OH SUNDAY MORNINGS, HOW DOTH YOU SUCK
There once was a poor girl. She was all alone because no one wanted to play with her. She knew it was because of her eyes, dusty blue with a black ring around each iris, but she didn't care. The girl knew how to have fun by herself, so she did. She dressed up into one of her lady's dresses and fixed her hair so that her wild features looked more soft. She than ran out into the forest and called out, "Oh mighty Fairy king! I wish to return to your side and by your laws abide!"
Suddenly in a flash of light the Fairy king appeared. The poor girl was startled but quickly regained herself, nothing scared her! Anyways she wanted to go home, back to the FairyKingdom for she herself was a Fairy princess.
"To go home you must first pass through my maze," the Fairy king said standing tall and beautiful.
He was wearing a white tunic and breeches and soft white boots. They showed off how lithe and smoothly muscled he was. His snow white hair looked beautiful in the moonlight and his to bright green eyes gleamed amused.
"A maze?" the poor girl asked uncertainly.
"Yes a maze. If you make it through you may return home freely. But if you should lose your beautiful eyes will be mine," he answered and his eyes flashed hungrily.
She then understood what he meant. The poor girl knew her eyes were a rarity. She stood tall then looking as graceful as a queen and looked him in the eyes.
"I accept your terms," she said evenly.
She was then plunged into darkness and had to fight her way through the maze. Throughout it the Fairy king would appear to her mostly to try to seduce her and make her give up, but nothing he tried ever worked. By the end of the game the Fairy king had fallen in love with the poor girl and the poor girl discovered she didn't want to go back to the Fairy Kingdom, she just wanted to go home. The king reluctantly let her go home and she left with a strange feeling of dismay. When she was home and the Fairy King was gone she realized that she loved him and ran out to the forest to call to him again, but this time he didn't come. The girl went back home crying over her lost love, little did she know she would she him soon enough…
"What do you think, Finn?"
And the vivid memory of my dream disappeared, suddenly catapulting me into the mundane reality of yet another family counseling session.
"What do you think about what your mother said?"
Having one child who is a slacker stoner criminal wannabe from hell, and another who is a totally freaking freak really didn't sit well with my parent's sense of polite middle class propriety. So while other more pious families engaged in a Sunday morning ritual of dressing up and going to church, ours worshipped the new found religion of 'sharing feelings' and airing dirty laundry (metaphorical and real; being a fifteen year old boy with a fifteen year old boy approach to personal hygiene, Declan's clothes were always skanky and dirty, stinky of pot and BO).
After years of affluent neglect; securing the best care then schooling, scheduling copious expensive extra-curricular activities, our parents seemed truly bewildered that everything could go so wrong. It never seemed to occur to them that presence rather than presents could be perceived as more valuable. Therefore they worked their arses off, completely unaware that they were forging a deeper distance between their son and daughter.
"I'm sorry, what did she say?"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You have no emotional investment in this family!" my mother retorted. Oh goody. Looks like today's agenda is all about me. I'd heard it all before, of course. How I was such a happy, vivacious child who changed, seemingly overnight. I used to possess a hunger for life, engaging in everything, immersing myself in my surroundings. Or so I'm told. When I turned thirteen months old I became a solemn spectator who did nothing but eat and glare with accusation and apprehension. My eyes changed colour, my strawberry blonde hair developed an orange tinge before it decided on an all round red in later months, and I became knowing, withdrawn, other. I no longer liked hugs. I no longer seemed like the same child. My parents, in their insecurity and uncertainty decided to call it all a bad experiment, and had another baby.
I noted I was tuning out again.
"You don't communicate, you don't try........."
Yep. My Mum was still going. Bill, our ineffectual counselor tried to steer the conversation in a more 'positive' direction, then assigned us all homework as to how we could all 'get along' and tick each other off less.
I was just counting down the minutes till I could retreat to my room and not have to deal with this shit anymore.