Alone on Elphaba's bed, Glinda hugged her knees, her breath a tumble of sobs. Elphaba kissed her but not like last night's kiss but in a wounding way that made Glinda go stiff with fear. She couldn't move. Elphaba had shoved her. Onto the bed. And squeezed her thighs so tight Glinda gasped. And then Elphaba opened her. Worse than how cheap Glinda felt was the shame. Could Elphaba see it? Her arousal lathered between her legs. She hadn't any love for Boq, but she had felt his love for her, his little love that pushed through his trousers. She let her body respond, moved against it as she kissed him. She wanted to feel pretty, and it didn't matter how. For when Elphaba had called her unrefined, suddenly, instantly, Glinda knew why. She saw. Her chapped hands. Her lockram dress. Her unruly curls. The dirt underneath her fingernails. It had been so plain it was unbearable. She ran from the cabin, deep into the forest, straight into Pfannee. The Munchkin held her, repeating—It's okay. Whatever it is, it will pass. Let it out—hugging her until her shaking stopped.
"I'll make you feel better," she said and led Glinda through the trees. Glinda was too numb to care where Pfannee led. It was only upon arrival, Glinda realized what better meant. Her stomach see-sawed. A mixture of unanticipated arousal and unabated revulsion. Munchkin men and women stared. Pants and mouths open, breasts and silent flutes waving, hoots and whistles sounding from both sides of the room. Pfannee pulled her to a row of tree stumps along a long bar table. The patrons resumed their slinking, undressing each other, groping their affluences, and swaying to the music.
"I knew you'd be popular. You can have anyone—anyone you want," Pfannee said, winking.
The only one she wanted would never come here. It was beneath her. Just like Glinda was. Pfannee put down a pouch of salt. The barmaid took it and placed two mugs of ale in front of them. "Here," Pfannee said, grabbing one. Glinda thanked her and took a swig, foam lining her top lip. Mouthful after mouthful, she tried to float on those tiny light bubbles, above the weight of her sadness, above the anchor of her desire.
"—just what can he see in her?" Pfannee asked, fingering the rim of her empty mug.
"Mm?" Glinda swallowed, realizing that Pfannee had long exited consolation and entered into aggravation.
"It's not her looks. Nor her personality. And she won't make him happy. Like that celery stalk would know the first thing about pleasing a man!" Pfannee said.
"A man?" Glinda asked.
"Avaric! Didn't you know?"
They were involved, Pfannee said. In relation, she said. In love, she said. Engaged, she said. Glinda thought if Pfannee said anything more she would vomit. Yes, Elphaba visited Avaric, always unaccompanied, well into the evening, coming home with an unusual joviality, but in love? Yes, they shared things: fine garments, persuasive secrets, an intimate levity, a closeness that made Glinda wonder if Elphaba might leave their cabin for his one day. But the silliest thing is…for the briefest of moments…Glinda thought she could make Elphaba happy. What a half-wit she had been! What in Oz did she have to offer? Her body? Elphaba rejected it, declared it wanting.
A hot slithering wiggled in Glinda's gut. She couldn't compete. She couldn't even object. Avaric was handsome, educated, born to a good family. Far, far above an ugly idiot thief.
Glinda took another gulp of ale, and then another, and another, and another. But nothing washed away the images of Avaric bedding Elphaba. In time, Glinda had thought Elphaba might see her. If she kept obedient, kept studying, she might not always stutter when she read. She might not always seem so dull when she spoke. She might have moved past mere convenience. But after all their lessons, after all their twilights, Glinda was still a nothing to Elphaba and to herself. No past and no presence. How happy Elphaba had been. Last night when she came home with books. With Avaric. The two went up to Elphaba's bedroom and talked for quite a while. Had they more than talked? Had Avaric kissed her? Had Elphaba wanted to keep kissing him? Why hadn't she? What stopped them? Propriety? Glinda's presence? Had Glinda given Elphaba a taste of what Avaric could not? Not until they were properly married.
When Pfannee went to dance, Glinda hid in a private room, muffling her cries in a sofa. Boq had found her and brought her more ale. She drank and drank. Till she no longer noticed Boq's hand on her back, till she didn't mind him whispering in her ear, till he didn't look like such a bad idea, till he didn't even look like a Boq at all. Glinda was abandoned. Unloved. Unwanted. Why should she deny him? What did it matter, when she mattered to no one?
After the Philosophy Club, no sooner had Elphaba opened her legs in their bedroom, then she stopped. She bolted from their room, out their cabin, leaving Glinda cracked and raw. It had been several candle marks and Glinda's stomach growled, but she couldn't move, couldn't stop remembering Elphaba's face, the disapproval, the disappointment, the disgust.
POUND!POUND!POUND!POUND!POUND!
She flinched. Who would knock on their door in the middle of the night? Sniffling, she crept out of bed, out their room toward the staircase. From the stairwell, she could see out the kitchen window. Two men stood in Gillikinese civil servant uniforms.
"In the name of the King of Gillikin, I command you: open this door!" one of them shouted.
The King of Gillikin? What would a King want with their cabin? She rushed and opened the door. The two men looked surprised to see her. She stood barefoot, in her thin servant's dress, eyeing them. One soldier was tall and lean, all shoulders, elbows, and knees. His blue eyes round and empty, his cheeks sunken. His companion, in front of him, was thickset, eyes a rum-brown, his face and neck covered in a forest of oily coppery hair.
"We're received official orders to arrest the Munchkinlanders," the woolly one said.
"Which ones?" Glinda asked.
"All the ones in the King's forest!"
"All of them?!" Glinda asked. "But what have they done?"
"They've robbed the King's carriages," Woolly said and pushed the door open, walking in. Glinda stepped aside to avoid a trampling. Arresting Munchkinlanders in the middle of the night? Glinda knew the Weavers stole from Gillikinese traveling carriages, but they took only a tiny fee Pfannee said. The travelers had so much, and the Weavers so little, and Elphaba hadn't stolen anything at all. What right did they have to arrest anyone they pleased?
