it felt like nothing could be wrong anymore."

"And it wasn't like—it wasn't like it hadn't happened before, like it was new or anything. I just didn't—I didn't—"

I stop, shudder. Nick reaches out to take my hand, resting it on my bent knee. "I stayed back that time. I was so angry. I don't know why, Nick, but I was. I was so angry that I snapped back at everything they said. They kissed me on the forehead and hugged me goodbye, and I just locked my arms together and frowned. I didn't even say it back when they told me they loved me. Fuck, Nick, I wish I had, I just—"

"I just took it for granted that they'd be back. That they'd still be alive and well and here. That they'd grow old like everyone else, because that's what parents do, don't they? I didn't even think anything could happen. They left and I just shrugged and put on a Disney movie. Beauty and the Beast, I think. Or maybe Sleeping Beauty. I don't know. It doesn't matter. None of it does anymore. But I just didn't know. I didn't know that I'd never—"

A gasp bubbles up my throat, wracks my entire body. I jerk away from Nick and draw my knees closer to my chest. "God, why didn't I say it back?" I whimper, burying my face in my hands and pressing back hard against the wall behind me. My fault my fault my fault. "It was only three words. Why didn't I say it back, Nick?"

He moves in front of me and pulls my hands away from my face, tugging me closer. His knees against mine, our joined hands resting on top. I can feel his thumbs drawing loops on the stretch between my pointer finger and thumb, but I can't look at him. I can't stand the look he'll have once he finds out how terrible I am. "Then the movie finished and they weren't back yet. I waited, put on another movie. It had been almost two hours by then. I was mad at first, you know? I thought they'd stopped at the grocery store or something and ran into someone they knew. I thought maybe they'd just lost track of time or something and forgotten about me. You know how my dad was; get him talking and he'd never stop."

I smile despite myself, but it falls away just as quickly as it appeared. "But then those two hours became three, then four, five, six. I'd gone through all the Disney movies we had by then. I wasn't angry anymore; I was just so scared. I'd never been that scared before, and until about a month ago, I hadn't been that scared since. I remember praying to God or whoever's up there that if He just brought my parents back safe, I'd be good. I'd eat my broccoli and do my chores and give up Christmas and do anything they told me to do if they could just please come home safe. But I guess it didn't work." I let out a bitter laugh and suddenly I'm sobbing, my hands tightening in Nick's. "God was just a fantasy after all."