The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry

I’m Bill, you know the one that thinks it’s all about the food? Maybe that is true, but it isn’t my fault, after all, men since before cavemen have been the hunter gatherers. That was our main job. Find food. So, you see, because I’m a guy, I was naturally born with it. Besides, my mother told me to eat so I could get big and tall. I did, and now I’m big and tall enough to take on any ol’ woolly mammoth that comes along. Not by myself, of course, but with my other hunter gatherer buddies. Just kidding about the woolly mammoth. I know they are extinct. But an elephant…how about an elephant?

Gee, now I’m hungry. I think I’ll go make a sandwich.

The other day my wife showed me her journal pages. I said, “You are making this up, aren’t you?”

She said, “No.”

“What do you mean–no? Do you really believe there is a portal in the ivy hedge where fairies come into this world?” I looked at her like I thought she might be going bonkers. After all, fairies, who in their right mind, believes in fairies? I knew she liked fairies because we have porcelain figurines all around the house of pretty girls with wings. Decorations she calls them. Just decorations.  I wondered if that is what she was talking about, those little statues.

Now she was looking at me like I was the one that was cracked. “Bill,” she said, “You’ve been to their world. You’ve met Arial and her mother. You saw me transformed from a cat.”

“No I didn’t. How can you say those things? I haven’t been to any faerie world and you certainly haven’t been any gol darn cat! If something like that had happened, I would remember it. A cat, boy have you got some imagination.”

She almost shouted, “Don’t you remember the Spring festival? And how about the gnomes living under our sink?”

“Under our sink?”

“Yes, I’ll show you.” With that she flung open the cabinet doors and said, “There is their pumpkin house. Odette will you come out?”

I guess the imaginary thing she called Odette said no, because I didn’t see any gnomes or pumpkin house either. All I saw was the trash can, cleanser, a box of scrubbing pads, and some air freshener. To be fair the box of scrubbing pads was kind of pumpkin orange.

“What?” my wife asked, leaning her head toward the open doors. I didn’t know what she was doing, but it looked like she was talking to somebody. This could be worse than I imagined. Right now I started making plans for taking care of stuff while she was locked away in some looney bin. I don’t know much about nut houses, having never been to one before. Should I pack some clothes or do they provide those at the home? How about a bathrobe, and slippers? I don’t even know who to call. Do I dial 911 and say my wife is out of her ever lovin’ mind? ”

“Of course, that explains it. Thank you Odette.”

She turned to me, slipped her hand around my arm and twined our fingers. She smiled at me lovingly and moved to lead me out of the kitchen.  ”Let’s sit in the other room.” She wasn’t mad anymore, but this was too good to be true , this sweet act she was playing at. It was almost as scary. I was suspiciously sure she was nuts, but I was willing to hear her out. I’m nothing if not reasonable. “Bill, honey, the reason you can’t remember seeing the fairies and couldn’t see the gnomes is because you haven’t developed your fairy vision. ”

“Huh?”

“Oh, don’t feel bad, there are only a few of us who have it, and none are men.”

Thank goodness this mental illness only strikes women. Just because she now has bats-in-her-bellfry doesn’t mean I’m going to get it too. I didn’t say that though, I just said, “Whew.”

She ignored that sigh of relief from me and went on. “Fairies are magical you know. When you are close to them you see them, and can talk to them. If you get further than ten feet away you can’t see them anymore and the memory of them fades away like a dream. Do you understand? Bill, have you had any odd dreams lately?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but there was something in what she said. Didn’t I wake up one morning and she was meowing like a cat? And sometimes out of the corner of my eye I catch small darting glows just at twilight. It’s like something you are trying to remember but can’t quite get it into focus. Like a dream she said, that’s it, it’s like a dream. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. I’d let it go for now, but believe me I’m going to find out who to call just-in-case she gets worse.

© Tami Ruesch, The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry, 2009.