"Where's your husband?" Woolly asked.
"My husband?"
"Yes, woman! Fetch him! Quickly!" he said.
"I-I—"
The lean one shut her door, leaning against it, and asked,
"Haven't you a husband?"
"He's out," she lied. "He's gone to trade furs."
"And he's left you alone, has he?" Lean asked, staring at her in a way that made her conscious of her breasts.
"He'll be home soon. Maybe even tonight," she said.
"Maybe even tonight?" Lean repeated, in a mockingly high voice. He came near, smelling of festering cheese and piss, and placed a finger under her chin and raised it. Glinda looked away. He slid his other hand through her curls. "You don't have a husband, do you? Bet you're nothing but a doxy," he said, squeezing her hair and wrenching her head back. "Isn't that right, pet?"
Glinda was so nervous she felt tears threatening. Whenever she thought Nessa might hurt her in places she could never remove, all she had to do was think of Elphaba. As long as Elphaba was near, she was all right. Everything would be fine. But Elphaba wasn't near, and if she came near now, it would only get worse. She couldn't even think on her. Stay away. Don't come home. Not yet. Not until they're through with me.
"Enri, stop teasing her and help me search the cabin," Woolly said.
"I am searching," Enri said, his other hand pulling the top of Glinda's dress away from her skin. He looked down it and Glinda felt her face go hot. "The Unnamed God's been generous to you," he said and Glinda's stomach flipped. She wanted to slap his hand away, but she was too terrified that he might force her to endure much more than looking.
"Come on," Woolly barked. "We still have thirty more miles to search."
Enri sighed and released her and followed after Woolly as he climbed the stairs. Glinda fixed her dress and slid toward the door. She could run. But if she did, they would assume she was hiding something, most likely someone. And where would she run? She didn't know how many other officers were out there. She couldn't lead them to the Weavers. And if she left and they stayed, Elphaba would return without even a warning. But if she didn't leave, she needed an answer. Fast. They would find them soon enough. Elphaba and Nessa's things. All of them clearly designed by Munchkinlanders, some even with the imprint of the royal seal. Think, Glinda, think! But before an answer came, Woolly did. He charged downstairs with Nessa's dresses, screaming,
"Woman! What are these?"
"Dresses," Glinda answered like a nitwit, inhaling a stone terror.
Throwing them, he dove at her, grabbing her throat, pulling her away from the door.
"Don't be smart with me! These aren't Gillikinese dresses. How did you get them? Is your husband a Munchkin?"
Glinda shook her head. Painful air bubbled in her throat. Woolly clenched harder.
"Why do you have them?"
"I told you.. my husband…he trades," Glinda pushed out, the pressure in her head building, her eyes almost popping, "He… trades…with them."
"How does one get these with wolf pelts?!" Enri said coming down the stairs with Elphaba's oils and jewelry box.
"You dare lie to the Sheriff of Runcible?" Woolly asked, shaking her head into a bob.
"No…sir…pleassse!" she gurgled.
"I know a way we can get her to tell the truth," Enri said, grabbing his impudence.
The sheriff smirked and threw Glinda back a few steps. She coughed, rubbing her neck, trying to coax the air back in, moving backward into the corner.
"We'll have to save that for later," the Sheriff said.
"You don't believe her, do you?" Enri asked.
"Of course not, but we've too many miles to clear. We'll make another visit. In the meantime, we'll take these for our troubles," the Sheriff said, pointing to the oils and jewels.
"No, please!" Glinda said, running toward Enri. She had stolen Elphaba's jewels before; she couldn't afford to lose any more. She grabbed Enri's closed fist. He laughed, raising his arm, lifting Glinda off the floor.
"Think you can lie and steal from the King?" the Sheriff asked. He punched her cheek. She toppled, stumbling backward, ankles twisting. A packed heat burrowed across her cheek, through her jaw, scorching her eyes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her, smacking her head against the wall. She lost her breath. His body pressed into hers. He snatched her face, sinking his fingers into her fresh bruises. "The King of Gillikin can take whatever the King wants. And as the His Royal Highness's arm in this forest, I take whatever I want." he said, squeezing her cheekbones so hard Glinda was sure they would shatter. Glinda shut her eyes, willing it to be over.
He lifted her chin and spit. His sticky warmth landed on her nose, dribbled down her mouth and onto her collarbone.
"Do you hear me?" he asked. "Say it. Say 'yes, sir!'"
"Yes, shir," she slithered through her squashed lips.
He laughed and released her. She wiped her face while the men opened Elphaba's jewelry box—pulling out rings and necklaces—and let themselves out. Glinda slid down the wall. She rocked back and forth, back and forth. Elphaba, where are you? Have they caught you? Are you hurt? Are they taking you somewhere? All she could do was hope. That Elphaba was still alive. That she would come back unharmed. That this terrible night would end. Her eyelids grew heavy and when she opened them again she saw the noon light outside and Elphaba's mantled figure enter the open cabin door.
The Munchkinlander stopped at the stairs, hesitating. Glinda didn't.
"You're alive!" she shouted, rushing toward her.
Elphaba gasped—apparently not expecting Glinda to be asleep on the kitchen floor—and stumbled back a step. Glinda halted mid-stride, remembering how Elphaba had left. She kept her gaze on her feet, afraid to see a hint of that earlier disgust.
"Glinda?" Elphaba whispered.
"I thought they caught you," Glinda said, biting her lip, her teeth and lips the last dam against her feelings. "I didn't know what to do. I tried to stop them. I promise you, I did!"
"Stop who? Who came?"
"The Sheriff of Runcible and his officer."
"A Gillikinese sheriff here?" Elphaba asked, looking around the cabin as if they might be hiding in a corner.
Glinda nodded.
"Please don't be angry with me."
"Angry? Of course I'm not angry," Elphaba said, coming near and then gasping. "Oz blood! What have they done to you?" she asked, lightly fingering the bruise on Glinda's cheek and trailing down to the ones on her neck.
