It was hard watching my dad fall apart, especially when I found out the truth. He was going gray, drinking more and more every night, and the lines in his face were becoming more prominent than ever. I didn't notice at first, it was a slow progression. A very slow roll down a hill that eventually worked itself up to a higher velocity. Nothing was the same when my mom got sick or after she "died". I don't know how she could do that to my dad, I understand now that he was beginning to be suspicious of her youth; the perpetual light that she glowed with, the forever unlined face, her unusually bright, large eyes.
My mother was beautiful, loving, charming, and as unselfish as she seemed, she was. She was really selfish. It was the only way she could keep us together; she was selfish by not leaving my dad sooner. By having me and prolonging her stay, prolonging everyone's suffering. I couldn't visit her at all where she went – and she didn't go to heaven, there wasn't anything of the sort for her kind – and if I tried, well, who knows what would happen? It wouldn't be good and I didn't want to find out how bad it could be.
All I really knew about her other life – her real life – was that she was a lady of a court. Something about a court of light, the name sounded pretty when she told me but I've long since forgotten what the real name of it is. She told me when I was a certain age I could come see her but I think that would hurt me more than it would to heal. I'd have to say goodbye all over again when I left her to go home.
I'm something called a Halfling. A breed that would never be accepted in her world, so I could never truly be with her again; that's the worst part of this entire thing, sometimes, I'd rather she be dead. It would be much easier dealing with her being dead, than dealing with her being alive and not being able to see her. Whenever I think about it – which is almost every day – an un-nameable rage comes over me. I can't describe it and I can't explain it. It makes my bones ache and my fingers feel like they can't clench hard enough to make the anger go away. And then it does. All on its own and in its own time. There's no telling how long it will last or how long I'll string the laces on my lacrosse stick after it's done so I can distract myself.
I want to blame her with all I have, every fiber of my being wants to. But I can't. She had to go. She had over-stayed her welcome and had become too much of a constant in my Dad's life and her leaving hurt him more than he's willing to admit.
There are a few rules to being with humans. The first is not to be noticed too much, the second is don't form relationships with those you don't need, and the third and definitely most important is to not fall in love with them. Humans I mean. Fey shouldn't fall in love with humans. It's unhealthy for both sides but more-so for the human side; nothing is ever the same without them, it's like coming down off of the best high you've ever had, and everything is downhill from there. No matter how hard you try, you can't get back on your feet completely. Once the faerie is gone, they're gone for good and you know that; it's part of what keeps you in the gutter instead of getting back up.
Before about five years ago, he had just been going through the motions. With me, with his job, and with his family. He did the best he could and he was a good dad to me. But he still wasn't able to give it his all. He had loved my mom and she loved him. It wasn't just some thrall she put him under, it was real true love, the kind that comes along once in a lifetime. It burned bright and long, never wavering, and when she was gone, he was knocked off of his feet. So, I don't blame him for not being the best father he could be after she left.
My dad still doesn't even know what she was, he's finally catching on to the fact that werewolves are as much a part of our daily lives as his morning coffee is, and he still hasn't thought about the fact that she never grew old. That she looked ageless even when she was wasting away because of her "cancer" – which was really an Iron Sickness, part of the reason she left. She left clues and I think Dad was just too blind. He didn't want to recognize that she wasn't of this world.
Werewolves are sort of human, right? They're enough human for them to blend in and just enough to be plausible. But fey? Fey are near impossible; they aren't anywhere near human and neither are their emotions. They're fickle, and despite them not being able to lie, they're the biggest deceivers you'll ever meet. Especially Pixies.
That's my mom. She's a pixie. She wouldn't get in trouble but she's like me. Or I'm like her. Whichever it is. She wouldn't get into trouble exactly but she would make it. Just little mischievous things here and there. Hiding things or drawing hearts on Dad's back when he was asleep every once in a while. I guess that's why I get into all the trouble that I do, she kind of raised me to do it, to get into things that weren't my business. Going through Dad's case files and getting into everyone's business.
She taught me to be clever and solve whatever problem I came up against. She didn't really teach me about werewolves, though, and definitely not how to deal with a werewolf best friend. I'd love to see how she would react to Scott's condition. And the troubles we faced with the Alpha Pack. She'd probably laugh then tell me I just needed to look a little bit deeper to find what I already know. She was pretty wise like that. Or maybe just a little crazy. A little bit of both, really. She's the reason why I'm turning into a detective and solving problems for my little werewolf band.
There's a lot of things she taught me to do and one of them was lie. She didn't like lying but she would do it to protect us and herself, which is exactly what happened the night everyone thinks she died.
She was laying in her hospital bed, coughing and wheezing until I could bring her a glass of water and even that stung her throat it was so full of iron. She said it was okay and that I was being so good. I knew then. I knew that she was going to leave and never come back. My dad wouldn't be around to see her leave because he was out on a call and my mom knew that she would be able to slip out quietly with no one to notice but me.
She slipped away in the night and left something enchanted in her place to act as her corpse. It was one of the worst nights of my life. Obviously the worst night of my dad's life or he wouldn't be slipping into the depths of alcoholism still.
Mom...Mom why did you have to leave?