Ralph and the Pixie

Nevana swallowed, trying to grasp the full import of his words, as though what she had thought of as her wildest dream had just turned out to be her worst nightmare. She felt suddenly smaller; her very being seemed to have shrunk in upon itself as she stared at the Man, who in her eyes, seemed suddenly larger, stronger, frightening in an exhilarating sort of way. But there! He had said the words she least expected, had always avoided, had always believed that she could evade, by cleverness, by manipulation, by pretending.

But he would remain forever unattainable unless she could give him something in return.

Love.

The very idea made her feel sick inside. It meant that she would have to learn to share of herself, something she was entirely unequipped to do. It meant that she would have to swallow her pride, admit to this man that she knew nothing . . . nothing at all beyond the carnal instincts of animals . . . and try to learn.

‘Nevana?’

She took a good look at him. Perhaps her first real look, unobstructed by her own preconceptions or designs. Seeing his concern, she forced herself to respond, though she wanted only to return to her parents, to show them the failure they’d created, the emotionally blind and stunted young woman they’d made.