Satyr Boyfriend Midas (complete)

    “Mama? Mama!” Mari’s little hand pats my face, trying to get me to wake up. I roll over and pretend to sleep more, and she chases after me.

    “Mama! Maaaaaaama!” She tackles me, and I roll over, grabbing her and holding her close.

    “Good morning glory,” I say as I kiss her cheek.

    “I knew you were up!” Mari cuddles into my arms and snuggles to my chest. I pull the blanket up over both of us and enjoy the calm of the morning before everything rushes by.

    Once Mari gets hungry enough, I get out of bed so that I can make her breakfast. I’ll admit, being a single mother is hard work, especially when I’m also single handed. It’s a long story involving some soap opera like dramatics, but somehow, I woke up from a coma missing a hand and pregnant with a child. Yeah, it’s all crazy and confusing, but so far that hasn’t caught back up with me.

    I’m lucky enough to be able to work from home. After coming out of my coma and giving birth to Mari, I did get quite a bit of media attention. From that experience, I wrote a book and, from there, I continued writing children’s books and drawing the artwork. My series about a monarch butterfly has gotten quite popular, and I’ve been asked to do a special exhibit showing off my paintings and artworks for the books.

    “Will I be able to go?” Mari asks me.

    “It’ll be a very late event,” I tell her. “Maybe if we can get Auntie Lissie and Uncle Wessie to be willing to take you home after they visit the show.”

    “I like their house!” Mari gasps with joy.

    I giggle and place her breakfast on the table. I look at her, seeing a lot of myself in her, but I also see a stranger. Whatever happened to me during my coma, I’m not certain. I was told I was found unconscious on the side of the road and wrapped in a sheet. My hand had been cut off, and my hair had been hacked off. They also said I was already pregnant at the time. 

    I came out of the coma a day before Mari was to be born. I wasn’t too concerned with anything else except her as she became my world, my future and my past the moment I saw her. After that, it was a whirlwind of interviews and people curious about my life. I wrote the book telling the first year after the coma, and then I started my picture books. Mari is six now and more and more I am beginning to see glimpses of someone else in her.

    Mari’s hair is extremely curly, certainly something she didn’t get from me. She has a cute button nose, unlike me as well, and she has perfect teeth, which I am constantly jealous of. I know lots of people say they have the cutest and smartest kid, but I know for a fact I do.

    The day of the exhibit arrives, and I have Mari dressed in a monarch butterfly dress. She’s been spinning around in it as we wait for our ride to the event. I’ve put on my prosthetic hand, wanting the event to be about the artwork and not the things out of my control.

    “They’re here!” Mari runs to the door, greeting her Aunt Lissie and Uncle Wessie.

    Lieselotte and Westley had become like family after I woke from the coma. Lieselotte was the doctor who delivered Mari while Westley had been the doctor who took care of me while I was comatose. They took me into their home and helped me get on my feet after everything was said and done. I owed them my life.

    “Look how lovely you are!” Lieselotte grabs up Mari as soon as she is through the door. 

    Westley looks at me and nods. I adore him, but there is always a coldness to him I can’t quite put my finger on. “Excited for tonight?” He asks.

    “Of course,” I grin. “I’ve been working so long for this, it seems so strange that it is here now.”

    We leave for the exhibit, and I am greeted by the unexpected flash of cameras and people shouting at me. Westley gets us through the event, covering both Mari and I as we walk into the gallery. 

    “Vultures,” Westley sneers. He then kneels down to Mari. “You ok?”

    Mari rubs her eyes. “Yeah. The lights hurt.”

    He picks her up. “Let’s go see what snacks they have outside.”

    Lieselotte stays with me as I go over the small speech I have prepared at the start of the exhibit. 

    “Nervous?” She asks.

    “A little,” I reply. “But I’ll get over it. Once I finish the speech, I’m free to spend the evening with Mari.”

    “Westley will take her home whenever she wants. He’s not too fond of crowds like this,” she snatches two glasses of champagne from a table and hands me one. 

