Fairy Godmother

“Oh, my. I’d forgotten just how busy I was that summer.” Fae held Ella’s phone in her hand, the screen shaking slightly as the woman battled old age and her nerves. She was scrolling through the pictures slowly, taking each one in. “I completely lost myself in my work that summer and did an awful job of paying attention to my friends and family.”
Ella wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t realized that all of those paintings had been done in one summer. If that were truly the case, then she could only imagine the long hours Fae would’ve put in to get them all finished within a few months’ time.
As Fae looked through the paintings, she told Ella what she could remember about each one, including when she’d painted it, the mood she’d been in, anything particularly striking about the scene, and the details of what had been going on in her life at the time. “There was such demand for my work,” Fae said, shaking her head. “It seemed to come out of nowhere, too. I’d been painting my whole life, but all of a sudden, people wanted to see my work--to buy my work. Then, the offers and requests came pouring as well. People wanted me to paint them. To paint their homes. To paint… all sorts of things. It doesn’t work that way, you know?” She lowered the phone and looked Ella in the eye.
She did know. “Inspiration has to strike,” she said with a nod.
“Exactly. I mean… I could have faked it, I suppose. But I felt that it would’ve been obvious in the presentation, that people would’ve seen paint on a canvas but not my heart, not my soul. If I couldn’t fill it with love, then I didn’t see the point in painting it.”
Again, Ella’s head rocked back and forth. She realized then why she hadn’t been drawing much at all lately. She hadn’t been inspired. If she had been attempting to do her graphics, would she have been able to do those, or would her lack of artistic inspiration have affected that work as well?
“Well, my son didn’t like that. He was of the opinion that I should just ‘fake it till I make it.’ That’s what he told me. ‘No one will know, Ma. Just paint what sells.’” Fae’s slumped shoulders rose and fell as she shook her head slightly, looking down, beyond the phone at her lap. “I never wanted to hurt him, to hurt anyone. But he didn’t understand. My Kenny, that’s my son, he doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body. He was more like his father--Harry couldn’t draw a stick figure!” Fae laughed then, slapping her thigh with her free hand. Ella found herself chuckling along, not sure if conjuring up these memories was doing the older woman some good or making things worse.
Eventually, Fae stopped laughing, and her face grew serious again. “Are you close to your family, dear?”
Ella’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t been expecting such a serious question so soon. She’d already mentioned the problem with her father over the phone. “Well, uh… my mother died when I was a little girl. And my father…. No.”
Fae nodded, her eyes shifting in thought. “I’m so very sorry to know you lost your mother. That must’ve been very hard on you. And your father--is there any chance of repairing that relationship?”
Slowly, Ella shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad. But I understand. After I refused to do the work others were requesting, Kenny got so angry. At first… it inspired me to paint exactly what I wanted to. I went into a manic fury, painting all of these works in the span of a month or two. But then one day… it just dried up. I was so upset about Kenny. Harry’s health was failing. I just… stopped going up to the attic one day. The next thing I knew, Harry had passed, the house was for sale, and I had no family left, nowhere to go. My son wouldn’t even let me see his daughter.” Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. She set the phone down on the coffee table and placed both hands on her lap, patting down her blue day dress. “That was a long time ago. No sense fretting about it now.”
Not sure what to say, Ella reached over and gently touched her arm. “I’m still sorry it happened.”
Without turning to look at her, Fae put her hand on Ella’s. “We can never tell what’s going to drive a wedge between us and those we love most.”
The words began to flow out of Ella’s mouth before she realized she even had the urge to confess. “My father thinks I’m dead,” she said, her voice just a whisper.
It was then that Fae’s large blue eyes focused on Ella’s face. “Why is that, dear?”
Ella shrugged. “Like you said, it all sort of happened so quickly.” Regardless of whether or not it was a good idea to confess the truth of her situation to a woman she’d just met and might not be able to trust, the story insisted on being told. “After my mother died, I went to live with my aunt in France. I stayed there until after I graduated from college and only came back last year. My stepmother didn’t like me at all. I suppose I reminded her of my mother. So… when my father was gone, she kept me locked in the attic.”
“My goodness, Ella. That’s terrible!” Fae’s grip tightened.
“It was. I couldn’t see just how terrible at first. But then… I met Rome.”
“Rome?”
“Yes. My husband. He called me by accident one day. It turned out that his father and mine were archrivals. We had to keep our relationship a secret. But my cousin--Tim--well, he and Rome got into an argument. Tim ended up killing one of Rome’s friends, and then Tim drowned. It was awful.” She shook her head, realizing she was leaving out so much detail, it would be impossible for Fae to follow.
