Let Things Go
Chanter awoke to a hammering headache that was no doubt the direct result of a late night spent drinking. He hung halfway off of the couch and his right arm was completely numb.
Going to the pub had seemed such a good idea last night when he decided he was going to drown his problems in the bottom of a glass of ale. Now this morning, about fifteen glasses of ale later, his problems still floated on a sea of nausea and despair.
Last night, he had arrived at the Dead End Pub. He had held his grudges tightly in one hand and a glass of ale in the other.
He sat next to an elderly man with a grubby exterior and a glum expression. The man sat quietly staring at his glass but never taking a sip from it. Sensing that he was being watched, the man looked over at Chanter. The old man cracked a nearly toothless grin.
"Woman troubles?" He queried.
"You have no idea." Chanter responded, and then took a small sip of his bitter beverage.
The old man chuckled, "Boy, you are young. You need to learn to let things go, because if you don't, you'll end up just like me. Believe me; you don't want that to happen. I'm old, alone, and no one cares to speak to me anymore. That's no way for anyone to live."
The man stood from the stool and left his undisturbed drink.
"Crazy old man. Doesn't know what he's talking about. Some things cannot be let go. Some things must be dealt with. These things must not be allowed to go on making people suffer from factors they cannot control."
Chanter downed the rest of the ale and slammed the empty glass on the bar.
His mind felt lighter already and he welcomed the sensation that his cares were slipping away. He continued ordering drinks until he had lost track of time and quantity.
Chanter had come home to find that Glinda was very upset, but he was so out of it that he had not heard a word she said.
He didn't remember much about last night, but he did remember what Glinda's face had looked like.
When he recalled the look on her face, though it was a bit fuzzy because of the heavy influence, it broke his heart. Her soft blue eyes were clouded and her lips were pursed with anger. He hated to think of her being upset. Glinda was usually such a happy person and he was ruining her with his dissatisfaction.
He stood to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. He felt as if he was going to vomit, but instead, fell to his knees. Tears sprung from his eyes and he was ashamed. He was ashamed because of his current behavior. He was no where near the man he wanted to be, instead of acting on his love for Glinda, he was acting out of jealousy.
This jealousy had sprouted, unbeknownst to him, the very moment he had fallen in love with Glinda. Ever since, it had percolated within him and recently it had begun to spew out onto those around him.
Chanter gathered his composure and avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he rose from the floor. He didn't have to see his reflection; he already knew how horrible he must have looked. The fog lifted from his mind and he was sobered by the thought of seeking forgiveness from Glinda. The old man was right, some things need to be let go.
He ran to their bedroom and was disappointed to find that she was not there. The silk sheets were twisted and pillows were recklessly abandoned on the floor. A glass of water sat on the vanity and Glinda's night gown clung to the chair.
Chanter picked up the gown and held it to his cheek. It still smelled like Glinda, sugary sweet with a hint of lavender.
Where could she be? She wasn't needed in the council of Oz today, so she should have been there. He really messed up things this time, but there was only one question. Was it too late to repair their shattered relationship?
Meanwhile in the carriage, Glinda had the vile to her lips. She prepared herself to ingest the crimson elixir. Then something inside her spoke, "Glinda, what are you doing?"
What was she doing? She was about to ingest a poison that would end the life of her baby. Her baby, a fragile innocent creature who had never asked anything of her, was about to be vanished from this world.
She looked down at her belly which was flat and showed no visual traces of holding a life within it. What would it feel like for it to expand to accommodate a little body?
Although it would be interesting to find out, one does not take on such experiments so lightly.
After all, would one catch their arm on fire just to see how it felt? No, because the consequences of those kinds of experiments outweigh curiosity.
She must not let her feelings get in the way. She had to take care of this problem before it grew into a full blown catastrophe.
Yet she could not escape the nagging voice inside her that told her to throw away the vile, that everything would all work out. Really, since when did things work out like they were supposed to? Take the state of her marriage; it was currently in horrible condition. No need to add a child into the mix.
She gently tipped the vile back. Slowly the viscous fluid came closer to her mouth. Right as it was about to hit her lips, the carriage came to a sudden halt. She lost her grip on the vile and it slowly tumbled to the ground. She tried to reach for it, but it was too late. It struck the wooden plank and bled its contents all over the floor.
Upset by the loss of the elixir, Glinda shouted at the driver, "For Oz sake! Can't you warn me next time you're going to stop so suddenly?"
The driver didn't reply, so Glinda climbed out of the carriage being careful not to step in the ruby fluid on the floor. Outside, she got the biggest shock of her life. It couldn't be. What in Oz's name was going on? Had she accidentally ingested some of the elixir? That had to be it, for how else would she make sense of what was staring her in the face?
Chanter was growing more anxious by each passing minute. It had been over an hour since he had awakened to find Glinda missing. The servant girl had seen the carriage leave several hours before and was almost certain that Glinda was inside.
If it was Glinda in the carriage, where could she have been headed? He had to find out because not knowing was agony.