“But it isn’t okay, Cee!” Vivia’s voice floated through the window interrupting the book Mariah had been studying.
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Dove’s sharp response decided it. Putting the book aside, Mariah rose. Peeking through the curtains she had a view of the sweetest scene she’d ever seen between her kids. “Why not? Really? Surely you don’t like it.”
“I don’t don’t like it.”
“Cee,” Vivia’s voice was patient, slow, tender. “Cee, you’re not ‘upposed to like it, you’re ‘upposed to not like it.”
“They’re being mean to you. It’s mean.” Dove added. Mariah started, before disappearing from the window.
“It’s not mean if you don’t unnerstand sump-ting.”
“This isn’t that they don’t understand, Cee.” Dove leaned in closer, trying to get him to look at her instead of Vivia. “They are making fun of you. They’re bullying you!”
“They didn’t hit me!”
“Bullying inn’t jus’ hitting is what Ms.Parker says,” Vivia reflected.
“Vivia’s right,” Mariah added. All three kids jumped at the sound of her voice. Ceeven, however, didn’t retain his surprise for long, smiling sweetly at her while Vivia wiped tears off her cheeks. “Bullying isn’t just hitting or pushing. Do you guys mind filling me in?”
Dove’s eyes narrowed fractionally, sizing her mom up, wondering whether her mom really needed to know. Vivia, however, had never had Mariah fly into a rage in the school office because the world wasn’t perfect for her angel. With a great, juicy sniff, she told her best tale.
“The other kids at school are being mean to Ceeven because he’s weird and Ceeven won’t tell on ‘em!”
Frowning heavily at Vivia, Mariah shook her head. “Ceeven isn’t weird-”
“-Yeah, he is.” Dove broke in.
“-No, no he-”
“-Yuh-huh.” Vivia added, wide eyed. Ceeven nodded placidly.
“Let’s not call anyone weird! Okay?” Massaging her temples, Mariah tried to figure out how to get this back on track.
“I’ll tell you guys what. Let’s go to Pop! You guys can think about how to tell me exactly what’s going on while we’re on the way. Then you’ll tell me exactly what’s going on *without calling anyone weird* while we have a snack and then we can play some games, okay?”
Ceeven’s face brightened. “Can we go bowling, too, Mama?”
“Anything you want, so long as you tell me what’s going on.”
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Pop! hadn’t changed much since she was a kid. And her kids were just as enamored with the place as she’d once been.
“I want that!”
“There’s plenty for all.”
“But I wanted that one!”
“I don’t like those.”
“Then don’t order it.”
“Why does she always hafta go first?”
“Maybe you two should let Ceeven order first, then.”
“I don’ wanna go first, Mama.”
By the time they’d finished placing orders and sat down Mariah was ready to pull her hair out. Hopefully the kids would actually talk sensibly now they’d been bribed with sweets.
“Ceeven? Would you please tell me what’s happened that your sisters say you’re being bullied.”
“I dunno,” he shrugged.
“He really doesn’ know, Mom.” Vivia chimed in.
Dove shook her head gravely.
“Alright, fine.” Mariah found it increasingly difficult to keep her temper reined in while these three did their best to thwart her attempts at sanity. “Dove? Have you witnessed whatever it is that’s happening?”
Again, Dove shook her head, this time a heavy scowl on her face.
“I has.” Vivia nodded, eager to chime in.
“Okay,” Vivia started. “Okay, no a‘fence Cee, but sometimes you’re weird.”
“Can someone please just tell me what happened?”
“Ceeven brings his stupid toy-”
“For PlumbBob’s sake, no ‘stupid’ either!”
“-to school in his backpack and brings it to the playground.” Dove stated. Vivia nodded at her sister, encouraging her. “The kids made fun of ‘im so we made him stop.”
Ceeven’s lower lip trembled. “I love Poppet, Mama.”
“But then he says he met some circus girl and they’re best friends. And her name is Poppy.”
Mariah’s breath caught. And listen to Ceeven about Poppy, please. He doesn’t need more grief from you than you’re already going to give him. Poppy. Abuela Sabria, the old fraud, had mentioned Ceeven’s Poppy in that awful letter.
“And he tells everyone about all the adventures he had at the circus with ‘Poppy.’ But he on’y went to the circus one time and we all know that Poppy is Poppet. So the other kids are makin’ fun of ‘im and callin’ ‘im a liar and say he’s stupid and weird for still playing with his dolly and saying she’s real.”
“But Poppy is real. I met her at the circus and we had so much fun there. Poppet is my dolly. I didn’t take Poppet to the circus.” Ceeven was unusually solemn.
Trying her best to keep her face neutral, Mariah carefully surveyed her son. That dumb doll had been Ceeven’s favorite toy since he was very small. The imagination he showed during his games was enough to convince her that Dove, Vivia and the rest of the kids at school were probably on the right track. Not that it made them making fun of him okay, but…
Then there were Abuela Sabria’s words floating lazily through her brain. Poppy. Maybe she could find a middle way.
Ceeven turned toward her, his eyes begging her to believe him. Liar. How it had hurt when her own grandmother wouldn’t believe her.
“Poppet is Poppet,” Mariah said. “And that’s a doll. Clearly Poppy is not.”
“Whoawhoa-whoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoa,” Dove flared almost instantly. “Poppy is Poppet. Poppet is a doll. Poppy is a doll. And when would he have had time to meet any one at the circus?”
Mariah ached when she saw the hurt cross Ceeven’s face.
