Their Little Princess

“Mom, can I get some mice, and a rat?”

The women looked at each other over their daughter’s head, a silent negotiation waged between them as the six year old turned the pages of her Highlight’s magazine. Dalena set her coffee down as Megan lowered her laptop screen.

“Well, Q., I think that’s something your mom and I could discuss,” Dalena ventured, calculating the level of Megan’s quickly rising eyebrows. “What would you think about asking Ms. Reyes if we could foster Toots for a week next month, to see how it goes?” She shrugged innocently at Megan’s open mouthed horror.

“No,” Quinn sighed. “It has to be four white mice, and a rat. Gerbils won’t work.”

“Why mice and rats?” Dalena asked, resting her chin on folded hands until she was eye level with the little girl.

“Four to pull the carriage, and the rat to be a foot guy.” Quinn’s expression was serious.

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s a good reason.” Megan blinked at their child in surprise. “You mean horses and a footman, like in Cinderella?”

“Yes.”

“But you know, Quinn, I don’t really like rodents,” Megan hedged. “Of any kind. You know how you feel about cats?”

Quinn shuddered in her seat, but held her gaze.

“That’s kinda how I feel about mice, and even class gerbils.” Megan glared briefly at an amused looking Dalena. Megan blocked her face from their daughter with a raised hand and mouthed “Dog?” with a plaintive look. Dalena nodded, smiling. It was something they had talked about recently; a friend for Quinn to grow up with, to provide a little normalcy amidst all the change in their lives.

“What do you think about adopting a puppy?” Megan asked hopefully.

Quinn continued to stare at her. “No thank you.”

She turned back to the magazine on the table, unconcerned with the worried looks on her mothers’ faces.

________________

They planted a tiny garden that summer, with meager rows of tomatoes, snap peas, and a patch of pumpkins specifically requested by Quinn. Their new house was a moderate two-story, recently built, with three bedrooms, an attached garage, and a small yard eaten up by the in-ground pool. Unwilling to sacrifice the tiny patch of grass for an occasional fresh salad, Megan had gone full DIY on a raised bed of repurposed wooden platts and cinder blocks, perfectly placed for sunshine and a drip hose.

Quinn had not asked about the mice again, but a month into fall Dalena received an alert from the parent-lock software on her desktop computer and forwarded the screenshot to Megan. That evening, after teeth were brushed and bedtime stories read, the two women pulled up the browser history. Ten minutes of backtracking uncovered searches on rodent care, local pet stores, and finally a query for ‘free mice’, which had evidently led Quinn to the blocked Craigslist post.

“I think it’s cute,” Dalena laughed.

“You would. If she were obsessed with tarantulas, you’d be singing a different song, and you know it.”

Dalena sobered, considering. “You know what I don’t get, though?” She logged off and powered down the old PC. “At the base of all of this, where did the obsession with Cinderella come from? Q. isn’t exactly a sparkles and fairy tales kind of kid.”

“One of the play meets was princess themed last spring.” Megan shrugged as they moved to clear the takeout and dishes from the table. “You remember that Brandi movie that came out in the 90’s?”

“Rodger and Hammerstein, of course I remember. Whitney aside, Lesley Ann Warren’s was better.”

“Excuse me?” Megan coughed in surprise. “The costumes alone, not to mention the diversity, make you so very wrong. But I’ll forgive you, because you’re old, and nostalgic.” She laughed and dodged as Dalena snapped a kitchen towel at her. “Anyway. Katelyn’s dad brought the DVD, and the kids went nuts for it. I caught Quinn trying to borrow a book of Grimm Tales from the library after and shut that down real quick.”

“Good call.” They moved opposite each other, steadily passing plates and cups to the kitchen. “You know, we’re probably a couple of years away from another remake, and then she’ll grow up saying we’re both wrong. Didn’t Julie Andrews make the original?”

