Stagmother

Your home is your sanctuary.

Set aside a place- somewhere small, dark, and safe, somewhere utterly private. Maybe an unused closet, the cabinet under the kitchen sink, or the space beneath your bed. This is your “sad space”. It is the only place in the whole world where you are allowed to feel sad.

It might be a good place to hide this book.

Marilyn chuckled with a slight nervous air and set the pamphlet aside. When reading such excerpts with Penn, it felt safe to find them funny. Alone in her bed, an unwelcome sense of taboo crept in.

The healers themselves distributed this writing. It couldn’t be anything bad. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but worry what Leland or Fenton would think, whether their praise might evaporate if they found out that laughing at Morris’s dark musings was sometimes the best part of her day. Worse still, reading these hurt her in a way. But the pain made her feel better after. Everyone would give up on Marilyn and her eight point antlers forever if they knew that.

She stretched her arms and back, pulling her blood stained sheets away from her, and shook her thoughts away. Much of her Saturday was gone already. Marilyn needed to get going. She and Penn were taking a little drive out to visit her mothers, to give them her good news in person. It would be her first time visiting them in close to a year.

As much as she’d missed seeing them in person, Marilyn didn’t regret waiting until she finally had something positive to tell them. Their looks of loving worry had a way of haunting her. Buttoning up a floral print shirt, she tried instead to picture the relief and excitement Momma B and Momma G would surely feel today.

A polite couple of honks alerted her to Penn’s arrival. Marilyn straightened her clothes, double checked her pockets, and went to meet them as eagerly as her tired body would allow.

“Marilyyyyyyyyn,” Penn sang from the driver’s seat.

“Peeeeeeeeeenn,” she answered, throwing her head back dramatically as she opened the passenger side door.

“Both of your moms called me separately to thank me for driving you today,” they reported.

Marilyn buckled in. “You’re definitely getting cookies.”

Penn almost joked they would have driven Marilyn home every day for Momma G’s cardamon rose cookies, but they knew why she hadn’t been visiting. It was no good making her feel bad about not seeing her mothers more. “Gonna be a great day,” they course-corrected.

“How’s the art going?”

“I’m all caught up! Really got into the zone, pulled an all-nighter a couple of nights ago, knocked all the orders out. But now I’m waiting for more and itching for something to work on. I don’t like starting a new project without being super sure I can finish it, you know? I hate stopping partway through. So I didn’t work on anything yesterday, thinking a new order might come in, but it never did and now I’ve wasted a whole day.” They swatted the thought away with a wave of their hand. “How’s work?”

After too long a stretch of silence, Penn glanced over to find that Marilyn had already fallen asleep. They sighed with a mix of affection, worry, and disappointment, then went on quietly:

“I miss you, Marilyn. I hope to the goddess you really are getting better. Let’s see…. Back in school, I think you would have scolded me for working too hard, and told me that taking a day off isn’t wasting it. The other kids were so competitive. It was inspiring, but…” Insufferable was the word Penn couldn’t quite reach. Far too negative, with no way silver lining to point out. “I just felt better around you. Safer, happier, more relaxed than I’d ever been around anyone else.”

They glanced at her again. Marilyn didn’t seem to actually be feeling any better— at least, not from the outside. She looked so fragile. She still couldn’t keep herself awake. They knew that the healers had nothing but good news, but it was proving difficult for Penn to believe. The rapid change in her antlers frightened them.

A squirrel ran out into the road, twitching right in the car’s path with panicked indecision, and Penn swerved hard to avoid it. Marilyn’s right antler slammed into the passenger window.

“I’m so sorry!” Penn cried, pulling over by the side of the road. In the rearview, they saw with relief a flash of squirrel tail disappearing into roadside brush. At least it had gotten clear of the road. “Are you okay?”

Dazed, Marilyn answered as she reached for her head, “I’m fine.” Then her hand grazed the injury.

Both of them realized at the same time, and both of them gave the same horrified gasp. Marilyn’s right antler had broken clean off.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, her voice a little too high. “This is what the healers said would happen. It’s good.”

“Yeah,” Penn encouraged her weakly.

“Should I… break the other one off?”

“N-no! I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Better not to force it, right?” Penn watched her carefully, trying to mirror however she chose to react. They wanted to follow her lead on this.

“Yes, that’s probably right. Ok. Ok, hey, it doesn’t even really hurt. That’s good.”

“That’s great!”

Marilyn and Penn smiled at each other, each struggling to hold up the shared illusion of optimism, each more concerned for the other than themselves. Penn scrambled for something to say, anything, and came up with:

“Do you think you’ll keep it?” They blushed at the absurdity of the question.

