The Girl Without a Wish

From Volume 1 Issue 1-3

I’d never liked fairytales. At least not the ones my friends did. While other little girls watched The Little Mermaid with wide-eyed enthusiasm, wondering when their own prince would come, I turned away and read the true story – the story of the sacrifice the mermaid had made for a prince who would never love her back. Of the sacrifice her sisters had made for naught. Of the final death after she gave everything only to lose him. Fairytales were not dreams. They were lessons. Lessons reminding you that no matter what you gave, no matter how much you wished, you could lose everything anyway.

Wishes! Wishes were even worse. While the other kids, or even adults, dreamed about what they would wish for if they had Aladdin’s lamp, I knew exactly what I would wish for. Nothing. Because no one got anything for free, and the one thing no one seemed to realize with fairytales involving wishes was that they always paid a price for that wish. That they never bothered to understand the consequences of a wish before accepting it. No, it was far better to know ahead of time precisely what something would cost before accepting it.

Even now, standing over the river, looking into its churning depths, the thought of having a genie who granted wishes made me grimace. I’d plodded along most of my 22 years, working for everything I wanted, willing to put in the sacrifices needed for the life I desired. Yet even that had not been enough. And if hard work had still led to losing everything, why would anyone choose to make a wish without knowing the consequences first?

I moistened my lips as I stared at the water below me, shaking my head.

I knew exactly what had brought on my old tirade about fairytales and wishes. Just before firing me, my supervisor had shrugged. “Sorry, Carlie. I wish there was another option, but wishes don’t make it so.”

And it was easier to focus on the comment about wishes than the ultimately selfish decision I had come to. A decision that relieved my pain, but caused hurt to those around me. Then again, lucky for me, I had no one left to hurt. No one to miss me or deal with the aftermath.

One more breath, one more look to ensure I was alone, and I began climbing the metal railing. In the wee hours of dawn, there was no one here who would have to suffer the horror of watching me tumble into the river. And just as I reached the top, peace settled over me. Like the real Little Mermaid fairytale, what had been a dreary life would soon be only a wisp in the wind.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

I almost fell in before I was ready, the voice from nowhere scaring me out of my wits. Had I not just looked around, just confirmed I was by myself? Yet, even as I jerked to peer over my shoulder, the boy stood there. Not looking at me. No concern in his face. No. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his dark eyes fixed on the water that had been about to claim me, a tiny smile playing around his lips.

“So many people look out at an ocean and think about its power, but I always thought rivers were more powerful. The way they churn with nothing visible causing it, carving out an existence for themselves. Despite being surrounded by

 dirt, trees, buildings, and everything known to man, they continue to exist, to thrive, making their way across harsh landscapes and leaving a wild, raw beauty behind. No land is complete without a river winding over it.” He looked up into my eyes as I still crouched, frozen, on the railing, and held out a hand.

I barely hesitated, already knowing I wouldn’t throw myself over with someone there who would have to live with seeing it. I took his hand, letting the strength of his fingers ground me as I pivoted and lowered myself back down. I tried to tug my hand away once I felt stable, but he clasped it a little tighter, smiling at me.

“Come on, Carlie. Let’s have a wish of a day.”

My mouth dropped open, my mind churning as I tried to figure out which question to ask first. Did I know him? What made him use the word wish? I shook my head. “I don’t believe in—” But then he was tugging at me, his face breaking into a full grin, and before I knew it, we were flying at a run away from the bridge, away from the water, toward the rising sun.

I was panting by the time he stopped, his grin still in place, no sign of any weariness in him.

“Where-where are we?”

He spread his arms wide, releasing my hand as he did so, and I looked around, my jaw dropping for the second time that day. We were in a park. But not just any park. No. The last park my father had brought me to before he died. I stilled, my heartbeat slowing, almost stopping. I hadn’t been back since that day. Not once.

My eyes traveled to the picnic table where we’d shared an ice cream cone and a picnic lunch, the edges of the morning rays just barely touching it.  Beginning to warm up the same spot I’d seen his teasing, jovial face across from me. I gasped as sharp pain struck at the memory and lifted my hand to my heart. I didn’t want to be here. It hurt too much. There was a reason I’d never come back. I turned an accusing eye on the boy who had brought me. His grin was gone, but the edges of his lips still tilted up in the barest of smiles. No, not a smile, more a look of utter empathy, as if he knew precisely what I was feeling.

“Who are you?” I stepped closer, anger rising. “What are you doing here? How can you possibly know—”

“This way.” He interrupted me without showing any sign of having heard, leading me toward the very place I didn’t want to go. But somehow I went anyway, and a moment later, I was sliding onto the bench, the same place I had sat over a decade before, sharing my last meal with my father, though, of course, I hadn’t known it would be the last.

I surveyed the park. No one was here at such an absurd hour, and for that I was glad. I saw the long slide that I’d always been afraid to go down, and could almost see my father crouching at the bottom.

“Be brave, Carlie,” He’d call up to me. “I won’t let you fall.” 

And I’d always slide down safely, rarely needing the safety of his arms, but glad to know they were there just the same.

 I eyed the merry-go-round that my father had tirelessly twirled as I clung to it, screaming in delight until I ultimately had enough and had to throw myself off, sometimes straight into the bushes to lose my lunch, And yet I always got back up under my father’s approving beam. “That’s my girl. Always get up when you fall. The falls only makes you stronger.”

Tears pricked my eyes and I turned away from the scene, staring across the empty table, remembering his smile as he’d handed me his cone after a few licks, declaring it too cold for him. Grinning up at him as I gladly took it, swinging my small legs under the table, higher and higher until they connected with his and he pretended to be hurt.