“I think so? But again, I’m not ancient, so I’m not entirely sure.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Dalena feinted left at the kitchen island and lunged to the right, catching a startled and laughing Megan in her arms. She kissed her softly through their smiles. “Seven years does not a cradle-robber make, Mrs. Bevan-Hall. Not when you already had these when we met.” She stroked the streaks of grey in Megan’s hair.

“That’s playing dirty,” Megan murmured against her mouth. “Who’s the grave-digger now?”

“Nobody,” Dalena hummed, walking her wife backward toward the stairs. “We still have a rodent-loving princess to raise, a lifetime of college debt to pay off, and a nursing home waiting somewhere, many years down the road, for us to traumatize the staff with hot, scandalous, geriatric gay sex.”

“Oh, baby. I love it when you talk nasty.” Megan’s laughter rolled down the stairs as Dalena pulled her over her shoulder and took the steps two at a time, the dishes forgotten behind them.

________________

“Hello, Megan, Dalena. Please, have a seat.” Quinn’s Principal smiled and gestured to the worn chairs across from her desk. “Thank you again for joining me. I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, but I was informed this afternoon of an event that I think you both should be aware of.”

The two mothers waited in growing tension as the matron retrieved an object from the filing cabinet and sat down again with them. “Have either of you seen this book before?”

Dalena reached for the paper-backed children’s book, turning it in her hands and showing it to Megan with a startled expression. When Mama Goes To Heaven, the title read, by Jayna Russel. She shook her head as Megan accepted it from her and flipped through the pages in confusion.

“What does this have to do with Quinn?” Megan asked.

“Mr. Thyese found it in Quinn’s cubby today. When he asked her where she got it, she said that a librarian gave it to her, because–” She hesitated, and cautiously made eye contact with each of them in turn. “Because she said her mom was going to die soon.”

“She said what?” Dalena was incredulous.

“I hate to be forward, but may I ask: Have either of you received news recently that might explain her fears?”

“No. We’re both healthy?” Megan glanced worriedly at Dalena, who nodded, wide-eyed. “I have type-1 diabetes, but I’m on top of it, and Quinn has seen me do injections her whole life and I’ve never seen her upset by it.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear it. And I know that this is all a bit of a shock but, as you know, children have powerful imaginations, and equally strong curiosity. An event like this is actually not unusual for Quinn’s age. The concept of death is often unclear for a child, and imagining the process of grief in relation to losing her closest loved ones, such as a mother, perhaps, could be her way of coping with these growing pains.”

Megan and Dalena nodded, their faces drawn in the silence that followed.

“How could we not have known she was dealing with all of this?” Dalena asked. “I mean, that’s pretty heavy stuff for a kid to carry around and just not talk about.”

“Children pick up new ideas in so many ways, from events at home, television, the playground. And sometimes, curious though they are, children end up processing fears alone, before they feel comfortable talking about them with an adult. I don’t have to tell you how bright Quinn is. Considering the past discussions we’ve had about developing her sense of empathy, and guiding her in how to relate to children her age, I would consider this a healthy step in her emotional development. Quinn is looking for answers and working through her feelings, albeit in her own way. Have there been any deaths in the family recently? A grandparent, or a goldfish even?”

“No,” Megan replied, squeezing Dalena's hand. “Nothing like that, and we’re very careful with what she watches and reads.”

“Well, the time may have come for a direct conversation.”

“Understatement,” Dalena muttered.

“I would advise you to be honest with her and to ask questions, but don’t forget to listen. Find out what she knows, and what she wants to know. And her teachers are here to support you, of course.”

“Thank you, so much.” Megan shook her hand as they stood to part ways, and paused for Dalena to do the same.

They waited outside of Quinn’s classroom, staring at each other from opposite walls of the hallway. Hand-print turkeys lined the walls behind them, and the splashes of color and children’s names looked out of place beside their serious faces.

“What the fuck, Lena.” Megan’s voice shook.

“I know, love. I know.” Dalena met her in the middle and hugged her tightly. “It’ll be okay. It’s part of growing up.”