"I'm fine," Glinda said, twisting away. How could she even begin to recount what happened? It was too humiliating.
Elphaba stopped between a stand and a lean, apparently unsure if she would be welcome any closer.
"I'm so sorry, Glinda," she said.
"Where were you? Why didn't you come home?" Glinda asked.
"I—" Elphaba said, only to be interrupted by a man's voice.
"Everything all right?"
Glinda's heart sank. Avaric. Of course. Elphaba didn't come home last night because she had Avaric. A husband could keep a wife safe. Avaric walked inside behind Elphaba and rested his arm on her shoulder, a touch so common it apparently warranted no attention from Elphaba who continued to study her. Elphaba's hair was unbraided. It was never undone. Did Avaric do this? Glinda couldn't bring herself to look any lower. She didn't want to think about his hands anywhere else. Not when their heights perfectly matched, not when their clothes perfectly complimented, not when they looked like two halves of an unparalleled perfect whole. Only Elphaba could hurt her. Only Elphaba's imminent departure could pain her worse than the Sheriff's beatings. Why did Elphaba have to kiss her? Why did she have to unlock her with those soft skilled lips? Pull her heart through her mouth like she did? Why did she have to make her think she was wanted? Glinda couldn't look at the handsome couple any longer. Feeling a cry build, she covered her mouth and dashed upstairs.
"Glinda!" Elphaba called, chasing her.
Reaching their bedroom, Glinda stopped dead. The sheriff and his officer had torn it apart, ripping their bed sheets, scattering Avaric's books, smashing Elphaba's quills, and littering the mess across their floor. She knelt down and collected their writing utensils when it hit her like an east gale. They were coming apart. Like this room. They couldn't return to their quiet evenings by the fire. Their sensuous sunset lessons. Their peaceful nights sleeping bed by floor.
Behind her, Elphaba gasped. She came in, shut the door, and knelt by her, taking the quills from her hand, setting them down beside her.
Glinda's heart was so heavy, her feelings fell out her mouth. "Why did you do it?" she asked, turning to face Elphaba on her knees, noticing, in the sunlight, her eyes. Circled and dark. Had Elphaba slept at all last night?
"It…I…" Elphaba stopped.
"Why did you kiss me if you thought I was coarse?" Glinda asked, anger mounting.
"I—" Elphaba started again.
How dare Elphaba look pained? How dare she look injured. It was Elphaba who was leaving!
"Tell me! Why did you do it?" Glinda shouted and Elphaba jumped. "Why did my lady kiss me when she's engaged?"
"What did you say?" Elphaba asked, surprise morphing into disbelief.
"Pfannee told me."
"Pfannee? And did she tell you just whom I'm to marry?"
Why was Elphaba doing this? Why was she being so cruel? Why was she making Glinda say it?
"To Avaric of course!"
"Avaric?!"
"Well, aren't you?" Glinda asked. "Aren't you in love with him?"
Elphaba's eyes widened.
"In love with that oaf?" she asked.
Don't hope. Even if Elphaba wasn't. Even if she didn't love him. It didn't mean Elphaba would stay.
"You aren't engaged to him?" Glinda asked, her stomach flexing, waiting for the hatchet to descend.
"No!" Elphaba said, clearly confused why Glinda needed further convincing.
"But you stayed the night with him!" Glinda pressed.
"I stayed because I didn't think you would want me here. Not after what I did," Elphaba said. "I didn't think you would ever want to see me again. And you don't have to."
"What do you mean?" Glinda asked, the resolve in Elphaba's tone more frightening than her rumored engagement.
"I release you," Elphaba whispered, exhaling into a slump.
"Release me?"
"I release you from your debt to this family. You may stay with the Weavers," Elphaba said, before she swallowed and corrected herself, "with…Boq."
"You're dismissing me."
"You silly thing! I'm freeing you!"
Elphaba was her only good memory. What did freedom mean without Elphaba's tutelage, without Elphaba's praises, without Elphaba's care? What use was freedom when it came with a life sentence to marry a man she didn't love? Glinda couldn't imagine touching Boq again—not even after barrels of ale, not even if he promised that her potato-peeling days were behind her—let alone live with the man, tuck him into bed, bear his children, bare herself. What a steep price for one measly kiss!
"Please give me another chance," Glinda pleaded. "My actions have been shameful, to do those things in front of the Weavers, in front of Lady Nessa. But, I can make up for it. I can apologize. I'll do extra chores. And I can be smarter. I can study harder. I—"
"Glinda—"
"I may be ugly, but I can keep clean. I'll keep my hair up, my nails neat. I'll bathe twice a day, thrice, no five times a day if my lady wishes for it. I'll—"
"Stop this, Glinda!" Elphaba said, placing a finger on her lips. "You are smart. And very pretty."
"But not to you," Glinda whispered.
"Don't you understand, you little idiot?! You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on."
Was Elphaba making fun of her?
I want your ugly body removed from my rafters.
Have you no self-respect?
Who reaches for the unrefined and coarse in the sober light of day?
"But you said, you said I was—"
"I was jealous!" Elphaba burst, "I said—and did—those vile things to you because I want you desperately, but I can't have you."
"You want me?" Glinda asked, disregarding the rest.
"I should think it rather plain?"
"Desperately?" Glinda asked, needing to hear it again, all of it, every bit.
Elphaba crossed her arms and said quietly, very quietly, and rather too quickly,
"Desperately, fearfully, maddeningly!"
Glinda wasn't sure it was real. She wanted to pinch herself, but she couldn't budge. Elphaba Thropp wanted her. Elphaba Thropp thought her beautiful. Smart. Elegant. Marvelous. Elphaba. Thropp. Those deep brown eyes. Those soft green lips. Those sharp high cheekbones. That warm stunning brilliance. My, oh my, oh my.
"But, I support your—your—" Elphaba swallowed, as if trying to get the words properly arranged, as if trying to obediently herd them from her mouth, "relationship," she managed, "—with Boq," and drooped even further, her collar bone dissolving.
