In fairytales, life is played out perfectly. True love exists and everyone gets their happy ending (unless you're a villain). But fairytales are only delusions we feed to little children so that they can grow up thinking that good will always prevail over evil and that everyone who deserves a happy ending will receive one. They aren't reality.
But for the time being, I'd like us to delve back into the land of fantasy and drag along our favorite squabbling duo. I'd like for them to have the happy ending that reality denied them. So bear with me.
Now imagine, if you will, that a storybook is opening in front of you, all by itself, with a trail of pixie dust glittering across the pages as imaginary hands turn them. And then imagine that sparkly sound. Do you feel like you're in the beginning of a Disney princess movie yet? Good. Now watch as the screen moves in, closer and closer, zooming in on the illuminated letter and an image of a girl. She is standing in a laundry room, pulling a load of laundry out of the dryer and shoving it in a canvas bag on the floor. The image is frozen in time. Like someone hit pause and slapped it onto the ancient pages of the storybook.
It looks awfully out of place. But I guess it's the 21st century now. Fairytales have changed. Oh look. The picture is starting to move. Can you see the storybook anymore? Me neither. The story must be starting. Now be quiet. I think she's reaching for something. A phone? A cell phone? In a fairy tale? Um…just go with it. Alright, here we go. Dim the lights. Pop the popcorn. Open your candy now before it makes noise and distracts from the movie. And please turn off all cell phones, pagers, and other electronic devices. Oh yeah, and, enjoy the show.
Carly's fingers slid across the keyboard of her phone, typing out a message to one of her two best friends. She hit send and turned back to the dryer, pulling the rest of Sam's clothes out and stuffing them in the bag. Sam had left a weeks worth of clothes at Carly's house after her latest incident with her mom. Carly shut the dryer door and lugged the bulging canvas bag out of the laundry room and into the elevator. When the doors opened up, revealing her apartment, she dragged it across the floor and swung it up onto the couch. No one was home yet. It was Saturday so Spencer was probably out running errands on his motorcycle. Her phone vibrated on the countertop and she reached for it, seeing a new text from Freddie.
From: Freddie
To: Carly
Sent at 10:47 AM
Sure, I'll be there in a few minutes. Just gotta get away from Crazy
As if on cue, the front door opened and Freddie walked in, glancing behind his shoulder to make sure his insane mother wasn't following him, as she often did.
"Buenos dias." He greeted, shutting the door behind him and walking into the kitchen.
"Hi Freddie. The bag's in the living room. And here. She left this in one of her pockets. Good thing I found it before it went through the wash." She said, holding out Sam's iPod. He laughed, knowing that this had been the fate of many of Sam's electronics. She was like a tech-killer. Perfect, considering he was a techie and she spent most of her energy making sure he was in pain. He took the iPod from Carly's hand and grabbed the bag on his way out.
Freddie's car…wasn't great. A 1990 Honda Accord. It was a miracle it still ran. But it had an awesome sound system. That had been the first thing he fixed when he bought the car. It was now equipped with XM radio, iPod connectivity, and HD radio. As he started the car and pulled out into the busy streets of Seattle, he couldn't help but glance down at the iPod sitting in the cup holder. It would be a waste to have an iPod and iPod connectivity and not do anything, right? At the first red light, he plugged it in and pressed play, not bothering to see what he was playing, since the light had turned green a second ago. The first chords rang out through the speakers, accompanied by a man's voice. It sounded relaxing. Not like the classical music kind of relaxing, but laid back. Like the singer could crack up at any moment and it would've seemed perfectly normal. He smiled as he took in the lyrics.
She doesn't own a dress. Her hair is always a mess.
If you catch her stealing, she won't confess. She's beautiful.
Freddie laughed. Somehow he felt the singer knew Sam, because he was describing her perfectly. Figures she'd be playing it. He concentrated on the road, trying to remember the route to Sam's apartment complex. He hadn't been there in years.
As he turned onto a quiet street, lined with white houses and flower gardens, the words filled his ears again.
