Darling Girl

by Liz Michalski

Once the forbidden fruit has been tasted, there’s no going back to paradise. For anyone. Even Peter Pan, it seems. Innocence, once lost, is impossible to regain. All the stories say so.

“You know,” she finally says, looking down at her hands, “in the stories, it’s always the children who fly off and have adventures. The mothers have to stay home and wait for them to return.” She looks up. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“The story never says he can’t grow older,” Holly says. “Only that he can’t grow up.”

“I was so broken that night, so close to giving up,” Holly says, ignoring her. “And it was as if he healed everything that was wrong with me.” She thinks back, shivers. And then deliberately broke me all over again.

It wasn’t Tinker Bell who couldn’t survive without the faith of others in her existence. That had been Peter’s part of the story all along.

The way I see it, the ones who feel sorry for themselves don’t survive.

“Sometimes it’s easier to remember sorrow than joy,” Holly says. “Sorrow doesn’t hurt as much.”

“To the Darling women. The stars are not only above us, they are in us. May we shine brightly, dream deeply, and fly high all on our own. I am terribly proud to know you both, my darlings,” she says.

“Bell said to tell you, do you know that place between sleep and awake? The place where you can still remember dreaming?” Eden says. She’s clutching the photo of herself tightly in her hand. “That’s where I’ll be every night.”