From the moment she was born, my eldest daughter possessed a quiet intelligence that I secretly envied. The way she ignored the world, living in her own bubble… how could one not want such indifference? While I had to turn to bottles and leaves, all she needed were the pages of a book and she was gone.
I tried to protect her from the cruelty of the world. Nanny insisted that we take the little green monster out so she could interact with others, but her skin condition immediately made her an outcast, and the others ganged up on her. I admit, her childhood was harsh, but it made her capable, didn't it?
When she was four years old, through convincing from both Nanny and my husband, I walked Elphaba to her first day of primary school. My daughter didn't look at me the entire way, choosing to instead examine her surroundings and try to pull away from me occasionally.
"Stop," I told her several times, but my only reply was a screech of "Horrors! Horrors!" Eventually, I gave up, and it was only maternal instinct that kept me from letting go of her and allowing her to become lost in some foliage.
When I dropped her off, I couldn't, nor did I want to stay long, seeing as Nessarose still needed much attention. As I began to leave, in an uncharacteristic show, Elphaba latched onto my leg, looking up at me with her dark eyes. How a child could have such dark chocolate eyes that were so expressive, yet empty was beyond me.
"Horrors…" she whispered.
"Let go. I have to return to your sister." I pried her off my leg and gave her bottom a light smack as a way of sending her back into the room. As I walked away, I could feel her eyes boring into me, though I never turned back to look at her.
That afternoon, while I was lying on the bed, the world spinning before me, I became aware of the sound of the front door opening. I looked up weakly to see Turtle Heart walking in, holding Elphaba's hand.
"Sit," he told her, gently pushing her towards a chair. The green child obediently sat, and I somehow managed to get myself into a sitting position.
"How was school?" I asked, my words slurred.
"It would appear Elphaba got into a fight."
"Wha… already? Elphaba…" I stood, swaying slightly as I approached. Even through my intoxicated haze, I could tell that my daughter was covered in blood, and I was about to berate her when I noticed the dried blood on her face and her black eye. "Did they… hit you?"
My daughter didn't reply, and I hadn't exactly expected her to. Still… how could children be so cruel as to beat another just because of her skin?
Knowing of Elphaba's aversion to water, Turtle Heart cleaned her up with a dry towel, and as I slowly returned to sobriety, I pulled her into my lap and began to brush her hair. I was so envious of her hair… so long and thick… and the color of spun coffee. I remembered the beauty I had once possessed… how people used to envy me, and here I was, jealous of my own daughter. Frex wouldn't approve, I knew that, but I didn't much care at the moment, nor would I.
When my husband arrived home, Elphaba had settled herself on the floor, scowling at a book in her hands. I was making a dinner of sorts, glad that Turtle Heart was watching Nessa.
"How was her first day of school?" Frex asked, taking his coat off.
I didn't look up. "Oh, you know… she was her usual self."
Frex nodded before he sat down with his prayer book. I looked down at my daughter, surprised to see that for once, she was looking back at me, a tiny grin on her face that revealed her unusually sharp teeth. It was almost as if she knew that through some odd motherly instinct, I was doing what I could to protect her.
And perhaps in a way, I was. Eventually, she grew, as all children do, though I would never forget the child she had been, and how on that night, we had shared a moment of understanding: we were both just trying to find our way through a heartless world.