by Devon Ashley
“Try not to think about it,” he says softly. I hear him brush the dirt off his pants. “Trust me. I’m not going to take the time to study it before I dump it.”
I raise my right hand and give him a thumbs up, but refuse to look at him as he departs. On the comforting side, he kindly refrains from laughing at my expense. Can’t say the male pixies in my Hollow could have done that.
Jack descends within a warm, luminous light. I like seeing him this way. Something about the flame’s glow against his skin is alluring, easy on the eyes. He flutters his wings as he lands and sets the lantern down. How I wish I can have that lantern during the night. No one ever comes by, at least not to my awareness. I just hate being alone down here, and that light could offer a little comfort during those cold, dark hours.
“Good morning, Rosalie.” He points to the bucket off to the side. “Are you done with that?”
I nod my head, averting my eyes from his gaze, the shame overwhelming. It wasn’t easy going in that bucket, or comfortable by any means, but I suppose it’ll be even more humiliating if Jack saw it on the floor.
“Good,” he says, moving to pick it up by the handle. “Because we need it for something else today.”
He’s already flying up before I get off, “For what?”
“You’ll see,” he teases, disappearing from sight. I can’t say I’d be excited over anything having to do with the very bucket I’m forced to defecate in. He returns a few minutes later, bucket in one hand, and a bag made of tightly woven straw that’s tied with rope in the other. The bucket, I notice, is filled with nothing but water. I look to him curiously, and he replies, “Don’t worry. I washed it out several times. It’s clean.”
“O-kay…” I draw out. “But what are we going to use it for?”
He unties the rope and opens the bag, pulling out two miniature lemons already halved, and a tin container. He unscrews the lid and passes it over. The substance inside is amber in color, and thick and gooey.
I gasp, and feel my eye muscles stretch wide. Honey! “I get to wash my hair?” I ask excitedly, practically bobbing up and down right where I sit.
He chuckles at my excitement.
“Thank you, Mother Nature!” I scream.
“Mother Nature? Thank me. I’m the one sneaking this stuff in here, not her.”
“And I appreciate that beyond words, but Mother Nature’s the one that made the lemons and honey to begin with.”
“Too right. But I hope some of the credit goes to me.”
“Oh, it does.” I’m still bouncing up and down with excitement, my smile spreading wide. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something besides water to clean my hair with.”
“Uh, yeah I do. Don’t forget, I get to see that mop on your head daily. I ain’t going to lie, Rosalie. It’s disgusting.”
Air bursts through my closed lips so fast they pop outward and vibrate. “You try going weeks without washing your hair.”
“No,” he says, huffing, a hint of laughter underlining his word. “So how do you feel about lying across my legs for a bit?”
My body snaps. Eye muscles pinching, I look at him questioningly. “You want me to what?”
My look must be really entertaining, because Jack breaks out in laughter. “It’s just…your hair is really disgusting. We’re going to have to soak it for awhile. And the only way you’re going to be able to do that without killing your neck is to get a little higher off the ground. So…I’m suggesting that you lie across my legs to do that.”
My lips press tight. Lie on his legs? On my back? That would be…awkward, to say the least. “Tell you what. Let me try it on my own first.” There’s just something too vulnerable about doing it the way he suggests.
“O-kay.” He says it like he knows my way will fail.
He cups the halves in his hands one at a time and squeezes the juice into the bucket, as I allow the honey to drip. I then dip the tin container into the water and use my fingers to loosen what honey is still clinging. Since my hand is already submerged, I swirl the water, mixing the juice and honey. The lemon burns my recent scratches.
“Have fun breaking your neck,” he teases.
I glare playfully as I sit on my knees before the bucket. “I think you’re just using this as an excuse to get me in your lap.” I don’t wait to see if my words shock him. I bend over and dip my hair into the water, rotating my head until most of my roots are submerged. Ahhhhh… The relief is immediate, the lemon stinging the bare skin on my forehead. If I’m lucky enough, the lemon juice will break off the oil on my hair, and eventually my scalp will tingle too.
