The Godmother's Call

In the belly of a rickety old barn, two sets of wide, fearful eyes stare from each end of a gun barrel. One with dirty hair and a skillful finger hovering over the trigger. Another with a mysterious cloak and a secret burning deep within. The wind is silent, the cricket songs pause, as two women teeter on the sharp, brink of despair.

I inhale sharply staring up the barrel into the wide eyes of a teenager. My goodness, I have come far to place my hope in the hands of a child; a child who is ready to kill me at that! Just this morning I was enjoying a spot of morning tea, when Doctor Wallace rapped at my little, wooden door. With a flutter of my wand, I cleaned up my cottage, brought in some fresh flowers, slipped into a sundress and smoothed my soft white locks. Wallace delivered the most saddening news. He said that test results were conclusive and I am indeed dying. At once, I knew I must set off to find the girl. She’s the chosen one and she alone can keep the magic of the Fairy Godmother alive! Those are the events that led me here today, staring up this barrel… I’ve found her alright. I gulp back the metallic taste of dread.

My finger lingers over the trigger of the stollen riffle. Who is this old lady? She has no right to stalk me! Who sent her? Pops? Is he really so desperate that old ladies are doing his dirty work? This morning I decided I had enough. Enough pain. Enough beatings. No man is ever hurting me again! When Pops went out to work, I packed my backpack in a hurry and I left. You bet I’m running away and I am NEVER going back. I ran, took the bus to the edge of town, stole this riffle and some cash, hitched a ride on a transport and eventually found this old barn, in the middle of nowhere, to settle in for the night. Riffle in hand, matches in my pocket, I was just about to shoot something to eat and cook over a good old campfire. Then this old lady showed up. Anger flashes through my veins. How dare Pops send her out here after me! How did he find me?!?! I’m going to have to shoot her before she reports back to him and blows my cover. I’ve got nothing to lose. It can’t be all that different than shooting a deer. I take my aim, squeeze my eyes shut and the second before my finger grazes the trigger, I hear a loud “MEW! MEW! MEEEOOOOOW!”

“Oh my!” I exclaim in the warmest Fairy Godmother voice I can muster, desperately trying to further draw the girl’s attention to this distraction. A tiny nose pokes out from a rumpled cloth on the floor. Just what I needed… a little inroad to this despair ridden child. I crouch down on the old, cold floor by the dirty, little kitten as the girl drops to her knees and does the same.

“Oh now, look a him, he’s cold,” I croon. “He’s alone out here, poor little dear. Who knows all he has been through”. I see the girls features soften as she nudges the kitten. “Go on and hold him. He needs a friend”, I encourage her gently. The girl picks the kitten up and slowly, quietly, begins to talk. At first she only talks to the to the kitten and then sometimes to me. “Oh Rosie,” I murmur. “You are just what each other needs right now.”

At once I know I have gone too far. Her eyes flash up at me, she jumps to her feet.

“Let me explain!” I plead as I hold out an old brass locket. I notice her breathing hitch. With a swish of my wand, I have some cozy furniture by a fireplace, a saucer of milk for the kitten and some warm soup. As the girl eyes the soup, I tell her how her Grandma and I were the best of friends and how we became Fairy Godmothers. I tell her the story of her birth and how her Mother died. Most importantly, I tell her she was loved. This girl meant the world to her Grandmother and her Grandmother traded her life of magic to stay in the Not So Magical Land and take care of her. Inside her deep eyes, I can almost see the wheels turning as she tries to make sense of the stories I have just told.

Huh… this old lady must not be from Pops, if she’s being so nice to me. But Fairy Godmother?!?!?! Come on!!! Does she really think I’m that stupid? I suppose to her I’m just a kid, but I am 17 years old! Too old for stupid fairytales. Still she must have know Grandma, or else how does she have her secret locket? No one else knew about that locket but me and I was supposed to open it when she died, but Pops kept me away and I never went to that house again. Who else knew about the wiggly floorboard in the attic? I remember my Grandma… bits and pieces anyway. She was kind and gentle. She had a round stomach and a big laugh. She loved me and she called me Rosie. That was back when I was safe. After she died, I went to live with my Pops… and it’s all down hill from there… until now. I watch the kitten climb sleepily into my lap. I think I’m safe now. This lady seems harmless. And she might be magical… after all… where did this fireplace and food come from if she’s not? I hear her promise that we’ll talk in the morning, just before I fall asleep.

