A soft breeze caresses two young lovers as Fiona's dream of a perfect world unfurls. Sunlight makes her hair a fiery red of loving curls as she stares into eyes that make the sky ashamed at it's own comparitively pallid complexion. She says the sweet things without the slightest hint of nausea and is rewarded with a shower of scratchy kisses from her smitten cuddle partner. Nestled contentedly in his arms and letting the world know she is his, our sweet Fiona is at peace.
She moves to watch abutterfly dance lazily across the perfect meadow, and suddenly her paramour's arms seem just a bit too tight. He smiles but inside she panicks as if the world has suddenly lost half it's supply of air. Did they sky not shine blue but a moment before? Why now has it gone steely grey? Scattering tears against his chest she shakes loose and runs for the solitary safety of the woods. Falling in her wake is the shine of her smile, and the peace in her heart like the glass slippers of romance.
Exposed and silent with forced calm she watches as her stunned man gathers the shattered mauldin bits of dreams that fell. The meloncholy baking quickly within her disconsolate heart as she mourns the lost bits of herself. For days she bathes in salt and anger refusing to go back for the lost bits, but growing ever more aware that they must be retrieved from within his arms. If she could only speak to him, perhaps then all could be made right.
Her olive branch is a dried bit of parchment spattered in tearstained ink as she works her bardic art. The calm prince of her ill written faerie tale takes a gentle hold of the branch, but not posession of it. In words that break whate smile she had regained he gives her his conditions. He will return to her the peace in her heart, but he must have the love in her eyes, and the fire in her embrace.
Shaken and half imagining chains slinking up her legs, the branch falls to a place of waiting and our dispirited Fiona falls into the darkness of indicision.
Fiona wakes with a start to her pile of twisted blankets that hove somehow managed to trap her legs around each other. She tries without triumph to toss aside the dream as the makes her way toward the kitchen for some much needed tea. Her mother is contentedly typing away at some nonsense or another as Fiona rummages throught he cupboards to find the specific tea she is in need of today. She moves past the irish breakfast with a near sob and goes for the jasmine green. The water is just a bit too damn cheerfull as it begins to bubble away on the stove. Once the tea is made she slinks into the chair nearest her mother, not speaking untill she has had a good long swallow of tea.
"Is it possible I have a bit of codependant in me, Mum?"
" Co-dependant people crave commitment, you run screaming away from it dear." Mother neglects to raise her head as she speaks this, but this is a learned tactic. She has noticed her daughter is far more liable to explain when she is not agreed with.
" To a place though, maybe? To . .I don't know . .an idea of how life is?". She's fully aware of the game they are playing but her dismal tone of voice conveys the meaning her words can't. " I'm going to get some boxes."
" Anxious to move out are we?" This merits a raised eyebrow and a concerned gaze.
" I need to figure out who I am all by myself. I need to know that I can do that and be ok. I need to know that I can squish my own damn spiders and chase away my own bad dreams. I . . .I think I really need to make my own home."
Fiona's mother puts the computer down and extends the arms that Fiona is clearly in need of crawling into. She smoothes her daughter's wild hair and speaks softly to her.
" You will baby girl. You'll not only do it , but you'll do great at it. Then maybe when you know you can, maybe then you can let somebody be at your side. Then you won't doubt that you want them there, because all you need is you."
" I hope so . . . ."