Seasons of Friendship

by Jamie Lackey

If Verna didn't find a flower soon she wouldn't make it through the night. The icy wind blew snowflakes in her face and buffeted against her iridescent wings as she flitted from one window to another. She hated Pittsburgh's winters. She could have moved to Hawaii with her mother, but Pittsburgh was home, and she refused to leave. Plus, the city deserved at least one fairy.

Where were all of the poinsettias? There'd been one in every other window here just a week ago. She should have stayed at the conservatory, but she always had bad dreams when she slept there. Something strange happened to flowers that knew their scientific names. She avoided the florists' shops because flowers that knew their prices were even worse.

Verna spotted an African violet in a pot inside a tiny third story window. She heaved a sigh of relief and flitted up to it. Energy surged through her as she pressed her fingertips against the window, leaving tiny fingerprints. She curled up on the tiny shelf of window ledge with her back pressed into the frigid glass and drifted into restorative sleep. She dreamed of spring--of fields of lush grass dotted with dandelions, of resting in the branches of a fragrant blooming lilac, of beds filled with daffodils and tulips.

#

"Hello."

Verna jerked out of her dreams and nearly fell off of the window ledge. Her wings fluttered for balance.

"Are you a fairy?" A little girl's face peered out the window at Verna. She tugged the window open, and her breath formed a silver cloud in the morning sunshine. Her eyes were the dark brown of freshly turned soil, and her hair was a mess of short blond curls.

"I am," Verna said. Children often saw her. Most of them pretended that they didn't, though. They didn't believe their eyes.

"What's your name?" the little girl asked.

"Verna," the fairy answered. "What's yours?"

"Angelica, but everyone calls me Angie."

"It's nice to meet you, Angie," Verna said.

"Why were you sleeping outside my window?"

"I'm a flower fairy, so I can only sleep in places where there are flowers blooming."

"Can't you just use magic to make flowers?" Angie asked.

"Not anymore. There's not enough magic." Verna tried not to remember how things were before. She didn't want to think about the beauty of pale pink roses pushing up through the snow around her feet. The memory was too wonderful and depressing.

"What happened to it?"

Verna shrugged. "I'm not sure. It just started to go away."

"When?" Angie asked.

"A long time ago."

"Oh," Angie said in a small sad voice. "I wish that it would come back."

"I do too."

"What happens if you can't find a flower to sleep next to?"

"I start to fade away, and I'll eventually disappear," Verna said.

"That's terrible! It's not fair!"

Verna shrugged. She didn't want to tell Angie that life was never fair.

"Well, you can sleep next to my flower anytime. And I'll see if I can get my mom to let me have more flowers for you."

Verna smiled and nodded her thanks, but she knew that Angie would probably forget about her within a few hours. That's the way things worked, now.

A voice called from within the house. "Angie, time for breakfast!"

Angie reached out and touched one of Verna's wings. "Will you be here when I come home from school?"

"I can be, if you wish," Verna said, enjoying the way the warmth from Angie's finger spread through her body.

"Okay. I'll try to get you another flower, too." Angie closed her window and vanished into the house for her breakfast.

#

Verna spent the day on Angie's roof, soaking in the weak winter sunshine. She'll forget me, she thought. Angie will forget me, and forget her promise, and there won't be any new flowers.

Angie's window sprang open, and the little girl's voice floated out. "Verna! Where are you?"

Joy filled Verna's chest as she fluttered down to the window.

"There you are! I was afraid that'd you'd gone. Look what I got!" Angie held up a tiny potted rosebush. Pink roses. Verna's favorite.

"You remembered." Verna stroked one of the tiny petals.

"Of course I remembered. No one at school believed me when I told them about you, but that's just because they're dumb." Angie sat the rose next to her violet. "Mom was happy to buy me another flower. She said that gardening is good for the soul."

"You'll forget about me eventually," Verna said as she climbed into the pot with the rosebush.

"Of course I won't!"

"Everyone does. It's because of the magic." Verna buried her nose in one of the pink blossoms.

"Well, I promise, even if I forget about you, I'll remember to keep flowers in my window. That way, you'll never have to worry about fading away."

"It would be nice to not have to worry," Verna said, feeling hope deep inside in spite of herself.

#

Verna spent the rest of the winter on Angie's windowsill. Even when spring came, and there were flowers everywhere, she still went to Angie's window every day. Verna's magic made Angie's flowers grow bigger and more beautiful than flowers in the most carefully tended gardens.

One day, Angie seemed distracted, and when Verna first fluttered up to her window her eyes skipped over her. She was losing her. Tears welled up in Verna's eyes, then Angie's eyes met hers. The little girl blinked.

"Verna! What's wrong?"

"You almost didn't see me. You're forgetting. You're going to grow up and forget me, and I'm going to miss you. I haven't had a friend in a long time."

"Verna, I won't forget you, I promise!" Angie held up a little leather book with golden embossed flowers on the cover. "I've written all about you in my journal, so I can't forget."

"You'll think you made me up."

"No! I wrote down that I didn't." She ruffled through pages. "See, right here. It says, Verna is a flower fairy and she needs flowers to live, so I have to always have flowers. And I didn't make her up."

Verna nodded and blinked away her tears, but she knew that she was going to lose her friend. She'd enjoy talking to Angie for as long as she could, and try not to let her sorrow show.

#

Angie wasn't coming to the window. She was bent over something on her bed, laughing. Verna could just hear her through the glass. "Hello, kitty, my name is Angie." Angie took the kitten's paw and shook it. "What's your name? Violet? What a nice name."

Verna pressed her palms against the smooth glass as tears streamed down her cheeks. Angie had a new friend to replace her. Verna knew that she should be happy for her. Nothing good came of believing in fairies anymore.

But she was so lonely.

#

Spring turned to summer, then fall, then it was winter again. Verna found herself fluttering up to Angie's window. She forgot about me, she told herself. Why should she remember that she promised to keep flowers for me?

Verna reached the windowsill and froze, staring.

She could barely see through the mass of flowers in the little girl's window.

#

Angie grew up, and moved into a dorm room, then an apartment, then a house of her own. She stayed in Pittsburgh, and she always kept flowers on her windowsill. She could never explain why.

Angie's daughter was sitting on her bed one winter day, looking out the window, when Verna fluttered up to the flowers. The little girl cried out in joy and rushed to the window. She threw the window open. "Are you a fairy?" she asked.

"I am," Verna said.

"What's your name?" the little girl asked.

"Verna."

"That's my name, too!"

END