“Dove, “ Mariah said. “Dove, did you see Ceeven 100% of the time when we were at the circus?”
“Yes!”
“Really? Because I believe you were watching the performers as much as the rest of us, not watching your brother. Even I lost sight of him a few times in the crowds. Maybe he met someone while you couldn’t see.”
“So?” Dove challenged. “There was never time for him to have adventures with his doll.”
“Poppy is not Poppet, sweetie,” Mariah tried to convince her. Even Vivia looked skeptical. “And it isn’t up to us to decide about Poppet and Poppy. If Ceeven says he met Poppy, then he met Poppy, okay?”
While Vivia nodded, slightly cheered, Dove frowned more heavily than ever.
“What if I told you that you’re being mean right now?” Mariah stated, trying to get Dove on board at any cost.
Dove’s jaw dropped as she began to splutter
“So,” Vivia piped up, relieving Dove from trying to figure out how to defend herself. “So, we need to make sure the other kids be’s nice to Cee! ‘Cause if Poppy is reals to him, that’s okay.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe Cee shouldn’t tell the other kids about Poppy then?” Dove’s face was still hard.
Studying her oldest for a moment, Mariah finally nodded.
“That would probably be for the best. Even if Poppy is real, the other kids don’t think so.”
Ceeven glared at the smug Dove, while Mariah turned back to Vivia.
“And you!” Mariah said. “You need to tell the teacher if the other kids are being mean to Ceeven, even if he doesn’t want the teacher to know. Okay?”
“Why not me?” Dove broke in.
“Because you still don’t believe him.”
“I don’ either.” Vivia was incurable honest.
“Then pretend!”
“Oh. Okay!”
“I won’t bring Poppet to school anymore, if she upsets you so bad.” Ceeven offered, ever helpful.
“I think Poppet should probably stay at home anyhow,” Mariah said. “What if Poppet gets dirty, or torn or someone takes it out of spite. We couldn’t replace it.”
“Her, Mama.” Ceeven’s voice had once again dropped to his usual near whisper.
Mariah, waited, puzzled.
“Poppet is a girl. Just like Poppy, Mama.”
Dove and Vivia traded smug glances.
“Oh,” said Mariah. “Oh, I’m sorry. Her. ‘Poppet is a girl. Just. Like. Poppy.’”
Ceeven nodded happily as he reached for the brownie in front of him.
“Just like Poppy!”
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Propped up on the couch later that evening, at last Mariah had a moment to think over all her kids had told her.
As much as she’d like to give Ceeven the benefit of a doubt, she just wasn’t able to deny that she was more on Dove and Vivia’s side than on his. There simply hadn’t been time for him to meet anyone from the circus! They’d been only once so far, though she’d been promising another trip for good behavior this weekend if it were still in town. Were his stories the tales of someone hopeful that magic existed in the real world? Or was he so lonely that he’d resort to stating imaginative fantasy as fact?
Hating herself for the thought she wondered if perhaps she might need to speak to the counselor at school. Surely calling in a therapist was too drastic. Then again, did Ceeven actually believe his own stories?
“Mama?”
Her stomach flipping with anxiety, she snapped to attention. So wrapt up in her thoughts, she’d not heard her boy, with the scarf from the circus lady still on, come padding down the stairs.
“Ceeven? What are you doing up? You’ve not been sleeping with that scarf on, have you?”
“No, Mama.”
“Good! You’ll get choked in the night. What’s up Buddy?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Ceeven neared her as Mariah waited to see what was keeping him up an hour past his bedtime.
“You do know Poppy is real, right Mama?”
Of course he would have picked up on her incredulity. Nodding slightly Mariah swung her legs down. Patting the cushion next to her she invited him to take a seat. This conversation would probably need more than a nod and a hug.
“Of course I believe Poppy is real,” Mariah answered once he’d sat. “But no one else has seen her, so they have a hard time believing, or even understanding, your story.”
“But you were right, Mama. It’s mean when they don’t believe me. Just because I’ve never seen a fairy doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
Mariah bit her lips trying to hide her smile.
“I hate to say it Ceeven, but plenty of people don’t believe fairies exist either.”
“But,” Ceeven was shocked. “But, Mama, don’t they know that if they don’t believe in fairies they’ll hurt them?”
“No,” answered Mariah. “No, they don’t realize they’re hurting the fairies by saying they don’t believe. Then again, fairies are magic. Maybe they’re just ignoring the people who don’t know better and go about their lives as they please.”
“I dunno, Mama. It’s still not nice.”
“The world isn’t always a very nice place, baby.”
“But when they talk bad about Poppy and Poppet, about me, it hurts, Mama.”
“And you tell your Mama who hurts you. I’ll make it stop. I promise.”
“You really do know Poppy is real and Poppet is my doll? Honest, Mama?” Ceeven’s normally soft expression had grown flinty and hard. Mariah wasn’t about to hurt him the way all others around him did. The old bat, Abuela Sabria, had at least had one thing right. Mariah would do anything for her kids; lie, cheat, steal or even murder if it meant she could protect them from a world that was much too harsh for such tender hearts.
“Really truly honestly.”
“You look pretty tonight, Mama.” Ceeven had slipped back to his old self easily.
“Aw! That’s so sweet, baby. Thank you!” He was going to break all the girls’ hearts one day. “Now back to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“Okay, Mama.”
“And take that scarf off!”
“Yes, Mama.”
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I’m half tempted to do a pictorial of Mariah in the school office haranguing the poor staff because Dove tripped over her shoe lace or something. xD
