Godmother: a novel

by Carolyn Turgeon

  He led me to the balcony, moving through the crowd of his subjects, who all stepped back and bowed or curtsied as he went past.

  It was exquisite, ecstatic.

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  Outside, the rain was light. I felt wild, in love with the feelings moving through me, with his eyes that saw me, that pinned me to the spot. I pulled him to me. He slipped my gown from my shoulders. I could taste him now, like figs plucked straight from the tree.

  As the clock began to chime, I pressed into him, as hard as I could, nearly suffocating him.

  He didn't seem to notice, or to hear the flapping wings. He could not feel the air turn cold with it. I looked up and saw their faces, their bodies in flight, bearing down on me.

  The clock chimed three times, four.

  THE DOORMAN nodded and let me inside.

  As I passed through the lobby of the Pierre and headed toward the ballroom, I saw men and women in the most wondrous clothes. Handsome men in bow ties and tuxes, ladies in slinky elegant dresses. They were standing about the hotel lobby, taking off jackets and scarves, blocking my way.

  I pushed through. Into the next room, up the stairs.

  I made my way down the hall, my heart pounding. Glancing to my right, I caught sight of a dowdy old lady rushing forward, and I almost laughed out loud. That might have been me once, I thought, but not now. I was here to help her, to make sure that the human girl met the prince and lived happily ever after. I was not of this world. My hair fell down to my shoulders like fire. I could hear the sounds of the orchestra, the tapping of feet along the marble floor. The swish of my dress as I ran down the hallway to the main ballroom.

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  This is who I am. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do.

  I reached the door. Inside, a roar of laughter and talking.

  "Excuse me, ma'am?"

  "Yes," I said, turning, noting the suited man's surprised look.

  "Can I help you, ma'am?"

  He was shocked by my beauty, I thought, lowering my eyes and looking back up at him.

  "Thank you, sir," I said. "I am fine." I turned away, searched for her in the throng of people. I could not help it if my beauty made him mad.

  And then I spotted her. She was impossible to miss, with her long body and starlight hair and the shimmering blue of her gown, against all the shorter, less beautiful women in tight black. I could hear her laughing, her head bent back, as it always was. George standing next to her with a glass of wine in his hand, making her laugh.

  She was alive. She was safe. She was happy. The glow on her face! I had never seen her so happy as that, with the lights from the chandeliers glittering down on her skin, her face turned to him, and her mouth spread into a smile. She wasn't the least bit self-conscious, I realized. Together they were the most beautiful couple there. And so young. I had forgotten how young she was. She had always longed to be anywhere but where she was, and now she was here, and it was all different, everything was changed, and he would love her until she turned to ash.

  What was he saying?

  I leaned in, tried to hear, but whatever it was she was laughing at, she stopped. A moment later he put down the

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  glass and led her to the floor. I watched her wrap her long arms around his neck, him slip his palms across her back.

  I could feel his palms across mine.

  I HEARD their wings against my ear, like insects on a summer night. A whirring all around me.

  "I have to go," I said, pulling away from him.

  "I don't understand," he said, his voice soft, so soft it felt as if it were coming from inside me. "Let me help you."

  "No," I said, my voice breaking. "It's midnight."

  I could feel it all coming apart, feel him slipping away from me, everything cracking open, how fragile he was, how fragile she was, how everything was so fleeting, only seconds, wanting so much to be near him and knowing I could never be closer to him than this, that this is what it meant to be human, not being able to stop time, always grasping, but for that one moment, despite the pain moving through me, my broken heart, it was all so beautiful, and I was in love with all of it. All of it.

  The clock chimed ten times, eleven times, twelve.

  "I have to--" I looked into his stricken face, but I could already feel it receding from me. Their faces coming into relief. The elders. Behind me. All around me. I had to go now. There was nothing I could say to him. I pushed back into the ballroom, pulling up, fixing my dress, past the gilded old ladies, the portly men with sashes around their waists.

  "At least tell me how to find you," he called after me, and I could hear the grief in his voice, feel it in my heart at the same moment as I turned and ran through the great hall

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  down the grand silver stairs to where the carriages waited, my hair unraveling, my shoe falling from my foot. I ran forward, almost able to see the outline of my carriage waiting out front.

  Why had they come?

  And then a more horrifying thought: Did they know I had left her?

  What would they do to me?

  "Go!" I cried to the coachman as I threw myself inside. "Go!!"

  And he cracked the whip, and the horses, just glimmers now, raced into the night, back to her. Behind me I could hear the beating of wings.

  The night air was colder now than it had been before, and I shivered in the thin dress. The ride seemed to stretch out, take twice as long as it had before.

  Finally we approached the clearing. Everything was suddenly quiet. As if the whole world had gone to sleep.

  The moon lit the field. I leaned forward, and there she was. Like magic. Lying where I'd left her, still in the gown, the shoes in pieces beside her. Her moon hair falling to the grass around her.

  The carriage pulled to a stop, the horses reared up in front of us. I kicked off the remaining glass slipper and stepped into the grass, which was wet against my bare feet as I tiptoed over to her. I did not want to wake her. She looked so peaceful there, so beautiful with the moon pouring down over her.

