Life

"All will be well, Effie."

I turn to look at my uncle, feeling my lips flatten into a frown. 

"Yeah, no thanks to you," I snort, crossing my arms as my uncle places a heavy palm to my shoulder, gesturing to the porch swing behind us with his other hand.

The night is beautiful, and in the near distance, Death and Love sit side by side, admiring the stars in pregnant silence. Penelope was brought back safely and returned to her father after I wrote Love successfully into the manuscript, but my actions were not without consequence. 

Afterlife Management found out about my mishap, and they were none too pleased. I was let go for falling behind on my responsibilities as Life, for endangering the lives of not one, but two people, one of them a supernatural-born being, and for making two Afterlife Management employees accomplices in my crime.

I'm currently unemployed, but I can go to sleep knowing I was able to correct my mistake and bring Penny back. She's at her father's shop right now, no doubt crying and shaking and hugging him after thinking she was going to die. 

"Effie," my uncle sighs, suddenly appearing to me decades older than he really is. He takes a seat on the porch swing, patting the spot right next to him. With a scowl, I take the seat. He almost cost me that girl's life.

"You know, I never intended to hurt you by refusing to finish that story."

I roll my eyes, feeling tears begin to prickle them. If he never intended to hurt me, why did he force me to mourn him alongside my parents when I was a child? Why did he choose to become silent and solemn when he used to be so full of life and laughter? And if he truly felt that way, why did he refuse to help me earlier when Death, Love and I needed him to finish the story of the Blushing Mage?

"Could've fooled me."

With a heavy exhale, my uncle reaches to wipe away at a fallen teardrop. His thumb stays on my cheek.

"Effie, when your parents died--"

He stops, looking out into the open field of his backyard, a rather spacious garden encased by a white picket fence with a single stone path lying amidst flowers of all colors and plants of all shapes and sizes. It's like he infused the backyard with all his pent up energy, and created a hidden Eden.

Grief reflects the surface of his wrinkle-bound eyes, but he sets his gaze to me anyway.

"When your father passed," his voice is thin, corroded by emotion, "All I had left of him was you."

He swallows, grabbing my hand suddenly. 

"You needed your father, Aoife. Not someone as irresponsible as me. I thought that was what you needed."

When tears begin to form around his eyes, I feel my own start to do the same.

"I felt you needed someone strong, someone serious. Someone you looked up to and could see as a guide. Someone like my brother."

I shake my head, remembering the day of my parents' funeral and my uncle's smile suddenly dim after he gave the eulogy. Like a light that's been hidden and leaves you to wonder if its fire was extinguished, or simply put away, I couldn't tell the difference. I remember the weeping through the walls that night, I know he tried to hide it from me to appear like he had everything together, but it was there. I could hear his grief, and on particularly silent and grim nights, I would join him too, staining my pink sleeping beauty pillow case with dots of hot pink against pale rose. Tears permanently etched into the dreams and imaginations of a girl way too young to have experienced so much loss.

Squeezing my uncle's hand, I bring my forehead to his temple.

"You were never going to be my dad, uncle. I needed you, that was it. I wished you'd known that." 

My uncle nods, trying to stop crying as he lifts a finger to the constellations out tonight. He points to the little dipper, making a soft smile quirk on my lips. When I was younger, he'd also tell me tales of the constellations, and of the great heroes and legends that Zeus honored by displaying them on the vastness of the cool, night sky.

Lowering his hand, he lays it on his thigh, stretching his bony, sun-stained fingers over his knees. We fall into silence for a moment before he speaks up again.

"I know, Effie. I wish I'd known too. But you were so young-- I only wanted to protect you. Your father and I were also very little when your grandmother died, I simply wanted to give you what I wish I had had when I was your age. Stability."

"And you did, uncle. But when my parents died, I felt like I mourned you too."

My uncle shifts in his place, turning to look at me with an expression I can't exactly place. Remorse? Sadness? Pain and surprise? 

"Please forgive me, Effie. If I could go back, I would change everything. Everything. Down to the bedtime stories I stopped telling you."

He looks back out into the garden, this time, spotting an earnest Love holding onto Death by her shoulders, kissing her softly and muttering something we can't hear into her ears, making her pause for a moment. 

Even from here, we can tell his entrance into the story really rattled her. Maybe it was the possibility of never seeing him again which causes her to cry and place her palms on her face, body shaking with the build up of worry and fear. It's possible she still can't believe he made it back, because then she lowers her hands and decides to lean forward, bringing Love closer and pressing her lips against his.

"I missed your stories most of all, uncle. Especially this one."

He nods slowly, leaning back into the swing.

"I know. I'm sorry for ever stopping."

Shifting in place, I move to place my head on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I just wish you could finish it now, even if I don't need to know anymore. I know I really could've used your help earlier."

My uncle chuckles, stroking my hair with his other arm.

"I knew you'd figure it out."

I let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh, looking up at him as he smiles wide for the first time in a long time. The sight takes me right back to when I was little, to the magical nights he'd spend telling me about his travels at my mom's house, nights even my dad couldn't help but smile right back.

"Next time please just help, I'd rather not take my chances with Fate."

"You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you?" he chuckles again, looking at me, "Why didn't you ever tell me about your job? Were you not allowed to?"

I bite my lip, debating on whether or not I should tell him the truth. I might as well, since we're being honest.

I follow his gaze back to Death and Love. Now, Love's picked on some flowers from beside him and placed them in Death's hair, making my uncle frown as its pedals immediately shrivel and fall to the grass in darkened, withered pieces.

"I didn't know if you'd approve of it, or even believe me."

At the last part, he looks at me, sadness echoing in his eyes, alongside something like disbelief.

"You could never disappoint me, Effie," he says quietly, squeezing one of my hands, "You carry the same glimmer of mischief in your eyes that your dad did when we were children. It's why I could never outgrow that hopeful, wanderlust phase. It reminded me so much of him, before he felt like he needed to grow up and raise me."

We become silent before he reaches beside him, picking up a book and placing it on my lap, tapping the old, green leather cover twice. Golden designs linger the edges of its surface, giving it the appearance of a priceless, ancient artifact. 

The Tale of the Blushing Mage

With furrowed brows, I lift up my head from his shoulder, picking up the book and blowing off the thin film of dust lying on the cover. I palm it a couple times, opening the book to the first couple pages, eagerly wanting to find where my memory left off, but something catches my eye before I can do so.

There, on the second page, in my uncle's writing, it says

To my Effie, with magic in her veins, the stars in her eyes, and elve's dust in her bones...