The Twelfth Chapter

"Professor, is this essay five pages or eight? It was not clear to me."

Mikkel erased what was on the chalkboard, then turned to face his student with a faint smile. He sat on the front of the desk and said, "The paper is only five pages. Please enjoy your holiday."

The student smiled, nodded, and left the classroom. Mikkel looked down at the notes and books scattered across his desk, then sat back down. He slid the glasses off of his face, wiped them clean with his coat, and put them on again. He organized his things into his briefcase, then stood up and walked over to the window.

His breath covered one of the small panes and he drew a face with his fingertip. Snow was gathering on the windowsill and was fluttering to the ground, covering the grass in soft, white tufts. The groundskeeper was going around with a bag of salt, sprinkling handfuls onto the frosted sidewalks as if it did any good.

The man put on his hat and knotted the scarf around his neck, growing cold from just looking at the huddled students passing beneath the window. He walked outside and began walking to his home, a large house that had been built with many others for professors who were brought in to teach and weren't seeking permanent residence.

Mikkel walked up the snow covered steps, opened his door, and closed it with a breath of relief. The maid could be heard shuffling around the kitchen. She brought him a cup of coffee and said, "The house has been toasting all day. You are quite picky about the warmth, sir."

The man chuckled, wiped his cold nose on his sleeve, and removed his winter clothes. "I suppose I am. I have something for you. It is just a little something."

"If you try to give me another bonus, Mr. Densen, I—"

"Perhaps it is just a card! Please accept it, ma'am."

The maid took the card, slid it into her pocket, and gave Mikkel a hug. She was a brittle old thing, and when he hugged her back, he did it with the intention of not making her more fragile than she already was. He helped her into her coat and her boots, lightly kissed her cheek, and escorted her down the front porch.

Once the man was alone, he locked his door and made his way up to his bedroom. This was something he had done every single day since his arrival. He stopped occasionally for coffee when it was prepared for him by the maid, but if it wasn't offered, he marched straight up the staircase after he walked through the door.

His bedroom was the warmest room in the house. It had maintained a snug heat since October. He had been very specific about the heat being kept well in this room. He walked over to his desk and took a seat, moving his eyes over the cluttered mess on top. On the corner of the desk he kept a box with a golden lock, and when he opened that box with a key that he kept in his pocket at all times, there was another little box with another little golden lock, and that key was hidden behind a picture of his brother he kept in the other corner, and when that second box was open, Mikkel pulled out a silver butter dish with the lid still on top.

The dish was perfectly polished and shone in the light beautifully. When the man took the cover off, he smiled faintly at what was inside.

Lukas was placed perfectly in the butter dish. On top of him were many flowers that were wilting. Mikkel picked them off of him, threw them away, and took out a small bouquet from his suitcase. With a pair of scissors, he cut flowers from the bouquet and set them on top of Lukas. He brushed a finger over his cheek, smiled again as if the fairy could see him, and covered him again with the lid.

Before Mikkel had left the island, he had faced a predicament. Bury the fairy, or keep him. He had told himself that if he kept the fairy, it would be for research, but that wasn't the case. He had been in his makeshift coffin since the summer. His body wasn't decomposing like a human body might. The green, plant-like wrappings on his body had withered in October and were able to be peeled off with ease in November, and when this had occurred, Mikkel had bought him a nightshirt that had been made for a doll.

Other than the loss of Lukas' wrappings, he was untouched. The only thing that Mikkel noticed was that when the fairy was placed in the sunlight, he looked healthier, and the man blamed that partially on his coming out of a flower and somehow being connected to plant life. On the sunny days, Mikkel would place him out on the windowsill and watch him the entire time until he shone again like he had when they'd first met.

Nobody else knew that Lukas existed. He had hidden his journals away, too, so that nobody could know that the fairy ever was. Mikkel couldn't bring himself to mention the fairy to anyone else. He wasn't sure which effect was worse, belief or disbelief.

"Mr. Densen, I forgot my—"

Mikkel flinched so hard that he nearly dropped the butter dish. Luckily, he closed it before Lukas could be seen and put it back into the box. "You startled me! What did you forget, ma'am?"

The maid tilted her head to the side, as if she was trying to see why Mikkel was so jumpy. He cleared his throat and escorted her down the stairs. "I bet you forgot your hat! Was that it? The hat with the daisy on it?"

The lady nodded, sat down in the man's parlor, and he poured her a cup of coffee. "You caught me at a very bad time! You see, while I was away for my holiday, I found a rare insect and have been keeping it secure. I hope you startling me didn't startle you!"

The maid gave him a smile and sipped her coffee. "Perhaps at first. Scientists are always oddballs, though. The good ones, I've noticed. I have seen strange things before in the houses here."

Mikkel laughed, patted her shoulder, and handed her the hat, which he found on the stove. She often left it on the stove. She put it on, finished her coffee, then talked Mikkel's ear off for another hour. He, being the polite man he was, nodded and smiled, even sharing a story or two. When she left again, he locked the door and went back upstairs to tend to the fairy that he had crudely placed back inside the box.

After tending to the fairy, the man didn't know what else he should do. Christmas was growing near, but unlike the previous years, he did not anticipate it. While his mind was always quick to daydream about his mother's pies and pastries and roughhousing with his brother, it was now quick to imagine what spending the holiday with Lukas would be like. He would have loved Christmas if he would have made it till then.

Mikkel knew these thoughts only made him melancholy and he pushed them aside.