She did so.
“No, the OTHER other left!”
“Clara! You’re too drunk to give me directions!”
I started laughing.
“What do you see? What are you laughing at?” Rosie cried out. She began jumping up and down, trying to see whatever had me hooting. She cleared at least six feet when she jumped. The whole Clearing shook a bit with each bounce, and the airtime I received while up there only made me laugh harder.
“WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?” she asked, beginning to turn in circles.
“I don’t know! My tongue feels funny!”
“Ah, damn, you had me all excited,” she roared.
“Wait!” I squeezed her ears. “Captain, I sense a wench at the dessert table!” I called out, putting my hand over my brow as if scoping out the coast.
“Ah, ye spot a perty wee lass on the shore?”
“Nay, Captain, I spot a common strumpet!”
Rosie spotted precisely whom I spoke of.
“Clara, you are ruthless.”
Helda, in all her pinked-out, gaudy glory, was sampling pastry delicacies at the dessert table. She almost looked like a cake herself, her ballet-slipper-pink dress adorned with tufted green ribbons on the hem like icing.
Another girl, also clad in pink, came up to the dessert table. Helda clocked that their dresses were similar, and we watched as Helda adeptly pretended to trip and spill mead all over the poor pink victim.
Rosie and I moaned together, commiserating for the now-crying girl. But there were more sights to see from up here.
“The jam lady is sucking on her fingers again,” I called out.
“Oh no, did she stick her fingers in all the open jams? Why does shedothat?”
But then I saw a short, moonfaced woman quickly make her way through the crowd. I frantically patted Rosie’s head.
“Patti, it’s Patti!” I whispered. Or I think I whispered; I might have yelled.
“What? Where?” Rosie moved so abruptly, I fell sideways off her shoulders onto the ground. I landed dazed but chuckling. Rosie finally looked down, horror-struck at me spread-eagle at her feet.
Somehow, I was always the one who ended up in compromising positions when it came to Patti and Rosie. Those two had been in love with each other ever since Patti arrived in Moss a decade ago. She, like me, came here for refuge. Her family was lost a hundred years ago in the great fire that destroyed Fennings Forest—a home to all nymphs and dryads alike. For nine decades, she’d wandered that forest alone,searching every burnt tree for signs of life. Finally, when all she knew was ash and decay, she left.
When she arrived here, everyone took her in immediately as Moss is wont to do, and she opened up a flower shoppe in a matter of days. When Rosie saw her for the first time, we were in the middle of heaving quite a heavy cart full of squash around town for my weekly deliveries. Patti emerged from her shoppe and waved tentatively at Rosie. The next thing I knew, the cart was on my foot, and squash were rolling along the cobblestones.
At first, when each of them was struggling to speak to the other, I feared that Patti might be avoiding Rosie due to the substantial age difference. It really is quite disconcerting when a centuries-old being takes up with a nineteen-year-old. But after so long watching those two together, the problem was clear. They adored each other, and they just couldn’t manage to stifle their nerves long enough to have a conversation that comprised more than a struggling greeting.
Tonight, maybe that could change. Maybethatwas the tug at my heart I’d been feeling for months. Rosie was the closest person to my soul. When good things were coming for her, sometimes it was almost like they happened to me, too. And tonight, on this delightful Celebration evening, they might talk. Be together. Fall in love. I never wanted it for myself, but oh, how I’d love to see Rosie happy.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She picked me back up and examined me. I swatted her hand away.
“Rosie, go talk to Patti before she leaves. She hates parties even more than I do.” Rosie bit her lip, her nerves clearly on fire already. “Love, you’ve got this. You are so beautiful, youare so lovely, you are all the good things wrapped up into one. And you look like sunshine in your dress,” I implored Rosie, but for all the brute strength that orc possessed, her insides were a puddle of soft, earthy moss. I took her face in my hands and said, “Go. Now. There’s nothing to lose! Just say hi. It’ll make her night, I’m sure of it.” And with that, Rosie gave me a swift kiss on the forehead and left to find her Patti.
Did I just successfully matchmake? After ten years of failure…
The crowd somehow grew louder than before, the music all-encompassing, and Eldrene kept watching it all unfold. I began dancing again, relief flooding through my system. I wouldn’t have to do this for another three years. I could enjoy a few weeks’ rest, I could maybe even paint my cottage, and I could certainly make headway on my book.
The raucous, infectious buzz of the crowd suddenly dropped out, an all-consuming silence left in its wake.