There was no relationship. Nothing between them at all. Didn't Elphaba know? Didn't Elphaba understand? Kissing Boq didn't make her feel pretty, or worthy, or wanted but like a parched and punctured earth.
"It was a mistake! I don't want him. I've never wanted him," Glinda said and before she could stop herself, "I've only ever wanted you."
Elphaba's gaze stuck to the floor, eyes unblinking, expression impenetrable. In the shadow of Elphaba's silence, Glinda felt smaller than she ever had.
"How can you possibly say that after what I've done?" Elphaba asked.
But Elphaba hadn't done anything.
"You stopped," Glinda said.
"What I did was unforgivable. I had no right. I hurt you. I touched you in that horrible, despicable manner. I—"
"Stopped. You stopped," Glinda said again. Elphaba looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, clutching her elbows. "You wouldn't hurt me. I told you. Please let me stay on as your servant," Glinda begged.
Elphaba shook her head.
"I forbid it, Glinda."
The blonde's vision rolled as if the ground beneath her were water.
"I meant it: I release you," Elphaba said. "You're free. You are free to go and live where you please. You're no one's servant."
What did she say?
"Anywhere?" Glinda asked. "Anywhere I please?"
Elphaba nodded.
"Here, if I please?"
"Here, if you should like," Elphaba said, looking at her lap.
"But not as your servant?"
"That's right," Elphaba said.
"But then as what?" Glinda asked.
Elphaba cleared her throat, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in her dress, before she raised her chin but not her eyes, and whispered,
"I believe they're called friends…that is if you could ever want a friend like me."
Glinda leaned back on her knees. The full significance of Elphaba's proclamation hit her in the chest, stunning her silent. Elphaba looked up, slowly, as if preparing herself for rejection.
"I do!" Glinda said, falling forward and pressing her lips to Elphaba's cheek. Elphaba stiffened, but Glinda felt her face lift into a smile, her body soften. Until the door opened. Elphaba stood so quickly she almost fell. Avaric guffawed.
"Can't you knock?" Elphaba asked, catching her balance.
Looking at the two, he grinned.
"I hope I haven't missed anything. Please, as you were," he said, gesturing to the floor.
"Say something useful or get out!" Elphaba said, walking to close the door.
Avaric winked at Glinda as if they had been colluding. Did he approve of them? Was this the reason for his juvenile humor? To get Elphaba to admit her feelings for her? Glinda had been so busy wondering how Elphaba felt about Avaric that she hadn't considered how he felt about them. The thought of him silently cheering them on made Glinda, against her better impulses, wink back. He grinned and said in a rush before Elphaba closed the door on him,
"Your sister comes with Boq and Pfannee!"
Nessarose! Dear Oz! Glinda had forgotten about her. She hadn't come home yesternight either, but Glinda hadn't worried. Death and danger felt impotent before Nessa's temper. She could still see that murderous look in Nessa's gaze, still feel the heat of her slap. And surely she wasn't finished. Elphaba looked at her and said,
"You're white as a sheet."
"Lady Nessarose shall kill me."
"She won't touch you," Elphaba said and extended her hand. "Come. You have my word."
Glinda wondered if Elphaba really knew her sister at all, but she wouldn't lose this chance. Clutching Elphaba's hand and rising to a stand, Glinda expected Elphaba to hold hers like a mitten but instead, she threaded their fingers like a glove. Glinda's stomach veered into a warm excitement that by the end of the stairs had fizzled. Nessa, warming herself by the fire, turned and glared with such frost Glinda's stomach shriveled. She looked away, only to fall into Boq's gaze. He stared at her with the adoration of a loving suitor. She couldn't hold his feelings nor could she redirect them. Her eyes darted left and landed on Pfannee who glared at Avaric, arms crossed over her chest. It was as if they were in the middle of a silent argument; Pfannee had the upper hand. That look on her face. It was how Elphaba looked at the club. Angry. Shocked. Disappointed.
The tension was cut by Nessa who in a yell demanded to know why Glinda was still in their cabin. Glinda shrank but Elphaba squeezed her hand and said,
"She's staying. If you can't be civil to her, you are free to leave."
Nessa's mouth fell open.
"You would choose that harlot over your own blood?"
"I would choose benevolence over a lifetime of enmity. You may make your own choice."
Nessa was either too angry or too shocked to reply. Rather her lips puckered and curled inward as if she had no teeth in her gums. At her silence, Pfannee asked Glinda to explain what happened with the Sheriff. Glinda did, omitting the most embarrassing parts and ending her story with the Sheriff stealing Elphaba's oils and jewels. Elphaba sighed.
"There's more," Glinda added, hesitating, wishing someone else could announce it.
"Go on now," Pfannee said.
"They're coming back," Glinda said.
"I suppose to take the table and the chairs?" Elphaba snapped.
Glinda shook her head.
"To see my husband," she said. Elphaba's hand went limp in hers.
"Your husband?" Boq squealed. "You're married?"
"Of course not!" Glinda said. "At least I don't think so."
"But why—" Boq started.
"Unmarried Gillikinese women don't live by themselves," Avaric explained. "They live with their fathers, their husbands, or their masters. Glinda couldn't say she was serving Munchkinlanders, so she made up a husband."
Glinda nodded and Boq pressed his palm to his chest in relief.
"None of you can stay here now," Pfannee said.
"Just where are we to go?" Nessarose asked.
"We'll house you," Pfannee offered.
"You would have us live with commoners?" Nessa asked, taking a step back, her lips twisting.
"You're welcome, you ungrateful little froward worm!" Pfannee said.
"Forgive my sister's small-heartedness, Pfannee. But, I must agree that we can't accept your kindness. We've nothing to offer you now," Elphaba said. The sisters had paid the Weavers for their various meats and services, a necklace here, a diamond there, but now they had nothing.
"Don't be a clay-brained fool, Elphaba. Jewels or no jewels, Weavers don't abandon their own to any sheriff," Pfannee said.