I won’t lie. Bending over like this with my knees digging into the rocks isn’t exactly comfortable. Needing a distraction, I ask the suddenly quiet Jack, “So…is your mother a healer or something?”
“Yeah. And my father’s in the court system. They’re both prominent in the community, so they’ve got some mighty high expectations of me. They want me to follow in my father’s footsteps, but to be honest, his life doesn’t appeal to me much.”
“Well, what does appeal to you?” I ask, swaying my head and hair sideways, elongating my neck each time to loosen the muscles that are trying hard to tense up.
“I don’t know. Something that’ll let me venture into the forest each day. Get away from the city and the politics.”
“Do you mean village?”
“Yeah. We consider our society a city. You pixies broke off into segregated villages. We faeries mostly live together in one place, and we call it a city.”
“Sounds really big compared to my quaint little Hollow.”
“Rosalie, you’re little Hollow is looking more and more like the way to go with each passing day.
“So what about you? What do you want to do?”
“Same. Anything in the forest is good with me. But we don’t really get to pick our skills in my Hollow. Everyone does something different each month. For those that become really spectacular at something, like making medicinal ointments like your mother, the elders will decide if that’s all you’ll do from then on out. Otherwise, you just stay in the rotation like the rest of us, working on everything.”
“Well that’s cool. Sort of. I guess the only bad thing would be if the elders decide you should do something you’re not in love with, no matter how good you may be at it.”
“Well, you can ask. The elders do respect our wishes. Some pixies flat out ask if they can do a certain type of work. Sometimes the elders say yes, sometimes no. But if it’s something you really want, you should go for it.”
“I like your Hollow. You guys get to experience everything to figure out what you like. Here, you’re just expected to choose a field and be good at it. It sucks.”
My shoulders and neck are beginning to burn, even with me constantly trying to stretch the muscles out. But I will say that the lemon water infused with honey is therapeutic, and soothes my aches a bit with each inhalation. Aroma therapy at its best.
“Ahhh….”
Chuckling, Jack asks, “Your neck hurting yet?”
“Yes. But it’s just nice to smell something for once, you know? It takes something sharp like lemons to pierce my senses. Most of what I eat is completely tasteless. Although I think it’s been getting a little better lately. Maybe it’s a malnourishment thing. Maybe once my body gets back in order, I’ll be able to smell and taste the subtle flavors again.”
“I wish you were a faerie, Rosalie,” Jack says out of nowhere.
He says it with kindness, but my neck locks with apprehension anyway. “Is there something wrong with my being a pixie?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just…you would have been fun to hang out with…outside this place. Especially since you seem to like hanging out in nature, outside of your society. None of the females here know how to build a tree house, and most would probably find hanging out in one pretty revolting, too used to the glitz and glamour of the city.”
He had gott
en a kick out of it when I told him about my tree house. “Can’t say it’s structurally sound ‘cause it sways a little when it’s really windy, but yeah, I built it myself. I’m sure you’d laugh if you saw it in all its rickety glory.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Jack’s fingers suddenly begin massaging my neck. I didn’t even hear him approach. At first, I’m completely wound tight by his touch, but once the kneading relieves the ache in my muscles, the tension resides. There’s something satisfying about his touch, and I’m not sure what that means. I like the way his fingers move rhythmically across my skin, tickling me from the inside-out, even way down in my tummy. And I like that it’s his fingers doing this to me.
But that’s crazy! He’s a faerie. I’m a pixie. Our species don’t intermingle anymore. Even if I can get the hell out of here, we can never even be friends. So I sort of wish we could be the same species too. Because he’s right. If we had been born the same, I think we could have been really good friends, just hanging out in the forest having fun.
