Foundation Shift

“I asked you to come here so I could tell you a secret I’ve been carrying with me for nearly all my life now.” Wheezing and rasping she said, the brittleness in her voice made it seem like her vocal chords were about to give out at any moment. Lying in her hospital bed, one could sense that she knew innately that the end was upon her. She paused for a moment and examined a necklace that she held in her left hand. The adornment on it was a little girl in a spring dress wearing a wide brimmed hat. The brim covered the tiny girls face in such a way that one wouldn’t be able to make out the statuettes expression.

I sat scanning the old lady. One could see the weathered age on her deeply lined face. Perhaps in the past she would have tried to fill in the crevasses with copious amounts of foundation, but now she was well past the age of trying or caring. I thought it genuinely helped make her look younger than she really was. Her skin seemed to be one or two sizes to big for her now, as the wrinkles continued down her neck and could once again be seen creeping out of her sleeves down to the trinket in her hand.

Perhaps the smell of the hospital room was getting to me, but this didn’t seem like my mother. Sure she looked like her, and smelled like her, but something was different, peculiar. And where did this necklace come from. I had never seen it before. It looked old too.

“Mother, What are you getting on about?” I inquired. She didn’t move her eyes from the pendant. She just sat in silence for a while. Eventually she turned her deep blue eyes upon me.

“Now this is very serious. Everything you know, or think you know, will forever be altered.” As the words poured out of her mouth I felt a strange pang in my stomach. I was sure this was the ‘I’m not your real mother’ speech every child fears their entire life. I get that it would be hard, but this woman was my mother, by blood or not, and would always be that to me.

“Mother, I think I know what you are about to say and I can assure you that it doesn’t matter.” I said as I took her free hand in mine, consoling her as best I could.

“It most certainly does. You are a changeling boy.” She sat and stared me directly in the eyes.

“A what?” I responded.

“A changeling, your father is fae. And you; a half-breed.” Internally, I started laughing. My mother had finally lost it. “I can see in your eyes you don’t believe me. Take the necklace, boy.”

“Are you thinking of my iron allergy, mother?” When I was young I had a bad reaction to a ring a friend let me borrow one summer. I haven’t touched the stuff since.

“Allergy? Hah! Take the necklace.” She blurted. I figured I would humor her; a little rash on my skin wouldn’t be too much trouble to show her that she was becoming senile. When I took the necklace in hand, it burned and not like holding your hand over a candle. It felt way more intense, like a hot poker pressed against my skin, it shot straight into my soul with a fire so clear that I could only focus on the pain. She saw my reflex and pulled the iron away. All the energy she had mustered up for that last challenge seemed to drain her completely.

“And now?” She questioned as her eyes were shutting. I had no idea what was happening, my world was indeed changing completely and faster than my thoughts could keep up with. Perhaps it was true. I seemed to be aging very slowly compared to other people. I still looked like I was in my mid twenties, but I was well past that now.

“What should I do mother?”

“Find your father, Whelcen, you have so much to learn about the other half of yourself. Look inside and you will find a path to him. You are linked by blood.” She was becoming much more faint at this point, but she pressed on, “the only advice I can give before I go is, don’t accept any presents or hospitality unless you can return them in kind. I love you son.” And with these parting words she passed. Now I was on my own to piece the other side of my life together.

-V-