    Before I know it, I’m swept away and taken to a small stage where I give my speech. As I stand up there and look out into the crowd, I notice a strange man. His hair is extremely curly, and he is wearing gloves and a flashy suit with a floral print all over it. It stands out to me because the print is of bright and golden marigolds. I keep looking his way, unsure why except for this nagging feeling I have seen him before. I never have, but there is something about him that keeps having me glance his way. I know him and yet I don’t.

    After my speech, I go down into the crowd, greeting people and shaking their hands. I answer a few questions for some articles. I look around for Mari and Westley, but soon, the strange man is upon me. 

    “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He takes my one hand and shakes it. The familiarity I feel from him is baffling. “I have been waiting a long time to finally see this gallery opened.” 

    “Oh!” I gasp. “You’re the-”

    He places a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t think of me as such. I am merely a very big fan of yours.” He cups my hand between his. “I have wanted to meet you for such a long time. You have no idea what this means to me, Autumn.”

    “Mama!” Mari calls out.

    The man turns, watching as she bounds up to me and clings to my side. “Can we go look at the paintings now, Mama?”

    “Yes, dear, just one second.” I smile up at the man. “This is Mr. Gold, he’s the one who set all this up for us.”

    Mari looks up at him and grins. “Thank you!”

    Mr. Gold looks stunned and is knocked into a silence. He takes a small step back and bows to Mari. “It was all my pleasure, little one. You must be your mother’s muse.”

    Mari giggles and hides her face in my skirt.

    “Don’t run away like that!” Lieselotte huffs as she runs up beside us. “You scared us half to death.”

    “She’s been chomping at the bit all evening,” Westley says. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have let her have those macarons before-” he stops as he looks at Mr. Gold. He goes stiff, and his expression goes blank.

    “The food is so good, Mama.” Mari grabs hold of my hand. “Have you had anything, Mr. Gold?” She turns to him and holds her hand out.

    “Oh, uh-” Mr. Gold looks away from Westley and down to Mari. “I would love to join you, but I’m afraid I have some things to take care of. Please, all of you, enjoy your evening.”

    Westley watches after him as he walks away. He quickly places himself in front of us and tries to hide his grave expression.

    “What’s wrong?” Lieselotte asks.

    “I’ll tell you later,” he whispers to her, thinking I can’t hear. “It’s my brother.”

    Lieselotte turns to look at Mr. Gold, then takes Westley’s hand and remains silent. I’m curious by their actions, but I am soon whisked away by the events of the gallery and Mari’s eagerness to try every appetizer brought out.

    Soon Mari wears out, so Westley and Lieselotte take her home. Westley insists I go with them, but I want to stay until the end of the exhibit. Once they’re gone, I wander around, looking at all my works displayed in such delicate and loving ways. One part of the show has some of my first sketches in a glass case with different pages held up on nearly invisible platforms.

    “How far you’ve come.”

    I turn around as Mr. Gold approaches me. He stands beside me at the case and smooths his gloved palm over the surface. “Your art deserves to be placed in museums at all times and yet you share it with the children of the world.” He turns and looks at me with a handsome smile. “Is there a reason you chose them?”

    “It’s because of Mari, my daughter,” I reply. “I wanted to give her something.”

    “Do you want more children, then?” Mr. Gold asks.

    I feel a bit embarrassed by the question and laugh it off. “Why ask such a thing?”

    He shrugs and chuckles. “Odd question, I know.” He replies. “But I consider myself a collector in the odd.”

    “We all need hobbies. But weird questions isn’t one of them,” I smirk at him. “I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for funding this event.”

    “You owe me nothing,” Mr. Gold laughs. He waves his hand about. “This was all just a selfish act for myself. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

    I eye him, looking him up and down. “There are cheaper ways of going about that, you know?”

    “I prefer to make a show of things,” he nods. “I don’t have much to look forward to in life. Just my collections and some money I’ll never use if I die.”

