Page 3 of Bianca and the Monsters

Archie leans down, catching a glimpse of Bianca who’s nodding to herself again as she walks to the freezer, claims a pint of something sweet and delicious, and mumbles about how she’s acrazypantsand alsoPrincess CrazyPants… and also something about desperately needing to make an appointment with her therapist.

We watch until she enters her bathroom, where she will surely take alongbubble bath that will be accompanied by sensuous moans, occasional ragged breaths, and much satisfaction on her part. She always sleeps much better after one of herspecialbaths. We might have watched one time just to see what occurred during her baths, but since gaining a better understanding of the self-mating rituals of the humans, we’ve shown restraint. We would never want to violate Bianca’s privacy… well, any more than is required to ensure she’s well and…Hmm, I suppose we’ve violated her privacy for a long time. I hope if we ever have the chance to actually meet, she won’t be terribly vexed that we found her so captivating.

Archie releases his hold on the antennas with a sigh. The screen returns to static and he leans down, turning off the television before reclaiming his chair. He looks at each of us. For Pennie and me, his gaze is fierce, showing the weight of his conviction. For Taran, he smiles encouragingly. Then to all of us, he says, “It’s time for action.”

Chapter3

Bianca

It wears off sometimes, the power of epiphanies—heck, New Year’s resolutions made at 11:59 p.m. on December 31stcan be obliterated just a few seconds into the new year. But when I wake in the morning, my declaration to the entire dang universe hasn’t dimmed at all. Everything I see sparkles in a new way. This life that has felt like a cage for so long is suddenly different. That doesn’t mean the day is going to be different—it’s thatI’mdifferent and nothing will ever be the same.

I walk with purpose to the kitchen, my coffee already brewing, my banana muffin at the ready.

“I’ve got this,” I mutter to myself as I munch through my muffin and then fill my favorite mug with steaming and delightfully fragrant hazelnut coffee. “I’ve got this. I’ve got everything I need to make my life amazing.”

I head to the bathroom, staring intently at myself in the mirror as I curl my hair and prepare my face for the day. I’ve always enjoyed makeup but never applying it. Princesses should have minions to do such things, I’ve always thought, but in the absence of my absentee minions, I’m an expert at putting my best face forward. And looking and feeling my best today matters, maybe more than ever.

Today is the day I quit playing by the rules. Today is the day I plant the seed of my new life. And today is definitely the day I make my father proud.

I barely notice my commute into the city, my mind too full as I imagine all that might come next. All that exists when we stop playing by the rules of a game we don’t even want to win—winning isn’t even possible when you’re playing the wrong game or living the wrong life. It seems a little silly to be just realizing that truth today, but today is better than a decade from now, though it’s never too late.

But maybe I’m cracking up, I muse without concern as I park my car. I then join the herd ambling into the building, riding in crowded elevators to top floors with only views of other buildings to maintain the illusion that true exits don’t exist. I want a different view, and like a sweet bell ringing in my soul, I’ve just added something to my list of requirements for my future adventures.

I want actual nature outside my window, trees and lakes and starry skies. I want to breathe air that’s crisp and alive. I want fireflies to dance in the night, creating magic as they go. I want more than concrete and steel, skyscrapers and honking cars. I don’t want to live in a yurt or anything—this princess has standards—but becoming a city princess isn’t an option.

There, I’ve done it. It’s out there now, the beginning of my new adventure. I grin, imagining the ripples of every single wish born in the truest part of our hearts. I don’t fully understand how Jack leaving brought me here, but maybehereis exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Then, like a delicious whipped cream pie to the face, it hits me. If I’m heading toward a marvelous new life and said new life doesn’t include cities… well, I guess I have my first action item. A giddy nervousness tickles my belly as I form my plan. Feeling entirely sensible, I wait until after lunch, having given myself plenty of time to discreetly pack my belongings in the bag from my lunch delivery. Just moments before what promises to be another soul-sucking meeting where the biggest blowhard in the world rants until the staff loses their will to live, I stand and march out of my office for the last time.

Approaching my direct supervisor, a very pleasant, but entirely cowed-by-life, woman named Meryl, I declare, “I have to go.”

I realize I’m grinning maniacally, while Meryl is openly gaping at me. She finally stammers, “The VicePresidentof the company is about to speak.” Her gaze skitters toward the throngs alreadyzombie-walkingtoward their souls’ doom.

“I know,” I say brightly. “I have to go.”

Eyes wide with confusion and then concern, Meryl asks, “Is it an emergency? Are you okay?”

“Definitely,” I answer both questions with one word, while giggling in the most inappropriate way. “I figured out what I want in my life and this isn’t it. Take care, Meryl. Thanks for always being kind to me.” Before I turn and seek my escape, I ask her, “Is this whatyouwant out of life?”

It’s like I’m shining a spotlight on a deer; her lovely brown eyes remain open, while her mind abruptly hangs a closed sign and shuts off the lights.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly and reach to pat her hand. “It’s not time for you yet, but just remember, we make choices every day, little choices that become our lives. And little choices—or big ones—can change our lives for the better. It’s never too late and I’m rooting for you.”

What am I, a sudden life coach?!Whatever—she’s always been good to me. I even think her body’s rebellion against her stems from sheltering those below her from the treachery above us all. The poor woman’s health is a mess. She deserves better than this and I hope one day she realizes that. But for today, I’ve got my own issues. I snort in delight at my suddenly unemployed state.

Before I move away, Meryl grips my hand. “Find it, Bianca, the life you want and when you do, please let me know that you succeeded—that you found something more than this, something amazing. Maybe then, I’ll…” Her words fall away as if she isn’t ready to speak them, probably fearing what firing that starter pistol of hope might inspire. Fair enough. The universe certainly might be listening and a spoken desire is the first step down a path she’s clearly not ready to walk… yet.

“I will. I promise.”

Meryl pulls me into a quick hug and nods encouragingly as I smile my goodbye and fight the urge to dance on my way to the elevator. Hopefully, the building’s security staff are the only ones who know that I absolutely succumb to my dance urges in the elevator and then practically skip my way out of the building that has been the setting of my work life for over a decade.

Permanence sneaks up on you, like a crafty villain. A job opening, an application, being hired, and then a decade later, the forced work family is gone and the job that only ever paid the bills is in the rearview.

I laugh in my car, realizing that I’m basicallyJacknow. If he could pack his stuff and walk away from an unfulfilling relationship with me, then I can do the same to my job. I don’t have to accept less than I deserve ever again. There will always be bills and financial responsibilities, but I suddenly see that we grasp things we don’t need that become the baggage that makes forward motion unnecessarily arduous.

Uh oh… I have my second action item and this one is going to hurt. But still, I sing as loudly and off-key as I can on my drive home, the panic, the consequences, everything dark held at bay by the sense of rightness blossoming inside me, like a field of strawberries so abundant, the sweetness will never end.

Sweetness—that is the descriptor for my future life. It won’t be all sweetness, I know, because tartness and spice have their places too—even a dose ofblandis necessary upon occasion. But if we never aspire to our true desires, we can’t reach them, we can’t taste them, we can’t live them. And I will live my sweet adventure… just as soon as I pick up some boxes.

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