"If you mean what you say, then Glinda and Nessa will accompany you at once," Elphaba said.
Elphaba's omission hadn't escaped Glinda.
"And where will you go?" she asked, her stomach frothing. There was only one other place Elphaba spent her time. And, yet, Elphaba managed to say somewhere even worse.
"Here?!" Glinda asked.
"Not that any of us would miss you, but why would you?" Pfannee asked.
"She's waiting for our dear brother, aren't you Fabala?" Nessa asked.
Elphaba eyed her sister.
"But what if he never comes back?" Boq asked.
"My sister has a guarantee. Don't you, Fabala?" Nessa said.
Elphaba's expression turned stern, as if warning Nessa it would better for her if she did not open that conversation.
"And if the Sheriff captures you, how will you wait for your brother then?" Avaric asked.
"My leaving is not up for discussion. Shell won't come home to an empty cabin or to an ambush!" Elphaba declared.
"Then I'll stay with you," Glinda said.
Elphaba turned, her pointedness all but evaporating, as she said,
"No, my pretty. It isn't safe for you."
Her pretty? Glinda held her breath. Everyone did. Elphaba could be considerate, protective, even caring on occasion, but never affectionately doting, especially not in public. Recognizing her slip, the Munchkinlander changed colors. But Glinda wouldn't consent, no matter how adorable Elphaba looked.
"You said I was no longer your servant," she said.
"No longer our servant?" Nessa asked, incredulous.
"We'll talk about it later," Elphaba hissed, before she returned to Glinda. "Listen to me—"
"You said I could stay where I wanted."
"Yes, but this is diff—"
"Oh, let her, Elphaba! It might help," Avaric said and Elphaba glared with such fierceness, he needed to look away and rub his beard for comfort while he said, "Just think about it. If Glinda disappears they'll know her story was a lie, and that might raise suspicions."
"Her story was a lie, you imbecile!" Elphaba said.
"Not if I play her husband," Avaric countered.
Glinda's stomach fell. Boq's mouth dropped. Nessa scoffed. Pfannee's hands came to her hips, and Elphaba's mouth wound tighter than Glinda thought possible.
"What?" Elphaba asked.
"Do you have a better candidate?" he asked. "If I play her husband, they might leave your cabin and these parts of the forest alone."
"He might be right," Nessa said, "How long can we stay up a tree, Elphaba? Let them try."
"Of course you would want to live with her!" Pfannee said, and somehow Glinda knew the Munchkin didn't mean her.
"Only until the Sheriff returns," Avaric said, looking at Pfannee in a sincere, pleading, almost apologetic manner. Pfannee turned up her nose. Elphaba was even less impressed.
"You will not risk Glinda's life with this ridiculous scheme!" she shouted.
"Isn't Glinda's life hers to decide?" Avaric asked, turning before Elphaba could glower again. "What do you say, dear Miss Glinda? What do you want?"
She wanted a life with Elphaba. A safe, warm, and happy life. She wanted a forest free from the Sheriff. And she wanted the Weavers who loved this forest, to live in peace, free to forage and build as they liked.
"If you think it could work, I will play your wife," she decided.
"Then it's settled!" Avaric said to everyone's annoyance except for Nessarose who was already packing up kitchen plates.
The group stayed for a few hours and planned. They decided the cabin would need a hidden basement for Elphaba when the Sheriff returned. The Weavers and Avaric would start building tonight. And Avaric would need new clothes. It was against regulations for soldiers to wear their uniforms if they weren't on duty. Glinda too. She would need a Gillikinese dress that fit a merchant wife. A Munchkin tailor tomorrow would come by to take their measurements.
After Nessa packed up some dresses and what little valuables the soldiers had missed, Elphaba, Glinda, and Avaric saw them off from the doorway.
"Let me walk you," Avaric said as Pfannee turned to leave.
"We're only a few trees down," Pfannee tossed over her shoulder.
"It would be my pleasure," Avaric said, chasing after the woman who was already several paces ahead.
"Take good care, my Nessy," Elphaba said, hugging her sister tightly.
"Why must you be so stubborn?" Nessa said in a tone without any bite and a good bit of worry.
"I'll be fine," Elphaba said. "Don't worry about me."
Nessarose sighed and, without even looking at Glinda, turned and made her way after Pfannee and Avaric. Boq was left. His hot gaze roamed over Glinda, making her feel as if she landed in a barrel of mites.
"Miss Glinda, I wanted to say—" Boq said and stalled, his clasped hands fidgeting at his chest. He looked at Elphaba, apparently trying to communicate with her silently. His messages met the blind. "Elphaba," he said, resorting to voice, "You were so wonderful to take care of Glinda yesterday, but I must ask you to leave us alone. So we can sort things out."
Elphaba rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but Glinda wouldn't have it. She wouldn't let Elphaba think for a moment there was anything to sort. She grabbed Elphaba's arm and said,
"It would be so good of you to stay."
Elphaba raised an eyebrow. Glinda was sure she was going to decline, but she merely shrugged and said to Boq.
"Apparently I'm needed."
"Then I'll be brief," he said, "Miss Glinda, I know our friendship has been—has been—"
"Unrealistic? Imaginary? Nonexistent?" Elphaba offered.
"Short-lived!" Boq huffed. "And I realize you may have never considered me as a marriage prospect. I mean there is the difference between our cultures and our—"
"Sizes?" Elphaba offered again.
Elphaba's little quips sutured Boq's speech into a comedy. Glinda would have laughed if it weren't for the Munchkin's presence. How could Elphaba even think him a rival for her affections?
"If you must stay Elphaba at least let me speak for myself!" Boq said, standing straight but gaining no more than an inch.
"My apologies," Elphaba said without sounding apologetic.
"Miss Glinda, I've been overwhelmed by your beauty for such a long time. You are the moon in the season of shadow light. You are the mythical sea under the long winter frosts. You are—"
"Surely bored with this over-rehearsed monologue," Elphaba interrupted again.
