Once back home, Sarah's mind replayed in a loop the mother's words and her foolish wish. Though she knew it was unfair, she couldn't help feeling a certain resentment. How could that woman, who could return to her family each day, place the book on a shelf, and simply forget about it, dare to envy her? Sarah had merely substituted the library setting with her apartment, the Labyrinth remained omnipresent. Every corner was covered with illustrations, awaiting her approval for the anniversary edition.
Even without that excuse, her apartment remained in constant chaos. It was good she didn't care about fancy furniture, to make things worse. A table and a chair was all that was needed, and perhaps a fresh idea so she wouldn't have to write about that damned labyrinth ever again.
As she looked around, the mocking gaze of the Goblin King, repeated here and there, seemed to find delight in her frustration. And, as if summoned by him, Karen's voice echoed in her mind, asking impertinent questions about her romantic life, again and again. At sixteen, her fake concern had been annoying, but in the last decade it had become intolerable.
But now, even Sarah had to recognize that maybe the dreaded day had finally arrived. Maybe she was starting to lose it.
"Yes, you were right all along, Karen," she thought, "The problem has always been that boy, who wasn't even real..."
But, she knew she was being unfair. Karen had just tried to get close to her, in her own clumsy way. Sarah had been a difficult-to-handle teenager, and for better or worse, her character hadn't changed that much over the years.
"If only," she sighed.
If only what? Unfortunately, she didn't know what else she could possibly need. She had her books, her apartment, and enough money in the bank to cover her basic needs for the foreseeable future. She had Toby, though he hardly ever called despite the promises he made at the beginning of the semester. And she had, well, she had Karen and her father, of course. Poor Karen, whose concern about her was probably more genuine that she had ever given her credit for.
As she stood there, strangely rooted in the middle of her living room, her mind tried to comprehend why the woman's prosaic words in the library werr having such a powerful effect. Desperation and bitterness weren't natural parts of her character; they were foreign and perplexing emotions. What did it matter what Karen had said years ago? What did it matter what Sarah might have felt at fifteen? She had always been a pragmatic person, and she saw no reason to change at this stage of her life.
"I wish..."
She could feel all the anticipation contained in those simple words, like a cool breeze flowing through the closed windows. But she had the presence of mind not to continue. Where did that sudden weakness come from? What did she desire so strongly, despite her fear?
It was pointless to deny it; she yearned for him. The Goblin King, smirking across the multicolor drawings, seemed to agree. After all those years, he remained the image of her perfect lover. She preferred not to dwell too much on what that might reveal about her character.
"I'm almost thirty," she said slowly, surprised by the sadness in her own voice. But there was no response, just illustrations of lifeless creatures surrounding her. Lately, they never spoke to her warmly or jokingly, as they had used to.
Sitting on a small empty space on the carpet, she inadvertently assumed the posture of the children at the library.
"There was a time when I truly believed I would never grow old. A time when I thought I could keep Hoggle, Ludo, and the rest of my friends from the Labyrinth by my side forever."
She knew she could have had all that; it had been within reach. But what would have been the price to pay?
Writing helped exorcise some of the melancholy, but deep down, she knew that the real solution was to write about something else and try to forget. Or at least, she needed to stop searching for Jareth in every man she met.
"I'm still a silly girl. I don't know if I should feel proud or depressed about it," she admitted.
Sarah could almost hear Jareth's laughter in response to her words. It didn't surprise her too much, since she had created him. She could make him say whatever she wanted, as if the Goblin King were nothing more than a puppet, and she its ventriloquist. Her perfect lover, possessing all the qualities she sought in a man.
"But he was wicked. And... he took Toby! I never wished to meet a man like him in real life..." that same part of her, still young and inexperienced, insisted.
She stood up abruptly, as if trying to put some distance between herself and the drawings. If there was one thing she had truly learned since the last time she dreamt of the Labyrinth, it was how easy it was to deceive herself.
"I created him dark, mysterious, and elegant. So different from the boring teenagers around me... I wanted a challenge and an adventure," she mused, closing her eyes as if to immerse herself in a grand ballroom's music.
"And when you could have had everything he offered, you rejected him," a forceful, foreign thought intruded, leaving her confused.
Sarah opened her eyes, feeling the need to justify herself to the empty room.
"I had no other choice. Accepting his offer would have led me to a psychiatric hospital, talking about goblins, dwarfs, and Labyrinths. What else could I have done?"
No one replied, and her frustration intensified. "I've kept him alive in my stories! In my heart, and in the minds of thousands of children. If Jareth were real, his labyrinth would be full of goblins right now, thanks to my book."
But it was not a reassuring thought. Thank God, the Goblin King wasn't real.
"Thank God?" she wondered for a brief moment.
"I wish Jareth were real," she whispered, the words leaving her lips before she could fully comprehend what was happening. The fear she had held for years had finally materialized.
Sarah had lost her sanity.
And there, standing triumphantly before her, was the Goblin King.
"What is said, is said."