I’m left to ponder that sad realization quietly, but enjoy every second Jack’s willing to massage and ease my discomfort. I laugh internally, and I’m glad the smile spreading across my face is hidden. Maybe laying across his lap wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all…
Eventually his hands move to my hair, rubbing my oily roots in a circular motion. He detangles my long strands by stroking his fingers through it repeatedly. After what I’m sure is at least half an hour, he says, “I think that’ll do it. At least as clean as it’s going to get with this wash.”
My body twists so I’m sitting on my bum, and my head rotates so my hair trails along my back, water flowing down my body in several streams. I moan, the stiff pain in my back, shoulders and neck really hitting me now that I’m moving. Jack squeezes the excess water from my hair and fingers through it, separating most of the tangles. I never felt my scalp tingle, so I’m guessing my roots are still pretty dirty, but as I reach up to stroke my hair, I can tell it feels cleaner than the last time I touched it wet. My hand accidentally grazes over Jack’s, and he yanks it from my hair fast. Weird…
I twist my hair and use the length to secure it in a loose bun on the back of my head. Jack’s hands resurface on my shoulders. There’s a slight hesitation, but soon he begins kneading my muscles once more. No one’s ever rubbed my shoulders and neck before…and I’ve got to say, it feels really good. My neck gently sways in every direction, trying to elongate the muscles he’s kindly stretching out for me. I give in to the relaxation and lean back on my hands. When I do, my arm gently brushes his leg, and I can tell he’s sitting directly behind me on his knees. I let loose a long sigh, which practically comes off as an embarrassing moan.
Suddenly, Jack abandons my shoulders and jumps to his feet. He almost seems uncomfortable, rocking back and forth on his feet, looking at everything in the hole but me. “Are you okay?” I ask. I sure am after that rubdown, still feeling all dazed and tingly inside.
“Do us both a favor,” he says, his voice shaking a little. “If Finley shows up, drench your hair with water and tip over the bucket. That way your hair will still look all oily and it’ll look like I threw the bucket at you.”
With that, he takes off, rocketing straight up and out of sight before I can even figure out what the heck just happened.
“Jack?” I call. No answer.
Did I do something wrong? I’m not exactly cultured in the ways of faeries, so I’m not sure if what’s appropriate for my species would be appropriate for his. Did I do something offensive?
In his haste to leave, Jack left the lantern behind, so I can only assume he’ll come back some time later today. After all, his shift pixie-sitting me just started.
I don’t know when I fell asleep, or for how long, but when I awake, there’s food and a fresh bucket of water. Also, the lemon-honey water has been dumped, leaving the bucket available for its original purpose. The lantern’s still here, barely illuminating a weak glow, close to burning off the remaining oil. I don’t have much time until it’s completely dark again.
“Jack?” Still no answer.
Once Jack left, and the wonderful feelings he’d embedded dissipated, I came to my senses and realized why he bailed. How, oh how, could I have been so stupid as to moan in front of him? No wonder he flew out of here. He departed so fast I’m surprised there wasn’t a supersonic boom upon takeoff. Here he was, doing a nice thing by massaging my cramped-up muscles, and I allowed myself to overindulge in the feeling and actually moan over it! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Now he’ll never come back and let me apologize.
And why the heck did I moan anyway? Sure, it was nice to have his fingers massaging my muscles, caressing my skin. No, not caressing! Mother Nature, Rosalie! If he meant the movement to be caressing, he wouldn’t have fled from you like you were a flippin’ swarm of bees!
The last of the oil burns off and my prison slowly fades to black. Too bad my humiliation can’t fade with it.
I’ve been in darkness for several hours now…I think. Usually I’m only in darkness during the night, not during the daytime. Finally, a glow creeps toward me, the lantern’s flickering light licking its way down the rocky walls. I keep my gaze set to the floor, even after Jack’s feet make contact. I’ve gone over in my head a hundred different ways to apologize, but now that he’s here before me, I’m too cowardly to face him.
“Sorry I left you in the darkness. I thought there was more oil than that.”