“Oh, yeah?” Megan sniffled. “What if I don’t want her to grow up?”

“Ship sailed, I’m afraid. Do you remember when you first had this kind of talk as a kid? About death?”

“Not at all.”

Dalena shrugged around her. “She probably won’t remember either. It’s just a thing kids go through. She’ll be okay.”

________________

“So, Dee and I had an interesting talk with Principal Tate today.” Megan lined the corn on her plate in tidy rows with her fork as she spoke. “She told us about a book you had at school.”

Both women watched Quinn as she ate her dinosaur shaped nuggets, chewing slowly with her mouth open.

“Do you know which book your mom is talking about, Q.?” Dalena ventured.

“Yes. The one about how to be okay when she dies.”

Dalena released a long, slow breath and reached for her glass of water, raising her eyebrow at Megan.

“Okay. So, how did–" Megan cleared her throat and took a drink as well. “Why did the librarian think that you needed that book?”

“I didn’t ask for it, she just gave it to me. She looked sad when I told her, and said it might help. But it just talked about flowers and feelings.” Quinn stabbed a t-rex with her fork and pulled it through the slurry of ketchup and ranch on her plate.

“Sweetheart, what made you start thinking about something like that? That something might happen to me?”

“Because.” Quinn looked up sharply, annoyance clear on her tiny face. “I’m not a stupid baby, Mom. You married an evil stepmother, so now you have to die, so I can be a princess.”

“Oh. Oh, wow,” Dalena murmured, hiding the pained downturn of her mouth behind her hand.

Megan brushed her foot comfortingly across Dalena's ankle, beneath the table. “Baby girl, Dalena isn’t an evil stepmother. Those stories, like Cinderella, they’re just stories. You know that, right? You love Dee.”

Quinn took a bite from her fork and shrugged her shoulders, chewing steadily through the pink mash of food.

“Q.” Dalena spoke gently. “We want you to know, both of us, that we love you.”

Megan nodded and smiled, reaching a hand to squeeze Quinn’s small wrist.

“And that you are allowed to feel however you want about me, and about your Mom, as long as you know that you’re safe, and you’re loved, and that nobody here is going to treat you badly or leave you. Okay, Q.?”

Quinn shrugged again.

Megan watched Dalena struggle through her emotions, the pangs of hurt and worry laid out clearly on her face.

“Quinn,” Megan continued carefully, “are you sad, maybe, that it isn’t just the two of us anymore? That I got married, and Dee is your mom now too?”

“She isn't. She’s a stepmother.” Quinn drank her juice, tilting her head back to drain the glass with both hands. “And I’m not sad yet. You have to get sick first, and die.” She looked steadily at her mother. “And then Dee is gonna get really upset about it, and be mean to me. And then I’ll feel sad, so I’ll get the magic, and be a princess.” She turned to look at a pale and shaken Dalena. “And then you’ll get punished for hurting me, and probably be dead too.”

“Quinnlee Rose, that’s enough.” Megan pulled her hand away sharply.

“Meg,” Dalena cautioned.

“No, I’m sorry. Quinn, I’m sorry, but what you’re saying is very serious, and hurtful. I don’t understand, are you upset with us? For the wedding, for moving to a new house?”

“Meg? Let’s take a breather.” Dalena nodded her head toward the kitchen, beckoning Megan away. She ruffled a hand through Quinn’s hair. “Finish those dinos, kid. We’ll talk more later, okay?” She smiled and stood, waiting as Megan leaned down to kiss Quinn’s head.

“I love you, Quinn.” Megan whispered shakily into her hair. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk at bath time?”

“Okay, Mom.”

________________

Dalena looked around the room with fondness, taking in the soccer pendant, the mesh net of stuffed animals above the bed, the patchwork quilt that Quinn was pulling back from the corners. So many precious memories, and Dalena was grateful to have been there for what she could. She leaned in closer to the soccer photo, studying five year old Quinn’s serious expression, and her own smiling face below a 'COACH' embroidered baseball cap. Their lives had changed a lot in two years’ time, and no matter the stress or discomfort of days like this, Dalena would not trade it for anything.

