My youth has withered; I am but an old woman now. I was well into my prime when crowned queen; the passage of time since then seems faint and muddy compared to the time spent within my kingdom. As if life were a budding flower, bursting to bloom then, but now is shriveling and decaying out of existence. Thus is the fate of aging, I suppose.
Recent events are obscured, while the distant stages we once commanded remain clear and vibrantly colored. The events of my time spent within the realm come flooding back to me; keen and lucid and edged with clarity, like a bouquet of sunflowers on the backdrop of an azure fall sky.
I sit alone in a dimly lit room; seen anew through the exuberance of youth. Images so far gone that the hardships endured are no longer present; pictures unfurled of events that happened, not to the current body that houses this refined mind, but to another much younger and carefree and full of wonderment with the same name.
Ronnie Trudeau stood lost in what often seemed like imagination run wild as she was handed a package in the lobby of her apartment complex. She still shed tears for the loss of her mother some two years ago. She took a deep breath, struggling with the emotions that came flooding back when preparing to open the small box bequeathed to her on that day of passing. Ronnie’s visage grew curious at the contents of the opened box.
The memory of first hearing of her mother’s death sprung anew. She could hear the voice of the doctor who explained what had happened before being allowed to enter the room. Ronnie knew, at that moment, her mother was not long for this world.
“Ms. Trudeau.”
She shakes her head and abruptly turns to meet the voice that sends her crashing back to reality. Dorian Monroe, the concierge responsible for signing in and out visitors, was staring at her from behind his desk.
“Everything all right, ma’am?”
She nodded and smiled. “Just thinking about something.” She closes the box, tucks it under her arm, and heads toward the lobby elevators.
“Miserable weather today” Dorian offered, glaring out the door. “We’re going to have the worst winter we’ve seen in years.”
“Looks like it.” Ronnie wasn’t paying much attention as she was still focused on the contents of the box. She pressed the elevator button, and the doors opened instantly.
“Have a good night, ma’am” Dorian mentioned as the doors closed.
The elevator rose to her floor, doors opened, and she walked to her front door. Ronnie takes off her jacket, and walks toward the living room, still gripping tightly the old wooden box. Shadows danced across the walls and furniture, but the lights remained off as she stood near the bank of windows overlooking the city below. Lights from buildings shimmering through the gray darkness of night as solitary sources of distant life. We spend most of our time alone, she thought. How ironic? She glanced down at the old wooden box still clutched in her hand, turned on the lights, and walked over to pour herself a drink. She remembered a meeting in a few hours with Eli, that she promised not to miss. Eli Grier, was probably the only person she confided in since her mother passed. Everyone else had drifted away in the constant reshuffling of day-to-day life.
Ronnie, though, hadn’t done much to continue friendships, spending her time immersed in work and sullied grief. She wasn’t much for company, anyway, she thought, as Eli was the only person with the patience and wherewithal to remain friends. She took another sip of wine and walked back toward the windows. The city’s lights twinkled like endless stars in the night sky.
She was alone, but being alone isn’t so bad, she thought. It’s just the way life is. Her visage saddened, the way her life is. Convincingly, she chose to be alone. As she recalled a number of sources that could have supplied companionship; a myriad of ways to be integrated and active in a plethora of social circles.
She has the attributes. She was attractive and successful; she even had money, if that meant anything– which, in this world, usually does. No, she thought, she didn’t need to be alone. And yet, she was. Because in reality, she knew the hard truth, that she didn’t fit in anywhere.
Her thoughts remained on the subject—forced to remain on the subject. Admitting that it wasn’t as easy as her choosing to be alone; it almost seemed like it was her destiny. She had always felt like an outsider; immersing herself in work gave her a sense of footing that helped ease her harsh reality.
Giving her a place in life, but no matter how firmly she stood, the feeling of not belonging remained persistent—like an agonizing inevitability.
Losing her mother only compounded those feelings, greatly emphasizing the brevity of any chains that bound her to whom and to what she had allowed herself to become. She wondered if others felt this way. They must, to some extent, anyway. But none as strongly as her, she supposed.
She knew Eli understood something of this—or at least Ronnie’s sense of things. Eli was the prototypical people person, always friendly with others, always comfortable with her surroundings.
She wanted Ronnie to be that way; to bring her from her self-imposed trappings and back into society. That’s why Eli was so persistent about meeting people; for Ronnie to quit grieving and get on with life.
She finished her glass of wine and poured another. She was drinking a little too often these days, she knew. She glanced at the clock. An hour had passed. Another hour and Eli would have arrived, her chaperone for the evening. Distastefully, she shook her head. Eli didn’t understand as much as she thought she did.
With drink in hand, she walked back toward the windows, glancing for a moment, then turning away, pulling the blinds to hide the night. She moved toward the couch, debating whether or not to go out tonight, and glanced the box again. She must have set it down without realizing it. Sitting on the coffee table, shimmering under the lamplight. She slowly sat down and picked it up. The contents were quite bizarre. An antique, hand-blown glass locket. A badly tarnished compass. An old, soiled map. A card with a phone number and the word “Potts” on it.
