Monday, February 18, 2013

Saturday, October 29th, 1983

When is a Queen not a Queen?
When she’s overpowered,
Vulnerable or a coward,
She will step back and instead
She without magic will be the head.
And so to depose her,
The Queen surely knows that
The best gift is one that is seen.

     This poem was bound with the other poem about the directions to my safe haven. They’re both part of a compilation of riddles I found shortly after arriving here. They act as an instruction manual to surviving the curse until or if the savior arrives. Until yesterday, I didn’t know what it meant.
     It is only through dumb luck that I’m able to write in you now. For most of a day, I have been Regina Mills of Storybrooke, as though I wasn’t the one who cast the spell and was trapped in a miserable life like everyone else here.
     It began with my visit to Dr. Hopper’s yesterday morning. I promised Graham I would go to help remember my attacker. The doctor’s red hair and raspy voice weren’t things I recognized, but he did bring up my conscience once or twice. That’s when I knew the curse had brought that pesky cricket spy in human form. He had a fine Dalmatian there named Pongo, who was friendly enough.
     I gave him the details of what happened: I was attacked in the rain by a man who yelled questions at me until he ran off after Graham fired his gun. Dr. Hopper suggested hypnotizing me to help me remember. I didn’t want to do that. In such a vulnerable state, I might reveal more than what pertained to this situation. But the doctor assured me this was safe and controlled, so I reluctantly agreed.
     Drifting into the trance was easier than I expected. I felt awake, just very relaxed. Dr. Hopper spoke and I willingly responded to him.
     “We’re going back to the night you were attacked. You’ve finished work. What’s happening?”
     “I’m leaving my office. It’s night time. It’s starting to rain. I’ve got a long walk back to my—“
     I was back on the pavement. Rain was pounding my face in total darkness. His hands fit perfectly around my neck and they’d only ease with the chance for me to answer his questions. I grabbed onto his hands to try to pull them away.
     “Is he there?”
     I tried to nod yes.
     “Can you see him?”
      “No!” It’s hard to form sentences and get your point across when you’re being strangled. I could only speak after I fought to take in air. “Dark! Rain right—in my—eyes!”
     “Focus on what else you can sense: his voice? His hands?”
     “His voice—is young!” I was excited to be able to remember that. “His hands—smell!”
     “What do they smell like?”
     I shook my head. I couldn’t recognize it, but it was a familiar scent from back home; musty and almost like medicine. But I didn’t want to look anymore. My attacker was strangling me longer this time.    
     “Graham—“
    “No, Graham’s not going to fire his gun until you see who’s attacking you.”
     “I—can’t—see anything!”
     “I want you to try to see. Look through the rain. What does his hair look like?”
     All I could do was shake my head and try to pull his hands away from my neck. The pressure of his hands was too much. The rain in my eyes was too much. The darkness was too much. The gunshot I’d heard before wasn’t coming this time. I couldn’t make any sounds anymore. My grip on his hands began to fail.
     “You’re not there anymore!” Dr. Hopper’s voice broke in and the rain stopped. “His hands are leaving your throat! Do you feel them leaving your throat?”
     I took in the largest breath of air I could and followed it up with a few good coughs until I could breathe steady again. Once I nodded approval, Dr. Hopper spoke again in his soothing voice.
     “That moment’s over now. All that’s here now are Regina Mills and the sound of my voice.  I’m going to count to three. When I reach three, I’m going to snap my fingers and you’ll be back in my office. One, two, three.”
     SNAP!
     It felt like a dream. Everything had a sort of bright haze about it. I was in my body, but I was not in control. There was another presence with me who was now in charge. This was the Regina of Storybrooke who everyone knew.
     Dr. Hopper asked if I was all right. I tried to say no, but what I wanted to do didn’t matter. Regina Mills said she was fine. I tried to scream and yell that she was wrong, but nothing happened. Regina Mills of Storybrooke remained composed and thanked Dr. Hopper for trying to help. He offered Regina another session, but she declined and left.
