Amish Jedi: In a City Far, Far Away

Episode 4.3 ~ Mr. Wickham

Waiting for Megs with instructions that I am, under no circumstances, allowed to sit, I stand by the large jalousie balcony window in the living room, slip out my phone, and dial home. 

"Happy Halloween," Maem and Daed chime when they answer—awkward, since we haven't celebrated the holiday since I was four.

"You too..."

"How do you like your costume?" Maem asks. When I first told her what Megs was having me dress up as, she informed me I was also Ariel for Halloween when I was three.

I gaze down at myself not sure my parents would approve if they saw me. "It's sparkly," I say with extra upbeatness. 

"Take a picture and—" Daed cuts himself off before he says, "and send it to him." Though Daed would have said his name, I can't allow myself to think it. I'll ruin all Megs's hard work on my face. Whenever I wasn't home and needed to send my parents a picture of any sort, I texted it to him. He would run across the street to show them. Usually, I sent photos of flavor ideas or something for Zooks. Obviously, I can't do that anymore. 

"I'll save it for when I see you."

"That sounds perfect, Zizi," Maem says in a smooth tone that wraps around me like a warm blanket on a cold night—speaking of which, a light cool breeze blows in through the window raising goosebumps on my arms. "Have you taken your medication?"

The blanket rips off. "I'm going to try without it."

Crickets. While my parents don't want me addicted to meds, they also fear my ability to not freak out without them. But I hate how they make me feel less like myself and more like a chemically-altered version of Zia Zook. 

"The party in at home. I can take a pill if I need it," I say in hopes they'll be reassured. 

"Just take care of yourself," Daed says in his super-calm, concerned manner that no one can argue with even if they want to. 

"That's what I'm doing."

There's a knock at the door.

Megs runs out of her room screaming, "I've got it!" 

I turn back to the window and my parents. "I'm nervous." My hands begin to tremble as I say it. Why did I just tell them that? Not very reassuring, Zia! 

"Deep breaths, sweetie. You're a lot stronger than you think."

I nod. I am. I want to be. I need more air.

Reaching out a shaky hand I crank the window wider and let the light breeze flow in, brush through my hair, and fill my lungs. It is not as smelly as usual as if the air is coming fresh and new from above the city rather than below. I could be standing on the hilltop in the field behind my parents' house at night with the fireflies dancing around me and the wind blowing through the rows of corn. 

"Zia! Guests are here!" Megs calls from somewhere behind me, snapping me back to the Greenwich Village apartment, a long way from hills, fireflies, and buggies. 

"I've got to go," I tell my parents. 

"Call us when it's over," Maem says. 

"I don't know when that will be."

"Doesn't matter. I'll be out here catching up on all the work you've sent over," Daed says.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for making us proud," he warns. "Now go have fun with your friends."

I nod and we hang up. My heart warms at Daed calling these people my friends, and I recall Luna Lovegood's line, "It's almost like having friends." Are they really? God, I hope they are.