“Oh. I knew they were going to shed, but I never thought of that. I guess I’m not sure. It feels strange throwing it away— maybe a little sad? But holding onto something that’s been such a challenge for me… maybe a better person would find that inspiring.” Inspiring, she thought, rather than wretchedly painful.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met,” Penn answered. It was the kind of thing they said all the time, but their tone was different now: serious, gentle, vulnerable. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” they returned to normal.

“Maybe my mothers will want to keep it. They can put it with the baby teeth.”

“Your moms,” Penn remembered. “They’re waiting for us. Don’t you think we should stop by a walk-in clinic? Just to make sure everything’s ok. Your moms will understand.”

“It’s what they’d tell me to do.” Marilyn gave a chuckle. “I’d probably scare them half to death showing up like this, anyway. But let me see if I can get in touch with Healer Fenton or one of her assistants. She knows my situation.”

“I’ll get us off the road. There’s a cafe near here. You deserve a treat after all this.”

Marilyn hardly heard Penn. Her right antler still lay across her lap, the end that had been attached to her head only a few moments ago white and disturbingly porous.

The clinic answered after two rings. “Good morning, you’ve reached the Schoenberg Healing Clinic. This is Max speaking.”

“Good morning, Max.” Marilyn took a beat to put on her Good Patient Voice: calm, respectful, cheerful, and of course, never panicked. She gave her name and date of birth. “I’ve had a considerable development in a condition Healer Fenton is treating me for. Is she available to speak with me today?”

“It’s unlikely,” Max replied coolly as he pulled up her information. “Our healers are very— oh. I see Healer Fenton has taken a special interest in your case. One moment.”

As Marilyn waited, Penn marveled at the change in her tone. She’d gone from small and frightened to utterly composed in the space of a few moments. They hoped she felt as collected as she sounded, but truth be told, she didn’t feel anything. She had to turn all of that off in order to appear treatable.

“Marilyn,” Healer Fenton greeted her. “How are you today?”

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

Fenton nodded, greatly satisfied with the answer. “You’re taking your recovery seriously. I can tell. What can I do for you?”

“One of my antlers broke off.”

“So soon!”

“I know you said this would happen, but it didn’t shed by itself. I hit it on something. Accidentally, I mean, of course. I wouldn’t do that on purpose.” Deliberately attempting to cut off one’s antlers was a taboo far beyond having a large set. It was obvious, at that. Human antlers tended to warp and bulge as though tumorous when damaged. “I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t a problem.”

“Not in the least,” Fenton assured her. “Stags shake theirs off- did you know that?”

“No. I guess I never thought about it.”

“It’s true! The same antlers they use to fight one another shake loose when it’s their time to go. It’s the same here. I’ve seen many injuries in my time, so believe me when I say that it would take a whole lot more than hitting yours to break it off if it wasn’t ready.”

“So I’m okay?” Marilyn asked, her calm facade wearing thin.

“That’s right. Keep up the good work. What are you doing right now?”

“Oh, um, nothing important.”

Healer Fenton encouraged her, “I’m very interested in your progress. You’re clearly doing something right, and other people like you could benefit greatly from knowing what. So, when your antler shed, I’m sure that must have been alarming. You called me. Very sensible. What else are you doing?”

“We just got to a bakery. My friend is with me. They wanted to treat me to something nice, since this whole thing did scare me a little.” Marilyn flashed a weak smile at Penn, who gave her a thumbs up.

“Yes, I see. An informative moment. You let the negative emotion of fear get the better of you, which is natural for your temperament, but you’ve learned to counter it by bringing in something positive. It sounds like your friend has been an extremely positive influence on you.”

“Incredibly,” Marilyn agreed.

“Make certain you give back. Your friend's antlers must be of a more typical size, given their reaction here.”

“Y-yes?”

“They’ll have the appropriate mindset in place for remaining mentally healthy, but you can’t rely on them too much. The added emotional burden of combating your negative inclinations can begin to wear away at their positivity. We see it happen all the time. People with large antlers impact the size of those around them.”

Marilyn’s heart ached. She’d only just noticed the other day that Penn’s antlers had grown in recent months. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might be her fault, and she felt wretchedly selfish for not realizing sooner.

Fenton went on, “In the end, you need to stand on your own two feet. And you can. You wouldn’t have come this far otherwise. I promise you that. Now, go get your treat. You’ve earned it.”

“Okay. I understand, Healer Fenton.” Marilyn’s resolve set in. “I can’t thank you enough for all of your help. I’m going to keep doing better.”

“And you’ll reap the rewards of it soon, dear. Take care.”

Penn watched nervously as Marilyn hung up. The side of the conversation they’d heard hadn't sounded like bad news, but they didn't like the shift in her tone.

She turned to them with a bright smile and said, “Everything’s fine. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“My treat.” Marilyn got out of the car and opened the back door to place her shed antler on the back seat.

“I can run in,” Penn offered. “What would you like?”

Marilyn knew the people inside would be horrified by her appearance, but she couldn’t keep taking advantage of Penn. Her resolve, fueled by shame, demanded proving: she needed to go and face the worst that very moment.

