FF: Wicked- 1 Month, Part 3.2
Some bridges can be mended, no matter how rickety and scorched...
Beyond Shiz and the Memories
Not wanting any fanfare, Glinda and I skulk about the shadows of the darker edges of the town to find an inn that is a little scruffy without leaving us in fear for our lives. Knowing that Glinda is now more than capable of taking care of herself through pretty much any trouble, I'm happy to wait outside in the cold with my winter garb covering all signs of my green skin.
Acceptance has started wearing away the sharp edges of pain the green has caused over the years. It feels completely different to be hiding my distinctiveness merely for the sake of anonymity, rather than a hurtful reason. At the moment, the only dissimilar thing about me is that I'm fairly well dressed and I'm carrying a broomstick. While the later is slightly strange, it certainly doesn't make me stand out unduly.
Now, while I don't really feel the cold through the magical long underwear I now rely so heavily on, I am getting bored. What is that girl doing?
There's a clatter of small sounds above me and her voice floats down. "Elphie? Come on up, darling." Ah, now I see what she's been up to. Parking my fanny on the broom, I drift up and clamber awkwardly through the window.
Giggling, Glinda tries to help and we get tangled up and drop into a heap to the conveniently placed bed, laughing together. "That was awkward and amusing," I chortle but lose track of all else when I am pleasurably attacked by my energetic little fiancé. The spluttering fire has barely started warming the tiny room, so our lovemaking is awkward but pleasurable, at least allowing both of us to remain nearly completely clothed for warmth. The bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, not to mention far too narrow for two, but I'm reminded of my six months of destitute living, alone and frightened and always hungry and I have no complaints. By carefully draping her small frame mostly over mine, Glinda settles in happily and I doubt either of us will move much before morning.
I'm mostly right, though my aching bladder wakes me in the dead of night to wiggle away from a protesting Glinda. It takes a bit of searching to find the disreputable water closet, but I wrinkle my nose up and deal with it. Once I return to the bed, Glinda wraps herself around me once more, never completely waking. I love that subconscious connection, when even asleep she reaches for me.
Unusually, it's Glinda that wakes me in the darkness before dawn as she pushes her way through the door, startling me awake.
"Good morning sleepyhead," she teases and sets aside the tray in her hands to come to the bed and kiss me completely to life. "Despite the somewhat questionable cleanliness of the rooms, the kitchen seems adequate enough. Come eat."
Grumbling, my stomach perks up at the order and I slip over to the hearth to join her for a simple, hearty breakfast. "We eat a lot of porridge, don't we?" I note and she giggles.
"It's a morning staple, darling, with no meat in our diet."
"Do you miss it?"
The seriousness of the question catches us both off guard. Immediately, Glinda sets her spoon into her bowl and gives me her complete attention. It's one of the things that I love about this new, grown-up version of her, this focus outside of herself.
"Sometimes," she answers honestly. "But it's an easy sacrifice to make for you and the Animals. However, if there's ever a way to get my hands on a reputable slab of bacon, I certainly wouldn't say no."
Chuckling, I lean over to kiss her pretty mouth, lingering for a long moment as I love to do. "I love you, Glinda," I murmur. "Both the frivolous girl you once were and this amazing woman you've become."
Charmed, she bats her eyes prettily and tells me to finish my breakfast. I'll need the energy.
Several hours later, I realize that she wasn't exaggerating and I'm hungry once more. The sheer quantity of… things that she owns is mind-boggling. And once more I'm struck by how much she has changed as she ruthlessly rifles through the dresses and shoes and accessories stowed in the crates. One crate has been designated for the things to keep and very, very few things are going in it. The rest are thrust ruthlessly back to where they've been stored.
During this whole process, I've stayed out of her way and watched in between flipping through my book collection. My crate is long and done with, since I have so few things. Astonishingly, every object that I can mentally tally is accounted for, stashed with surprising care in the wooden box labeled with my name. Someone actually took care with my things and I am strangely warmed by the small favor.
Yes, even the green bottle that once held the elixir. Finding it has been a sobering experience, now that I have the entire story of it. Such a common, innocent thing in appearance to harbor something used for such evil. My poor mother….
Glinda has not breathed a word about it, allowing me the space and time to wrestle with my feelings, drifting over sporadically to press little kisses to me or sit for a moment in companionable quiet. It takes some time for me to realize that her grumbling ruthlessness to these frilly reminders of her past is just as cathartic as me coming to terms with the green bottle.
The past is always with us, and always will be, but we have become so much more and will continue to do so.
A pause in the frenzy of cleaning catches my attention and we both quietly eye the heavily ruffled pink dress hanging in Glinda's hands. Even I recognize it, a wistful smile curling my mouth. The night we bonded for the first time. When she had given me the pointed hat I still love and I'd made a fool of myself at the Ozdust Ballroom. Then, inexplicably, she'd come to my rescue, dancing with me there, in midst of all our judgmental peers. That had been the turning point between us, that one act of selflessness. My courage to stay and dance, in spite of the stares and whispers and disapproval. Glinda's courage to join me, offering that completely unexpected show of solidarity.
