Stop me if you've hard this one: A little birdie told me.
"Birdie" is not my real name. Birdie is what I call myself now, someone Flynn and Ophelia can still believe in, still respect. Why? Because a little birdie told me. And what did the birdie say?
"Ulysses is coming home."
I've wasted years of my life believing that. The man I fell in love with vanished without explanation, and what do I have to show for it? A shattered life. That's what it amounts to, isn't it? I believed in that man, and the sad part? I still believe in him. I don't even know why anymore. Maybe it's because I really do believe he'll come home. But what am I supposed to do in the meantime, just pretend as if he didn't ruin me, mock everything we built together...abandon me?
I try to tell myself, I should have seen it coming. I mean, I know the man I married. I know him better than anyone. Right? Or maybe, I was too close to him to know. Maybe I spent all the time I had him with me telling myself what I wanted to hear. Of the proverbial lovers and fighters, I knew which one he was. Maybe I should have looked closer. Maybe I was wrong.
But I can't give up. I can't. I have to hold out, hope he'll return. Right? I can't be selfish. Maybe what we shared was meant to be ethereal. Maybe I'm making a big mistake. Maybe I made a big mistake. Maybe I should move on.
But I can't. It would break me. Who can truly understand my plight? No one. Too many have tried. I find their sympathy trite, misplaced, insubstantial. Like betrayals. I've had enough of that. Either I'll find the strength within myself or...
Or what, I don't know. But the real question is, if he does appear, if he does return...What next? They never tell you that your heart's desire can ruin you. Only in fairy tales. And they're all tragedies, aren't they? I never thought of them that way...
"But this is not the story," says Kindly.