"Really, Elphaba," Boq said, growing impatient, "if I thought you would be so offended on your sister's behalf, I would have apologized to you first!"
"Who can muster offense under this tedium," Elphaba said, "Are you finished yet?"
"I would be if not for your endless commentary!" Boq said in a tone that made Glinda start.
"Please do let him finish," Glinda said, not wanting Boq's pride to sink any lower, nor his speech to drag on any longer.
Elphaba sighed and said,
"I believe we were at she is the mythical sea under—"
"Miss Glinda, I would like to court you with your permission. Will you accept?" he asked.
Elphaba winced. Glinda spoke before Elphaba recovered.
"I cannot let you waste your efforts, Master Boq. Despite my actions at the club, I must confess my affections are committed elsewhere."
"But you kissed me!" Boq said.
'And it was awful,' Glinda thought.
"Awful?" Boq squeaked, crestfallen.
Dear Oz! She had said that aloud! Glinda's frankness even made Elphaba start.
"It was awful of me to be careless with your feelings," Glinda corrected. "Please accept my apologies!"
But Boq couldn't. He persisted, asking Glinda several times who the other man was and if she wouldn't change her mind, until Elphaba, beyond vexed, told him his inquisition was over and slammed the door. Elphaba retreated to their bedroom. Glinda grabbed the broom by the fireplace and followed after her.
When she entered their room, Elphaba was picking up sheets from the floor, muttering to herself,
"The poor fool. I was terrible."
'Terribly endearing,' Glinda thought.
Elphaba looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed. Glinda covered her mouth. Oz be damned. She did it again. It was as if after Elphaba's confession, her mouth no longer felt anything proscribed. Elphaba simpered. Glinda smiled back, bowing her head. The air between them clotting. Elphaba opened her mouth to comment but seemed to think better of it and turned back around.
But I can't have you.
Why not? Why hadn't Glinda asked? Why has she gotten so distracted with Elphaba's confession that she hadn't figured out exactly what friendship meant—or more aptly—what it didn't mean? It seemed to be of a different substance than St. Aelphaba and St. Galinda's. Could Glinda ask for their kind? For the touching kind. The cuddling kind. The nippling kind.
Before the obstacles to Elphaba's affections had been obvious: her theft, her low station, her intelligence, or lack there of. But if Elphaba could find her beautiful in spite of her shortcomings, what was there to overcome? What was holding Elphaba back? What was keeping them apart? Glinda swept and scrubbed, scoured, and tidied, anything to distract herself from the untouchable woman beside her. Hours went by. Finally they righted the rooms to go downstairs and see the kitchen completely disheveled. Avaric and a group of Weaver men had dug a nice size basement, but they had left piles of dirt here and there, making the kitchen look like a freshly filled cemetery.
"I'll ready dinner," Glinda said, putting the broom down and looking for a clean pot.
"I'll help," Elphaba said and Glinda faltered. No one helped. As Nessa told her many times, they were her chores to be done by her alone, to amend for her mistakes. But as she watched Elphaba borrow a knife from a Munchkin man and grab a sack of potatoes, she realized Elphaba had more than forgiven her; she had made her an equal. Elphaba paused, apparently not understanding Glinda's confusion until she followed Glinda's gaze. Looking at the potatoes, she flushed in a way that made Glinda's heart trip-trapple and motioned for Glinda to sit beside her. She could do little else.
After the women cooked and everyone ate, the men went to bathe in the river. Elphaba went to prepare Nessa's room for Avaric. And Glinda went to change in their room. She looked at Elphaba's bed. Would Elphaba let her sleep there again? It seemed more terrifying than the first night. To be that close. To confine herself to friendship. To feign drowsiness when her heart would be bouncing in her chest. The door opened and Elphaba popped her head in. Noticing Glinda's state of undress, she raised her eyes and cleared her throat. Glinda's body tingled under Elphaba's warm eyes.
"I wanted to say goodnight," Elphaba said.
"Aren't you coming to sleep?"
"I'll sleep downstairs."
"Downstairs? But there's dirt everywhere," Glinda said as if Elphaba didn't know, as if she could explain Elphaba into bed.
"I'll dust off a chair," Elphaba said.
Despair was unreasonable. It was only downstairs. It was only eight candle marks. Six, knowing Elphaba. But the distance felt insufferable all the same. Would this be it? The extent of them. Knowing what they wanted, but never touching, never lingering, never kissing. No affection allowed. No feelings permitted. Feelings that welled in Glinda's eyes at the most inopportune moments. She whirled around. Control yourself, you child! Gillikinese sheriffs stalked the woods, arresting Munchkinlanders, beating and hanging them, and she cried because Elphaba proposed a new sleeping arrangement. She wiped her chin, catching the droplets.
"Are you all right?" Elphaba asked, entering their room, the door shutting.
With the lump in her throat, Glinda could only murmur. Elphaba came near and placed her hands on her shoulders. Glinda wanted to melt into them. Slowly, Elphaba turned her.
"Clearly you are not fine," she said and then as if suddenly realizing why, blurted, "The Sheriff. Of course," cursing herself before she added, "I can sleep on the floor if you want. I—"
But Glinda didn't want. She grabbed Elphaba's wrists and stared at the bed, tears falling clumsily down her cheek. Too nervous to ask properly, she left her proposition there. Elphaba stopped talking and breathing and glanced at the bed. After a long pause, she asked,
"Are you sure?"
Glinda was. Soon both women were in their shifts, under the single sheet the Sheriff hadn't managed to destroy. Glinda shivered and scooted closer to Elphaba, inhaling that warm spice of her skin and yesterday's oils. Elphaba looked down at her, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. Elphaba was studying her, her green fingers brushing across her face. It took a moment before Glinda realized Elphaba was counting them. Her bruises. Examining her to see the extent of her wounds. Whether it was their prior confession or her exhaustion, Glinda said,
"In Gillikin, we believe kisses can heal."
