FIVE
Luck is on my side. I arrive at our kitchen island to find a fresh fruit plate and a smoothie waiting for me. Perfect. I’m not sure I can handle a heavy breakfast, what with my stomach churning and fluttering.
“Hi there, honey! How was your night with the girls?” Bonnie asks from the doorway behind me.
“Oh, hi,” I manage to mumble while coughing. I almost choked from the surprise, my mouth full of strawberries.
Bonnie walks around the island and when she looks at me I watch all the color drain from her face and her eyes widen. My heart starts hammering and my buzzing brain has turned into a beehive, basically incapable of thought. I am running on pure emotion right now.
“Oh, my! What happened last night, sweetheart?”
The strawberry slides down my throat and thuds in my stomach. My eyes catch the movement of my hand as it brings my glass toward my mouth. Instinct guides me while I take a sip of juice and swallow.
“What do you mean? Do I look like something’s wrong?” I know I spoke because I recognize the voice, but I don’t quite know how the words left my mouth.
“Not to the normal eye, no, my dear. You look as lovely as ever. But, you see, I can tell what you really look like.”
Bonnie looks like she always does. She’s not the type to do drugs; she doesn’t even drink. So I have no idea what she means. “What—you mean, like … you can see things others can’t? And how do I really look? You make it sound bad…”
Taking a seat across the island from me, Bonnie settles in and sighs. “Yes and no. You guessed correctly; I can see things others cannot.”
I begin to widen my eyes in disbelief and she stops me. “That look is not necessary, dear. You will understand soon enough. But to answer your second question – no, it is not bad. Not in the least. You are more beautiful than you know.” She smiles sweetly, helping the words to sink in.
A piece of honeydew catches my eyes and makes it way into my mouth. Again, I watch my hand do what it learned to do years ago, and I feel a complete lack of control. But not just of my body. Of my life, this situation, last night—everything.
“So, did something happen while you were out last night?” She rests her arms on the island and clasps her hands together, fingers threaded.
Bonnie is not going to let up and I’m definitely curious, so I indulge her. “Yeah, I had a strange … encounter, I guess is the best word for it. And I don’t know what to make of it.” That’s all she gets, though. Last night was ridiculous and messed up but today isn’t looking much better, this conversation included.
“All right. I will start with the most basic part of all of this. There are things about your background and yourself that you should have learned years ago but I put it off. Apparently I waited a little too long and, for that, I sincerely apologize.”
My fingers grab another piece of honeydew and I just stare at this woman I’ve known my entire life who has apparently been keeping secrets from me. I have no idea what to think or how to act.
“You are not going to make this easy on me, I can tell.” Bonnie chastises me with her eyes, but her smile tells me she’s joking. I shake my head and give a half-smile back.
A jovial laugh escapes her and I giggle along, but my laugh is mostly one of nervousness.
“When you look in the mirror now, you see what most people see when they look at you. But I see something else entirely. And soon, you will see what I do. You will even see me and some other people, as well as your surroundings, much, much differently. This will occur after you lose the human part of yourself you have been living with for all these years, and the glamour your mother put on you will become invisible to you if you want it to be.”
My head is spinning—thoughts are flying around too fast to choose one to focus on. Not a good thing for my buzzing beehive brain to have to deal with, it seems. Because on top of loudness and the inability to think straight … or at all, there is a bit of a insane effect going on. I try to tell myself that Bonnie sounds nuts—she’s speaking gibberish—yet I’m practically salivating to hear more. I figure it must be that Bonnie is so sweet, her words drip honey and, therefore, attract the bees.
I run through things in my head. It’s a struggle, but I focus.
OK, what are the ‘facts’ here? Human—so I’m not one? Yeah, sure, that’s believable… Mother—is any of this the reason she’s … the way she is? Bonnie—is she not human either? Have I woken up yet? I must still be asleep on Preston’s couch. I’ll wake up soon and tell my journal all about this crazy dream.
Yet even as my rationality kicks in, I know that’s not the real part of all of this. Because something did happen last night. And, as much as I am burning to know what the heck Bonnie is going on about, I don’t want to ask. Or don’t know how to ask, nor have the nerve, is more like it.