“I wish we could do this again tomorrow, Daddy.”

He’d smiled, but now, thinking back on it, I wondered if he’d really had that tinge of sadness in his eyes, or if I was overlaying it as something that should have been there.

“Maybe soon, Carlie-girl. We’ll see. But for today, we should just enjoy what time we have. It makes the coming days easier.”

I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. At five years old, I had no way of realizing that the surgery my father was undergoing could be dangerous. And no one had thought to prepare me for the eventuality that he might never come out from the under the surgeon’s knife. And I’d never come back. My mother had shown no interest in going to anyplace we’d gone as a family either, her own pain too raw to share with a little girl’s. And so, I’d used it as another reminder of why one didn’t make wishes, to a God or otherwise.

She’d never fully recovered. She must be glad now, to be with him in heaven – if there was such a thing.

“So, what do you want to do?”

My eyes flew back to the boy I’d forgotten. He sat next to me now, his arms in front of him on the table, his eyes eager, though for what, I didn’t know.

“I—I want to leave.”

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head, his empathetic smile turning to an amused one. “Running from the pain doesn’t stop it from existing, Carlie. And you know your father would tell you the same thing.”

“How do you know? How do you know any of this at all?”

“Come on, Carlie. Let’s enjoy the time we have. How have you always wished to spend a day?”

“I haven’t.” I shook my head. “I don’t make wishes.”

“Of course you’ve made wishes.” He tilted his head. “Everything you’ve ever worked toward in your life has been a wish. But you worked for it instead of just thinking about it. And that makes it so much sweeter when the wish comes true, doesn’t it? So, now that you have no obligations—”

I flinched. How had he known I’d been fired for missing work too much, only yesterday, one month after my mother died?

“—how do you wish to spend the day? We can do anything you want.”

A spark of rebellion lit inside me and I straightened. He was right. There was nothing to tie me down, nothing I had to work toward. There was always tomorrow morning for an ending that suited my life. For today, what if I did anything I wanted? For the first time, a matching grin to his tilted my lips. I knew exactly what I wanted to do first.

The boy didn’t hesitate to follow me as I darted off, didn’t stop or ask questions as I led him to the highest peak I could find. As I made him climb a fire escape to the top of the tallest apartment building in the city. Never mind the fact it was trespassing. I’d always wondered what a sunrise would be like from the top of a building rather than the smoggy streets below. And finally, today, I was going to find out.

I went straight to the edge of the rooftop, and settled on the ledge that should probably be blocked off, the boy sitting next to me. And there, without words, in a companionship I hadn’t felt in—well—ever—we watched the sun rise together. It was more spectacular than I could have dreamed, seeing the lights bouncing across the city, undeterred by the increasing traffic and noise, unhindered by any of the buildings below us. Bright and steadfast. Ready to illuminate the air, shining on the happy and unhappy alike.  I lifted my face to it, reveling in the feeling, the warmth. What I had thought was peace at the bridge melted away, revealing its true nature as resignation, actual peace taking its place, and the sun was firmly in the horizon when I turned to the boy seated next to me.

“Let’s go.”

We spent that day doing everything I’d never had time for. Everything I’d never let myself spend money on. Skipping rocks in a lake. Buying food from a food truck. Going to an orchestra performance and letting the music fill me. Flying a kite. Planting a flower. Doing dozens of mundane things that so many people took for granted, but I’d never bothered to waste time on. But today, today they were worth wasting time on. Because it was going to be my last chance to do them. And, as the day drew to a close, I began to realize, perhaps, they weren’t things that mattered only because it was my last day. Perhaps they were the reason we lived our lives in the first place. So that we had the ability to do all these little things that brought spots of hope into the toil of everyday life. Maybe we went to work every day, and did all the daily life drudgery just so we could have these joyful moments. Maybe this was what my life had always been missing.

As the sun sank lower and lower, my steps slowed, and with them, my companion’s. I turned toward the one last place that I both dreaded and most wanted to go. And it took a shorter time than it should have to find myself finally standing in front of her grave. Of their graves. Together now.

Memories flashed of before my father’s death. Of happiness, laughter, joy. Trust. Faith. Much of that had disappeared with my father, but not all of it. No, my mother may not have wanted to revisit places we’d all been happy together, might have faded into a shadow of her former self, but that hadn’t stopped her from encouraging me to slow down, to do other things with her. To stop and watch the flowers grow, as she’d said. Things I had always thought a waste of an already short life. But now I knew. They weren’t things that took time out of life. They were the things that made up a life. I licked my lips.

“I miss you both.” I said to the graves. “But I…I think I understand what you always wanted me to know. And I promise, I will start looking for the small moments. The hopeful moments. I will get up when I fall and search for the sun. I will live life until it’s my turn.”

“That’s all they could wish for.” I turned back to my faithful friend as his fingers touched my arm and then slid down to take my hand. Wordlessly, we made our way back to where we had started what seemed a lifetime before, staring down at the river, quietly winding its way through the land.

“Remember, Carli. Even when a river appears perfectly calm, there’s always the current underneath, driving it forward, bringing it not only past all the beautiful parts of life, while taking the time to add beauty itself. Don’t be afraid to be like a river.”

His words soaked into me like a balm, and I blinked away a sudden onslaught of tears. I drew in a breath, and turned to thank him. My lips parted. There was no one there. The boy was gone. I looked around, but even as I did so, I knew I wouldn’t see him.

A tiny smile curved my lips. I might not have made a wish, but it seemed I’d been given one anyway. I lifted my head and straightened my shoulders.

This was one wish I wouldn’t waste. I turned back to the road to town, ready to live my life.