Well she wants to be the queen, but then she thinks about her scene.
She pulls her hair back as she screams: "I don't really wanna be the queen".
He dwells on these words for too long, rolling them over in his mouth, trying to understand them. He was trying to apply everything to Sam, but he just couldn't find how these words described her. By the time he had given up, some other song was playing. Freddie picked up the iPod and went back to the first song. As the familiar words rang out, he read the screen. Meet Virginia by Train. Train? Weren't they the people who had sung Hey Soul Sister a few months back? It was on every radio station. Funny, he never thought to look into their other music until now.
She never compromises. Loves babies and surprises.
She doesn't care a thing about that hair. She thinks I'm beautiful. Meet Virginia.
Well the first part was true. She definitely never compromised. He'd been in enough argument-turned-physical-fights with her to know that much. After all "momma always wins". Although after being stuck taking care of Ginger Fox's son for a few days, he could testify that she did not love babies. And based on her constant insults, the chances of her thinking he was beautiful were slim.
Daddy wrestles Alligators. Momma works on carburetors.
Freddie didn't know much about Sam's dad. Just that he was gone. But based on her violent nature, that wasn't a bad guess. But Sam's mom, well, her source of income didn't come from working on engines. We'll leave it at that.
Her brother is a fine mediator for the president.
He couldn't help but think of Melanie when he heard this. She was, after all, the perfect child. Polite, smart, charming, sophisticated, independent. He was beginning to see why Sam resented her so much. It must be hard living in her shadow all the time.
And here she is again on the phone. Just like me: hates to be alone.
We just like to sit at home and rip on the President. Meet Virginia.
He glanced down at his phone, remembering the sleepless nights the two had spent together, texting back and forth, talking for hours. He never seemed to feel tired when they were talking. And they never ran out of things to talk about. But it always felt strange to him when he would see her in the halls the next day and they would act like nothing had changed. Like they hadn't talked for nine hours straight about god knows what. Freddie always felt closer to her after nights like that, but she never acted like it affected her, so he acted like it didn't.
Well she wants to live her life, but then she thinks about her life.
Pulls her hair back as she screams: "I don't really want to live this life".
Freddie smiled sadly, hearing the significance of those words but choosing to focus on not making the wrong turn. He slowed down as he bumped over the train tracks and onto a gravely road. It wasn't really gravel. Just really badly paved, decades old asphalt. On one side of the street was a parade of power lines. The other side was dotted with dead, thorny shrubs and convenience stores. Despite the dismal appearance of Sam's neighborhood, Freddie couldn't contain his smile. He really did love this place. And he knew she did too. Something about it just felt like home. He turned left as soon as he saw the group of rusty old mailboxes.
You see her confidence is tragic, but her intuition's magic.
And the shape of her body? Unusual.
Sam's apartment complex had always fascinated him. It was like a mini town. There was a main office in front, but everything else was a series of meandering walkways that were determined to confuse any visitors. They lead you around the property, passing by each unit, which was made up of two apartments attached to each other: one upstairs and one downstairs. Like little shared townhouses.
Sam's was an upstairs. He walked past the office and onto the path. Right turn, left curve, left turn, right turn, straight past the rose bushes, left curve, and he was suddenly at her doorstep with her laundry bag over his shoulder and her iPod in his back pocket. He sighed, not understanding the reason for the tight bundle of nerves in his stomach, but trying not to think about it too much. Freddie climbed the splintering, moldy, wooden stairs up to the top deck where Sam's door was. It was painted a dull red color that was peeling off in most places. The brass number 6, signifying her address, had lost a screw so it was hanging rather crooked. He knocked and heard footsteps approaching the door. It swung open and there was Sam. Her hair was tied up in a messy cross between a bun and a ponytail. The smell of coffee and bacon was smothering the obvious one of booze and cigarette smoke, at least for the time being.
