Chapter 3 #4
I turn the big lamp off and switch the white fairy lights on that make the room look like a true fairy princess room.
I settle in at the edge of the bed as Savannah pushes herself down into all her blankets and stuffed animals, her big eyes blinking up at me.
Reading has always been hard for me, even with the tablet I have at home with a fancy font to combat my dyslexia.
So, I started making up stories for Savannah when she was a baby because I hated fumbling through a child’s story like an idiot.
It’s hard enough I struggle at work sometimes.
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in the woods, all alone.”
Savannah gasps. “Alone?”
I nod. “Alone. She had a little cottage decorated with flowers, and a little lake in the back where she bathed. The forest animals taught her what berries she could safely eat, and she walked the forest barefoot because it was her home. She was safe.”
Savannah yawns. “Safe,” she repeats.
“But one night there was an awful storm and she got very scared. Especially so when she saw the glow of fire outside her cottage window. She pressed her face against the window, watching, waiting, worrying, to see what it was. The glow got stronger, and the rain heavier, and fearlessly she opened the door wide to see what it was.”
“What was it?” Savannah asks quietly.
“A dragon.”
“A dragon!”
I smile as her eyes widen. “Yes, a dragon. But he was hurt. You see, he’d stepped on a rose bush and had an awful thorn in his foot.
He needed someone to help him take it out.
He huffed smoke and puffed, hobbling closer to the door.
He held out his paw, and she knew then, when she saw the thorn, what she had to do. She pulled it out.”
“Brave,” Savannah says.
“Yes,” I agree, because the little girl is her.
“She watched as the dragon hobbled off, then took flight into the storm. No longer worried about what was outside, she snuggled into her bed and fell asleep to the storm. When she woke up the next day, she went outside to find a box left in front of her home. When she opened it up, she found books about fairy tales. It must’ve been a gift from the dragon and the books must’ve been from his hoard.
She treasured those books her whole life, keeping them close.
And sometimes on stormy days, she’d look up to the sky and swear she saw a dragon flying overhead, checking to ensure she was still in the cottage and safe. ”
Savannah smiles sleepily and rolls over, tugging Gracie to her chest. I sit there for a moment, waiting, and sure enough, she makes those little puffs of breath that say she’s asleep.
Carefully, I slide off the bed and leave the room, closing the door gently behind me.
When I enter the living room, it’s to find Joey texting someone, eyebrows furrowed. Maybe he’s talking to a new girl.
“I’m gonna go,” I say quietly. “Savannah is asleep.”
Joey looks up, grins, and my face flushes before I can control it. “You feel okay? You look red.”
“Just a long day. Ready to sleep. I’ll see you at the farm.”
Joey stands and crosses the room, hugging me before I can even attempt to say no.
I let him hug me, wishing so many things that I shouldn’t wish.
I pull away before I do something stupid like say I’m in love with you, please love me back.
Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me out the front door.
I climb into the truck and avoid looking toward the cottage, just worried about pointing the truck home and getting there as fast as I can.
The road lights up under my headlights, the grass waving in the breeze outside the driver’s window.
I want to go somewhere, but also nowhere, all at once.
I want to be someone different, but I don’t know whom.
I park my truck at my farm feeling lonelier than ever and skip even going inside. The goats bleat at me from their pen.
“I know, you’re hungry,” I say in apology while entering their humble abode to scoop them out some feed.
Falcor butts his head against my leg, wanting pets.
While they eat their dinner, I dip to my knees and run my hands over their backs.
Maybe I should get a rabbit this spring to keep them company and give Savannah another buddy when she visits.
Once the goats are cared for, I head inside the empty house.
Every time I come home, I’m reminded just how lonely I am.
I’m starved after such a long day, but I’m not hungry.
Don’t want a drink either. I end up grabbing a Diet Coke and then settling in on the couch for a few episodes of The West Wing on streaming.
That’s how my evening goes, quiet and unassuming, something I would’ve ached for as a child in a home full of too much angry noise.
But now the silence just reminds me of how lonely I am and how there’s another house down the street full of love, that I’m welcome to sometimes, but never enough to make it a permanent home.