    I arch a brow. “If?”

    “Oh, you know how rich people are,” he scoffs.

    I can’t help but giggle, and Mr. Gold’s smile turns bright. 

    “You know, most people in your situation would turn things to where they have no reason to smile,” he replies. “They use their victimhood as a shield to guard them from reality. But you use it differently. You motivate yourself and refuse that sadness.”

    “If I try to think on it too much, it drives me crazy,” I scoff. “Those first couple of months after Mari was born, I nearly fell too far. Luckily, Mari changed my mind.”

    Mr. Gold is silent for a moment. “You never long for the past you miss?”

    “I don’t miss it because I don’t have it.” I then shrug. “So what’s to worry about?”

    He glances back into the case, looking over the pictures within. “I admire that. I can’t let go of my past.”

    “Did something happen?” I ask him.

    “A lot of pain,” he murmurs. “It would make an excellent story. Not one like yours, but it would serve as a good warning.” He then smiles at me. “Tell me, how do you keep facing the future?”

    Mr. Gold looks near tears and as if he is struggling with something. I reach out and touch his arm. “Because I know it will be better than the past.”

    “I suppose that’s true.” He takes hold of my hand. His glove feels so soft and supple, and his grip is strong. “Now, I have a question for you, Autumn,” he says with a more chipper voice. His strained expression becomes bright and joyful. “Do you ever do portraits? Or commissioned pieces?”

    “Oh,” I gasp. “Well uhm, I’ve done some as gifts before. I’ve usually been too busy with the books to take on any extra work.”

    “I’ve been aching for an original from you,” he says. “I’ll pay you handsomely. I’ll put Mari through college if you like.”

    “Oh!” I gasp. “No, no, I wouldn’t charge that much, Mr. Gold!”

    He grins. “It would be worth it to me. Like I said, I’m a collector.”

    Mr. Gold gives me a ride home and offers me his card. He tells me I should call him to discuss a series of paintings he has in mind. He then points to the front door.

    “Is this your house?” He asks.

    “No, I’m next door,” I reply. “This is my friend’s house.”

    Mr. Gold’s expression turns serious. “The doctors?” He sighs when I nod and turns his head. “I look forward to your call. Have a good evening.”

    I wave as he drives off, then go inside. I find Westley in the kitchen making himself a drink. “Mari and Lieselotte are asleep,” he says as he walks down towards me. He offers me a drink as well.

    “I’m sorry to bother, then,” I say as I take the glass from him.

    “No, don’t be, I wanted to talk to you.” He motions to the table where I take a seat. “It’s about that Mr. Gold.”

    I look up at Westley and see his dour expression. “Is something wrong?”

    Westley sighs and hangs his head. “I know him,” he replies. “And I need to warn you about him.”

    “What’re you talking about?” I laugh nervously. “What’s wrong?”

    “It’s a long story,” he murmurs and sets his glass down. “One that may seem a bit unbelievable.”

    I had heard that once tonight already. 

    “Mr. Gold and I are-” he hesitates and takes a deep breath. He then takes his drink back up and sips before he talks. “Have I ever mentioned my father to you?”

    “Only once,” I answer. “Back when Mari was first born.”

    He nods. “I said, from experience, she was better off with only you. My father wasn’t part of my life and, unfortunately, sometimes he was.” He looks at me. “I have numerous siblings from that man,” he replies. “Most of them are fine and good people. Those who knew what our father was, anyway.” He looks into his glass. “Mr. Gold wasn’t one of them.”

    “Wait-” I gasp.

    Westley leans back. “He sided with our father in many arguments, thought the world of him.” He looks over at me. “I am just warning you, Autumn, because, to me, you and Mari are my family. More so than he ever was.”

    “Westley, wait a moment,” I’m still dumbstruck.

    “He’s not what he appears. I don’t care how much he says he has changed, it doesn’t take away what he did in the past and allowed our father to get away with.” He grimaces and finishes off his drink. “Mr. Gold, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, he found out the hard way that our father isn’t a man worth trusting. He paid for his loyalty and now-” he sighs. “It isn’t fair to bring you into this.”