The honeydew is all gone—the plate had been half full of it—so I move on to the cantaloupe. I nod to Bonnie, indicating I’m ready for her to continue.
“It is a long story to tell, darling. I will give you a few bits and pieces and then I will just have to, in essence, let it be shown because it is all too much. But first, you must explain why you look the way you do this morning. You need information from me, but I also need the same from you so we can figure out together how best to deal with everything.”
I’m not ready to talk but if I want to learn more, I guess I have to. I start small. “I—I’m not sure how I look, so I can’t really say. I mean, well, what do you mean?” Again, my mouth moves on its own … my brain must have made its way down there.
“It is nothing horrible, do not worry. Your normal sparkle simply appears to be gone. Please tell me, honey.” (See—honey – bees! OK … maybe I am going nuts.) “Nothing you can say will shock me, I promise. I know more than you can imagine.”
“So, well then, do you, um, know about my dreams and stuff?” My mouthbrain asks this before it takes a long drink of my smoothie. At least the latter action might keep me quiet for a minute. The banana that’s mixed in it sits like a lump in my stomach, not at all helping the queasiness I’ve felt since Bonnie first started talking.
The nausea brings me back to reality a tiny bit and I realize what I just said.
No matter how much I trust Bonnie, I’m not sure that I want to talk. I want to learn—not share. But the words simply tumbled out—I didn’t give them permission. Private things I thought I wanted to stay that way. Wasn’t I just crying about this not ten minutes ago upstairs? What’s the deal here?
At least the buzzing is quieting down. Maybe the bees tired themselves out and are settling down for a nap. Whatever they’re doing, my head is becoming clearer – by the second, it seems.
“Yes. I know all about you,” Bonnie replies. “I have been here your whole life, making sure no harm came to you. But I can see I might not have been so successful at fulfilling my duties.” A frown appears on her face but she quickly wipes it off, leaving herself almost expressionless.
“No. I’m fine. I think. Maybe…” Other than the fact that I’m about to retch. “I just had a really strange nightmare at Preston’s house last night, but it felt more real than ever before.” I pause a moment before I continue speaking.
“So, really, you know all about this? How? And if so, do you think you can help me figure out what’s going on?”
“Yes, I do know; and yes, I can help,” Bonnie answers. “So, about this nightmare—are you sure you were asleep? What were you doing before it occurred?”
She doesn’t answer how she knows anything or why I should trust her with my secrets, yet I find myself explaining the nightmare-slash-vision to her, getting goose bumps all over again as I delve into the dark details. The distance from it makes it feel more like a dream but also more real at the same time. Which makes no sense. And that’s perfect—fits right in with everything else.
I don’t know which way is left, or if up is down. So I’m rather surprised when a calmness sweeps over me, m
aking me oddly at ease while talking to my pseudo-parent. And I have to face it, that’s what Bonnie is to me. My parents aren’t around enough to be parents.
I only feel at home when Bonnie is in the house, and I also know now that Bonnie somehow understands. Not a clue how I know, but I do. Just like I know two plus two equals four, which I gather is an easier concept than up versus down. This knowledge makes me no longer feel worried about spilling too many of my secrets.
I realize it’s a little scary and strange to have my feelings change this quickly.
But, no matter the reason I am doing so, it is a giant relief to get even the smallest amount of years and years of pent up memories off my chest.
Once I finish re-telling my crazy story, with a little help from my bee friends that are still awake, Bonnie simply sits. I feel her frustration as to how she should go about the next part of the conversation, my new senses apparently honing in again.
“Sweetheart,” Bonnie starts, “I have a feeling you already know this, but it was not a dream you experienced last night. You were awake the whole time. You said you were looking into a pond?”
I nod a confirmation.
“Well, it seems you unintentionally scryed.”
“Scryed? What the frack is that?” I ask. “That’s a strange word…” And it is. And better yet, I’m thinking it. Me. The last few bees fell asleep and now I can focus on this conversation.
“It is a way to shift your consciousness—more commonly, your entire being—to another plane or dimension. Last night, you meditated your way into the faery realm. Even the fish you thought were koi were really faeries. They wear the shell of a koi as glamour, hence their name of Shellycoats, to fool the humans, much like you do, but not in the exact same way.”
