Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, or any character, or the book or the play or anything at all…I do however own one ticket to go see Kerry Ellis and Kendra Kassebaum on Broadway this June, and I'm beyond excited!
Secondary disclaimer: Yes, I realize it's not Mother's Day yet. But it's coming up, and since my mother's death, such holidays have a period of influence that extends before and after the actual day. Hence this story.
Elphaba sat in the corner of the library, in the chair she'd staked out as her own early on in the semester. She sat absolutely still, moving only to turn the page of the book she so intently stared at.
For staring at it she was; she was too tied up in her thoughts to actually read it. She knew her keen mind would pick up a few facts just by skimming through, and she would re-read the chapter later, when she had settled her thoughts sufficiently.
It was Mother's Day.
She made one more attempt to push that fact from her consciousness, to refocus on the textbook she clenched in her hands. But not even chemicals and reports of intricate experiments could drive the questions from her mind; not today.
The section of the library visible to her from her corner was empty. Mother's Day was a big deal at Shiz. Every convenience was provided to accommodate mothers who stayed in their daughters' dorm rooms, and hotels were booked for miles around, months in advance. Activities went on all day and into the night, and ranged from light-hearted parlor games to fancy balls and dinners, where the "higher-class" mothers and daughters showed each other off to the other women, all dressed in their finest finery, of course.
Most of the tradition of Mother's Day (which really extended into a long weekend, but still bore the name it had through its long history) was rather unappealing to Elphaba; it seemed useless and extravagant, serving no useful purpose.
But she couldn't help glimpsing out of the window across the way (curse the sharp eyes she was born with), mothers and daughters laughing, walking together, enjoying the beautiful flowers just bloomed in the days that were now fully spring-time. Walking to the library, she had passed seemingly endless clusters of these twos, walking arm-in-arm. Some seemed to be in a hurry, and some seemed nervous and stiff with one another. Those she could deal with. But there were too many who seemed to revel in the time they spent with one another, as if they were old friends reunited for a few days. The ones that she heard exchanging jokes, and the ever-present "remember-when"s.
Elphaba turned the page, and her eyes took in the words describing how to extract precious metals from raw ores. Her mind sped back to her childhood.
She remembered one night, soon before Nessa was born, when she and her mother had gone walking in a park. It had been spring-time then, and the trees were budding and the birds had begun to sing again. She remembered holding her mother's hand, a rarity, since her mother was wary of the strangeness of Elphaba's green skin. But in the near-darkness, Melena could see only the shape of her daughter, the strange, green girl that she nonetheless loved with all her heart, though her fear could not allow her to form any true emotional connection with her. Elphaba had felt safe that night, and loved. And she held it in her heart as a precious memory, one of few that she enjoyed looking over in her mind's eye.
And yet she did not dare to consider it too often, or for too long. Elphaba knew, of course, that the best way to deal with the lack of love in her life, the absence of human affection, was to pretend that she did not want or need it. And recalling the few times she had received such things was a hindrance, not a help, in this endeavor. So she generally pushed such thoughts to the side, focusing on her work. Once she was firmly entrenched in work mode, it was easy to stay there. Once in a while, however, it became nearly impossible to reach that point. Today was one of those days.
While her mother was alive, Elphaba's father had tried to love his daughter. She was, after all, his only child and a symbol of the love he felt toward his wife. Awkward as she was, he made some effort to get to know his child and to give her guidance as she grew. But once Nessa was born and Melena dead, Frex felt only anger toward the world that had crippled his youngest child and allowed his wife to die. Lacking any productive way to channel this anger, he turned it on the strange, green child that he had fathered. He drilled into the girl's mind what he saw as the cold, hard facts that she ought to face up to, young as she was. She was obviously a curse on her family, and nothing she could do would ever be good enough to make up for the harm she had brought. Yet she was expected to try, expected to right these unforgiveable wrongs that she was somehow responsible for. So Elphaba cared for Nessa, did her chores, and generally hid herself away so as to avoid any ranting tirades that were not unavoidable. Every word her father spoke to her was engraved in the pages of her memory, no matter how hard she tried to forget. The few that were not abusive seemed tainted by the rest, and she found it difficult to believe that the man actually loved her, though he claimed to, in spite of his treatment of the girl.
Elphaba looked up, startled. She thought that she had heard her name. Looking around for the source, she noticed that the morning had gone and it was now mid-afternoon.
"Elphieeeeee!!"
A call that was almost a squeal rang through the library, and Elphaba winced instinctually. The first rule of a library was quiet, and that thought registered before it occurred to her that someone was indeed calling her name. A split second later she recognized the voice, for who else could it be?
"Glinda?" Elphaba half-whispered; she habitually spoke softly while inside the library. She heard, then saw her lively roommate skipping towards her; her curls could be seen through the stacks of books, bouncing as the blonde girl made her way to Elphaba's corner.