  "I've come back," I whispered. "Just like I promised."

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  Chapter Sixteen

  IWOKE TO THE SOUND OF POUNDING, SOMEONE banging on my door. The sound seeped in, insistent, interrupting I just pressed my head into my pillow, tried to claw my way back into my dream.

  The wings, the water.

  "Lil!"I heard.

  I sat up, disoriented. A thirst dug deep into my throat and chest. I tried to remember the night before, but it was all a blur. The air blew in cool through the open window, the unmistakable scents of autumn and exhaust mixing together. Water, I thought.

  "Lil, wake up! It's me, V!"

  I tried to blink away my dizziness as I swung my legs and lifted myself from the mattress, my old bones creaking with each shift and start. I bent my wings in and wrapped a cardigan around me, holding it closed.

  "Just a minute!" I called out.

  I remembered the ball, his arm around my waist.

  I stumbled from my bed to the living room, grabbing

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  onto the doorframe to balance myself. I opened the door, and she stood in front of me, her now-platinum hair sweeping down to her shoulders. I searched her face for news.

  "Hey," she said.

  "Good morning," I said. "Come in."

  "Oh, wow," she said, whistling under her breath, walking past me and into the room. "What happened in here?"

  I looked around, saw the place with her eyes. The drifts of mail, the mound of newspapers by the door. The bags of garbage, overflowing in the kitchen. Books everywhere, opened and on their sides.

  I felt a tinge of embarrassment but pushed it away. None of that mattered now.

  "Here," I said, "let me clear a spot for you on the couch." I rushed over, moved a pile of books to the floor. Cottingley Fairies was spread open next to the stack, and I shut it quickly. "Do you want some tea?"

  "No, no," she said. She moved to
the couch, looking slowly over the place, taking it in. A look of slight horror on her face that she was trying to conceal. She looked at me. "Thank you again, Lil, for being so amazing yesterday. I really ... It meant a lot to me." She was holding something. A package she was shifting back and forth, from hand to hand.

  "You're welcome," I said.

  She sat down on the couch and I sat across from her, on the chair. She seemed distracted, strange. She placed the package down on a pile of papers and then pulled it back quickly, onto her lap. She seemed unsure of how to do anything.

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  "So how was it?" I asked, unable to wait any longer. "What happened?"

  "Oh," she said, looking up at me. "It was gorgeous. Beautiful food and music, and that place! You were right. I loved it. I felt like I was in a Garbo movie or something. And George is such a nice guy, Lil. A really cool guy. I like him a lot."

  "A cool guy?"

  She smiled, seeming to relax a bit. She looked down shyly and then back up at me. "I think he's amazing." She was glowing, I realized, and it was all I could do to keep myself from jumping up and shouting with joy.

  "You do? Oh, that's wonderful. I knew it. I knew it."

  "He was such a gentleman. Awkward and sweet. We talked about all kinds of things, too. Literature and film and art, where we've been, our families and where we come from. His background is so cool. Did you know that his grandfather invented the seamless stocking?"

  "No," I said, smiling. "I didn't." She looked so much like her, like Cinderella. Her moonlit hair, her luminous skin.

  "He just made me feel so ... alive. Like I have things to say. He was interested in my work, Lil. He's even coming by the salon tomorrow to see some of my hair pieces and wigs. I talked to him about some of my sewing stuff and he was actually interested. Guys are never interested. Oh, and he loved the dress!"

  "He did?" I clapped my hands, delighted.

  "Oh yeah. He kept telling me how impressed he was, how beautiful it was. I told him it was your idea."

  I waved my hand. "Don't be silly."

  "And he really loves you, Lil. It was so sweet. He told me he thinks you're the best person he knows."

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  "He did?"

  "Yes. He said he wishes he could tell you how much you mean to him. How you're always looking over him, looking out for him. He would die if he knew I was telling you this."

  "That's ... I don't know what to say." Just then I thought I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye. A sparkle. It was almost time.

  "I thought you'd want to know that he feels that way."

  "Thank you," I said, tearing up. "Yes. So ... you'll be seeing him again?"

  "Yeah, tomorrow. He's coming to the store and then I think he's taking me to dinner. He couldn't believe I'd never been to Peter Luger, so we might go there if he can get us in. I don't really care where we go. I'm just excited to see him again."

  "So you think he might ... do you think you might fall in love with him?"

  She laughed. "I feel like such a dork, Lil. But. I mean you never know. But ... yeah." She smiled. Another perfect moment. Soon, I thought.

  Tears fell down my face. I could not stop them.

  Her face shifted. "Lil," she said. "I really need to talk to you about something else." She ran her fingers along the coffee table, flicked off a thick layer of dust. "I ran into Leo downstairs."

  "Leo?" For a moment I wasn't sure who she was talking about.

  "Your landlord? Leo?"

  "Oh. What about him?"

  "I just ran into him downstairs, so we said hi. He told me he's been trying to talk to you forever. He said you never

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  called him. You didn't tell me this place is getting sold. Why didn't you tell me? You do have a place to go, right?"

