When the Fae stole my wife, I followed them into the dark woods to win her back. Jess dropped breadcrumbs along the trail, except she had no bread, so she dropped other things instead. Not far from the house, I found

a blue sweater, embroidered with gold bees, still smelling of the night we cooked mussels on the grill and burnt the shells and she laughed, her fingers black with char

We hadn’t known about the Fae back then, but I suspect they were already watching as the night grew colder and she pulled the sweater tighter around her body. It was an unconscious move that she’d done a hundred times before at the first hint of chill. I hadn’t realized, of course, that she was doing the same thing with me. Holding me close. Pulling me in. Hoping proximity could fix everything, wool to skin, fingers to waist.

When I stood in the forest alone and pulled the sweater from the brambles, it ripped, one of the bees unraveling. 

I pushed past the young oaks on the edge of the property, into the deeper wilds, and tripped on

a spiral notebook, the first three pages filled with Jess’s meticulous print, the lyrics to a song she’d never sung (at least, not for me)

The Fae loved music. Of course they’d be drawn to Jess. Maybe one had heard her at an open mic, had seen her smile as she breathed out a sad song. She was like that, Jess, always finding beauty in the things I tried to ignore. The Fae would notice, as I had. They’d talk to her after her set. Try to make her laugh. Feel so damn good when they did.

I skimmed the first page of the notebook. Words like “rain” and “brambles” caught in my throat. I closed it quickly and shoved it in my back pocket. Next, I found

three guitar strings dangling from the branch of a Douglas fir, blood clinging to the edges where they’d snapped

I didn’t know if Jess was still doing gigs, as I’d been traveling too much for work, but I knew she was still playing, had felt the callouses on her fingertips when she dropped me off at the airport that last time. She took my face in her hands and she kissed me. I pulled away to make my flight, to make sure I had time to buy a magazine before take-off.

a pile of ceramic pieces that used to be my favorite mug, but that Jess had thrown against the concrete slab of our patio during a fight

I don’t even remember what the fight was about. 

I probably should. 

a silver band, with the words “we choose to love” engraved on the inside. The words are smudged, the metal tarnished

The day I gave her that ring, we made promises with our hearts and hands and voices and meant every living breathing syllable. 

The Fae respect promises. They steal only lost children and forgotten elders, take only dogs left on the streets, eat only dreams that have been abandoned. 

Why did they take you?

The trail died after the ring. Jess was out of breadcrumbs. Or else, she had said everything she needed to say. 

I pushed on through the dense thicket, my arms, my face, red from a hundred tiny cuts, none of them quite deep enough to bleed. The Fae were writing on my skin. Saying Turn back. Stay on the path you’ve been walking for months, the path that leads you away from her.  

And maybe I should have. It was the easier path, and it led out of the forest. Some days the world was already too much. Some days I could not fathom even a single shallow cut more. I looked down at my hand, where 

my own silver ring hugged my finger, where it had been so long that I had almost forgotten it. Where most days, I didn’t even see it.

I pulled it free and studied the dull, dented metal. On my ring, the etched words had long since been obscured with grime.

The trail ended. I’d let Jess get too far away. The Fae had her now and she was lost. 

Lost to me.

Except…I was out here, wasn’t I? Out here breathing the cold air with my body covered in scratches. Out here clinging to the scraps Jess left behind.

Maybe Jess was lost. Maybe I had lost her forever. Nothing could undo all those moments when I’d looked away from her instead of at her.

I pushed through the dark woods anyway. Branches grabbed my dress, tried to stop me. Before this day, they would have succeeded. 

I took a dozen wrong turns, doubled-back and kept going. I ran, bleeding and panting, until I found Jess in a clearing, found her digging a hole in the cold ground to bury the last of our things. The Fae floated in the shadows, did nothing, as I fell to my knees at Jess’s side, as I took her calloused hands in my own and stopped their progress.

Jess looked at me then, and in her eyes I saw the lonely nights. The empty mornings. The harsh words. But I also saw all the bright scraps she’d kept, the ones she hadn’t left on the trail like breadcrumbs. A laughing brunch. A quiet talk in 2 a.m. darkness. A long hug at the wedding of an ex.

Some wounds could be healed. With time, with patience. What kind did we have?

I gave Jess her notebook and her sweater. I took the ring from my finger and breathed life into the metal, buffed it with my hem until it shone. Until it was a beacon. But still, the etched words were obscured.

I slipped the ring on her finger with hands shaky from a hundred apologies, a thousand new promises. I pulled her close and together, we wrote four simple words with our lips.

© 2023 Jenn Reese