     Regina walked us down the street. I tried yelling some more. I asked her if she knew I was here. If she knew I was in here, could she give me a sign or say something? She did nothing. I tried this for quite a while until I was convinced she had no idea who I was.
     But I knew who she was. Glimpses of her memories were shown to me. The only memories we shared were of things I’d done in this town since the curse began, only through her perspective. This Regina knew Dr. Hopper and could remember when he first opened his practice in town. She knew his dog, Pongo, too. She didn’t like Pongo—or any animals—very much.
     We went to see Graham at the station, who she’d known since her father introduced them shortly after he was promoted to sheriff. They’d been seeing each other secretly since she was in college, because they both knew her father would have never approved. He took us to the courthouse. It was already time for the trial over Regina’s car hitting who I knew to be Charming, but she knew to be someone else. We saw the DA, Albert Spencer, who Regina had known since she was a little girl. Albert told her he was the prosecution, but assured her this would be quick and he was only doing his job. Regina was sociable with the man and insisted she didn’t recognize the man she hit. But she did.
     She represented herself before the judge. In the audience was Kathryn, her best friend since they were sorority sisters. Regina chose not to look at her while she told the judge Katherine’s husband ran out in front of her car in an attempt to kill himself. Of course, she omitted David Nolan’s name and said she didn’t recognize him at all. Few people would have, after all. He’d only barely come home with his regiment from overseas. His looks had matured so much since he’d been gone and he hadn’t left his house since he came home. Kathryn said they’d been arguing for days and he wasn’t himself. Regina left all of this out and managed to convince the judge that she was innocent. Albert’s purposefully feeble attempts at prosecution and lack of evidence made it a quick trial. The charge against Regina was dropped and her license was intact.
      Kathryn wanted to celebrate, so the two of them planned to go to the Rabbit Hole for a drink. But first they stopped at Regina’s house to freshen up.
     Regina’s house had a different feel now. This was not originally her house. The living room was the hardest to be in. Over a year ago, Regina walked into her father’s house to find her father dead on the floor with a gunshot wound to the heart. His blood was everywhere. Standing beside his body was a woman holding the gun, covered in his blood and crying so hard no sound came from her. She was in the asylum now. The carpet had been replaced. No one could replace her father.
     “You’ve done so well.” Kathryn gave her a supportive hug. “Your father would be so proud of you.”
     We left. Regina wore the same coat she wore on Thursday when she went to visit her father’s grave. I saw a quick vision of what she remembered about wearing that coat last. My safe haven conveniently not part of it.
     The Rabbit Hole is the busiest bar in town. It’s also the only bar in town. It was filled with two kinds of people: those who didn’t like Regina and those who tolerated Regina because of Kathryn. She was very aware of this and it did bother her, but when you’re the richest woman in town, few people give you trouble.
     Regina offered to pay for their drinks once the bartender brought them over. She pulled out the change from her coat pocket and found a coin with purple swirling smoke and the face of a man smiling at her. He looked alive. Regina shrieked and her change went all over the floor.
     Just like that, I was back! The Regina of Storybrooke vanished and I got off my stool and searched frantically for Daniel’s coin. I found it before anyone else saw what it was. I came back up with the remainder of my normal change for the bartender.
     “What was that about?” Kathryn laughed and had clearly not seen what was so special about that coin.
     “I thought I saw a spider.” My coin went back in my pocket.
     Kathryn shrieked and giggled before raising her wine glass to toast.
  “You defended yourself today without any help.” She neglected Mr. Spencer’s deliberately weak prosecution. “Cheers to finding out more about yourself.”
     “I’ll toast to that.” I clinked my wine glass to hers and drank to the truth of her words.







Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Thursday, October 27th, 1983


     I have discovered lasagna. I love lasagna.
     It was the next thing to make in my cookbook. I’m eating it right now as I write this entry. Back home we had cheese and tomato sauce and even noodles, but never had anyone thought of layering them with ground beef and baking it all until everything was hot and melted! This is truly the best thing about living here. Though not better than revenge, lasagna is my reward for exacting my revenge.
