Godmother (17 page)

She turned. A strange cold feeling ran through me as I watched her. I could taste the sadness on her. And yet she was made for him. He was her destiny.

Her face dropped open. She was luminous, even then. “You,” she whispered.

“I am here,” I said, “to send you to the ball.”

I SPOTTED
her on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Houston, unmistakable with her tall boots, her bright, sweeping hair, the shimmering dress and pale skin that looked even paler in the sunlight. Her sleeves were short and I could see colorful designs snaking down her arm. As if she were from another world. She was standing in front of a food cart, gesticulating to the man behind it.

“Veronica,” I called out as I approached.

When she turned, her face lit up, and she smiled widely. “Lil!” she said. “You caught me. I'm starving.”

The man was loading a pita full of falafel, onions, and white and red sauces.

“I can't believe you're going to eat that,” I said. “You look as if you live on air.”

She shrugged. “Well. Pregnancy does that to a gal.”

I looked at her in shock.

“I'm kidding!”

The man wrapped the concoction in foil and handed it to her. “Mmmm,” she said exaggeratedly, taking the food and paying him. “I love sloppy street food. One of my favorite things about this city. Where I come from, you'd have to make a real commitment to get food like this.”

“It does smell good,” I admitted.

We walked slowly toward the theater as she took a big bite and handed the overflowing pita to me. I took a small bite, trying to be delicate.

“I don't think there is any better way to bond,” she said. “We might as well be blood sisters now.”

We ate half the pita before she tossed it in a trash can, then bought our tickets and entered the theater lobby, with its coffee bar and black-and-white posters on the wall. I felt swept into it suddenly, and I remembered how much I had loved the movies once: the glamorous men and women glimmering from the dark screen, the thick velvet curtains that pulled back on either side. I hadn't been in a theater in years.

“I'm so glad you asked me to come today,” I said. “You have no idea what a treat this is for me.”

“Oh, me, too,” she said, handing her ticket to the young usher and giving him a flirty smile.

He blushed back at her.

We went into the theater and sat down side by side in the dark and hush of it. Veronica kicked up her boots onto the seat in front of her and slid down, clasping her hands in her lap.

“Look at how many people are here,” Veronica whispered. “In the middle of the day. I love that. Everyone bailing out on the real world to see some old flapper film. Awesome.”

I looked around the theater, then back at her. I felt as if I were seeing the world through Veronica's eyes, the power of her vision was so strong. It was the same world, but brighter and more colorful than it had been before. There was no trace now of the sadness she'd felt only two days before, but I knew she occupied each moment fully, perfectly, and that the next time she felt pain or disappointment, she'd weep just as openly.

It was this that I had envied once. Exactly this.

The film began, but it was hard to pay attention. Gorgeous images flickered over me, sumptuous, as if from a dream. I lost track of time, let them lull me into an almost-sleep.

“Lil.” I opened my eyes, and Veronica was leaning into my ear, whispering. “Are you into this, Lil?”

“Yes,” I said. I sat up to clear my head. “Yes. It's beautiful.”

“Oh, okay.” She sank back down in her seat.

After a moment I leaned in toward her. “Why?”

“I don't know, it's a little slow. I was just seeing what you thought.”

“Shh!” A woman in front of us turned and looked at us sharply.

I lowered my voice. “Well. It is pretty slow.”

She looked up at me sheepishly, her eyebrows raised. “Do you … maybe want to go?”

“Do
you
?”

She made a face, then nodded. “Unless you don't.”

“Oh, I do.” I stood, and she followed, and we made our way out of the theater, stumbling over people's feet and purses to get to the aisle. The moment we were in the hallway again, we both burst out laughing.

“I thought I was going to die of boredom,” she said, taking my arm and pulling me to the exit. “That was beautiful to look at, but my
gawd!
I like a bit more plot with my well-coiffed dames.”

“I know,” I said, gasping for breath. I felt a part of things. A part of things!

We erupted onto the sidewalk, almost colliding with a man walking a fluffy little huge-eyed dog. Veronica stopped in her tracks, and the dog bounded up to her.

“Aren't you precious!” she cried out, dropping to her knees and reaching out to the dog, who immediately turned and tried to jump up onto my body.

“Oh, it likes you!” she said.

“Yes,” I said. I bent down and looked at the dog, its melting black eyes. I thought of my sister and the horse, how it had looked at her. I wondered if she was nearby, if the animal sensed her.

I patted the dog's head, my hand disappearing into its fur. I could hear Veronica and the man talking, but as if from a distance, about Pomeranians and the dog's strange habits and a dog named Farrah that Veronica had kept as a child.

The animal kept blinking at me, staring up at me as I ran my hand through its fur.

“You see her, don't you?” I whispered.

The animal blinked and let out a small bark, and then Veronica was kneeling beside me, taking its face in her
hands. “Look at how pretty you are,” she said. I looked up at the man, his smooth young face.

“Have a great night, girls,” he said, nodding at us. “Come on, Janet.”

“Janet!” Veronica repeated as the man and dog walked away. “I love it! Lil, if that man weren't gay, I'd totally date him just to be near Janet. I think I'm in love with her.” She sighed dramatically and clutched her heart as we headed along Houston and then up Sixth Avenue. I watched men's heads turn as she passed, following her tall, slinky body.

We wandered up Sixth for a while, then turned west onto the zigzagging streets of the West Village. Talking casually about whatever entered our minds. It was a day of playing hooky from everything, and I was surprised at how well my body behaved, how good I felt.

“I love this part of town,” Veronica said. “I always wonder who lives in these gorgeous places. Probably investment bankers and fashion models, but I imagine all kinds of romantic doings behind these doors.”

“Yes,” I said. “I love them, too.”