Why in God’s name…? She caught herself in mid- thought. Her eyes, drawn to a handwritten note.
Keys to a magical kingdom.
Bennington—land of magic and mysticism and adventure lost to time, home of wizards and warriors, knights and knaves, dungeons and dragons. Magic, iron, and steel. All your fantasies will become reality in a kingdom unlike any you’ve ever seen. Become its ruler and your life and dreams will be born anew.
That was all the note said. On the map showed a warrior battling with a fire-breathing dragon, a thinly- veiled princess standing before an ominous tower, a wizard casting a spell on what looked like terrified villagers. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.
“This is crazy!” she smirked, almost without thought. She stared at the box in disbelief, certain that this was in jest. She read the note again. Then again. She finished her glass of wine, nettled by the nonsense contained within this aged coffer. A real fairy tale kingdom? It had to be a joke.
She closed the box, rose to her feet, and walked to pour herself another drink. As she moved back toward the couch, she stopped to glance in a cabinet mirror— her demeanor was confident, she stood mid-height, her thick mahogany-colored tresses set aglow by the lamplight in the background, though several wayward tendrils wrapped beguilingly across her face. Her work attire could not hide the perfection of her graceful, womanly figure.
She was a woman of mid-thirties, going on fifty, a woman reaching middle age far too soon. Your life and dreams born anew…
She sat upon the couch once more, placing her drink on the coffee table, and picking up the note to read yet again. Shaking her head in disbelief, as no sane person would believe such a place could truly exist. But the rhetoric being used wasn’t meant to portray a falsehood. And her mother wasn’t known to believe in such nonsense. Why would she bequeath this to me? She grinned. What was she thinking? No person in their right mind would even consider….? Of course, she was now considering the possibilities. She had been sitting there, sipping her drink and thoughts of not belonging reemerged.
The feeling of not belonging in this world, feeling like an outsider, seeking a way to escape. And now, could this be true? The temptation was almost too powerful to resist. Almost…? She was contemplating doing what no sane person would ever consider. The wine was working, and she stood to walk it off. Glancing at the clock, she thought of Eli, and suddenly had no desire to go out that night. She picks up her phone and calls her friend.
“Ronnie,” a familiar voice answered.
“Eli, I’ve decided not to go out tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” There was a moment of silence.
“Ronnie, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Look, you go on without me.”
“You’re going.” Eli was insistent. “You said you were going, and you’re going. You promised.”
“So, I take the promise back. People do it all the time.”
“Ronnie, you need to get out. You need to see more of the world than work and your apartment. You need to let people know you exist.”
“You tell them I exist. Tell them whatever you like. Look, I promise we’ll go out tomorrow, but forget about me tonight.”
There was another pause, longer than the previous one. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. But I’m working on something currently, and I want to stay with it”
“You work too hard, Ronnie!”
“Don’t we all? See you tomorrow.” She ended the call before Eli could say anything further. She felt bad about breaking a promise, but at least she hadn’t lied. She was in the midst of something, and did want to study it further—regardless of how crazy it sounded. She poured another glass of wine and thought about her mother.
They both shared a fascination with puzzles and challenges that others would avoid or find difficult. She shook her head. Her mother wouldn’t want her indulging in a dream that couldn’t possibly be real. She paused, struck by the realization of that thought. She picked up her drink, headed back toward the sofa, grabbed the letter, and reads it once more.
Ronnie was late getting to work that morning, and by the time she did arrive, her disposition was less than pleasant. The conditions at work were a mess, and the looks directed at her by the other employees suggested that this is how things operated here and that she just needed to accept it. She did not choose to accept it, however, outright refused to accept it, and by God, was tired of the entire scene. On the other hand, there really wasn’t much she could do about it. So, frustrated, she went on to work, greeted the other coworkers with a mumbled hello, and headed toward the office.
Not more than five minutes and the silence was broken by Eli.
“Well, well, we’re a bundle of joy this morning, aren’t we?” her friend taunted gleefully.
“Yeah, that’s me,” she mockingly agreed, “Joy to the world.”
“Working here isn’t going so well, is it?”
“Nope, I’m stuck at this position until hell freezes over and pigs fly.” Shaking her head, “what a wonderful life.”
“Hey, it’s a living, right? Besides, we all have to start somewhere.”
“Well, I’m fed up with it.”
“Do you know what your problem is, Ronnie?”
“I should. You’ve told me more times than I can count.”
“Then why don’t you listen? You keep trying to change the things you have no control over.”
“Eli…”
“Your mother’s death and the way this company works—you can’t change those things. Ronnie, not now, not ever. You’re wrecking your life. Do you know that?”
Ronnie brushed Eli aside, “I do not know that. I know nothing will bring my mother back—I’ve accepted that, but maybe I can fix the workings of this company.”