     I’ve discovered over the last couple of days, when not being attacked in the dark, that I’m actually a natural when it comes to cooking. It’s not too different from making spells. There are rules and rituals you have to follow just as you would to create a potion. It takes less time, too. The ovens here don’t run on logs, but gas. And I’m eating what’s known as leftovers, because it’s left over from what I made last night. You can keep food longer here because of refrigerators, which are just great. Again, more magic this world has that the old one did not. So it’s really no problem to make all of this food and I certainly don’t need to hire anyone for that. But I can only imagine few things will compare to lasagna.
    Graham taught me how to drive on Wednesday. I don’t like it. There’s more to concentrate on than there is when riding a horse. There are gears and clutches and brakes. If you touch one before the other the car makes a horrible sound. Then you have to pay attention to everyone else driving their cars or crossing the street. After our first day of driving, I pushed all of my mayoral duties and took a nap at home. But after practicing one more time today and getting Graham’s approval, we went to the department of motor vehicles and I officially have my driver’s license. This is a great bit of independence I have now, but Graham’s not convinced I’m completely safe. He thinks whoever attacked me will try again and I don’t doubt it.
     “Are you sure you can’t remember what he sounded like?” Graham has no leads. There were no names I could give him, since I don’t know what anyone’s name is here until I hear it. No evidence was left behind, either. “He was yelling at you. You don’t remember if he sounded young? If he had an accent?”
     “I told you, I don’t remember, and the more I try to remember, the fuzzier it is. It was just fast and intense. One second I’m walking and the next I’m on the ground with hands around my throat.”
     Before he left for the station, he suggested I see someone named Dr. Hopper and maybe he could help me remember. He pointed to his office and I told him I would.
     “Your concern for my safety is touching.” I had to know my curse worked properly. “Are you on call whenever I need you?”
     He looked around, perhaps to see if anyone was watching us. I certainly didn’t know what our history was here. All Graham has revealed to me is we’ve known each other since he’s been sheriff and he’s been sheriff as long as he can remember. Once he seemed satisfied that our conversation was private, his grey eyes settled back on me.
     “Yes.”
     “Then I need you tonight.”
      I have a friend here. Apart from Graham and Sidney, who are loyal to me for other reasons, Kathryn comes across as someone who genuinely cares about me. Shortly after Graham and I parted ways, she ran down the street and hugged me. She immediately asked how I was doing and apologized for not seeing me after the attack.
     “I only just heard. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own world. David left me.” She cut me off before I had a chance to respond, which was good because I didn’t know what to say. “No, it’s all right! I’m fine! We should go out for drinks and dancing tonight!”
     “I have plans tonight.” I knew I upset her. “Maybe tomorrow?”
     “Tomorrow’s good for me!” She perked right up. “It’s Thursday! Are you going to the florist? I’ll go with you.”
     Kathryn led me where I always went on Thursdays, to Moe’s Flower Shop. Inside, Moe was part of a tense discussion. Though Moe was twice the man’s size and behind a long counter, it was obvious the little man made him tense. He made me tense, too.
     “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mr. Gold.” Maurice said. There were silver bells on the door that jingled as it swung behind us. The gentlemen turned to us.
     “Hello, Madam Mayor.” There he stood at the other end of the counter. His skin wasn’t shiny and his voice was softer, but there was no mistaking Rumpelstiltskin. “Allow me to congratulate you, please.” I froze and held out my hand. He reached out one hand to me and walked around the counter, but it took longer than it would for others to reach me. His twisted right leg and the cane he held in his left hand to assist him were reassuring. Any man with a leg like that couldn’t run faster than a sheriff’s deputy.
     “Thank you, Mr. Gold.” I shook his hand. He smiled at me and nodded to Kathryn.
     “Here’s your bouquet, Miss Mills—Madame Mayor.” Maurice corrected himself and handed me a bunch of pink roses.
     “I don’t need any roses.”
     “But it’s Thursday. Have you stopped visiting your father’s tomb on Thursdays?”
     “Does everyone know that?”
     “It’s a small town, Madam Mayor, and certainly visiting your father isn’t something to hide. Please give him my regards.”
