Page 9 of Folds
When I sit up in bed, Selvanar flits over to the windowsill, and once again I have to catch him when he falls out of the air. He curses at his wing. Clearly, he’s accustomed to his body behaving a certain way, and this injury frustrates him.
I have to go to work this morning, but Selvanar woke me up before my alarm so I have a little more time to get ready than usual. I take a luxurious shower, but before I’ve even soaped my hair, Selvanar peeks in through the shower curtain.
Reflexively, I cover my chest.
“May I?” he asks. “I haven’t bathed since I left the city fairies.”
I’m totally naked in here and he didn’t knock first, but okay, I don’t mind sharing the shower. I sure have learned a lot about fairy culture these last few days. They definitely don’t care about modesty.
I pick up Selvanar off the floor and bring him into the enclosure of the shower curtain. He hums with pleasure as hot water runs over him, flattening his wild hair. Then he stands up on my palm and turns, washing himself under the water.
“Would you like body wash?” I ask, holding out a bottle. Selvanar eyes it suspiciously.
“I don’t mind soap, I suppose. Just a little.”
I give him a dollop of the body wash and he scrubs himself down with it, then rinses. When he’s finished, I set him on the soap holder and wash myself, too. When we’re both finished, I step out and dry off, then give Selvanar a hand towel with which to do the same.
It isn’t long after drying, though, that he starts itching himself. I’m getting ready for work when he lets out a little whine of pain. When I head into the bedroom to ask what’s wrong, I find Selvanar’s green skin is covered in a reddened rash.
“Oh, no!” I run closer and inspect him. “What’s happened?”
“The soap.” He scowls. “Human things. I told you that it’s like poison.”
Fuck. I did this by offering him the body wash. I thoughtsoap would be fine, but apparently it wasn’t. This is all my fault, and now he looks painfully uncomfortable.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, running to the bathroom again to find my anti-itch cream. When I return with it, though, Selvanar glares down at my hands.
“I am not putting any more human things on my skin!” He may be small, but right now, his voice is big. I stand back and set down the cream.
“Sorry. That makes sense. But… what do we do?” I glance at my watch. I need to be at work soon. “I have to go.”
He simply scowls. “Then go. There’s nothing we can do but wait for the poison to leave my body.” He walks across the carpet to the table where I keep the Babez house, and manages to fly up onto it. Then he steps inside the dollhouse and closes the door behind him.
I sigh, fully chastised, and leave the room. It’s probably better I don’t keep trying to help or I’ll only make things worse.
I spend all day at the office thinking about poor Selvanar and those angry red bumps all over his soft skin, even when I’m supposed to be checking in patients. I complete a little admin work, wondering if there’s anything I can do to help him. I hope he’s not in pain while he’s home alone. I wish I could have stayed behind.
Well, maybe there’s one small thing I can do. After clocking out, I swing by the garden store, which is going wild this time of year. In the greenhouse, I search and search until I find exactly the succulent I was looking for: an aloe plant.
I pay for it at the front and then drive back home, hoping Selvanar will trust the aloe plant enough to give it a try. If I can do anything for him, perhaps it will assuage my guilt.
When I get home, the house is dark. I have a text message from Lizzie asking me to feed her cat because she’s gone out to dinner with her boyfriend.
I’m glad I left the door to my room closed because I’d hate to see what the cat, Merkie, would do with a fairy.
Inside the bedroom, the lights are off as I bring the aloe plant inside. When I flip on the light, I hear a quiet groan coming from the dollhouse, so I kneel down beside it and peer in the second-floor window.
Selvanar is curled up in one of my socks, his skin still red. His breathing is coming fast, his chest rising and falling with each labored exhale.
“Selvanar?” I whisper, opening the door that leads in from the balcony. I pause there, not sure what I should do. “Are you okay?”
“Not particularly,” he groans in response.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“I have not moved.” His voice is tired. “I don’t feel particularly hungry, either.”
This isn’t good. But I can’t really call a doctor, can I? What doctor could possibly help me with a fairy who has an allergy to everything human, especially medicine?
