“How was the first day of school?”
Laurel wandered over to the couch by way of the fridge, where she grabbed herself a Sprite. “It was okay. Better than last year. And I think I’m more prepared for chemistry than I was for biology.”
“Sounds like an overall improvement,” he said, looking up from his book.
“What are you reading?” she asked, glancing at the dog-eared paperback.
He looked a little chagrined. “Stardust.”
“Again?”
He shrugged. Fantasy novels—especially ones involving faeries—had risen to the top of her dad’s reading list, with Neil Gaiman’s faerie tale numbering among his very favorites.
“Where’s Mom?” Laurel asked, though she could guess at the answer.
“Taking inventory,” came the expected reply. “She’s got to get her order in tomorrow.”
“I figured,” Laurel said.
Her dad looked up into her somber face and put his book down. “You okay?”
She shrugged. Her dad sat up a little and patted the spot beside him. Laurel sighed and joined him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. It’s just…it’s kind of weird to suddenly have you around more than Mom. She’s at the store all the time.”
His arm tightened around her. “She’s just busy right now. Starting up a store takes a lot of work. You remember last summer when I was getting the bookstore going. I was never home.” He chuckled. “In fact, if I had been home more, I like to think I would have figured things out.” He paused and squeezed Laurel’s shoulders again. “You have to understand, when I…got sick, your mom felt completely helpless. We had almost no insurance, the hospital bills were piling up, and if anything had happened she would have had no way to support you. She’s never quite gotten the knack of running my store. She might have been able to make ends meet, but only just. She’s afraid to ever get into that position again, and let’s face it—we’re not young.” He turned to face her. “She’s doing this for you. So she can support you if anything ever happened again.”
Laurel rubbed her toe along the couch cushion. “But sometimes I think…” She paused, then hurried on in a rush of breath before she could change her mind. “She hates that I’m a faerie.”
Her dad scooted up a little. “What do you mean?”
After the first sentence, the rest tumbled out. “Everything started to change when she found out. She acts like she doesn’t know me anymore—like I’m a stranger living in her house. We don’t talk. We used to talk all the time, about everything. And now I feel like she avoids my eyes and leaves the room when I come in.”
“Sweetie, you need to give her a little time to get the store open. I really think—”
“It was before the store,” Laurel interrupted, shaking her head. “She doesn’t like to hear anything about me not being normal. When I got the invitation to go to Avalon I was so excited—the chance of a lifetime. And she almost didn’t let me go!”
“In all fairness, that was because of the ‘gone for two months with complete strangers’ thing, not necessarily the faerie thing.”
“Still,” Laurel persisted. “I hoped that maybe things would change while I was gone. That maybe it would be easier to get used to the idea when I wasn’t around, always putting it in front of her face. But nothing’s changed,” she said in a quiet voice. “If anything, it’s gotten worse.”
Her dad thought for a moment. “I don’t know why she’s having such a hard time dealing with this, Laurel,” he said haltingly. “She just doesn’t understand. This has knocked her whole worldview off-kilter. It may take some time. I’m just asking you to be patient.”
Laurel took a long, shuddering breath. “She barely even hugged me when I got back. I’m trying to be patient, but it’s like she doesn’t even like me anymore.”
“No, Laurel,” her dad said, holding her to his chest as she blinked back tears. “It’s not like that, I promise. It’s not about you; it’s about her trying to wrap her mind around the idea that faeries exist at all.” He looked Laurel full in the face. “But she loves you,” he said firmly. “She loves you every bit as much as she ever did. I promise.” He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Would you like me to talk to her?”
Laurel shook her head instantly. “No, please don’t. She doesn’t need more stuff to worry about.” She forced a smile. “I’ll just give her some time—be patient, like you said. Things will go back to normal soon, right?”
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin and an enthusiasm Laurel couldn’t match.
When Laurel stood and wandered back toward the kitchen, her dad picked up his book again. She knelt by the side of the fridge and began loading more cans of Sprite into the refrigerator door. “Normal,” she scoffed under her breath. “Right.”
She looked up at the leftovers packed away in tidy Tupperwares in the fridge. “Hey, Dad, have you had dinner yet?” she asked.
“Um…no?” he said sheepishly. “I meant to just read the first chapter, but I got carried away.”
“Big surprise,” Laurel drawled. “Can I make you something?”