Except, a glance at her new friend’s face revealed she was there with her. “Tim Bolt?”
Ella nodded. “How did you know?”
Fae shrugged and then gestured at a magazine stand over by the bed, one Ella hadn’t noticed before. It was full of tabloid-like magazines, ones that would’ve carried every detail of her story and then some. “I see,” Ella said, realization dawning on her. Fae must have known who she was the entire time. At least she wouldn’t have to retell the rest of the story. “Well, then, you know.”
“I know what I’ve read. In my experience, that isn't necessarily the truth.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there. But… it’s probably pretty close. Anyway, Ella Sinders Verona is legally dead, and now I’m Cindy Grimm.”
“But you don’t know who Cindy Grimm is.” Fae read her mind.
“No, I don’t. And therein lies the problem. How can I be a woman I don’t know?”
“And how can you go back to being the woman you used to be, the one you were comfortable with, when she’s gone?”
“Exactly.” In a way, it was refreshing to hear Fae so eloquently express her problems. At the same time, it also made it more real. It was as if this woman she’d just met knew exactly how she was feeling without Ella having to say a word, as if she’d already lived it herself in a way.
“You know, Ella, when you emerged from that tomb, you weren’t Ella Verona anymore. But you weren’t entirely Cindy Grimm either. There is a way to take parts of your old life you liked and merge them into who you are now.”
“There is?” Ella peered at Fae curiously, wondering how in the world that could be. It was an enigma she’d been struggling with since she first realized what it meant to be dead.
“Of course there is. What do you love most in this world?”
“My husband, of course.” There was no doubt, no hesitation in the answer.
“I mean, what did you love best about Ella Sinders Verona?”
“Oh.” That was a harder question to answer. “Well, I loved to draw and to create graphics. I loved her family--my aunts, my mother, Tim. I loved my father, too, until he betrayed me. I loved how Ella was so down to earth. She didn’t freak out about things all the time, the way that Cindy does.”
“That’s natural. Cindy has reason to question the situation, to assess the dangers. Ella assumed everyone had her best interests in mind, didn’t she? Even when those people were trying to hurt her?”
She found herself nodding again. “How do you know me so well when we just met?”
Fae chuckled. “I know you well because we have a lot in common, dear.” She patted Ella’s knee. “What’s preventing Cindy from drawing or working on graphic designs?”
“Well… nothing is stopping me from drawing. Except for what you said earlier. Inspiration. As for graphics… how does a dead person get a job?”
“Can you start your own company?”
“Rome volunteered to do that for me. But I haven’t quite got it all sorted out yet. It’s a lot of work. I don’t know how to get clients when no one knows who I am.”
“Hmmm….” Fae’s eyes went to Ella’s phone that was still sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “What if you start with something other than graphic arts. What if you start with art in general?”
“What do you mean?” She definitely had Ella’s attention now.
“The paintings in your attic, dear. What if you start with a gallery show? You know marketing, yes?” Ella nodded. “Do you think there would be any interest in newly discovered work of an old woman who hasn’t been in the limelight for decades?”
Not sure she quite understood, Ella turned toward Fae and folded her fingers around her hand. “Fae, are you saying… I can use your paintings to launch my new business?”
“If it will help you--of course you can, dear. They belong to you now anyway. You can do whatever you’d like with them.”
“Fae, I know that they came with the house, that technically, that means they belong to Rome and I. But that doesn’t mean they are ours on a moral level. If you want them back, you can absolutely have them.”
“What I want is for you to be happy, dear. You deserve it. I don’t know all of the details, but I know enough to realize life hasn’t exactly been fair to you. If you can use my paintings to establish who Cindy Grimm is either as an artist, an art exhibitionist, or a graphic artist, then that’s what I would like for you to do. And… if there’s anything else I can do to help you, I would love to be a part of your life. If you’ll have me.”
Now, it was Ella’s turn to feel tears glistening in her eyes. “Oh, Fae! Absolutely. I would love to have you in my life as well. You’re like… an angel. A godsend. My… fairy godmother.”
“Well, my name is Fae,” she replied with a chuckle and a twinkle in her eye.
“True!” Ella hadn’t made the connection before, but it was obvious now. Fae meant fairy, and there was certainly something magical about her new friend. Fae wrapped her arms around Ella, pulling her close, and Ella returned the embrace, suddenly feeling like perhaps she’d finally found the light at the edge of the tomb.