“Let’s go together,” Marilyn insisted. Head held high, she led the way to the charming pastel entryway of the cafe. She ignored her reflection in the glass and held the door open for Penn. It was easier fitting herself through the doorway with only half her normal span of antler prongs. Everything would be easier, she told herself, soon enough.

A silence fell over the cafe as its customers and employees registered her presence. Though they were whispering, Marilyn had no trouble hearing the cashier ask their coworker to go get someone named Jocelyn.

“Good morning,” Marilyn sang out.

Gary, the remaining cashier, twitched. Was this person for real? One antler gone, the other bigger than any he’d ever seen in his life, and warped somehow- sharpened. What in the name of the goddess had she done to get to this grotesque state? A memory from fourth grade had him breaking into a cold sweat: the kids used to say that if you murdered someone, your antlers would turn into monstrous horns. Gary took a step back as she approached.

Penn tried to smooth things over with a nervous, “Beautiful day!” Gary hadn’t even seen them, and blinked with bewilderment.

Marilyn smiled at him. Speaking louder than necessary, she explained, “We’re here to celebrate my antlers shedding.”

“Sh… shedding?”

Jocelyn came on the scene from the back room, where the employee who’d gone to get her still hid. She had wavy grey hair down to her waist, a strong build, a name tag that read MANAGER, and an air of confidence that Marilyn envied deeply.

“Shedding,” Marilyn pressed on. “Because I’m thinking so positively now. The healers say I won’t have any left soon.”

Jocelyn’s crossed arms lowered as she looked on with growing surprise. “My dad used to say that people closest to the goddess would lose their antlers. I thought it was a folk tale.”

Trying not to show the guilt he felt over his initial reaction, Gary added, “My grandma said the same thing.”

“Well, I’m sure the goddess keeps us all close,” Marilyn paraphrased something she’d read in one of the healing clinic waiting rooms. Gary and Jocelyn seemed more moved by this platitude than she’d expected. “May I have a pistachio croissant?”

Jocelyn eased Gary out from behind the cash register with a nod toward the pastry case. She entered a code into the machine as he scooped a pair of tongs and a paper bag from under the counter. Gary placed one croissant in the bag, glanced without subtlety at Marilyn, and added two more.

“Oh,” she tried to stop him, but Jocelyn interrupted:

“Can we get you anything else?” Her eyes shone with admiration.

“Um, Penn, did you want anything?”

Penn couldn’t quite figure out what was happening or whether they should be a part of it, but they didn’t want to turn down cookies. Particularly linzer cookies cut in the shape of little flowers. “I’ll take three of those, please,” they said, pointing.

Gary swiftly picked up the glass filigree plate on which the linzer cookies were arranged, poured an untold wealth of them into a fresh bag, and placed both bags on the counter in front of Marilyn.

“Please,” Jocelyn said, pushing the bags a little closer to her.

“How much?”

“It’s on the house.”

“No, we couldn’t! It’s too much. Here, let me—” Marilyn scrambled to get her wallet.

“Please,” Jocelyn repeated. “Take this as thanks for bringing the goddess near to us.”

Seeing that Marilyn was frozen on the spot, Penn gathered up the offerings and said, “Thank you. We’ll pay it forward. Have a great day.”

Penn freed two fingers from holding the bags and tugged on Marilyn’s shirt. She nodded and followed them out of the cafe with a look of astonishment.

“Sorry,” Penn said as they climbed into the car. “We probably should have tried a little harder to pay. But, was it just me? That was creepy! Right?”

Marilyn hadn’t landed on how to react to the scene, and she took Penn’s laughter with gratitude. “It was! I’m so glad you said it!”

“I mean, it was really sweet of them to give us free treats,” Penn said through strained giggles. They handed the pastry bags to Marilyn. “But wow! I thought they were about to start praying to you.”

“I knew it was going to be something, going in there, but I didn’t expect that. Oh, Penn.” She still sounded amused, but spoke earnestly. “I can’t show up at my Mommas’ house looking like this. I’ll scare them half to death. I mean, they know my velvet is gone, and we can call ahead and all, but it’s hard to see in person, isn’t it?”

“You want to call them instead? I still have that enchanted mirror.”

“I think it’s a better idea. I’ll sit so you can’t see the missing antler. That way we can prepare them for it first, you know?”

Penn tapped the steering wheel. “I get it. They’ll understand, too, I’m sure. Plus you should probably be taking it easy.”

“Thanks. I can see them in person after the other one sheds.” She handed Penn one of the linzer cookies.

“On to my place, then?”

Marilyn made a vague sound of agreement. She had caught sight of her antler in the back seat, its shape utterly foreign to her in this strange new context; the image gave her a shiver she hid poorly with an exaggerated stretch of her arms.