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In the morning, the girl and I have a long chat over breakfast. It seems as though she trusts me a little more. When the time is right, I pass her the locket, she opens it and the most beautiful song fills the old barn. It’s the Song of The Chosen. The song that calls the heart of every Fairy Godmother that ever has been. As the song ends, the girl says nothing but silent tears stream down her face. When she cries, it’s as if a dam breaks and finally I see the girl who is Rosie. It’s been years of pain for her I am sure, but she is still here.

“And now Rosie,” I begin. “The choice my dear, is yours. I am late in my years. I have lived my life and as I prepare to cross over the rainbow bridge, you my dear girl are the chosen one, the one who can succeed me, the one to bring kindness and hope to a very lost world. If you will, you can be the next Fairy Godmother”.

“No way! No way! I’m not becoming some old crazy person, so just take your stuff and go!” I yell at that old fairy. Ugh, why is she making this so hard. She’s not going. I’m going to have to tell her stuff… my stomach turns noisily. All that breakfast was a terrible idea. I feel like I might vomit. At once, the tiny kitten comes barreling across the room and climbs up my pant leg. Oh, I forgot about him. I hold him up and examine his whiskers. I guess I got to say something. I take a deep breath. “I done things I can’t ever tell anyone and people done things to me I can’t ever talk about. There's something really wrong with me. No one likes me and I don’t like them. This making the world a better place thing… I don’t go for that. The world sucks. It’s cold and miserable and people suck. I’m not cut out for this Fairy Godmother crap.” That should do it. I’m just the teenager who thinks everything sucks. Hey, I’m pretty much a criminal stealing guns and holding old ladies at gunpoint. Has she forgotten all that?

“I too was one convinced the world… as you say… sucks,” I began trying to soften my face and look like everything I should be as the Fairy Godmother. I don’t talk about this part of my life… ever. It’s the secret that burns me on the inside. The secret that I have struggled to work through. The secret that threatened to destroy me. But she has to know, that I understand trauma and pain and that the two of us are not so different.

“I was stollen away from my family and shipped off to go to a government school when I was 4,” I began. “I remember very little before I went to that school,” I admit. “It was horrible”. I pause feeling uncertain of how much I should say. I decide to go with the truth.

“The priest at that school… he raped me… over and over. I used to be thankful for the nights a nun locked me in the closet as punishment. I never knew what I was being punished for, but she would scream at me, calling me a ‘dirty Indian’ and forcing me into that hot, stuffy closet. Those were the good nights because I was safe from him”. I shutter, pausing to catch my breathe. Rosie is watching intently, waiting for me to talk. “It’s still hard for me to talk about”, I admit. “It knocks the breath right out of me. I’m telling you this Rosie, because I want you to know that I know what it is like to suffer. Those residential schools raped and murdered many beautiful, innocent, indigenous children… not just me. When my predecessor extended the Fairy Godmother invitation to me, she said ‘Bertha. You have suffered. You can choose to lay down, to believe those nuns words and to live another tragic story of pain, or you can choose to rise above it, to do something that matters, to be the light in someone else’s pain.’ In that moment, I knew I had to do this. Oh I doubted myself, especially at first, but I took the chance. I learned to use the magic I was given to help people and now my world doesn’t seem like such a bleak, scary place.”

As I listen to the Fairy Godmother talk, big fat tears roll right down my face, splatting right on that cat’s head, but he doesn’t mind. She reminds me soooo much of my Grandma. Finally, the tears stop splatting as much and I look at her closely.

“Well... I think you’re supposed to have a place to live before you have a job, so if you got somewhere I can stay that’s far away from Pops, I’ll be a… well… you know. I’ll be one of you… But I am NOT going with the name Fairy Godmother. That Godmother word has to go! Seriously?!?! I am NOT a Mother… who says that? I’ll be… hmmm…”

“How about just Rosie for now?” I suggest. “If you want the Fairy Godmother title later, you are certainly welcome to it. Of course you can stay in my cottage with me in the Magical Land of Far Far Away, we’ll get you a mentor to work with after I am gone… Oh and of course! Bring that kitten! He’s part of the family now. We really should name him…” I murmur as my mind buzzes with plans. So much to do!

Now in that belly of a rickety old barn, two sets of hopeful eyes twinkle. One young girl, with a look of hopeful disbelief. Another with a vibrant grin and no more secrets to hide. A breeze blows. A cricket sings. Two women head out on a hopeful quest, heading home, sharing magic.