“All snug, bed-bug?” She pulled the blankets up to Quinn’s shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed. “I love you, Q.” Dalena smiled at the little girl as she settled against the pillow. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, I want you to know that. And that you can talk to me, or Mom, about anything.”

“It’s okay, Dee. Mom told me everything at bath time.”

“Is that so? What did Mom say?”

“She said that I can’t be the princess, because it was Cinderella’s dad who died, and I don’t have one.” She blinked her eyes sleepily and pushed deeper under the quilt. “And you don’t have any kids. Stepsisters are a big part of the story too.”

Dalena stared at the child beside her.

“Well,” she hesitated, “I suppose they are. But even in fairy tales, you know they’re just girls, right? Just like Cinderella? Maybe, if they were raised with love, and boundaries, like you are, they would have been good stepsisters?”

“No,” Quinn stated, eyes dropping sleepily closed. “They would still be evil, like stepmothers are.”

Dalena looked sadly at her stepdaughter. “Quinn. Even though I married your mom, and that makes me a stepmom, that doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly evil. Does that make sense? Q.?”

There was no reply. Dalena turned on the night light with a sigh.

“I love you, kiddo. Sweet dreams.”

________________

Dalena closed the bedroom door silently behind her, bracing her forehead against the cold wood to center herself. She slipped down the stairs quietly and pulled a wine bottle from the rack in the pantry on her way to the kitchen. Swapping the warm bottle for a chilled red from the refrigerator, she turned speculatively to Megan at the breakfast nook.

"Really, Megan? Heteronormative fairy tales just, don't apply?"

“What did she say?” Megan dropped her glasses to dangle from the chain around her neck and stood from her laptop, pulling her sweater tightly around herself.

“Well.” Dalena pulled the cork from the bottle and set the wine aside to breathe. “We don’t have to worry about your untimely demise anymore, because you’re a mom, not a dad. Smooth. Oh, and step-sisters are always evil.” Dalena huffed a laugh. “Apparently it’s hereditary.”

"Lena, it’s not funny. I'm worried about her.” Her tone was strident, her face creased with anxiety. “I mean, how did we miss this? We talked so much about everything, about the move, about getting married." Megan pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I thought she was good. I thought she was happy. We have to snap her out of this fairy tale obsession somehow, it’s not healthy.”

"I get it," Dalena sighed and pulled her wife into a hug, rubbing firmly at her back. "I just think we can find some way that doesn't involve stifling any hope of magic from her life. If she grows up only accepting the romance, adventures, and life lessons that come with explicit Queer family representation, she'll be waiting forever." She leaned back and smiled softly at the woman in her arms. "And, we have to remember that her childhood will be different than ours were.”

She moved to slide her hands comfortingly up and down Megan’s arms. “Her own identity aside, she’s also growing up with two moms. Neither of us know what that really looks like, or feels like. We have to be careful."

"You're right," Megan murmured and pulled away, "I panicked. Dammit, Lena, I just panicked. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking it was scary, and I felt it too. I tried not to, but when she looked at me? Said she thought I was going to hurt her? Fuck, it broke my heart.”

“I could tell.” Megan pressed her face into Dalena’s neck and tried not to cry. “She loves you Lena, I know she does. She’s just overwhelmed with all of these big changes, and somehow–”

“Somehow, we missed it,” Dalena finished.

“Maybe it's time for some professional support?" Megan whispered.

"I still have Doctor Mackey's number, from the adoption interview. I'll ask for a referral?"

"Okay. Let's do it, please."

"I'll call now." Dalena leaned down to kiss her brow, and moved to pick up the phone.

