I open my eyes, and he’s turning a pale blue color. I admire it for a second, the color, before realizing he might be dying. I might be killing him.
With that, he scrambles to his hands and knees, wheezing.
I allow him to catch his breath. He manages to pull himself up and prop himself against the fridge.
“What the fuck?” he keeps saying. “What the fuck?”
“I gave you so much of myself,” I say, “and you wasted me.”
His face. Such pure, exquisite horror. Such fear.
I don’t mind. He fears me because he is small. I will not meet him there. I will not shrink myself down to his size, or anyone else’s, for their comfort. For their appeasement.
I actually find it kind of amusing, his fear. Kind of funny. It’s making me laugh.
I laugh.
No.
I cackle.
“I believe we’re done here,” I tell him. “Leave.”
He rushes, tripping over himself as he grabs his backpack.
“Sam,” I say.
He turns to me, a nervous glance over his shoulder.
“You never told me if you liked my hair.”
I go on cackling, though he doesn’t seem to find it too humorous. I guess that’s fair.
“Good-bye,” I tell him. “And thank you.”
With that, he’s gone.
“Well,” I say to myself, listening to the sound of his car speeding out of the driveway, “there goes my dark fate.”
And I know now. I’m finally free of doubt. I’m so glad I’m not with him in that car. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Exactly who I’m meant to be.
What I’m meant to be.
LET’S PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED
The night sky is smeared with stars, glowing vigorously from far, far away. I count them with the eyes on top of my head. I walk these familiar woods buoyed by the thrill of my transformation. Otherwise, I might be too afraid.
There’s a decent chance she’ll refuse to see me. Or worse. But . . . I think it’s worth the risk.
She’s a good friend to me, and I could be a good friend to her, though I don’t need her. I know that now. I understand. I don’t need anyone. I never did.
I spent so much time searching outside of myself.
It’s so funny to me now.
* * *
—
Sophie opens the door before I can knock. She’s wearing a black velvet robe. Her hair is in loose, delicate curls. Her arms are crossed over her chest and Ralph is on her shoulder. He waves at me, but then Sophie shoots him a look and he promptly restrains himself.
“Did I not tell you never to come back?” she asks.
“You did,” I say. “But I came back anyway.”
She lifts her chin. “Yes. I can see that.”
“I want to apologize,” I say. “I also want to tell you that you were wrong. It was wrong for you to try to stop me and to give me an ultimatum. I needed to see him. I needed to make the decision for myself.”
“And what decision is that, Annie?”
“I’ve evolved past him,” I say.
She uncrosses her arms and begins to inspect her manicure. Her nails are now restored to their typical state of perfection.
“Go on,” she says.
“Can I come in?”
She pauses to consider.
“You said you wanted to apologize,” she says. “But you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie. I really am.”
“All right, then,” she says, moving out of the way so I can enter. “Would you like some tea?”
IT’S MY PARTY
There are yellow roses. Hundreds of yellow roses all around my room. Ralph is on my nightstand in a stripy conical hat. He’s got a tiny party horn in his mouth.
“Good morning, Ralph.”
He blows the party horn and wiggles his little legs.
“I know, I know,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
There’s a large box at the foot of my bed. It’s tied with yellow satin ribbon. I yawn, flop over and pull it toward me.
“Is this from you?” I ask Ralph.
He deflates, shakes his head no.
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “Your presence is my present.”
He holds his cheeks.
I tug gently at the ribbon and undo the neat bow. I set the satin aside, folding it up and placing it behind me on my pillow.
I open the box. Inside is a new dress. A birthday dress. It’s a pale yellowy gold, with lacy sleeves and a corset back.
I put it on immediately. I admire myself in the full-length mirror. I run my hands over the fabric, over my body, over my skin. My face. My brilliant nose. My pretty eyes. My ample cheeks.