"Elphie, are you here? I've been looking absotively everywhere for you!" Glinda rounded the corner and nearly pounced on the green girl in her excitement.
Elphaba blinked, then with an effort pulled her mind from its dreary reverie.
"Glinda, what are you doing here? What's wrong? Did something happen to your mother?"
Elphaba had met Glinda's mother upon her arrival at Shiz the night before, then gone quickly to bed. She had risen early and retreated to the library, not wanting to interfere with Glinda's time with her mother, and, frankly, not sure if she could bear to watch them together.
"No, silly, we want you to come with us! We're on our way to that new golf course, the one with different sticks and not so much walking? And it's no fun to play with only two, and we thought you'd be good at it! Momsie is getting the details set up as we speak. If we hurry we can get there right as it opens, and then we can play before it gets all horrid and crowded. You'll come, won't you?"
Glinda rattled off the invitation, wide-eyed and excited, but subsided as she saw her roomie still sitting stiffly in her chair. She suddenly wondered whether it might seem as though she was rubbing Elphaba's lack of a mother in her face by asking her to join her and her mother. She tagged on the last phrase as an afterthought, hoping she would not be misinterpreted. Ever since that dreadful night at the Ozdust Ballroom where she'd indirectly humiliated her well-meaning roomie, Glinda had felt a new emotion, one that hadn't before occurred to her. Compassion. And in the months since then, Glinda had realized that this stiff green girl was deserving not only of compassion, but friendship. It was difficult for her, for true friendship which goes beyond common friendliness was not something she had commonly practiced. But something about this Elphaba intrigued Glinda. The green girl struck a chord in the blonde's heart that had remained dormant up until that point. For the first time, Glinda looked beyond the surface to see that both she and Elphaba had deficiencies of character, ones which could perhaps be rectified by learning from one another. They each had something the other did not, and, different as they were, they might benefit from getting to know one another. Glinda felt some instinct driving her, some intuition that pushed her gently to grow beyond the blissful blonde perfection that she had sought to personify her whole life.
So she waited hesitantly for Elphaba to respond, unsure of what she should do if the girl refused her offer.
Caught off guard, Elphaba struggled to process this unforeseen turn of events. Her first instinct was to escape. She didn't know how to respond, she didn't know what she wanted to do with this invitation, and she didn't know if she could deal with watching Glinda and her mother interact. It would be easiest to retreat; that was the path of least potential for hurt.
But looking at the small blonde girl waiting expectantly for an answer, Elphaba couldn't bring herself to just run out on her. They'd become something like friends in the past months. Neither was used to friendship, and the process was cautious and slow, but there it was. Elphaba didn't know what was expected in this sort of social situation.
Anger rose in her heart, then died away. For a moment she wanted to shout, "Don't you know my mother is dead? Don't you understand that? Does it mean nothing to you?" But as quickly as the thought came to her, she set it aside. She couldn't say that to Glinda. Although she thought the sentiment was warranted, she also knew that her roomie's intentions were good, and she didn't deserve to be jumped on for that.
Suddenly a sense of longing surged through the green girl's. Yes, her own mother was dead. But she could mourn that loss at any time. At this moment, she had an opportunity to spend time with a girl she was coming to love as the best friend she had ever had, and to get to know a mother, even if it were not her own. This was a gift, not something to be passed over lightly.
Blinking again, Elphaba passed a hand over her face and took a deep breath, shaking her head as if to clear it of old, dusty thoughts. She closed her book, and found a smile for the blonde girl waiting expectantly for an answer. Standing, she held out her hand and spoke.
"Glinda, I'd love to come with you and your mother."
Glinda let out a squeal, then grabbed Elphaba's hand and began to drag her toward the main entrance of the library.
"I'm so glad, Elphie, we're going to have such a good time! We're going to go to dinner when we're done playing, and Momsie said she'll take us to that wonderful new fancy restaurant that just opened, don't worry they have lots of vegetarian food as well as anything else anyone could possibly want! We'll have a grand time!"
Elphaba cast a glance backwards at her scattered books, knowing that few people ever visited that part of the library and that they would still be there the next time she came back. She refocused on Glinda, skipping beside her, and was thankful for this girl who, for some reason, had befriended her. Elphaba missed her mother and resented the way her entire family had treated her all her life, but Glinda had snapped her out of her dreariness and given her a reason to be happy for a few hours. It was a gift she would treasure. But the greater gift was the knowledge that, perhaps for the first time in the green girl's life, she had a true friend. For we don't always realize the value of our friends until we lose them; since Elphaba had never had one before, she was fully aware of the preciousness of such a thing as a friend, and she was not about to ruin this one if she could help it.
A/N: I'm notoriously bad at continuing with stories, and I don't necessarily anticipate expanding this one. But if by chance anyone would want me to, I'd be willing to give it a shot if I can find the times as finals loom on the horizon! Please no flames if you don't like this story, btw.