by A.W. Hartoin
I woke early, crept out of the bedroom and left by the front door. The red room lay dark and empty before me. Tess wouldn’t be up for some time. I yawned and considered going back to bed before seeing a flash of movement. The dogs dashed out from behind the sofa and ran up to the mantel. They sat their furry butts down and pointed their fat snouts at me.
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” I waved at them.
The dogs wagged, then jumped up and ran back across the room to the stairs. A few moments later, the man I’d seen at the party, Evan, tromped down the stairs in a blue bathrobe. The dogs followed him into the kitchen and sat wagging furiously until he patted their heads. He was talking, but he was so far away I couldn’t make out the words or see his lips.
I closed my eyes to concentrate and then popped them back open. Evan was still in the kitchen with the dogs, but when I closed my eyes it was like they ceased to exist. What little I thought I could hear went away. I watched him opening cabinet doors, pulling out pans and containers. I would’ve sworn I heard it, a little clinking far in the distance. When I covered my eyes, the clinking disappeared. Evan poured water in a black and silver contraption. Then he spooned dark brown chunks in the top and pressed a button. A little orange light appeared on the front of the contraption and the man turned around, leaning on the cabinet. The dogs sat in front of him and I was able to read his lips.
“What are you doing, you worthless animals?”
The dogs wagged harder.
“How can I love creatures so ridiculous?”
I covered my eyes and sat in silence. I thought about all the things I’d taken for granted as normal. Iris edging in front of me to talk. Mom always telling me to face Dad when he spoke. My teacher, Miss Penrose Whipplethorn, giving all her lectures directly in front of my seat. I’d always wondered why she did that. I wanted her to go lecture in front of someone else so I could relax. Maybe I didn’t have the exceptional hearing that was expected of wood fairies, but I thought I could hear well enough.
That day watching Evan, I realized how bad it was. I couldn’t hear. I really couldn’t hear. No wonder Grandma Vi insisted I learned to lip read. I’d thought it was pointless, since I only needed it at a distance. But it wasn’t about distance or direction or the tone of the speaker’s voice. I needed it all the time.
I dropped my hands. Evan moved about the kitchen, pouring ingredients in a big bowl and it seemed like I could hear it. But I couldn’t. I was just filling in the blanks. I jumped off the edge of the mantel and flew towards the kitchen. It wasn’t all my imagination, not Mom’s voice, not the trow’s music. How much could I hear? I landed on the counter near to Evan’s bowl and closed my eyes.
“You dogs stink,” he said.
I definitely heard that. Then I flew farther away and tried again. I heard his words, but they were fainter. Another small flight and they were fainter still. One more and nothing. I flew back a little and turned around. As soon as I turned Evan’s voice almost disappeared. It was better if I faced him.
Evan poured a black liquid out of the contraption into a misshapen mug that said “Tess” on the side. He took a drink and went to sit at the table. A fresh flowered tablecloth covered the expanse. Candles and a bunch of flowers were arranged in the center. He opened a flat, skinny box lying at the end of the table and stared at a shiny blue screen while sipping the liquid. The dogs didn’t follow him, but sat looking at me.
“I think I can hear humans better than fairies,” I told them and they wagged their answer. “I wish it were the other way around, but I suppose it can’t be. Humans are probably pretty loud in comparison.”
Evan began tapping his fingers on the box and I flew over to see what he was up to. The dogs followed me and sat next to his chair. He looked down at them and said, “You two have been acting kind of weird lately.”
I hovered over the box and saw rows of grey buttons with black numbers and letters on them. When Evan pressed a button the corresponding letter appeared on the screen.
“That’s pretty cool,” I said as I dropped closer to get a better look. Some of the buttons had words on them like “Caps Lock” or “End.” “I wonder what that’s about.”
“What are you doing over there?” Evan asked.
I jerked away and saw him, not looking at me as I’d hoped, but at Tess who was standing on the mantel’s hearth. Her nose brushed against the mantel’s shining wood and she ran her fingers over the curves and ridges of the intricately carved wood. She must’ve said something in response, but she was too far away and I couldn’t see her lips.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
Tess turned around. “Just looking, Daddy.”
“I’m going to make pancakes. How many do you want?” he asked.
But Tess had turned back to the mantel, and her answer was lost to me.
“Get away from there,” he said. “I haven’t fixed it to the wall yet.”
Tess jumped off the fireplace hearth and skipped across the room to the kitchen table. She skidded to a halt when she saw me hovering above her father’s hands.
“Daddy,” Tess said.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
Tess placed her small hand on her father’s large shoulder. “Do you believe in fairies?”
Dimples appeared on his cheeks and a smile danced on the edges of his mouth. “Why do you ask?”
“Do you, Daddy?”
“Not really, no.”
Tess winked at me. Then she burrowed under her father’s arm and perched on his lap. My palms started sweating and I couldn’t have started the meekest of blazes. This could be it. Any minute Tess’s father could turn his head and see me. I flew closer to make sure he couldn’t possibly miss me, if he was willing to see.
“Daddy, if I told you I saw a fairy and that she was here right now, would you believe me?” Tess gazed up at her father with wide, hopeful eyes. I didn’t know how he could resist such a face. Tess’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. Her tangled hair cascaded over her shoulders and made her look a bit like a magical creature herself. She looked so young, she almost made me feel old.
“A fairy,” he said. “Right here, right now?”
“Yes. She’s flying there.” Tess pointed at me and I spread my wings wide and waved.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Come on, Daddy. She has long black hair and beautiful shiny wings.”
“Nope. Now let me finish this e-mail, will you?”
“Daddy,” Tess pleaded.
Evan shifted his focus to the glowing screen again and began pushing the letter buttons. I landed on the broad area behind the buttons. Tess looked at me with her trembling bottom lip sticking out.
“It’s fine,” I said.
I wiped my hands on my shirt and lit my palms. Blue blazes erupted. Their heat stung my face and I stared intently up at Evan. He looked past me at the screen, punching buttons. My flames grew higher, turning white hot.
“Daddy,” said Tess. “Try harder. She’s standing on your keyboard holding balls of fire.”
He shook his head. “Your imagination has always been a wonder.”
“It’s not my imagination.”
Evan reached above the keyboard. His hand went over my head, grabbed the edge of the box, and swung it down towards me. I jetted off the box and flew over the letters, but I wasn’t fast enough. The top of the box hit me, driving me down between A and S. The last thing I heard before the box closed completely was Tess screaming, “No!”
CHAPTER 21