“Why not?”
Oh, he was so naive! In some ways I was reluctant to tell him, to share with him the silly laws and rules of civilization. It would be like clipping the wings of a beautiful bird. But we were in the city, and rules were the only thing that kept society intact. If there weren’t laws, or at least collective morals, everything would collapse-- right?
I sighed. “It wasn’t yours to give, Leonidas.” I was almost grateful for a reason to be at odds with him. I didn’t like the feeling of fondness softening my brain, dulling my wits. It bored holes in my heart and I was quite sure if I let it continue, he would one day break me.
I didn’t want to be kept or cherished, and nobody wants to be broken-- to hell with what the poets sing of beauty in the shattered pieces. But I was not infallible, I wanted to be wanted. Sometimes I craved tenderness so much that it scared me… so much that I ran from it.
I huffed as he leaned in to me, and I flinched as he told me I was beautiful. “You don’t really know me,” I said as I drew away. My words wavered; I blushed so furiously it ran all the way through my body and into my voice. Nobody had ever spoken to me that way, nobody had ever touched me like that. It was at once thrilling and terrifying. I think I would rather fight a monster than fumble through the strange dance of courtship, at least then I would know what to do.
I did not let myself tell him he was beautiful too, like autumn, all polished walnut and golden leaves. Like the stags I had seen bounding through the forest with surreal grace, leaping silently as though the laws of nature, humbled, had granted them an exception. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth so that my thoughts would stay put. “You think too much,” someone had told me once, teasingly, trying to prod a reaction from me. I just bared me teeth in a mockery of a smile, and I thought to myself: most people don’t think enough.
“Yes, you would need money to buy this necklace. But it’s also… things like this are pretty, but they don’t really matter. You know? Anyway, I don’t need… trinkets and things.” Just time and space, I almost added, but at the time I didn’t know what exactly that meant. It was just a thought that came to me, and only later was I able to unpack the thought.
In the stories, when women are compared to flowers (as they so often are) it is always the blossom itself, the petals either young and fresh like dewey skin or wilted and paper-thin with time, each with its own beguiling smell. But there were no odes that I had found about roots or leaves or stems; the foundation upon which soft, pretty things bloom and die again and again.
Time and space, water and soil and sunlight is what makes flowers bloom.
Of course, I was much grander than a flower- but that’s beside the point. Draw back and stand tall, Leonidas. Set your brow and grit your teeth, keep your distance; these things will draw me in more than soft touches or pretty silver chains ever could. These things I will love you for long after we have grown old and withered, brittle and bent like stalks of corn.
Finally he bent to my will, and I almost felt sorry for it. Like a wounded puppy he followed me through the markets and to the stall with the pretty necklaces. It is okay that he was reluctant to take those final few steps. I was not his mother, trying to shame him into learning some lesson in morality- I simply wanted to return the jewelry to its rightful owner. I went forward with the necklace, greeting the merchant with a warm “Hi there!” I knew exactly when and where to use my youth to my advantage, the shopkeep would likely see me as younger than I was, a sweet little girl. When we met eyes, I saw the flare of recognition in his gaze. For once I was grateful that someone knew who I was.
“I was walking with my friend here,” I gestured to Leonidas, who looked as noble and out of place as a rare woodland creature might. “And we found this on the ground. It’s yours, right?” I extended the lovely necklace and the stallion’s eyes widened in delight. He took back his creation with an eruption of gratitude and some tears that were hastily blinked away. It brought me joy, despite the true circumstances by which he had parted with his creation, and I smiled at him pure and bright. I glanced to Leonidas, hoping (though doubting) he might also take some satisfaction in the reunion even though he was a wildling, raised alone and far being the city walls.
I have always believed that we are all born with the natural inclination to take pleasure in the joy of others, even if it might come at our own expense.
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