    “He’s weird, but he seems nice,” I say unsurely.

    “Does he seem familiar?” Westley asks quietly.

    I nod. “I just don’t know how.”

    “Ignore it,” he tells me. “Because you don’t.” He then stands up. “Do you want me to walk you home or would you like to stay the night?”

    “I can make it home,” I say and stand up. “I’ll come get Mari in the morning.”

    There is a walkway between our two homes, a small covered path that Westley and Lieselotte had built so Mari could come visit whenever she wanted and not have to go onto the street. I’m going down it when I see something glittering on the bricks.

    I pick it up, seeing it is a necklace made of opal beads. It’s so beautiful, and I feel as if I have seen it before. As I touch the smooth stones, a strange sensation washes over me. Tears fall from my eyes, and I lose my breath for a second. I stumble, nearly falling. I’m grabbed, and I look up into a pair of golden eyes. It’s Mr. Gold, only he looks so different and even more familiar.

    His hair is long and falls to his shoulders. He has large horns on the top of his head, and his features are more animal, almost goat-like, especially the eyes. He’s wearing gloves that go all the way up his arms. He takes the necklace from me and places it around my neck.

    “I’ve found you,” he whispers. “And I intend on taking my family back.”

    I wake up to my alarm. I grumble and rub my eyes, not ready for this sudden awakening. I yawn and stretch and get up to go to the bathroom. As I wash my face, I look into the mirror and see the necklace around my neck. I touch the opals with my fingertips and my guts jolt.

    Was it a dream? Surely such a thing was! But then how did that explain the necklace? I go back to my bedroom where Mr. Gold’s card is resting right by my phone. I pick up my phone and dial his number.

    “Good morning,” he replies. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

    “Yes,” I start with a weak voice. I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “I want to take that job,” I say as I rub the opals on my throat with the nub where my hand used to be. “The series you were talking about.”

    “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mr. Gold cheers. “When would you like to discuss the details? I’m free today, actually. Would that be alright?”

    I glance out my window towards Westley and Lieselotte’s house. I remember what Westley told me, but I need to know more about Mr. Gold.

    “That’s perfect,” I reply.

    “Oh, wonderful! How about lunch, then? My treat. I know just the place too. I can bring it to your house if you wish. I know you had a long night.”

    I swallow down my fear. “It was a long night,” I reply. “We can meet here,” I say. “That would suit just fine.”

    “Perfect,” Mr. Gold purrs. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

    I hear the door open and Mari scampering inside. “I’ll see you soon,” I reply and hang up my phone.

    Mari comes in with a great big smile on her face. “We brought breakfast, Mama!” She cheers.

    I smile brightly at her and follow her back into the kitchen, where there is an assortment of pastries and donuts waiting.

    That afternoon, right as Mari went down for a nap, there was a knock at the door. I open it, finding Mr. Gold waiting with the lunch he promised to bring.

    “The house seems quiet,” he replies. He takes off his coat, and I notice he is wearing gloves still. 

    “Mari just went down for her nap,” I reply.

    “That’s too bad,  was hoping to see her reaction of the project I have in mind.” he sets the food down on the counter and starts taking out the containers within. 

I take plates from the cabinet and set them beside the bag. 

“What a lovely necklace,” Mr. Gold says.

I touch the opals. “Oh, thank you,” I reply. “It’s uhm-” how do I explain this necklace? Do I even know if it was a dream or not?

“You don’t seem the type to wear jewelry, but it suits you quite well.” He brushes my hair away from my shoulder. “It looks as though it were made for you.”

My cheeks burn as he comes in close. “Thank you.”

Mr. Gold smiles, then steps back. “Help yourself. I’m not quite hungry yet.”

I look over the food, amazed by how much he got. Most of it is Greek, and it all looks amazing. The stuffed grape leaves immediately catch my attention. Mr. Gold takes a seat at the table with me while I eat.