  "Oh, Veronica," I said, wiping my cheeks. "It's okay. It doesn't matter now."

  "What do you mean it doesn't matter? You have to leave. He's been trying to tell you, he said. I'm worried about you, Lil. It's like you're not paying attention. You seem so ... I don't know. I mean, this place ..." She gestured to the room, to the piles of papers and books and unopened mail.

  "Veronica. It's okay now. I've set things right." My heart went to her. She cared so much, but she had no idea what was actually happening. Of course she was worried. If I was ever going to tell her, it had to be now. This moment. Put her mind at ease. Explain to her why she didn't have to worry, and why I was going away. I took a breath, and then I spoke. "I want you to know something. I have so little time now. I want you to know what I am, why I was sent to you."

  Veronica stared at me with her huge eyes, bright blue in the morning light. She seemed different without her makeup, her face bare and young looking. "What?" she asked. "Tell me."

  "I've never ... I've never told anyone this, any of this." I pushed out the words as if they were rocks pressing against my tongue, my cheeks. "Something happened, a long time ago. An accident."

  I had to hurry. My wings felt like they were cutting into me, slicing through my skin and bone, straight to my heart. It was all coming to an end, and everything was in me at once: loss, joy, regret, relief, guilt, everything I could have

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  done, should have done. What I had had once, and lost. All the years of being alone. The knowledge that in this world things died and didn't come back.

  Veronica pushed herself off the couch, came and sat at my side, still clutching the package. "I know what this is about," she said carefully.

  "You do?" I was hopeful suddenly, that she had known all along.

  "It's your sister, isn't it? I remind you of her. I understand."

  I stared at her, uncomprehending.

  She set the package down next to her and put her hand on my arm, then reached up and kissed my cheek. A shudder went through me. My wings tensed.

  "Leo gave me all this stuff to give to you," she whispered, nodding to the package. I looked at it for the first time, confused. A regular yellow mailing envelope. "He said he found it going through his grandfather's things. I hope it's okay that I looked at it."

  "What are you talking about?"

  She reached in to hug me, her arm snaking around my shoulder. I flinched and pulled away. Veronica held on to me.

  "Lil, let me be your friend. You can talk to me about what happened, you know. I knew that something had happened to you and now I want you to know that you can talk to me about it, about anything."

  I could feel her hand pressing against my wings. Surely she had felt them by now--the soft piles of feathers, the thin bones. I waited, ignoring the pain that shot through me, slicing right into me. It was all almost over.

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  "You have to talk about things," she said. "You know? Everyone has to talk about things."

  I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Her hand pressing against bone. Her breath against my skin. I flinched away from her. Why wouldn't she just listen to me? We had so little time!

  "Listen, Veronica," I said quickly, the words tumbling out. "I have to tell you this. What I am. Why none of this matters anymore. I am ... I paused. To my horror, I sounded reedy, weak. My voice seemed like it came from another body. I wondered, for a split second, if I was breaking something. If by speaking it I would change things somehow. But she had to know this! We were out of time and she had to know who I was and who I'd been, why everything she was saying was a mistake. Why it would all be okay now. I started again. "I am," I said, "the fairy godmother. I was a fairy, in the other world." The words seemed to fall from my mouth all wrong, breaking on the wood floor like bits of china. "I came here to set things right, because of what I did." It poured out of me, just like that.

  She just stared at me with those wide blue eyes. A look of shock on her face I tried to ignore. In the sunlight, with her blond hair hanging down, her makeup-less face, she and Cinderella could have been twins.

  I had to make her understand. "I was supposed to get Cinderella to the ball. I was her fairy g
odmother, the one who sent her to the ball. That's what I was supposed to do, but I failed."

  "No, Lil," she said interrupting me. Talking slowly, gently. "I know what happened. Your sister. That's what this is about."

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  "No! Listen to me!" She was supposed to be my friend. Why was she looking at me like that? I wanted to scream with frustration. "She never made it to the ball. See? I was supposed to get her there, that's all I was supposed to do, and I failed. I was banished. I fell to earth. They banished me, don't you see? From my own world!"

  "It wasn't your fault, Lil," she said. She picked up the package then, and opened it, let the contents fall out onto the coffee table. Old photos, yellowed newspaper articles, bits of paper.

  "It was my fault. I was supposed to protect her. That's why I came here, why I can't fly anymore. Why I had to set things right." It all seemed to tumble out of me. The words, my tears, nothing sounding right. I had no control, over anything. I was dizzy. The light in the room seeming to sparkle, moving in and out. They were coming. I was almost there. "Listen to me!"

  "You couldn't have saved her, Lil. You were just a girl yourself. You were at a beautiful dance, you were young. You could not have known what would happen to her that night."

  "No!" I said. My wings were like snakes on my back, struggling to free themselves. "Are you hearing me? I was a fairy. And protecting her, looking over her, that was my purpose, what I was supposed to do. And I didn't do it because I was in love with the prince myself, because I was selfish and left her alone. That's why they banished me. I was a fairy, like the fairies in your book. I was Cinderella's fairy godmother, long ago."

  I could hear wings, the beating of wings.

  She took my hand. More gentle than I'd ever seen her.