If he hadn’t said that with a softened voice, I’m not sure I could’ve found the courage to look up and say, “It’s alright.” It was my own fault, after all, him running out of here like that.
We stare solemnly for a moment, neither of us sure what to say. Once again he’s creating a stir of feelings within, but this time it involves a sickening twist in my gut. He trades out the filled lantern for the dried out one. I’m afraid he’ll disappear again, so I blurt out, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Mother Nature, please don’t make admit the details. “’Cause I made you leave. And then made you disappear all day.”
“Yeah…about that. I just…didn’t feel well. I really just needed to get some fresh air.”
I huff, and in my mind I bitterly reply, well, that must be nice. My huff speaks louder than words, and he replies, “Rosalie, don’t be like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did I. This whole…situation…it’s just really screwed up.”
Got that right. This flippin’ faerie is making me feel all sorts of weird things. It’s awkward. And worse, I know I’ve made him uncomfortable. It’s not right for me to like his touch. Not a faerie’s. Maybe that’s why he ran…because he could tell what I was feeling. I didn’t mean it really. It just happened. Maybe I got excited over realizing how we both prefer nature to our societies. You know, finally finding someone that appreciates my way of life.
He sighs deeply. “Tell you what. I don’t think either one of us wants to have this conversation. Why don’t we just say goodnight and start over again tomorrow?”
I nod in agreement, too chicken to look up. Oh, why did I have to be so obvious earlier? Even if I did have a moment of weakness and enjoy his hands on my skin – which I did – I never should have allowed my body language to show it. Now I fear he’ll avoid me…because I’m the pixie that likes to be touched by a faerie.
Today comes too soon. I welcomed sleep last night, although my dreams teased me with several scenarios of me being free and having Jack in my life in some form or another – even one where we were more than friends. In that world, it didn’t feel wrong, wasn’t wrong. I’m not one to dwell on such dreams, but I wish the real world can be that easy. Then I won’t have to chastise myself for feeling an interest here or there for Jack. Because it wouldn’t be forbidden.
Come to think of it, I wonder what happened between our species that made them officially segregate. I believe we always lived separately, but what was the final n
ail in the coffin that drove us apart indefinitely? And why do the fae frown upon intermingling? Is it really that bad for Jack and me to be friends? Maybe they’re afraid of creating a new fae species. But faeries and pixies are so much alike already. What would it matter if a couple were to join and create a new fae? The only differences will probably be the blending of heights and skin tones. Right?
Regardless, I’m not in my dream world. Technically, I’m not even in the real world right now, lost in a dark, dank hole where no one will ever find me. And I’m pretty sure Finley has no intention of ever letting me out again, not even to work the line with the other stolen pixies.
I’m still a little ashamed when Jack descends my hole today, and I’m trying to force my eyes upward so I can determine his demeanor.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” I reply, my eyes finally lifting north. Great. He seems as uncomfortable as I am. This is going to be a fun day.
“So what would you like to do today?”
I huff. As if. “How’s canopy diving sound to you?”
He smiles and places the lantern down in the center, sitting opposite of me on the floor. “Sounds cool. You ever done it before?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, I already know you’re pretty fearless. And I’m willing to bet you like to feel a good rush. So, yeah, I think you’ve been canopy diving before.”
I nod in approval. “I also love diving off waterfalls.”
“Doesn’t that get your wings wet?”
“A little. So long as you don’t dive too close to the water, your wings will shake it off.”
He huffs, but I think he’s really impressed by that. I’m guessing he’s never thought to try it before, afraid the water would impair his ability to fly.
I close my eyes and mentally recall the day I was stolen, diving from my tree house, remembering the unbreakable smile across my face. “The rush of wind upon your face, the adrenaline rushing through your body…it’s like nothing else. I love that feeling.” The smile that crept across my face begins to fade as I realize I’ll probably never get to feel it again. “Jack?” I ask gently, my eyes still closed and my head resting back against the wall.