Laurel wandered over to the couch by way of the fridge, where she grabbed herself a Sprite. “It was okay. Better than last year. And I think I’m more prepared for chemistry than I was for biology.”
“Sounds like an overall improvement,” he said, looking up from his book.
“What are you reading?” she asked, glancing at the dog-eared paperback.
He looked a little chagrined. “Stardust.”
“Again?”
He shrugged. Fantasy novels—especially ones involving faeries—had risen to the top of her dad’s reading list, with Neil Gaiman’s faerie tale numbering among his very favorites.
“Where’s Mom?” Laurel asked, though she could guess at the answer.
“Taking inventory,” came the expected reply. “She’s got to get her order in tomorrow.”
“I figured,” Laurel said.
Her dad looked up into her somber face and put his book down. “You okay?”
She shrugged. Her dad sat up a little and patted the spot beside him. Laurel sighed and joined him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. It’s just…it’s kind of weird to suddenly have you around more than Mom. She’s at the store all the time.”
His arm tightened around her. “She’s just busy right now. Starting up a store takes a lot of work. You remember last summer when I was getting the bookstore going. I was never home.” He chuckled. “In fact, if I had been home more, I like to think I would have figured things out.” He paused and squeezed Laurel’s shoulders again. “You have to understand, when I…got sick, your mom felt completely helpless. We had almost no insurance, the hospital bills were piling up, and if anything had happened she would have had no way to support you. She’s never quite gotten the knack of running my store. She might have been able to make ends meet, but only just. She’s afraid to ever get into that position again, and let’s face it—we’re not young.” He turned to face her. “She’s doing this for you. So she can support you if anything ever happened again.”
Laurel rubbed her toe along the couch cushion. “But sometimes I think…” She paused, then hurried on in a rush of breath before she could change her mind. “She hates that I’m a faerie.”
Her dad scooted up a little. “What do you mean?”
After the first sentence, the rest tumbled out. “Everything started to change when she found out. She acts like she doesn’t know me anymore—like I’m a stranger living in her house. We don’t talk. We used to talk all the time, about everything. And now I feel like she avoids my eyes and leaves the room when I come in.”
“Sweetie, you need to give her a little time to get the store open. I really think—”
“It was before the store,” Laurel interrupted, shaking her head. “She doesn’t like to hear anything about me not being normal. When I got the invitation to go to Avalon I was so excited—the chance of a lifetime. And she almost didn’t let me go!”
“In all fairness, that was because of the ‘gone for two months with complete strangers’ thing, not necessarily the faerie thing.”
“Still,” Laurel persisted. “I hoped that maybe things would change while I was gone. That maybe it would be easier to get used to the idea when I wasn’t around, always putting it in front of her face. But nothing’s changed,” she said in a quiet voice. “If anything, it’s gotten worse.”
Her dad thought for a moment. “I don’t know why she’s having such a hard time dealing with this, Laurel,” he said haltingly. “She just doesn’t understand. This has knocked her whole worldview off-kilter. It may take some time. I’m just asking you to be patient.”
Laurel took a long, shuddering breath. “She barely even hugged me when I got back. I’m trying to be patient, but it’s like she doesn’t even like me anymore.”
“No, Laurel,” her dad said, holding her to his chest as she blinked back tears. “It’s not like that, I promise. It’s not about you; it’s about her trying to wrap her mind around the idea that faeries exist at all.” He looked Laurel full in the face. “But she loves you,” he said firmly. “She loves you every bit as much as she ever did. I promise.” He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Would you like me to talk to her?”
Laurel shook her head instantly. “No, please don’t. She doesn’t need more stuff to worry about.” She forced a smile. “I’ll just give her some time—be patient, like you said. Things will go back to normal soon, right?”
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin and an enthusiasm Laurel couldn’t match.
When Laurel stood and wandered back toward the kitchen, her dad picked up his book again. She knelt by the side of the fridge and began loading more cans of Sprite into the refrigerator door. “Normal,” she scoffed under her breath. “Right.”
She looked up at the leftovers packed away in tidy Tupperwares in the fridge. “Hey, Dad, have you had dinner yet?” she asked.
“Um…no?” he said sheepishly. “I meant to just read the first chapter, but I got carried away.”
“Big surprise,” Laurel drawled. “Can I make you something?”