“So tell me,” I say as I pour us each a glass of wine. “What is this project you have in mind? You told me it was a series of paintings?”

“That’s right,” he clasps his hands in his lap. “Remember how I said I had a long story?” He looks back up at me, and his eyes look gold for a moment. “Well, it’s the story I want to see you paint.”

My heart skips a beat, and I can’t figure out why. “Well, what’s the story?”

Mr. Gold looks aside for a moment and taps his fingertips to his knee. “I’m certain you’ve heard the story of the Midas Touch,” he starts. “A man so greedy that he was cursed so that all he touched turned to gold, even the things he loved most. Well, it has a part to play in this story.” He crosses his legs and lifts his eyes back towards me. “I’m afraid it’s a very sad story.”

“I can handle sad,” I say. “Go on. I’d like to hear it since it’s so important to you.”

Mr. Gold smirks, and he shakes his head. “I wish it weren’t so important to me,” he murmurs. He then takes a deep breath and sips the wine.

“Fine, then.” His shoulders stiffen, and he sits up. “Let’s begin.”

“There was a young man, handsome, smart, and not very wise at all. In fact, you could say the young man was selfish and bold in all the wrong ways. He had a family that would accept him and love him. Instead, he chased after a father he greatly admired. Now, his father was...Well, let’s just say he was a less than savory character. But the young man admired him and idolized him anyways. The father was someone the young man wanted to be, even though everyone told him that was the last thing the world needed. It didn’t matter to the young man. He supported and uplifted his father no matter what he did. In his eyes, the father could do no wrong.”

“Well, eventually, the young man happened upon a woman, as most people do from time to time,” he chuckles. “For him, this woman was just another conquest. It was a bad habit his father had taught him, you see. Women were meant as prizes for men. They were meant to carry their seed, bear their fruit, and nothing more. They were like gardens to the father, to keep planting in them until the soil grew barren. Well, anyways, the young man saw this beautiful woman, and he intended to do just as his father told him. He would woo, seduce, plant and leave. But the woman-” a bright grin spread across Mr. Gold’s face then. “Ah, the woman.” He looks down at his gloved hands. “She was far smarter than the young man was,” he laughs.

“She took nothing from him. None of his lines or airs, not even his beauty. The woman took the young man and made him feel like shit beneath her heel. He had never come across someone like her, someone who didn’t fall and swoon so readily. The woman was far smarter than him, far more worldly. She was something else, and the young man became curious. He wanted to know more about her, beyond the visual and beyond what could be easily seen. So he approached her again, this time, with questions. ‘Why did you turn me away before?’ The young man asked her. The woman looked at him like he was absurd. ‘Why would I accept you so readily?’ She threw back at him. The young man was surprised by her answer. ‘Aren’t I attractive?’ he says. The woman laughed, throwing her head back and cackling. ‘Is that all there is? What does a face matter when your manner is ugly?’ It was a strange response for the young man. He had thought there was nothing wrong with him, much like his father taught him. If you acted with confidence and a bright smile, everyone will flock to you.” 

“The young man tried again with the woman. ‘You are attractive. I would still accept you even if you do act sour.’ Now, this was the wrong thing to say to someone who is much, much, much, much smarter than you. ‘That is because my brain is in my head and not in my pants which has far less room.’” Mr. Gold started to laugh, and I couldn’t help but giggle along with him.

