28. Pippi #2
The next words thickened, turning to syrup in my throat.
I had to really fight to choke them out.
“Then the girl’s mom got sick. And there was nothing the doctors could do, nothing the girl could do.
So she kept going to school, kept showing her mom the near perfect grades.
And her mom was content when she died. Proud.
The girl told herself she was at peace too, even though she wished she had spent those last months living a life with her mom, instead of grinding away at a college degree. ”
The sob hurt as it punched through my chest. And I mean punched .
It came out with enough force to rattle my bones.
Even Alistair flinched, caught off guard by my keen.
He chuffed, billowing out a gentle fountain of steam from his nostrils, comforting me, but he said nothing as I collected myself and finished the story.
“After college it was off to corporate America, where the girl kept busting her bum, bending over backward to make her bosses happy, to keep her clients content, and to make sure her friends and coworkers never wanted for help or companionship. And when…”—a foul, lemony taste swished over my tongue—“when she met the man who flipped her world upside down, she bent over backward for him too. Making sure she was cheery when he had a bad day, watching the movies and shows he wanted to watch, going where he wanted to go, acting the way he wanted her to act, dressing the way he wanted her to dress…” I pressed a hand to my mouth to still the trembling.
“Because she loved him. With her w-whole heart. But that love was draining her, and she didn’t even realize it. Until…”
My heart was about ready to break out of my chest. I laid my hand over it, trying to cajole it into slowing.
“The girl was taken to a faraway land. A magic land. And it was like she woke up. For the first time, she looked at her life and realized she hadn’t been living.
She’d been sinking into a quagmire, struggling with the weight of keeping everyone happy.
And that quagmire is going to consume her sooner, rather than later.
But it’s home. Everything she has, everything she loves, or thought she loved, is in there.
And if she starts f-fighting to be free of it, she’ll lose everything.
And that terrifies her. But she knows if she stays, the swamp is going to consume her, and that scares her too.
But at least she’d be home, you know? She’d be home…
and there’s comfort in being at home, even if it’s suffocating her.
And…Gosh, saying all this…Phew! What a sad little story my life makes, huh?
The girl who lived for others but forgot to live for herself. Pathetic. ”
I sniffled. Had a hiccupping sensation that I thought was bringing more tears. But surprised myself when I belched a laugh. A bitter, humorless, lifeless chuckle. The kind people forced out in awkward situations when they didn’t know what else to do or say.
“I’m sorry, Pippi,” Alistair said, in that gruff, sincere way of his. Like he was pouring his whole heart into the apology.
“It’s not even worth being sorry over. It’s just sad. A pitiful story with a pitiful ending.” I absently reached down, rubbing my hand over the spiky scales on his head.
He gurgled contentedly. “Your story hasn’t ended.”
“No. It hasn’t. There’s still another chapter to cover the tense and awkward trip back home, which the irate boyfriend is probably gonna boot her out of?—”
“That won’t be the end,” Alistair said. “Only a-a p-p-plot twist. The girl thinks her story ends sad. But she hurts. For a little. And then finds her joy.”
I traced my fingers over the point in one of the scales, suddenly so flooded with affection, I felt buoyant—ready to slide off his head and float above the water.
It was his affection for me.
But also my fondness for him. This lovely, sad, sweet creature.
What a pair we made.
Two lost and lonely souls.
Except my lost and lonely feelings were all self-inflicted. I’d chosen the path that led me into my quagmire, and the only binds holding me there were the ones I created.
Alistair was imprisoned by outside forces. And it was heartbreaking.
He had so much heart and personality. He deserved so much better than to be isolated to this dinky little island full of vapid tourists. People who only ever saw him as a thing. Not the wonderful, charismatic being he was.
And I suddenly hated that I was sitting on his head. Able to feel him, but not able to see him. Not able to make eye contact.
When I talked to people, I made eye contact.
Alistair should be treated the same way.
I rose to my feet.
“Pippi?” Alistair prodded.
“How cold is the water?”
A questioning ripple squiggled through him.
“I don’t like that I’m always talking over you.” I wiped at my nose. “I want to talk to you. On level…well, I can’t say level ground. But y’know what I mean…do you?”
“I…think.” Alistair’s dry tone implied he didn’t understand one bit but was trying to humor me. “Are you sure you wish to be in the water?”
“It seems c-calm,” this lie said, as I watched three janky waves break themselves over Alistair’s hide.
“It is. Calm,” Alistair said.
“Good. Yeah, I want to be in the water then. With you. Unless…” I peered over at the small, white-capped mounds of waves. “There’s nothing down there, right?”
“I’ve heard there’s a sea beast.”
His drizzling sarcasm teased a laugh out of me. “You don’t say?”
“He’s fuh-frrr-friendly.”
“Well, I hope so.”
“But he likes women. With red hair.”
“Oh, gee. Guess I’m toast, huh?”
We both burst out laughing.
“I should’ve clarified,” I said. “There’s nothing else down there, right? Besides your snarky tush? Niverwick isn’t, I dunno, hiding its next star attraction under the sea. Right?”
“I’m alone. You’re safe, Pippi, in these waters with me. Always.”
And I felt that safety in the very core of my being.
For the first time in my life, I stared down at the ocean without getting sticky with fear and dread.
“You’re safe,” Alistair reminded me as he lowered his head, shortening the drop.
“I know.” I pinched my nose shut between my forefinger and thumb and plunged into the sea.