“Aren’t you getting bored of this, Ana?”
I hadn’t realized when the Fairy Godmother had entered bathroom. She leaned against the countertop on the vanity. I was astonished at the power she had assumed to walk out from the living room mirror into my bathroom.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I answered, attempting to ignore her. And she continued to stare at me, raising an eyebrow.
“I remember how he used to look at me,” I confessed, finding it hard to match her gaze. “He made me feel loved and honored. I don’t like what he thinks of me now. And I don’t know…”
“If at all he thinks in coherence with you,” she interrupted. “And I think it is unfair for your bathtub to have to hold your sad body while you sulk in your own filth and sorrow.”
“It was one thing for you to judge me with your twirling glass of wine from inside the mirror. But it is preposterous for you to be sitting in my bathroom and insulting me.” I snapped. “I will not take it.”
The Fairy Godmother laughed so hard, I could see the cavities in her molars. “Are you doing this on purpose? Putting on the act of sounding stupid, girl?” The Fairy Godmother went on. “That’s what happens when you call false love, love. The man doesn’t look at you the way you think he does. Not anymore, at least. And, I hope you realize that the more you chase him, the more you drive him away. Is that what you want? To chase him for the rest of your life?”
“I want him to apologize.” I spoke out. There was a part of me that wanted him to tell me that he was sorry. And, there was another part that was craving vengeance.
“Well, whether he apologizes or not, is up to him. However, whether you forgive him; is up to you.” She calmly smiled.
A long moment of silence followed while I tried to gather the words I wanted to say next, while the Fairy Godmother turned away and walked out of the bathroom. I drained the tub, threw on my robe and followed her.
The Fairy Godmother was now in the kitchen, filling up the kettle. She turned it on as I walked towards her.
“Do you even remember who you were when you met Nick?” She asked while I stared at her.
“For starters, you were a tea person,” she had assumed it wasn’t necessary to wait for my answer and poured a cup of tea for me. “You turned into a coffee person with him.” She went on, handing me the tea cup and leading me into the balcony.
“Do you remember when was the last time you showed up for racquetball?” She argued.
“I remember being happy with him.” I confessed.
“Your happiness is a consequence of your own personal effort. You cannot burden him with the responsibility to make you happy.” She continued, “would you prefer to date a person who is not happy with themselves and belittles their self-respect by chasing another person?”
“And enough with the mind tricks of trying to run into him and seduce him.” She went on, “it is only adding to his ego and making him treat you like a doormat. You’re mistaken to accept that as love.”
I took a sip from the tea she made. The steaming hot tea that she served hit different in the spring evening. It was delicious.
“As a matter of fact, you need to find yourself again, Ana. Rediscover yourself.”
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