I don’t move a muscle. I just sit and listen, unsure how to react … unsure what to ask … unsure what the heck glamour is, but I assume it’s a cover if the ‘faery’ fish wear it to look the way they do. Bonnie did say ‘shell.’
Bonnie stops talking for a minute, most likely because of the ice sculpture that is me. I guess I am doing well taking this in, but with my brain somewhat back to normal I am even scaring myself a little that I’m not freaking out, which Bonnie appears to be waiting for.
For some reason or another—most likely the eerie calmness that has settled deep into my core, I don’t think I will have a freak-out. I melt a little. Enough to move, to speak again.
“Faeries, huh?” I state, more than ask.
The two of us sit in complete silence for about three or four minutes, save the dripping of the coffee maker. Something clicks; it all falls into place, and I take a deep breath.
The click is just the beginning of the doorknob turning. I think over my dreams and things that have happened with strangers in the past and even the way I can read Hollie. These things and more flood my mind and I hear click after click until the door creaks and I push it wide open. The world makes sense to me, even though it is about as sensible as Alice in Wonderland. Yet I know it is all true.
“I knew it. I knew it!” I exclaim, feeling so sure and enlightened that I jump back to life and off my stool. “I’ve never fit in with anyone but Hols, not really. I’ve never felt I belonged. And not in the normal teenage, growing up way of not belonging—I mean, I’ve really felt something was off. Ever since before high school, but even more so now. For years! Maybe even when I was super little, now that I think about it.”
I continue rambling with my epiphany like I’m as knowledgeable as Buddha—I understand all, I sense all—I don’t need the details and the labels; I just know. I pace around the island and continue to go on and on, letting Bonnie in on it all, only half realizing the irony that she’s the one who let me in.
“Everything here has always seemed so superficial and lifeless to me. Not that it isn’t great and gorgeous and people aren’t happy, but none of it ever overflows into me. Like I need to be somewhere else to feel what everyone else seems to feel naturally. I knew there was more. Plus, I’ve always seen things, ya know… And really, I’m not even surprised when it comes down to it. Were the dreams or visions or whatever I’ve been having for forever preparing me to find all this out one day or something?” I don’t really expect an answer. I already know it’s true.
I sense I am going off and probably seem a bit nutty, even to someone who understands all of this, but it’s like a lightning bolt hit me. This is more than an epiphany—it is an explanation of my entire life. And I am reeling from it. In the best way. And besides, like I really care if I look nuts in front of Bonnie … again, she’s the one who brought up the nonsense that turned out to be true.
Bonnie confirms what she was probably starting to say before I freaked. But she also confirms my thoughts and questions. “Actually, yes. That is exactly why you had visions of your home realm. Someone such as yourself cannot deny her true identity and calling.”
“Calling? Hold up. I get I’m not a part of this world,” I stop pacing and wave my arm around the kitchen, “but you can’t possibly think I have some special job to do, or place—wait, do you?” I don’t let Bonnie answer because I’m not done talking, questioning.
“And honestly, what world am I a part of? What other realm is there? One of faeries? That’s what I always dream of—and it’s what you said. And what’s glamour? I mean, I get it, but yet I totally don’t.” I find my spot and sit back down, as deflated now as I was high seconds before. My emotions are overwhelming me, that’s for sure…
“Well, yes, you are fae. And you were born in that realm.” Bonnie says. “And I do believe you have an important job ahead of you. In fact, I know you do. But we will leave that until later. Until you understand some more. If you think you can handle it, I am going to tell you a few things about what has happened so far, and then I will teach you to scry on your own. That way, you can gather the rest of the information yourself. I will also give you a sensory-intensifying potion.”
She continues and I drink it all in, my excitement increasing once more. Her features soften and she looks like an excited, loving grandmother. “It really should not be hard at all for you. Your mother made sure you would be one of the strongest of fae—what with her powers combined with your own, many of which have not even begun to surface. Once you get a handle on the basics, everything will come easily—easier than you could expect. This world, like you said, is not your world. You belong elsewhere, as do I.
