Faerie blood, how could I have faerie blood? I look at Gloria, yet I am not looking at her. This is weird. There is commotion in the front. The tattoo guy fainted. he is haunted. I am blinking my eyes going between what is real and what is not. I look back at Gloria.
“I guess,” I loosen my grip on the seat, “I guess that makes sense.”
“You mean you knew you were part Faerie?” She seemed surprised.
“No but,” I look around the bus a bit scared by what I see. I blink again “Can I sit with you?” I watch as she starts to shift “I promise I won’t take up much room”
I perch on the edge of the seat. It feels better to be closer. I know I don’t talk loud, but talking across the seats seems too public. I think a while of what to say and how to say it.
“So why does it make sense to you?” She prompts me. She’s very kind. I like her.
“Well, um, I’ve always had this feeling that I wasn’t normal.” I slunk down, bracing my legs against the seat in front of us. I fiddle with the seam of my jeans. “I guess it could be dementia or schizophrenia or,” I shrugged.
“No way,” Gloria was clearly adamant about that. “Something like that would show up in your aura. You’re definitely not psychotic.”
I look at her and smile shyly. “Thanks.”
I look back at my jeans. I can feel Gloria watching me. “I really don’t know why it makes sense that being part Faerie makes sense. It just does. Like a part of me did know, but was hiding it.’
Morgan le Fay, Morgan le Fay, the children in my head chanted. They circle around me. Their voices part taunting, part hoping and part stating. I close my eyes and try to keep the tears at bay.
“Are you okay?” I feel Gloria’s hand touch mine. Concern colors her voice.
I look over at her. I can see her and the baby sleeping in her womb. I blink and I only see Gloria.
“When I was a child, my classmates called me Morgan le Fay.” I look back at my jeans. “Not in a very nice way though,” I whisper, picking off some lint. I think about my parents. I try to figure out which one was the Faerie. I wish it was my mother. She was so warm and comforting. But I had met her family. It was her mother, my grandmother that had insisted I become a nurse. That meant it had to be my dad. He seemed to somber to be a Faerie. If he was, then I wondered all the more how mom had even met him. I remember asking her once. She gaily declared that she’d pick him from a rose blossom in early spring.
So what does being part Faerie mean? I sit up so I can see the rest of the bus occupants. There is an appearance of being normal. I blink and shift my focus, like I do when daydreaming. Everything is different. There is a werewolf, a vampire, a ghost and at least two aliens. I look at Gloria. I can see her and her child. I blink to shift my focus. Everything looks reasonably normal. Gloria is looking at me curiously.
“I guess you’re not the only one seeing things that others don’t.” I resume my previous position. And to think I thought it was all a part of an overactive imagination. No wonder I am scared of the world. There is a lot of freakiness in it that people just don't react to because they can't see it. Maybe it is better for them that way.