She watched as Megan filled the kettle and turned on a burner, the familiar click, click, click of the range followed by the noxious scent of gas and a rush of flames. She opened the corner cupboard as the phone rang, pulled down Megan's favorite mug, with #1 Mom carved into the dull grey surface, and pressed it softly into her hands.

"We'll help her, Meg. We’ll do sessions as a family. We love her, and we’ll get through this. She'll be okay."

________________

Four Months Later

________________

“Mommy, help! Mommy!”

Megan’s heart lurched at the frightened scream that carried through the house. Dalena was at work, and Quinn was still in bed.

“Quinn!” She dropped her mug in the kitchen sink and raced up the stairs. “Quinn, what’s wrong?”

“Mommy, help me!” The tiny voice was quieter, more distant.

“Fuck. No, no, no.” She was going the wrong way.

“I’m coming!” She turned in the hall to run back down, stumbling as her slippered feet slid past the edges of the steps and sent her sprawling to the floor. “I’m coming, baby! Where are you, I’m coming!” She ran for the back door, her blood a grey roar in her ears as she caught the distant sound of splashing water. The swimming pool.

“Quinn!” She saw her face-down in the water, bobbing gently, with a halo of red around her head. The bright yellow sundress that Dalena had just bought Quinn for her seventh birthday floated around her like wings. Megan jumped into the pool.

She pulled the body into her arms, horrified at the weightlessness.

“No, please no.” Turning her over, she dragged the dress away from her face and startled. Quinn’s life-sized Raggedy Ann doll stared back up at her, with black button eyes and a slip stitch smile.

Megan shook, dropping the doll and spinning in a circle to look for her daughter. She dove beneath the water, scanning the bottom of the pool. When she broke the surface again, she sobbed at the sight of Quinn standing at the far end.

“Quinn! Are you okay?” Megan swam to the middle of the long wall to meet her, moving heavily in her sodden robe. Breathless, she reached to touch her daughter’s toes in reassurance and braced to pull from the water. The sharp force that collided with her head stunned her, dropping her under with a splash. She drifted, watching in a daze as smoky tendrils of blood colored the distorted water above her. Floating feebly toward the sky, Megan reached for the ledge and found her daughter, crouched, with a bloody yard brick in her hand.

“I’m going to be a princess, Mom.”

Megan flinched as Quinn reached forward and pinched at her upper arm. She wiped the cascading blood from her eyes and saw the small hand withdraw an empty syringe. Megan’s insulin.

“Quinn?” She reached slowly for her daughter, disoriented and confused.

“Mom, stop.” Quinn picked up the leaf skimmer with both hands and pushed her away with the handle.

Megan fumbled for the ledge and missed. She shivered with the pulsing of the gash on her scalp, and felt the crest of her adrenaline dump in a wave of dizziness. She could not remember when she last ate. Nauseated and shaky, she grabbed at the metal pole.

“Quinn, how much insulin did you give me? I won’t be mad, I promise. Sweetie, I’m not mad, but you need to tell me. You remember I showed you the lines on the needle? How many lines, Quinn?”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll do good things, and be nice, like you taught me.” The little girl extended the pole one hand at a time, pressing Megan back.

“Quinn, you stop this right now!” Megan screamed at her, sick with fear.

“And you know Dee won’t be too mean,” the girl continued. “Just enough to make me sad, and make the magic work.”

Megan pushed clumsily against the pole and lurched for the opposite wall. She lost track of her goal for a moment when black spots sparked across her vision, extinguishing the glint of sunlight on the water like the passing of a sudden eclipse. The sandpaper-rough concrete was cold beneath her fingers as she grabbed it, relief flooding her with endorphins; the netted end of the pool skimmer that dropped over her head, pulling her back with a jerk, cut into her air supply and disoriented her further. She felt herself guided slowly backward toward the center of the pool, and fought to clear her mind as her muscles began to seize.

“Quinn, please,” she slurred, “I love you.”

“Don’t be sad, Mom. I’ll be okay.”

________________