"Hey." She greeted, grabbing the bag from his hands and walking away from the doorway, leaving him standing on the porch. She dumped the laundry out on the tattered couch and crossed the room, heading for the kitchen. She froze when she saw that he was still standing in the doorway.
"Dude, are you going to come in or not?"
"Oh."
"So Carly sent you?"
"Yeah. Spencer took the motorcycle out so she had no way of getting over here. So she texted me and asked me to drop it off for her."
"Okay. Hey, you want some breakfast?"
"Uh, isn't it like, almost noon?"
"So? Jack in the Box serves breakfast all day. Why can't I?"
"Sure, why not."
"Okay. It's in the kitchen. Help yourself, nub. I already ate."
"Thanks. Oh, and here. Carly says you left this in one of your pockets."
"So that's where it was."
Freddie walked into the kitchen, ignoring the sound his feet made on the linoleum, which had been exposed to years of water damage and scuffing feet. At least that's what it looked like to him. There was coffee in a pot near the sink and a couple bacon strips were cooling on top of a paper towel that had soaked up most of the excess grease. Besides that, the kitchen was bare. He searched the cupboards for a mug, finding a plastic one that looked like something a kindergardener would drink lukewarm hot cocoa out of. Other than that, he found a package of stale, half-eaten water crackers, an empty carton of milk (what this was doing in a cupboard I don't know), and a package of instant oatmeal. That was it. The fridge was empty.
Freddie glanced down at the bacon and coffee on the countertop, thought about it for a moment, and then walked away. They were clearly a novelty in Sam's house, and not one he would rob her of. He returned to the living room empty handed, claiming he wasn't hungry, but thanking her anyways, something he does often out of habit, although he never expects her to acknowledge nor reciprocate these words if he ever did anything deserving of them. When Sam was thankful for something you did, she didn't tell you. She showed you. Usually with a lull in the violence, at least for a few days. If you're really lucky, maybe a smile or a backhanded compliment.
Sam glanced up from the laundry she was folding and nodded, grabbing a pair of plaid pajama pants and shaking out the creases. Freddie walked over to her and wordlessly picked up a long-sleeved shirt, folding the arms in first, then the top, then the bottom, before setting it on top of the pile and reaching for a pair of shorts. Sam met his eye and smiled. It was small. The left corner of her mouth inched upward and her eyes softened. If he blinked, he would've missed it because she went right back to her cold stare a second later. He coughed forcefully, trying to break the stone cold silence they'd fallen into.
"Meet Virginia, huh? Never would have pegged you as a Train fan." she said. He looked up and saw her scrolling through her iPod.
"How'd you know?"
"Last I checked it said I had played it five times, not seventeen." she laughed.
"Oh. Well, it was a long drive."
"So you like it, huh?"
"Yeah. It's sweet." he explained. Not that Sam would care for anything that was sweet.
"Sweet?"
"Don't you think?"
"How so?" she asked, picking up a penny tee and folding in the arms. Freddie sighed and added the pants he had just folded to the pile.
"I don't know. She's the perfect girl for him. Just makes me hope he found his Virginia, I guess. Wow. That sounds cheesy." he added, when he realized what he had just said, and who he had said it to. She laughed and shook her head.
"Yeah it does. So what's yours like?"
"What?" he asked, grabbing a sock and hunting through the pile for its match.
"Your Virginia. Your dream girl. What's she like?" Sam clarified, as she snatched the match from the pile while he wasn't looking and stuffed it into her back pocket.
"I don't know." he said, digging through Sam's laundry in the hunt for the missing sock. She bit down on her tongue to stifle her laughter.
"Oh come on. Sure you do."
"No I don't. I guess I never really thought about it." he explained, shrugging his shoulders and picking up the bag to see if the sock was still in there.
"That's ridiculous. You're a teenage boy. Of course you've thought about it. Here. I'll help you. Blonde or brunette?"
"Blonde." Sam looked surprised at this and he almost back tracked when he realized the implications of his answer. But he decided to act like it was nothing. She blinked away her surprise and picked up a tank top.
