Or had someone told?
They had a family meeting. There was no use pretending to Poppy this was not a big deal. She was living in the eye of it and knew better. There was no use acting as if this outing did not change all their lives because those lives were here, already changed. There was no use spreading blame, but that did not mean it was not worth asking the question. Did anyone want to confess to confessing, disclose their disclosure, transgress their transgression? No one did. “I’ll tutor you from home,” Ben offered, “until you’re ready for college. Then you can start over again. Again.” Roo rolled his eyes. Penn made pancakes for dinner, which no one much ate, but that was okay because he knew what was called for here wasn’t food but fairy tale. There was nothing like some other hapless kid getting boiled or eaten or turned into a tree to make your own life seem less terrible. There was nothing like the promise of magic to make okay even that which seemed like it would never be okay again.
Penn had never tried to disguise the ways Grumwald’s adventures mirrored his kids’. Fairy tales aren’t about subtlety, after all, and teenagers will ignore a moral if you let them. Grumwald had been practicing a lot of safe sex lately (sex which was all the more gratifying because he’d waited until he found true love). He had gotten into his first-choice college by triple proofreading his application and not going to the movies with Cayenne the night before the SATs. If only Penn knew the moral of Poppy’s horrible day at school, he felt certain Grumwald and Stephanie could effectively impart it, but because he did not, he started at the end and worked backwards. Sometimes your secrets get out; sometimes the world seems like it’s ending; somehow it will all be okay.
“Princess Stephanie was out with Grumwald’s study partner, Lloyd,” Penn began.
“Lloyd?” Roo interrupted. “No one’s named Lloyd, Dad.”
“Lloyd you object to,” Ben didn’t even look up from his phone, “but Grumwald you’re fine with?”
Penn ignored them. The story wasn’t for them tonight; it was for Poppy. “Princess Stephanie and Lloyd were having a lovely dinner. But after the appetizers, the restaurant door slammed open, and a cold wind blew in, colder than Stephanie had ever felt, colder than real wind ever got, so she knew something was up. In walked a figure in a veil and dark cloak. All the lights went off. All the candles blew out. The air in the room turned to sludge, and Princess Stephanie found herself gasping for breath, panicked, so she didn’t even notice that no one else in the restaurant seemed to be having trouble breathing or seeing or keeping their candles lit. The cloaked figure came closer and closer, and it was the witch. The one who’d commanded Grumwald to harvest night fairy hair all those years ago. The one who’d given Steph magic beans when she needed them. The witch leaned right into her and said, ‘I know who you are,’ and Stephanie was afraid and said, ‘I’m Princess Stephanie,’ but the witch said, ‘I know your secrets, and I’ll tell everyone,’ and Princess Stephanie—”
“No!” Poppy yelled.
Rigel put down his history textbook to look at his sister. “It’s just a story.”
“I don’t want this story,” said Poppy. “I want to go to bed.”
“It has a happy ending,” Penn promised desperately. Princess Stephanie told Lloyd her secrets. Lloyd knew all about her but liked her anyway. There were cream puffs for dessert.
But Poppy said, “I hate happy endings.”
“No one hates happy endings,” said her father.
“They’re so fake.”
“It’s a fairy tale.”
“So?” She looked as tired as Penn had ever seen her.
“So it’s supposed to be magical and wonderful. It’s supposed to be made up.”
“Yeah, but if it’s not real, then what’s even the point?” She wiped tears out of already swollen eyes.
“Oh baby,” he whispered, “it’s real.”
“You just said it was made up.”
“Just because it’s made up, doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” said Penn. “Made up is the most powerful real there is.”
*
“It was me. Mom? Dad? Are you awake? It was me.”
They were awake. They could not sleep. They were lying together in the dark, turned toward each other, unseeing, unsleeping.