Read Online My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories by Stephanie Perkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Perkins
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bites.”
Miranda is holding a fox. Scrabbling, snapping, carrion breath at her face. Miranda holds fast.
Then: Fenny again. Trembling against her.
“It’s okay,” Miranda says. “I’ve got you.”
But it isn’t Fenny after all. It’s her mother. They’re together in a small, dirty cell. Joannie says, “It’s okay, Miranda. I’m here. It’s okay. You can let go. I’m here. Let go and we can go home.”
“No,” Miranda says, suddenly boiling with rage. “No, you’re not here. And I can’t do anything about that. But I can do something about this.” And she holds on to her mother until her mother is Fenny again, and the Lady is looking at Miranda and Fenny as if they are a speck of filth beneath her slippered foot.
“Very well then,” the Lady says. She smiles, the way you would smile at a speck of filth. “Keep him then. For a while. But know that he will never again know the joy that I taught him. With me he could not be but happy. I made him so. You will bring him grief and death. You have dragged him into a world where he knows nothing. Has nothing. He will look at you and think of what he lost.”
“We all lose,” says an acerbic voice. “We all love and we all lose and we go on loving just the same.”
“Elspeth?” Miranda says. But she thinks, it’s a trap. Just another trap. She squeezes Fenny so hard around his middle that he gasps.
Elspeth looks at Fenny. She says, “I saw you once, I think. Outside the window. I thought you were a shadow or a ghost.”
Fenny says, “I remember. Though you had hardly come into your beauty then.”
“Such talk! You are going to be wasted on my Miranda, I’m afraid,” Elspeth says. “As for you, my lady, I think you’ll find you’ve been bested. Go and find another toy. We here are not your meat.”
The Lady curtseys. Looks one last time at Elspeth, Miranda. Fenny. This time he looks back. What does he see? Does any part of him move to follow her? His hand finds Miranda’s hand again.
Then the Lady is gone and the snow thins and blows away to nothing at all.
Elspeth blows out a breath. “Well,” she says. “You’re a stubborn girl, a good-hearted girl, Miranda, and brighter than your poor mother. But if I’d known what you were about, we would have had a word or two. Stage magic is well and good, but better to steer clear of the real kind.”
“Better for Miranda,” Fenny says. “But she has won me free with her brave trick.”
“And now I suppose we’ll have to figure out what to do with you,” Elspeth says. “You’ll be needing something more practical than that coat.”
“Come on,” Miranda says. She is still holding on to Fenny’s hand. Perhaps she’s holding on too tightly, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s holding on just as tightly.
So she says, “Let’s go in.”
I didn’t tell anyone how dire shit had become.
Yeah, maybe my old man could slip a few bucks in an envelope, mail it to my Brooklyn apartment (where it might get carried off by a pack of gangster rats), but he had his own worries. He was saving up for my little sis’s summer camp. And our dog, Peanut—probably the most flea-bitten, bucktoothed crossbreed you could ever imagine—had just required an emergency dental extraction. I know, right? The dog with the busted grill has dental needs. Okay. But according to my sis, the procedure cost over three hundred bones, and they had to put my old man on some kind of payment plan.
It’s fine.
I’d just go hungry this holiday season.
Nothing to see here.
“Mijo,” he told me over the phone on my first full day of cat sitting. “Everything is good up at your college?”
I stuck Mike’s acoustic guitar back on its stand. “It’s all good, Pop.”
“That’s good,” he said.
This word good, I thought. How many times did he and I throw that shit around these days? My old man because he didn’t trust his English, me because I didn’t want him to think I was showing off.
“Next
Miranda is holding a fox. Scrabbling, snapping, carrion breath at her face. Miranda holds fast.
Then: Fenny again. Trembling against her.
“It’s okay,” Miranda says. “I’ve got you.”
But it isn’t Fenny after all. It’s her mother. They’re together in a small, dirty cell. Joannie says, “It’s okay, Miranda. I’m here. It’s okay. You can let go. I’m here. Let go and we can go home.”
“No,” Miranda says, suddenly boiling with rage. “No, you’re not here. And I can’t do anything about that. But I can do something about this.” And she holds on to her mother until her mother is Fenny again, and the Lady is looking at Miranda and Fenny as if they are a speck of filth beneath her slippered foot.
“Very well then,” the Lady says. She smiles, the way you would smile at a speck of filth. “Keep him then. For a while. But know that he will never again know the joy that I taught him. With me he could not be but happy. I made him so. You will bring him grief and death. You have dragged him into a world where he knows nothing. Has nothing. He will look at you and think of what he lost.”
“We all lose,” says an acerbic voice. “We all love and we all lose and we go on loving just the same.”
“Elspeth?” Miranda says. But she thinks, it’s a trap. Just another trap. She squeezes Fenny so hard around his middle that he gasps.
Elspeth looks at Fenny. She says, “I saw you once, I think. Outside the window. I thought you were a shadow or a ghost.”
Fenny says, “I remember. Though you had hardly come into your beauty then.”
“Such talk! You are going to be wasted on my Miranda, I’m afraid,” Elspeth says. “As for you, my lady, I think you’ll find you’ve been bested. Go and find another toy. We here are not your meat.”
The Lady curtseys. Looks one last time at Elspeth, Miranda. Fenny. This time he looks back. What does he see? Does any part of him move to follow her? His hand finds Miranda’s hand again.
Then the Lady is gone and the snow thins and blows away to nothing at all.
Elspeth blows out a breath. “Well,” she says. “You’re a stubborn girl, a good-hearted girl, Miranda, and brighter than your poor mother. But if I’d known what you were about, we would have had a word or two. Stage magic is well and good, but better to steer clear of the real kind.”
“Better for Miranda,” Fenny says. “But she has won me free with her brave trick.”
“And now I suppose we’ll have to figure out what to do with you,” Elspeth says. “You’ll be needing something more practical than that coat.”
“Come on,” Miranda says. She is still holding on to Fenny’s hand. Perhaps she’s holding on too tightly, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s holding on just as tightly.
So she says, “Let’s go in.”
I didn’t tell anyone how dire shit had become.
Yeah, maybe my old man could slip a few bucks in an envelope, mail it to my Brooklyn apartment (where it might get carried off by a pack of gangster rats), but he had his own worries. He was saving up for my little sis’s summer camp. And our dog, Peanut—probably the most flea-bitten, bucktoothed crossbreed you could ever imagine—had just required an emergency dental extraction. I know, right? The dog with the busted grill has dental needs. Okay. But according to my sis, the procedure cost over three hundred bones, and they had to put my old man on some kind of payment plan.
It’s fine.
I’d just go hungry this holiday season.
Nothing to see here.
“Mijo,” he told me over the phone on my first full day of cat sitting. “Everything is good up at your college?”
I stuck Mike’s acoustic guitar back on its stand. “It’s all good, Pop.”
“That’s good,” he said.
This word good, I thought. How many times did he and I throw that shit around these days? My old man because he didn’t trust his English, me because I didn’t want him to think I was showing off.
“Next
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