She’s back when I wake up. She’s been gone for three days this time, longer than ever before. I was so worried she wouldn’t come back this time, so worried that the Faerie that slips into her window at night and steals her away would forget to bring her back again. She tells me stories about their adventures when he brings her back, about how they flew through the clouds and chased butterflies in the wind and raced a troll for its treasure. I like to hear the stories, but sometimes I worry she won’t come back. The world he takes her to is so exciting. I worry she will forget me.
She’s awake when I slip into her room, her head resting on her pillow and her eyes on the stars we’ve painted on her ceiling. She loves the stars. I go to sit on her bed, and she smiles at me. She’s tired now. She’s always tired when her Faerie brings her back. Their adventures are so wild.
I snuggle down in the blankets next to her and stroke the scarf wrapped around her forehead. Her Faerie’s dust makes her hair fall out, but he gives her beautiful scarves in every color of the rainbow to replace it. I don’t think she minds.
She says she doesn’t.
“Morning, little kitten,” she whispers. Her voice sounds funny. Maybe she and her Faerie were flying in the clouds while she was gone. I hope so. Clouds are her favorite.
I smile at her and kiss her thin hand, her little fingers. She could be a Faerie herself, she’s so small. Smaller than I am, although she’s two years older. “Morning, Evie. How is Chemo?”
She smiles. That’s her Faerie’s name, or the one he told her, anyway. Faeries have lots of names. All different kinds. She told me so.