"What?" The neon-green luggage recalled all the loathsome sights and smells ever to come her way. The floor suddenly seemed the best place to look. That's it. Put your head between your knees.
"I'm not your mother, Sarah, not that I ever was much of one, but, well, once I met her, it all made sense. I knew you were something special."
"Is, is Dad not my real dad?" she asked. Tiny clouds encircled her vision, the room growing dark. She could feel herself bobbing forward.
"Sarah, don't pass out on me. No, your dad isn't your real dad. We found you. It was something right out of one of your fairy tales. We were just at home one night, hadn't been married very long. It was close to eleven at night. There was one single loud knock at the front door. You know no one gets visitors that late.
"Your dad looked through the peep hole, but didn't see anyone. Oh, I remember it so well, just so, so vivid. We opened the door and there you were in a little white basket, just a little newborn wrapped up in the softest blankets you could imagine. We hadn't seen anything like you, so, so, your eyes. They're brilliant now, but when you were a baby. All we could find on you was a note that said 'take care of her.' How could we say no to that? I picked you up and at that second, it was as if you were always mine. I put you in your father's arms and he felt the same way."
Sarah's eyes stung with swelling tears begging to fall. She shook her head at no particular voice or question. I wish, she thought to herself, but stopped. Never, every say the words "I wish."
"Say something."
"How could you not tell me?" she whimpered, curling into herself. The tears fell freely once her face was covered.
"Sarah, you were ours! We said we would care for you and be your parents. I didn't know then my marriage wouldn't work out. What sense was there in telling you that you had been just left at our door? We didn't have any name, no clue at all."
All her life, she had pretended she was someone else, somewhere else, battling the unknown to finally overcome whatever quest she had to complete. Perhaps Beowulf had left Grendel only half-dead and it was up to her to finish the task. Or maybe it was a psychological battle and she had to dissuade Frodo from keeping the One Ring for himself. Or maybe after some bad luck with a scaly dragon with paper-like wings, she traded places with Rapunzel and had to wait and entertain her mind in a tower until someone, someone of royal blood, came for her.
"All those times I wished you would come back," Sarah said, "all those times I knew this wasn't my life, that there had been some twist of fate somewhere, you weren't my mother!" She wanted to take Danielle's swan-like neck and wring the head right off. "All those times I went out to that park and made up a story for myself you never bothered to tell me I was a, a foundling?"
"Lower your voice. Please."
"No! You can't tell me to do anything. You're not my mother. You never were my mother. You were entrusted with a baby and you left it! You forgot about it so you could go be selfish and live in a fake world the rest of your life!" The words pounded hard on Sarah, a sickening blow to her gut. She fell over onto the bed and sobbed.
"Sarah." She could feel her mother, no, an unfortunate acquaintance, stroking her hair. "Your hair's so soft. You have to understand. We thought that was what would be best for you. And it was, wasn't it? You did well in school, had some friends, graduated. Do you really regret anything about your life?"
Sarah dared not answer the begging questions that gnawed at her for the last seven years. Not regrets, necessarily, but images as vague as a distant song of another route her life could have taken.
"I was leaving California for a little vacation time and I ran into this gorgeous woman. She looks so much like you. Now, you don't have to meet her if you don't want to."
"She's here?" Sarah asked, wiping her eyes. Great, she thought, another chance to be hurt by a woman who abandoned her. "So, my birthday?"
"The day we found you. I'm sorry. Maybe we should have told you. But where would you have looked for her?"
"In the next room, it seems," she said. She continued to wipe her eyes as she sat up, inhaling deeply. Your mother, Danielle, is being honest with you for once. "I'd like to meet her."
Danielle took her hand and led her out the door to the next suite. Another rich, distant mom, Sarah tried to laugh to herself. Will wonders ever cease?
"She's really beautiful, Sarah. And, sweetie," Danielle stopped outside the door in mid-knock. "I just want to tell you, about your stories, you were right."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe you don't remember, but when you were little, you would go out to the park and pretend it was the garden of some magical castle. If, well, if anyone ever tells you that doing that was stupid, you can tell them you were right."
Before Sarah could raise a thick eyebrow to Danielle's ramblings which were flakier than usual, the door opened on its own.
The two women walked into a suite identical to Danielle's except that hardly a mini bottle of shampoo was out of place. On the bed, a woman clad in a gown so red it reminded Sarah of fresh cranberries cocked her head slightly and smiled at them. Sarah's eyes went wide. The tall, thin frame covered in rich cranberry beauty stood, revealing an unblemished face framed by layered black hair that fell around her shoulders like a lion's mane. The piercing eyes filled with emotion overwhelmed Sarah.
This woman was a goblin.
A/N: Once again, I do not own the original Labyrinth characters, plot line, revealing crotches, or campy but catchy 80s songs. Oh, a free cyber pat on the back to the first who can remind me what the names of the creepy things that dance and take off their heads are. Not that they're going to be prominent, but I just can't remember. Special thanks to all those who have read and please leave reviews.