Cracked Ribs and Forced Smiles
Because goodbye is never just a word.
Break isn't a big enough word.
Stomped, crushed; hurtled to the ground.
Your ribs cave in on themselves and snap, the sharp ends of your bones stabbing into your lungs.
And you can't breathe.
You reach around to grab hold of concrete reality and suck in all the air your body can take but you still can't breathe.
And tears are pouring down your face but you still need to cry more.
Salt engulfs you and you're an open wound that's just losing too much,
You collapse.
Reality collapses.
Everything just collapses.
He never came back. He never came back.
A year has passed and you're still sitting at the same open window, looking to the same night sky, wondering where the hell he is.
'Second star to the right' you remember, but it seems every star two-to-the-right-of is bright and you're looking for your way home but no one can tell you.
He's the only one that knows and a boy's memory is just like a sieve.
You wonder to yourself if by now you've slipped through the cracks.
*
The autumn leaves fly past your window, mocking you with their red and gold freedom. You remember how he made you a crown of ruined autumn leaves and branches and placed it on your head, proclaiming you the Queen of Neverland.
He was the one that rode the sun, he said, but you were the one that chased the moon.
You wonder if night-time misses you. If he misses you.
If, like you, he looks at everything and remembers the simple and soul-crushing moments that you shared.
The acorns that fall from the oak trees are heavier than any burden you can bear, and when Michael and John come rushing back from the park with a feather in their hand you dig your nails into reality in an attempt to not fall apart in public.
Your eyes are the ones of toy dolls when you quietly excuse yourself to the powder room and fall apart in front of the mirror.
You press your palm up to your reflection and wonder what you did wrong for him to break a promise so meaningful to you.
You want to swear to yourself that you'll just stay in the world you're confined to; that acorns simply fall from oak trees and do not mean kisses, and feathers are from birds and do not mean Indians. You want to promise that you'll never think about him again. That the story of Peter Pan will turn into a fictional fairytale woven by a young imaginative mind.
But as you stare into your ruined face you know that you fell in far too deeply. And that love and memories are a mess that you cannot merely walk away from.
You are elbow deep in cleaning agents that just smear the ruins further.
Your Aunt would be proud with your façade and efforts.
*
Christmas brings with it false tight-lipped smiles and store-bought happiness. You unwrap your present and gush to Mother how it is exactly what you wanted, you hug her tightly and say you must run off to your room to put the golden clip in your hair.
But you fumble in front of the mirror, your eyes never betraying from the window you permanently leave ajar even through the snow, currently cascading in. You stare at the white floating snowflakes remembering how 18 months ago he floated in.
You drop your clip and rush towards the open window, breathing in the cold air you let it stab into your lungs a final time as you shut the white window panes together. Turning the key in the lock with shaking hands, you drop it in your pocket; you will not be the mess that snowflakes leave behind.
*
Years pass and you grow older, and though the window remains shut you never forget him. Every birthday as you celebrate another digit you blow out the candles wondering if he's ever going to grow up like you have. If he has to worry about weddings rings and fiancé's that have the wrong shade of brown hair.
You love your husband but in a different way to Pan, and when he kisses you goodnight you wish, just a little bit, that Peter will fly in and rescue you from the life you built.
But even if he comes, you are too late for Neverland, and birthday wishes cannot create miracles. You are bound to the fate of your mother and her mother before that; you will marry a man that loves you and will provide for you and in return you will provide children for him.
Peter Pan is for children, and with a fleeting pain you wonder if the Lost Boys have battled and accepted a new Wendy Bird, if Peter has brought another girl to his world that is brave enough to dive with mermaids and will fight Hook with one hand behind her back.
You wonder if she will stay with him like you should've.
*
Your white gown is much too tight, and the corset wrapped around your waist is almost breaking your ribs and diving you headfirst into memories of another time you thought your ribs were cracking. Your breathing erupts into short erratic breaths and you hold onto the beauty counter, staring into your own blue eyes trying to pull yourself together.
The dams behind your eyes break, and tears chase down your face as you surround yourself in the ruins of your second chance of happiness.
There's a knock, and you turn blindly to the window but find it vacant and closed. The wooden door opens and you turn away; it is not good to cry on your wedding day.
Calloused hands turn over your left palm and place in it an acorn,
"I know you'd want him to be here," John says softly, "but really it's for the best."
You nod, your teeth biting into your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from crying out.
"He'd want you to move on."
And you're tempted to say that he wouldn't know what Peter would want, that John was a young banker at heart already and he was more preoccupied with pirates and adventures than the actual person Peter Pan, but you bite back the words. You need to relearn your self-control, you need to do your first deed as a good wife and step onto the aisle and march towards your future, flowers in hand and a smile on your face.
You need to forget about the boy that filled you up with starlight and set you ablaze. That let you chase the moon and never let you fight your own battles.
You need to forget about selfish mermaids that tried to drown you, Indians that wanted to dance with you and pirates that wanted to fight you.
You need to forget about childish nonsense like never growing up, acorns as kisses and falling in love.
a/n: So my first fanfic in ages, I'm sorry if it's not up to my regular standard esp. for Peter Pan. Reviews are appreciated and always returned.
Oh, how I've missed this fictional world.