Elphaba's fingers stopped. Glinda shut her eyes. How did she do it again? How did she always manage to ruin their moments? Demand more than was necessary? Fail to appreciate the tenderness that was offered? She chided herself until Elphaba's fingers moved with feather lightness over a spot on her neck. The former eminent leaned down and kissed it. Glinda's toes curled. Elphaba repeated her process, planting her lips all around Glinda's neck, her cheeks, lighting up Glinda's body like a glow bug. When Elphaba kissed all of Glinda's visible bruises, she asked,
"Are there any more for me to heal?"
Glinda considered nodding if only so she could feel Elphaba's lips again, but she shook her head. At the woman's silence, Glinda assumed she had fallen asleep. How wrong she was. She looked up to see Elphaba's eyes smoldering. Her want unveiled and building. Glinda's 'fresh dreams' fell deep in her throat. All she could imagine was Elphaba's hands—pinning her wrists, sliding down her ribs, reaching between her legs. Glinda moved up and kissed Elphaba's mouth. Inhaling through her nose, Elphaba let Glinda's lips settle. Glinda felt the warm curves of Elphaba's mouth, its gentle pressure. A soft wetness touched her mouth. Elphaba's tongue was sliding the length of her lips. Glinda gasped. Elphaba pulled the blanket down, leaned over, and kissed her. Entering her mouth. Massaging her tongue. How lovely. Elphaba tasted of mint and a pinch of salt. Elphaba rolled her on her back and kissed up her neck. Glinda's chest rose, and Elphaba growled so deep Glinda squeezed her thighs together. Glinda's mind grew foggy. She couldn't feel her hands, which had risen to the base of Elphaba's breasts, until Elphaba clammed up.
"Don't! Don't touch me, Galinda" Elphaba said in an unmistakably frightened tone. Glinda scooted away. Elphaba never called her by that name.
"Did I do something wrong?" Glinda asked.
Elphaba rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling, trying to steady her breath. It was as if Elphaba was lost in herself.
Glinda had given Elphaba's past only fleeting considerations. But, now she wondered if Elphaba hadn't loved someone before the war. As the former eminent, Elphaba was sure to have had suitors. Hundreds of them. The finest men Oz had to offer. She might have fallen for one. She might have been engaged. Even if she didn't love Avaric, even if she did want her, that didn't mean Elphaba didn't also love someone else. Perhaps even more.
"Are you promised to someone?" Glinda breathed.
Elphaba snorted and shook her head.
"Are you in love with someone else?" Glinda asked.
Elphaba turned on her shoulder, facing her, seeming to wonder where Glinda's line of questioning was coming from. She shook her head again.
What other reason could there be? Glinda had gone through her deficiencies. Every one. Except. Her. Sex. In Gillikin, relationships between women were forbidden. Glinda didn't know how she knew this, but she did. Among Munchkins, Glinda thought it was different. Pfannee was different. The Philosophy Club was different. Elphaba's kiss was different. But what if it all those differences didn't matter to Munchkin royalty? What if they had their own rules? Or what if Elphaba wanted more for herself? Things Glinda couldn't give her, things like an heir.
"Is it because I'm a woman? Would you prefer me to be—to be—" Glinda stammered. She couldn't ask…for what would she do if Elphaba said yes?
But Elphaba shook her head and said with firmness,
"I prefer you the way you are."
"But what is it then? What's wrong with me?"
The Munchkinlander looked down and kept quiet for so long, Glinda wondered if Elphaba wasn't done talking. But then she spoke in a voice that sounded so unlike the confident eminent Glinda knew,
"I didn't choose it before."
Glinda's chest smarted. Of all the things Elphaba might say. Of all the things that might have kept them apart. Glinda never imagined this. Who could do this? What sort of villain would hurt Elphaba like this? She remembered those times Elphaba seemed so distant, so lost, so tortured. Someone had tortured her. Forced her against her will.
"I'll kill him!" said Glinda in a quiet whisper.
"It wasn't a him," said Elphaba, quieter still.
A woman. A woman violated Elphaba?
There's not a Gillikinese from Runcible who isn't a monster!
Glinda put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. It was clear now.
"She was from Runcible," Glinda said.
Elphaba flinched, confirming her suspicions.
"Do I resemble her? Do we—do we share the same name?" Glinda asked.
Elphaba shut her eyes tight.
"Sweet Lurline! How can you stand me?" Glinda said and had the strongest impulse to take their kitchen knife to her face. Or an ember from the fire. Anything not to look like that Gillikinese beast.
"You're nothing like her," Elphaba said, opening her eyes, clutching Glinda's shoulder, "I thought you would be. But you're kind, you're tender, you're intelligent. You're altogether lovely. I want you, Glinda. I want you just the way you are. But," Elphaba swallowed, "I don't know how to forget her, you see. And I'm afraid I never will. And even if I did, there's not just my past but yours," her hand falling.
"I'm not going back," Glinda said and Elphaba opened her mouth to interrupt but Glinda wasn't finished. "If you meant what you said about my freedom, allow me to put the ghost of Galinda to rest."
Elphaba looked as is if she wanted to grant Glinda's request but yet seemed unable to allow herself the pleasure.
"I may not be able to make you forget that monster, but I can try," Glinda said.
"And if I can't? If I can't ever be with you properly?" Elphaba asked.
"Then I shall be with you improperly."
"I'm serious," Elphaba said, her fist squeezing the sheet between them. "You deserve someone who is free to be with you."
"That presupposes I'm free to be with someone who isn't you!"
Glinda didn't get any farther with Elphaba that night, but neither did she fall back. Rather, she stayed nestled against Elphaba's bony figure. She woke in the night to find Elphaba's sinewy arms wrapped around her and took it as permission to do the same. She wrapped her arms around Elphaba's neck and snuggled into the warm damp flesh of her shoulder, and like a mischievous child she extended her tongue and tasted the salt of Elphaba's skin.