"Keep it, darling?" I ask quietly, gently. "For me?"
The shaky, loving smile is proof that it is exactly the right thing to say.
The Sisters Thropp
Elphaba really is the sweetest thing sometimes. Understanding my conflict over the frilly dress, she has offered me the perfect way to cling to the sentiment of the thing and I place it reverently in the keeper crate.
But a thank you kiss must wait.
For, in a flurry of noise, Nessarose has arrived.
"Eight months! Eight months you've left me to fend for myself in this horrid place. You selfish, horrible…"
"Nessa!" Elphie's bark of outrage stops her younger sister and all other parties dead in their tracks. This is a tone I have never heard from her, overpowering and as implacable as stone. "I will not stand here and be berated by you, Nessa," she continues, abruptly completely gentle, but there is no mistaking the steel in her tone. "Do you really think that I wanted to leave you here? That I wanted to leave all of my dreams behind for a life of being hunted and hated? That I wanted to take the blame of another's sins?"
Frozen and wide-eyed, Nessa stares wordlessly at her sister, as do Boq and myself. I suspect we might be in the thrall of not just this woman's charisma, but her inherent sorcery as well. Elphie goes over to kneel beside her sister, gently laying a green hand on one useless knee.
"I've missed you, Nessie."
And prickly, aloof Nessarose bursts into tears.
Pulling the younger girl from the wheelchair, Elphie draws her close and they cling tightly, the start of bridging a lifetime of hurt between them. Freed from paralysis, I grab my jacket and shove Boq out the door to give them some privacy. My heart is pounding like I've run from the Emerald City and I definitely suspect those raw powers she sometimes exhibits.
"Well," Boq stammers breathlessly, "that was…"
"Intense?" I offer and he actually smiles faintly.
"I was thinking awkward, but intense works too."
"That's my Elphie," I chuckle softly, "a creature of magic in all ways."
To my astonishment I find myself sitting against the wall near the door with this boy who had been such a thorn in my side. He can barely look at me, and he's painfully awkward, but he still forces himself to tell me what he knows of events around school while we've been gone. There have been new teachers and staff to echo the changes of the drastic changes in politics that have gone on recently. Particularly in interest to me is the tale of the government replacements of Doctor Dillamond and a few others that were pulled recently and replaced in effect of Elphie's changes.
Neither of us brings up yesterday in the garden, which is fine with me. I barely know him and would have little to nothing to say that can help.
When the door finally creaks open, Elphie looks exhausted but more at peace than I'd hoped. When I jump on her, she returns my choking hug and sighs out her lingering stress against my ear. "Are you okay?" I breathe softly and she gives me a squeeze.
"I will be."
And that's good enough for me.
While some part of me wants to address Nessarose, we merely trade oddly understanding glances. Her eyes are red with shed tears, but she is certainly more settled than when she stormed in. Both she and Boq nod acknowledgement to us and vanish down the hallway in utter quiet.
"It sucks when growth requires pain," Elphie notes softly and I hug her again. In a more normal tone she adds, "She'll visit come summer, when classes are through for the year. Then she'll continue on to home."
Ah, another subject we haven't covered. There has been a conspicuous lack of personal communication from the Governor of Munchkinland. Oh, there have been official papers back and forth, but Frex Thropp has been notably keeping his policy of avoiding his eldest daughter. I'm seriously thinking about sending my own father to speak to the stubborn man.
"Speaking of home," I pipe up brightly, "let's finish this up and get home ourselves. Much fun as I had clinging to you last night, I miss our big bed."
"Just the bed?" Elphie teases with a faint leer that I giggle at in mock girlish outrage before we get back to our appointed task.
I am preening with success that I have whittled down the things to keep so that I can squeeze them in with Elphie's books. We go to Madame Gaven's again for polite farewells and instructions for the one crate to be shipped when the roads are clear and the rest to be dealt with how she sees fit. Then Elphie surprises me.
"Madame, might you have suggestions for us to find a tutor? We were never given a chance to finish our studies and I think that sets a bad example. What with us being public figures now."
The Madame can't completely cover the ripple of pleased surprise that washes over her face and eyes and I have to wonder what kind of prejudice she's been harboring all this time, warranted or not. But, as a school official, she sees the wisdom in Elphie's words.
"Yes, of course, Miss Elphaba," the woman agrees. "I can definitely make inquiries about that."
"Excellent, I will look forward to correspondence with you then. Have a good evening."
And with polite farewells, we sweep out of the office and head out. I wait until we're good and away from the heavy door before I glance up and marvel at Elphie's self-satisfied smirk. "You're very good at that, you know," I compliment idly and she smiles.
"A lifetime of observation from the outskirts, My Sweet. That and I've had an amazing teacher this last handful of weeks."
She can still make me blush.
To be Continued…