“Now,” Mr. Gold sighs as he catches his breath. “The young man was once again dumbstruck. He had barely ever had a conversation with a woman, let alone one that wasn’t with his own father. He wasn’t prepared for this sort of treatment and so he stormed off. But he couldn’t stay away. The woman filled his thoughts and wouldn’t leave him alone. So soon, he returned, thinking he had a better response in mind. ‘Even if you say I am not so smart, I am still kind enough to accept someone, even if they have offended me. I can take someone’s compliments and see past all that!’ And he thought he was triumphant. Instead, the woman still looked at him like he was crazy. ‘Is it because you do it from the kindness of your heart or you expect a reward? Because those two actions are completely different things.’ She says. The young man is like a fish out of water and he cannot think of what to reply. And so on it goes. Days go by, and every day, the young man thinks he has something to get the upper hand. And each day, he finds himself wrong. The woman is always ahead of him, teaching him a lesson in place of her victory. Eventually, the young man and the woman have a conversation about themselves and the things deeply personal with them. The woman opens his heart and reveals to him how better he can be if he just tries and takes responsibility for himself. They fall in love and the young man abandons his father’s side.”

Suddenly, Mr. Gold reaches for a napkin and wipes at his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” I ask him.

“Sorry, I just don’t like the part that is to come,” he says breathlessly.

“We can stop for today,” I reply. “I’m afraid I’ve eaten all the stuffed grape leaves, anyways,” I laugh, hoping to see him smile.

“I told you it was a sad story,” Mr. Gold sighs.

I smile at him and nod. “I would like to hear the end, whenever you would like to share it. But I know how sad stories are.”

Mr. Gold lifts his head, then takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “The young man and the woman were excited to get married. So excited, in fact, that the woman was already pregnant with their first child. The young man decided to see his father one last time to see if he would bless the union and the new life he was getting ready to take on. The father seemed emotionless, he barely looked at his son and only said a few words to him. ‘You’ll see your riches before you one day when it is too late.’ He then shook the young man’s hand and turned him away.

“The young man returned home, but when he touched the woman’s hand, he realized his father had not blessed him at all. In fact, he had cursed the young man for leaving his side. The woman’s hand turned to heavy gold, no longer flesh, no longer soft and warm. It was immovable and taunting. The young man went back to find his father, but he was nowhere to be found. He was too late to realize his father had followed him before. The young man had been caught in a trap and was sealed away in his father’s dungeon.” Tears begin to fall from Mr. Gold’s eyes then. As I watch him, I can feel my own heart breaking.

“I’m sorry, I-” Mr. Gold wipes at his eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, go on,” I whisper. “Please.”

He sniffles and shakes his head for a moment. “The young man didn’t know how long he had been locked away. Everything around him had been turned to gold from his touch. It was torment for him and he could feel his life slipping away. Until one day, the door opened and he could smell the woman. Her scent was soft and warm, and he grew hopeful. He rose from the ground, wanting to see her, hear her. Instead, his father laid before him her gold hand and chopped hair. The young man broke to pieces. In his rage, he grabbed his father, hoping to turn him to gold. Instead, the old man laughed and told him he would never hold what he loves again. He beat the young man and left him again. When the young man could get up, he moved through the world without paying it attention. All he wanted was what he had lost and to kill what took it.”

After a long spell of silence, I sit up and shake my head. “No,” I gasp. “No! That’s...that’s crazy, that can’t be how that story ends!”

“It is,” Mr. Gold replies. “I told you it was a sad story. The young man never found the woman again and he never found anything he loved again. He was doomed to the life his father left for him.”

“No,” I gasp. “There’s just...there must be something! Anything. Surely, he could have found her? I mean...I can’t believe it would end so horribly!”

“Things end sad,” Mr. Gold whispers. “And sometimes things just end.”

I hang my head and sob, weeping into my one palm.

“Why are you crying so?” Mr. Gold asks. “I warned you it was sad, Autumn.” He brushes his fingers through my hair, then lifts up my chin.

“Why would you want paintings for this story?” I whisper at him.

Mr. Gold smiles softly. “I want to remember,” he says. “As much as it hurts, I want to remember it all. Because in the end, I have nothing but my memories right now and the longer time goes, the more that fades away from me.”

I touch his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“Mama,” Mari comes in, grumbling from sleep and rubbing her eyes. “My stomach hurts,” she whines.

I look to Mr. Gold then stand up and go to Mari’s side. “What’s the matter? Did you eat too much?”

“I dunno,” Mari falls into my arms and clings to me.