Weeks passed and Glinda barely saw Elphaba. Escorted by Weaver archers, the former eminent would leave at the top of the day to visit Nessa. After her visit, she stayed with the Weavers, teaching them to read in exchange for her sister's safekeeping and for any extra oils they managed to steal for her. Glinda stayed in the cabin, preparing meals, waiting on Avaric and the Weaver men, cleaning as best she could, and praying that the basement would be finished before the Sheriff came back or that he might forget about her completely. When Elphaba came home in the early evenings, she would eat her dinner standing by the window and afterward collapse into bed. Some nights when Pfannee came home with her, they might all succeed in collectively begging Elphaba to sing, Avaric volunteering a few Gillikinese ballads of his own. While the two sang, Pfannee taught Glinda regional Munchkin dances. Elphaba's eyes traced her every move around the cabin, making Glinda go feverish and wet. The singing would stop and Pfannee would retreat to Avaric's room and Glinda to Elphaba's. No sooner would the door close than Elphaba's hands would be on her. With an unexpected deftness, Elphaba undressed her, as if she knew her clothes better than she did. Her fingers lingering in places that made Glinda blush. But as soon as she was stripped to her chemise, Elphaba stopped. The Munchkinlander would slip into bed, rolling onto her side, facing the door, and Glinda would climb in, frustrated and aroused, and lie on her back, counting backward to calm herself.
She expected a similar agenda when Elphaba came home with Pfannee tonight, a week after the basement was finally finished. But Elphaba surprised her. The woman couldn't stop smiling, a bounce to her step, a giddiness to her motions that she wore with an awkward newness, like hand-me-down clothes. Hiding a parcel behind her back, she pulled Glinda upstairs and into their bedroom.
"They've finished them," she said, handing Glinda the bundle that was tied in bearskin and a thick cord.
Elphaba's smile was gift enough. In moroseness Elphaba was gorgeous but in felicity she was beyond breathtaking. Hurry now, Elphaba whispered. Glinda smiled and untied the parcel to find a pink merchant gown, a beige petticoat, a near-black mockado shawl, and a leather corset.
"They're beautiful," she said, pressing her fingers along the lace hem of the shawl.
"Try them on," Elphaba said in a voice that made Glinda's stomach tighten like a mandolin string. Elphaba moved to unbutton her, but Glinda stopped her. Elphaba looked confused.
"Turn around," Glinda ordered.
Elphaba's eyebrow rose.
"Turn around, I said," Glinda said in a mock imitation of Nessa, hands on her hips.
The Munchkinlander smirked, crossed her arms, and submitted. Glinda too wanted to surprise Elphaba. Watching Elphaba's back, Glinda slipped out of her servant's clothing and fastened the corset. Her breasts having got so little attention from her everyday clothing felt strange as they were bound, propped, and laid mostly bare, like an offering on an altar. Fixing her petticoat and gown, Glinda beamed at the rich fabric, its thickness, its color, the way it held her body and made her feel wrapped like a present.
"How do I look?" she asked.
The former eminent turned, a strange expression capturing her features. This wasn't the face Elphaba was supposed to make. This queer brew of horror, disgust, and guilt.
"Don't you like it?" Glinda asked.
Elphaba tried to smile, her lips tight, her teeth hidden.
"Am I that ugly in it?" Glinda asked, her chin falling. She wished she could slide the whole ridiculous outfit off. A commoner wrapped in high linens, velvets, and leathers was still a commoner.
Elphaba came near and said, "You're not ugly. It's not even you."
It was her. It was always her that came between them.
"I look more like her in this, don't I?"
Elphaba grimaced and said, "I'm sorry, Glinda," and turned, escaping out their door.
That evil tyrant. That glutinous pig. That monstrous darkness. That woman who reached where no hand was wanted. Who devoured Elphaba whole. Glinda never wanted to hurt somebody more. Pray she never find her. Because if Glinda ever found Elphaba's Galinda, she would end that woman with own bare hands.
Glinda awoke alone the next morning and an idea came to her immediately. If she looked more like Galinda in her new dress, she would just have to look less like her in other ways. If not a razor to her face, then one to her hair. She got dressed and went downstairs to find Avaric reading at the table. He was taken aback by her new appearance.
"You're very beautiful," he said.
Glinda had no time for pleasantries.
"Good morning, Master Avaric. Do you know where Pfannee is?" she asked.
"Don't you mean Elphaba?" he asked. "All night she's been downstairs rearranging the basement, making a—"
"I meant Pfannee," Glinda insisted.
"Oh, well, she's in the barn tending to the goats. But don't you want to see what Elphaba's done with the—"
Before he finished, Glinda dashed out. She didn't want to see Elphaba until she was properly remade. She found Pfannee filling the goat troughs. Pfannee's eyes grew. She looked her over, rubbing the fabrics and touching her skin. Glinda took a step back from all the touching and told the Munchkin of her wish. Pfannee grinned and said she'd be delighted to help. Glinda sat down on a stool. Pfannee grabbed the sheers from the wall and snippet by snippet, curl by curl, she cut Glinda's hair, until it was short and boyish. When Pfannee finished, Glinda stood up, feeling her hair.
"Is it all right?"
"It rather suits you," Pfannee said. "And here I always thought it was Elphaba who was the more mannish between you."
Glinda blushed.
"Do I look different? Do I—" Glinda's throat closed. She saw them outside through the barn window. The Sheriff and his officer laughing and heading straight for them. No more than thirty feet away. "Pfannee, get to the basement. Make sure Elphaba's there too," Glinda hissed, grabbing the woman's shoulder, pulling her to the back door.
"What's wrong, Glinda? We can fix your hair here if you don't like it," Pfannee offered.
"It's not my hair. Tell Avaric the Sheriff's come! I'll try to distract him for as long as I can. But you must get to the basement with Elphaba! Promise me you'll keep her there until he's gone!"
"I promise," Pfannee said, her lip trembling.
A/N: Thank you for your comments and reviews! I am so grateful for you all: the readers I've gotten to know and each and every one of the anonymous guests who left encouraging words. You've all kept me writing. Wishing you all every good thing for 2018. xoxo.