She stopped suddenly and turned to me. “You're really cool, Lil. You know that?”

It was disarming, the way she could come out with things like that. “Thanks,” I said.

“There's just something … different about you. Like I said before. Like you know things. Do other people see that?”

“Actually, most people your age don't see someone like me at all.”

“That's terrible! Don't say that.”

“No, it's true. It's easy for people to miss things.”

“Well, there's something about you,” she said. “It feels like you're just … wise. I don't know, I know it sounds flaky, but I totally believe in all of that stuff—like past lives, like if someone hits you in a certain way, then you have to figure out why. I feel like I was meant to meet you.”

To go to a ball?

“A ball?” She laughed. “Maybe.”

It was growing dark, and the full moon had come out, rimmed by clouds. I pointed up at it. “There's always a beautiful moon here, isn't there? No stars, but the moon over the city is always so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I miss it, though, the sky full of stars. You can forget about it, living here.”

Leisurely, we walked back to Sixth. The world seemed glowing, magical: the streetlamps just clicking on, the lights draped across windows and awnings, the people strolling past as if, for once, there was no specific place to go. I breathed in and smiled up at the sparse treetops, the night sky.

“Lillian?”

I heard my name once, then a second time, a bit louder. I turned, surprised.

A woman walked up, shaking her head. “I can't believe it, after all these years.” She looked like she was in her late fifties, with dark gray hair falling in short waves around her face. Well kempt.

Veronica looked back and forth from me to the woman, her face open and expectant. Suddenly my back ached, my wings pressed against the bandages.

“I'm sorry,” I said, “I don't …”

“You don't remember me? Come on. I may be an old lady now, but I don't look so different, do I? You don't!”

“I'm sorry,” I said. I wasn't sure what to think or say. Did I know her? Had she been sent to me? She couldn't be a fairy, not this woman.

We were stopped right in the middle of the street, crossing Tenth. A bag banged my arm as a young woman rushed by. I moved closer to the curb, and Veronica and the woman followed.

“It's Audrey,” she said. “Remember me? I was friends with you and your sister.”

“Oh, you knew Maybeth!” Veronica said, clapping her hands together.

“Maybeth?” the woman repeated.

“I don't …” And I realized then what was happening. My powers were returning. My sister was close by. Of course it would affect the occasional human, even cause some to know my name.

“I don't have a sister,” I said gently. “Not anymore. I think you're confusing me with someone else.”

“Your name is Lillian, though, right? You know, I did know your sister.” Her face clouded over, looked serious.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “We're in a hurry. You're making some mistake, I think.”

The woman just stood there, watching me.

“Again, I'm sorry,” I said. “But we do have to go.”

I started walking then, letting Veronica follow.

“You didn't know that woman?” she asked tentatively, after a few minutes had passed.

“No.”

“But she knew your name …”

“I think she knows me from the bookstore. She's probably just confusing me with someone else.”

“Oh, that could be,” she said. “We're just a few blocks away, aren't we?”

“A few blocks from your future?” I asked, winking at her. I forced myself to smile, and she rolled her eyes at me, laughing. “Why, yes, we are.”

Chapter Nine

I
RECOGNIZE YOU,” SHE SAID, HER EYES FILLING WITH
tears. “Yes,” I said, as gently as I could. “I'm your fairy godmother. I came to you before, many years ago, but you may not remember.”

“Why have you come now?”

There was something of the scared animal about her. I looked down the length of her body. The pale bruises on her arms. Her skin dusted with ash. The rags she wore, stained with dirt.

“Child,” I said, reaching out to her. “I'm here to send you to the ball.”

“The ball?”

“Yes, the ball that the king and queen are throwing tonight, in the palace.”

She just stared at me, her eyes blue and glowing. “My stepsisters are there,” she said. “I helped them prepare. They spent weeks preparing. It's not a place for someone like me.”

It was hard for me to speak. It felt as if something in my
chest was on fire. For a moment we stood and watched each other.

“That is why I'm here,” I said finally, reaching out and touching her arm. “We'll get you all ready, and you will be the most beautiful girl there.”

She shook her head, unbelieving. “But my chores …” she said, flailing her arms. “I have so many things left to do still. You don't know what happens to me if I don't finish my chores. I should be doing them now.”

“Child,” I said. “You don't need to worry. I can take care of everything.” I took her hands in mine and was surprised to feel how cracked and callused they were. She didn't try to hide them.

“I'm sorry, Godmother, I do not mean to be impolite.”

“It's fine, child. But we need to hurry. The ball is starting even now.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I'm all alone here.” Something in her softened then. She fell into my arms, clinging to me. For a moment I just stood there, in shock. The only human I'd been this close to before was the prince. Strands of her hair floated up into my face, tickling me, smelling like powder.

“You're not alone now, my dear,” I said. “You won't be alone again.”

I smiled, but I was disoriented by the feelings moving from her to me. An emptiness, like a black hole. Right from her and into my chest. It was strange, but not unpleasant. I wanted that, the space in her that he would fill.

I extracted myself from her and took her face in my palm. “Are you ready? The clock is ticking, you know, and look at you.”

“Yes,” she said. “I am a mess, Godmother. Thank you for helping me.”

She looked at me with such love then. I could do anything to her. I looked away, uncomfortable.

“Now, you'll need a dress.”

She laughed like a small child, lifting her hand to her face. “Am I really going to the ball? A ball at the palace?”

“Yes.”

“What will my stepsisters and stepmother say? They've been talking of the ball for months. Oh, Godmother, you have no idea. They've ordered hundreds of dresses that I have ironed and washed in the river and let air in the gardens. They've refused to eat for weeks. They all believe that the prince will love them.”