I rub her back and look at Mr. Gold as he rises from his seat. More tears fall from his eyes and he drops to his knees.

“Are you ok?” Mari slips from me and walks over to Mr. Gold. She pats the top of his head. “It’s ok to cry.”

Mr. Gold looks at her and it’s as if they are looking into mirrors. Their hair has the same curls, they have the same adorable button nose, the same smile. Mr. Gold’s appearance shifts into the creature I had seen last night. His horns grow out and his hair grows long and wild. 

“Your mother has taught you well,” he says. “Same as she taught me.”

“Midas?” The name slips from my lips as if I had said it a million times. I choke as I start to cry and I join Mari and him on the ground.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. His gloved hand touches my cheek. “You don’t need to remember anything for me.”

“Mama?” Mari whispers.

“I didn’t understand until I saw the two of you together.” I pull Mari into my arms and hug her tight. “We said we would name her Marigold.”

Midas nods his head. “Because you first had morning sickness in that patch of flowers,” he smiles and starts to laugh.

I laugh with him and look into his eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“It will feel that way for a while.” He brushes my hair from my face. 

I then hold Mari so she faces me. “Do you know who this is?” I ask her as I smooth the curls away from her face.

Her eyes go wide as she looks at me. “Should I?”

I smile at her and turn her to Midas. “This is your father,” I tell her. “We finally found him, Mari.”

Mari reaches out and at first, Midas recoils, but as her small hands touch his face, he leans into her palms. He scoops her up, holding her in such a tight embrace.

“Where were you?” She murmurs.

“I was lost, little one,” he sobs. “Your daddy was lost.” He squeezes her tight. “But I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

I remember a day long ago when I was waiting for Midas to come home. I was scared and clutching my hand to my chest. Something was wrong, and I could sense a deep dread growing ever closer. I was soon fighting for my life to escape. I knew I had to save myself and my child so I sacrificed everything. I used all my powers to escape the violence that Pan had tried to inflict on me to punish his son. I had sent myself through time, forgetting the past and the world I knew. 

I remember an arrogant and annoying young man who I argued with daily. The arguments grew into conversations and from the conversations grew fondness. The arrogance was faded in him, and his heart and mind had grown. I loved him, and I wanted a life with him.

Midas slowly returned into our lives. He got to know Mari the same way he got to know me before. They argued, and Mari taught him lessons. She taught him the proper way to brush her hair, how to pick out her outfits, and how to make the bed. One evening, as he tucked her into bed, the most remarkable thing happened.

“Daddy,” she tugged on his sleeve. “I love you.”

Midas held back his tears and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you too, little Marigold.” He turned out the lamp. “Just for that, I promise I’ll make you a massive hot chocolate for breakfast.”

I held him as he cried, his little girl he thought he lost finally saying the words he’d been promised he would never hear. 

When he thought I wasn’t looking, Midas removed his glove, and I watched as he touched an apple in the kitchen. The apple remained red and didn’t change. Midas bolted towards me, wrapping me up in his arms and holding me fast. He touched my face and combed his bare fingers through my hair. He laughed and kissed me over and over.

“I never thought I would be so happy,” he weeps. “I’m so scared.”

I held him as tight as my arms would allow. “Don’t be afraid,” I whisper. “I’m here now. I won’t let you be scared of that.”

Midas whimpered and kissed me again, his tears on his lips. “I will do everything to make sure you and Mari are safe this time. I won’t ever, ever, let you get hurt again.”

I smile up at him, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I promise the same.” I brush my fingers through his hair. After he calms down, we sit together for a long time. He keeps a firm hold on my one hand then strokes his fingers on the nub where my hand used to be.

He takes the nub and kisses it tenderly. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“I did long ago,” I whisper to him. “I get along fine without it.” I then clasp his hand. “Although, having three now will be a lot easier.”

Midas kisses me again. “Will you still marry me? Even after all this time?”

“Of course,” I whisper to him. “There was never a doubt about that.”