"Okay. Tall or short?" she asked, folding it. Freddie thought about her question, picking up a pair of jeans and giving up on the sock.
"Um, I don't know. Shorter than me, I guess. Okay. Short." He grabbed a sweater and looked around the couch for a hanger.
"So that's why you never called Gibby's cousin back." she laughed, thinking of Sabrina, the girl who had gone all Godzilla on Carly's utopian society. "Girly or not?"
"Definitely not. I can't handle girly. Tried and failed." He smirked, thinking of Valerie and Carly. He found a hanger on the floor behind the couch and stooped to pick it up.
"Got it. Um, let's see. Would you rather she be funny or smart?" she asked hesitantly, reaching for a sweatshirt.
"Funny."
"Really? You're a total nerd. Why wouldn't you want a smart girlfriend?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Balance. Opposites attract, I guess. I mean, I don't want to date a brain dead cheerleader or something. She wouldn't have to be book smart, just, I don't know. street smart, I guess." he shrugged and started buttoning the sweater in the front so that it wouldn't slip off the hanger.
"Fair enough. Funny or cooperative?" she asked, finishing with the sweatshirt and putting it with the others.
"Funny. Nothing fun would ever happen if all we did was get along."
"Okay. Enough with the funny. I get it. Your Virginia has a sense of humor. How about…honest or passionate?"
"Tough one. I guess, passionate. I feel like a relationship wouldn't last without passion. I mean, no passion, no feelings, right?"
"So you wouldn't mind if she lied to you?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
"No, I mean, I'd mind, but I feel like we could get through it. But if there's no passion, then there's no reason to get through anything. Without passion, there's no point to a relationship." Sam thought about it for a minute.
"Okay. I'm out of questions. So your Virginia is a street smart, lying, short, passionate, funny, blonde tomboy." She froze, halfway through folding a towel, when she realized what she had just said.
"Yeah. But her name's not Virginia." he smirked, taking hold of her wrists and pulling her close. Sam smiled. A genuine smile. Not a half-way ThisMeansThankYouButI'mTooAfraidToActuallySayIt smile, but a real one. She laughed and let her head fall onto his chest. Freddie kissed the top of her head and she was thankful he couldn't see her face because it turned bright red. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt like she would melt on the spot. Then all of a sudden:
"A ha!" he shouted, snatching the missing sock from her back pocket and sticking his tongue out at her. She glared at him, but couldn't keep a straight face and ended up laughing. Sam grabbed the canvas bag and threw it at him as he attempted to ball the socks together and run away from his angry...was she his girlfriend now? Who knows. It's always complicated with these two. Sam shrieked with laughter as he caught her from behind in a bear hug. And...FREEZE! That's the image I'll leave you with. Sam and Freddie goofing off with the laundry, hopelessly in love, at least one of them overly caffeinated, and both of them graced with a happy ending. The camera zooms out and the frame I left you with loses it's photographic detail. It's just a drawing. A drawing on a page in a storybook. The page turns and the words "The End" have been carefully written in a fancy font. Then the book closes and the screen fades to black, It was only a movie. But I hope you enjoyed those 10 minutes or so of unrealistic joy.
I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was seriously fun. I woke up with this song stuck in my head after watching 7 episodes of Once Upon A Time in 24 hours, opened a word document, and by ten in the morning, I had this. Looks like my writer's block is gone, huh? Oh and guess what? My uncle is making me a website for Christmas because he's that awesome. So as soon as possible (and after the 25th) I will start working on it and when it's ready for you guys to see, I will put the URL at the bottom of all of my stories and on my profile (because that's the only way anyone's going to ever see my site). hopefully by the new year. So stay tuned! I will also post my original stories there so that should be...interesting. I forgot what I was going to say...oh yeah:
Review! Let me know what you thought of the format because I thought it was a little weird...but I can't be sure if you don't review.
It can be your Christmas present to me :D
I AM NOW ACCEPTING REVIEWS AS CHRISTMAS PRESENTS! (wow...needy much?)