     This curse is great, but the fact that everyone knows everything about me is getting creepy.
     Before Kathryn and I parted ways, I asked her to remind me how to get to the cemetery. I convinced her that my mind was scattered ever since the attack and she offered to come with me, but I insisted this was something I needed to do alone.
     Driving along the road through the trees brought the poem to my mind.
     Branches give way to the bridge beneath.
     I crossed a bridge and was at the cemetery in no time.
     The Queen will find the distance brief.
     I walked to the back of the cemetery, where the mausoleums were.
     Past those who could not join you here, twin stags will let you know you’re near.
     I opened the doors of the tomb with my families crest. Inside was one lone coffin.
HENRY MILLS
BELOVED FATHER
     I sat the flowers down and remembered the next verse.
     “Mr. Gold gives you his regards.” That damn agreement I made with him.
     Push the edge until it shifts.
     This stumped me for a moment, I’ll be honest. I was pushing on walls, urns and anything else with an edge before I tried pushing my father’s coffin. I told myself that even though this was his coffin, my father wasn’t in it. It moved easier than I expected and gave way to a stairwell.
     Seventeen steps lead to five gifts.
     There, below the tomb, was my home away from home, away from Home. Rather, our old home. Along with my heart chamber and the compartments holding my other pieces of magic, behind a false wall was an apartment almost as grand as my house. There was a tribute to my beautiful tree in the center of the room done in crystal. Along the walls stood some of my favorite outfits from the old land on display. I found skeleton keys on a table that I immediately put in my pocket. But there was something else here I needed to find. Down one hall revealed a glass coffin. Inside, peacefully preserved, was Daniel. There was no one here to see me cry and no curse could ever harden my heart against him. Sitting on top of his coffin was a small coin. I looked into it and saw him smiling at me through magic. I put the coin in my other pocket and vowed to never get rid of it. I spent a long time in that room.
     It was dusk when I drove away from the cemetery. It was a draining day, but a valuable one. And soon I’d be with Graham. That was something nice to think about. Visions of him were so powerful that I didn’t see who I hit. He flew over my car and it screeched to a halt as I slammed the breaks. I ran out to see Charming in a heap. His face was bleeding, as well as his stomach, but I knew it was him.
     The thought occurred to me to leave him there and let him die. That’s what I did back home. But the damage his body did to my car was noticeable. Everyone knew where I was on Thursdays and there was always the chance he’d be found no matter where I hid him.
     So then my decision was to help him, which sickened me. The big question was how to do that. Should I just drive into town and get help? That struck me as unwise. I searched my car for an idea and found a phone in a console. I unraveled the cord and looked for the number to the sheriff’s department. I dialed the number and was relieved when it rang. Graham answered the phone.
     “I hit someone.” 
     It didn’t take long for an ambulance to find us and take him to the hospital. The noise those things make is ridiculous, but at least you know where it is. Graham was with me in the waiting room. He had to fill out a report. I recounted everything of importance.
     “You’re going to have to go to court.” He put his paperwork away. “Your license might be suspended, but we may be able to override that if you can convince the court it wasn’t your fault.”
     Soon after, Dr. Whale came out.
     “He’s in a coma.” He said. “We don’t know when he’ll wake up and he had no identification on him. Did you recognize him at all?”
     “No.” This was true for Storybrooke. I didn’t know who he was here or if I was even supposed to know him.
     I was made his emergency contact and went home. I went upstairs and nearly screamed when Graham knocked on my bedroom window.
     “Why didn’t you knock on the door?” I finally caught my breath.
     “I’ve always come in this way. Can I start using the door?”
     “Not yet.” I let him come in and he quickly started to disrobe. “Can I ask something?”
     “What?”
     “Mr. Gold wouldn’t be faking his injury, would he?”
     “No.” This was the first time he looked at me like something was wrong. “He hurt his leg in the Vietnam war. It’s beyond fixable.” He gestured to his completely naked body. “Are you still in the mood?”
     “Get on the bed.” I pushed him and took off my clothes.
     Before he left through the window, I made sure to give him some lasagna.
     Mmm. Lasagna.