“Now, as for Hollie, that is an entirely different story. As well as Blake and Andrew.”
“My friends are a part of this?” I feel a lump in my stomach again, but my growing curiosity is pretty much canceling it out. I realize that all of this can help explain Andrew… That guy has something seriously wrong going on. But I’m not so sure about the others.
Still, I prompt Bonnie to go on, “Do tell. Please. Because I feel like a fish out of water—but I obviously don’t need water to make it all better. I need answers, and knowledge. I can’t imagine how Blake and Hollie have anything to do with this… And can you explain what you’re saying about my mother? ’Cause the mother I know couldn’t possibly be the one you spoke of. Unless she’s just a really good—and mean—actress.” I try to laugh but it comes out all wrong. I force myself to relax and concentrate on my breathing, and I hope that I can start speaking a little more coherently.
And so, Bonnie begins to detail my true heritage, starting with the tragedy of my real mother’s death. Yes, my real mother. Apparently I’m adopted, which affects me less than one would think. If I’m a faery—wow, that sounds so strange—then my parents would have to be, too. And my parents … they don’t exactly fit the bill.
So I have new parents to learn about. I have a different mother; one who gave birth to me. That’s more than a little insane. It has to be that I am learning so much, and I know I will learn more, so that I can’t focus on one detail too deeply or too long. Even a huge ‘detail’ like this. Before Bonnie starts to explain more about my mystery mo
ther, I take deep, controlled breaths and brace myself.
“Unfortunately, there is only one way to go about this, and we all have to experience it. No one knows the why, but it is necessary. I do know it is something we must all be aware of in preparation of something similar—or to be able to stop it from happening again, I believe. Or possibly to show us we can be hurt, so we must watch out and be careful.
“No matter the reason for it, you are going to have to tap into my mind. I will allow you to so you will not have difficulties. What you will experience is a movie of sorts. From it, you will learn what we all must, but it might be harder for you because it is your mother, and for that I sincerely apologize. I hate to be the one to show you this, but I have no choice.”
I can feel the lack of expression on my face; I am looking at Bonnie blankly, not knowing what to expect. “So, I just try to read your mind and you’ll show me something I’m supposed to know about my mother? Why do you make it sound so bad?” I don’t want to know the answer … I can already sense the pain I am going to endure. For someone I have never met and whom, apparently, I never will meet since she is gone. I have a real mother and I was robbed of the chance to know her. But I don’t dwell on that. I put on my strong, brave face like I’ve practiced for so many years and I listen to what Bonnie has to say.
“Breathe and let it happen. You shall understand soon enough. And just so you know, once it does begin, you will not be able to pull away until the story is finished, no matter how hard it might be to watch.”
Bonnie’s eyes dart around, gauging my emotions and strength. I realize it’s odd that I know what she is doing, yet somehow I do. What I don’t know is what she is about to do. But enough craziness has already occurred, and my natural senses are more than honed—what else can faze me at this point? At least I’ll get to see my mother, from the sound of it. That has to be a good thing. I hold on to this thought, ignoring the nagging from deep down that is telling how wrong I am to think it.
We stay sitting across from each other at the island, and Bonnie reaches her hands across for me to grab hold. Once our hands connect, I can feel her pulling my thoughts into her mind and I easily follow. I hadn’t expected it to be so simple, but I credit Bonnie’s power—definitely not my own.
At first, I simply see a park with some benches and a fountain and trees from an overhead view, but then I notice two people—or faeries, I assume—on the ground.
No, make that three. There is a baby there, as well.
Once the setting is in my head, the story starts playing out and I am more inside some creature’s brain rather than in the gorgeous blonde’s, whose beauty leaves me awestruck. The creature is hiding by the trees; I only know he is there because his ugly thoughts are mine for the moment.
I sense all of what is occurring, or make that occurred. Somehow I know the baby is me. And the story is definitely from the creature’s point of view, with no chance of me escaping. Once everything starts playing out, I realize Bonnie is right – I want it to stop. But it won’t. No matter how hard I try. All I can do is grip her hands as tightly as possible as I watch what happened to my mother when I was just an infant.