“You should listen to yourself sometimes,” Eli sighed. “If you want to enter into a one-person war with the system in an attempt to change it, fine. But a little moderation would serve you well. Some time off now and then might prevent you from burning out completely. Make time for some of life’s less pressing issues, okay?”
Ronnie nodded, “okay, but I’m not good at life’s less pressing issues.”
Eli grins, “tell me about it. Now let’s change the subject and talk about something more important—why did you cancel last night? Believe it or not, a few people were concerned about you—they missed seeing you.”
“They must be desperate for company then.”
Eli sighs, “maybe. What was so important that you had to cancel?”
Ronnie thought about it for a second, then shook her head. “No, it wasn’t important, just something I wanted to research a little more.” Ronnie hesitated, then impetuously pulled the letter from her satchel.
“Eli, want to see something bizarre? Read this.”
Her friend shifted forward to grab the letter and then settled back into her chair. “Keys to a kingdom…. Bennington—land of magic and mysticism… Hey, what is this?”
“It’s a letter, along with other strange artifacts, that my mother bequeathed me.”
Eli started reading again, finished, and sarcastically said “Hey, let’s fly out tonight, follow the map, and claim the kingdom.”
“What do you make of it?”
Eli stares at her. “Same as you, I hope. It’s a prank.”
Ronnie nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I think too, but my mother wouldn’t prize something so easily perceived as a joke.”
“Then it’s staged. The dragons could be large lizards, the magic all sleight of hand.” Eli laughs, “knights and knaves, sounds like a great dinner show.”
Ronnie waited for the laughter to end. “Think so?”
“Of course I think so, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure.”
Eli frowns, then reads the letter one more time. When she was done, she passed the note back and asked, “is this what kept you home last night?”
“In part, yes.”
A long silence, then Eli clears her throat, “Ronnie, don’t tell me you’re…”
The phone rang. Ronnie answered, listened for a moment and looked across the desk at her friend. Eli glanced at her phone, stood up, then jammed her phone into her back pocket. “Well, enough for now. I’ve got to get some work done. See you, later.”
Ronnie left work early that day and headed to the health club. She spent an hour on an exercise bike, then spent another hour on the treadmill. For the most part, it was simple cardio, staying fit, keeping sharp. She had done so religiously since her mother died. It helped her release some frustration and anger. In truth, it was a way to fill time. It was true that she was unable to accept her mother’s death. She could admit it to herself, but not to Eli. So, she knew she had to go on with her life the best way possible, but never found a way to accept that her mother was truly gone. Perhaps she never will. Frankly, she wasn’t sure that it even mattered that much. She walks into her apartment building, greeted Dorian, and headed toward the elevator. Eli saw her as a grief-stricken recluse, living in isolation. Maybe that was how everyone viewed her? But her mother’s death had not created this condition, it was merely exasperated by it. She had been slipping away from society for years now, dissatisfied by the deterioration of her perceived quality of life.
She poured herself a glass of wine, and retired to the couch in her living room, staring out the windows at the twinkling city lights. She opens her satchel, pulls out the letter, and begins reading it again. She had been thinking of nothing else all day; nothing else since she first read it last night.
“What if it were real?” She sat there staring at the letter for a long time, occasionally sipping from her glass, thinking of the possibilities. Her present life was at a standstill. Even if she got a promotion, the excesses and deficiencies of her workplace still exist. In essence, with a promotion, she’d still be going through the same ritual disappointments and frustrations, making it meaningless. There had to be more for her in this life. There had to be! She gazed at the colorful artwork bordering the map. The dragon, the knight, the princess, the wizard, the villagers. Bennington. The keys to a kingdom. Escape into your dreams.
She took a deep breath. What kind of Queen would she make? She was mentally and physically fit. She was experienced in dealing with people. She was kind and compassionate. She was honorable and dependable. She was farsighted. She was crazy. She finished her drink and headed toward the kitchen to make dinner. She made a rather extravagant dish, served with a glass of wine for herself. She was accustomed to eating alone.
Once she was finished, she headed back to the living room to get reacquainted with the couch. She already knew what she was going to do. Perhaps she always knew. She needed something to believe in—something to bring her hope and wonderment. Most of all, she needed to feel belonging—after all, that is what gives life meaning. Bennington would give her that.
Although, she was not even certain it was real. It could have been an elaborate ruse envisioned by Eli, where the dragons are merely lizards, and magic is fake—a dinner show. Maybe the imagery were artist renderings, an imitation of imagination. It might be as ordinary as her present life. But with nothing left in her life, she knew that the only wrong choice she could make was to make no choice at all. She felt exuberant!
The following morning, she headed to work just long enough to cancel her schedule for the next week and to wrap up a few small matters elsewhere. She simply said she was taking a short vacation and will return in one week. Eli wasn’t there, so no questions were asked, and no answers were offered.
She was on her way to gamble on the unknown.
