"Oh don't be silly Emma," my mother practically laughed at me, "you're only writing another one of your stories."
It was all good for her. Her room didn't look like it belonged to an eight year old.
"Can I hear it?" he asked, his tone interested as he looked up at me. I looked at my feet.
"I'll leave you two alone," my mothered smiled, then added as she walked away, "don't be rude, offer him a drink."
I looked questioningly at him and his smile broadened as he shook his head. When I was sure Mum was out of hearing, i said again, "Now's not really a good time."
"Well when will it be a good time, Emma? I can come back if you want me to but you can't avoid me forever. What's so bad about your house? I don't see cobwebs and I can't smell socks."
I cracked a forced smile at him. He was right, of course. For the past two months I'd been rearranging plans, coming up with excuses... it wasn't that I didn't trust him, but... okay, maybe it was. I pried Jesse out of his hands. Then he turned his back on me and made for the sliding door.
"Wait," I pleaded, but he'd already called out loudly, his voice carrying through the house.
"This is some garden you have, Mrs Phillips." I looked incredulously at him with my arms folded as Mum came into the room again, "It's really something magic. Have you done it all yourself?"
Damn him and his charming abilities! He was being written into her good books at this very moment. She cast a hand upon his shoulder and began conversation with him about the weather and the plants to which I didn't even know the names of. Then they were outside, strolling around the garden, picking leaves and laughing. I pouted, leaning back against the door of my room, determined not to let him in. Oh how he would laugh then - at me. Boys.
I let my thoughts rage by themselves, waiting for the pair to come back in. I would have to dump him. He wouldn't want me after today. Oh how rude I was being, but I didn't want him in my room. He would judge. Everyone always did. The rumors that would spread through the school. Why? Why was he here in my home, in my garden? Sure he was my boyfriend, but did that give him permission -
I yelped as the door I was leaning on gave way and I was crashing to the ground before he caught me under the arms and pulled me to my feet. I spun around, my all too memorized room coming to view, and him misplaced inside it.
"You left the window open," he smiled, taking his arm around me and leading me in. Him, leading me, into my room. There were tears of humiliation in my eyes as they flashed over the familiar premises.
It was liking walking into an enchanted forest. A model tree stood in the center of the room, its leaves making a canopy over the roof. The walls were painted dark, but everything was lit with fairy lanterns and scented candles. There was a built in wardrobe that hid beneath the painted walls, almost invisible, and the bed was in the corner. The bed was littered in toys and the desk was at the end of it, so whenever she wrote she could look up at her characters and take them from sitting on the bed and prop them into a story from another world. I tossed Jesse amongst the others and turned to face my fear, tear sliding down my cheek. As much as I tried, no words came out. This was my sanctuary, and no man had ever set food inside - well, except my younger brother, and he didn't count.
I looked away from the love of my life only to feel his finger upon my cheek, wiping that tear away. Then he strode over to the bed and plopped himself on it.
"Please, don't." I whispered. I couldn't take the tease. He was going to make fun of me.
"There's no shame in having toys at your age," his voice sounded ... like he didn't believe me. Like he didn't believe that I could feel such a thing. Just like I couldn't believe what he was trying to tell me. "I mean, look at this room. Open your eyes, it is awesome! How many people have a willow tree in their bedroom? Does it attract the fairies?"
"No," I admitted, taking a few steps forward to stroke the texture of the trunk, "I'm kind of starting to drop that belief."
"Don't you ever stop believing," he warned me, then shifted some toys over on the bed and made room for me. I smiled, but didn't move. I still didn't trust him. But he didn't need my permission. He grabbed one of my big teddies, and Jesse, and began his improv. I sat on the floor, and listened.
[875 words]
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