It's Like You Wanted To Go And Give Yourself Away

You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter fate. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is it's hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of fate, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.
Mimi Schmir, Grey's Anatomy voiceover, Season 1, episode "Save Me"

Once upon a time there was a princess... yeah, yeah. The poor little princess caught in her own wealth, suppressed by everyone in her superficial world - the golden cage - and in the end rescued by the all-so-perfect prince... Happily ever after. Sure...

More than any other genre of fiction out there, fairy-tales were the ones farthest from reality, farthest from the truth although they always claimed to be based on exactly those two mysteries; their norms and virtues - over all, everything mankind desired to be true. But they were not. And they never would be.

That was part of fairy-tales savage pattern, repeating and repeating. The lost girl, the mighty villain, beauty and tragedy on the same level, cheerful and magical adventures, journeys, the honourable hero and saviour; in the end the villain was defeated, all his gruesome actions turned to good and everyone saved and happy from that day one.

It was simple, this pattern. There were good and evil (and that much might have been the only true thing about fairy-tales; this contrast), the good guy and the bad guy, the prince in shiny armour and the dark wizard.

And there was my personal conflict. It was just normal that you translate fiction to your own life, and so I took the story of the rather short and pathetic time I had managed to go through on this planet, and started to fit it into the too easy web which fairy-tales were made of. I so desperately wanted my life to be more like a fairy-tale; they always had happy endings.

But it would not work because I could not fit the persons into the pattern. Real people were never as easily constructed as fairy-tales portrayed them. There was always good and bad in each of us - a fact that most fairy-tales lacked entirely. And so I had no idea where to put anyone.

Okay... from my perspective (and mine alone) he was the bad guy and I was the good guy. And she... she was the lost princess. That could have been so simple; just the way fairy-tales promised everything to be.

But there was the crux - this wasn't all about me, not at all. And that messed up the savage pattern.

Looking at my life as a fairy-tale from the proper, objective perspective, there were no lines which distinguished good from evil. Not really. Okay, she might still be the princess. And there were a lot of evil creatures out there. But still, I found no corner for everyone else. In my story he was the bad guy, the guy who loved and had my princess, my girl. But in the real story, he was what my girl wanted.

And I had to admit to myself, even though doing so hurt my pride more than anything I could imagine, that he was not evil, would never be the bad guy. After all, he wasn't even really a guy. But I could not bring myself to portray him as the good guy, either. He took her from me. At least the little part within her that had always belonged to me and was now gone, dead.

And what was I? In my story I was the good guy, in his story I was the bad guy, for sure. But what was I in the real story? Was I good or bad or beyond any of these? Was I that lost already?

Maybe that was the reason why our story had had no happy ending. There were Bella, Edward and Jacob - three people, three protagonists, three lives. It should have been Bella the princess and then either me or Edward would have been good or bad.

But our story never turned out that way, and I guess that was the point that turned it into a tragedy.

There was no hate, no bad guy. There were two good guys who could not hate each other, who could not fight against each other in the classic sense. But that was the key of a fairy-tale happy ending. Good fights against evil and wins. But who were we supposed to fight against if there was no one bad in our story? Good and Good could not fight against each other without destroying themselves in the process. And so there was the only way - luck, coincidences, misfortune... fate. And in the end, one of the good guys scores and the other one disappears so there is no need to explain what happened to him after he suffered the bad guys fate without being the bad guy at all.

There was a rift in the pattern, one that left everybody suffering underneath the cover of a happy ending. And if this entire ending wasn't enough already (me ending up being the dispensable third good protagonist) it had to turn out this fairy-tale like. Everything about it.

And here I was, disposed protagonist of a poorly staged ensemble drama, sitting in the abyss of my inexistence, dwelling in my own bitterness. Jacob Black, the tragic hero... strong and mighty, worthy of the victory and yet always and forever doomed to be second best. I suffered the fate of the bad guy. So... was I the bad guy? Does your fate make you who you are?

I felt pathetic, as if I had done a job wrong, something that was now utterly lost and destroyed all because of me. But maybe... maybe I had received the wrong stage directions. Maybe the parts were confused. Maybe someone else was supposed to sit here, pressed into a couch way too small for the body size, making me appear even more comic; the way not even the coffee table was wide enough to completely carry my outstretched legs, my arms sprawled all over the cushions, my head leaned awkwardly to the left side, my neck bending mercilessly so my cheek could rest against the backrest.

Maybe it was someone else's true fate to be sitting here like this, two empty cartons of pizza, various bowls and empty cans scattered all over the tiny coffee table, all around my legs.

Maybe I was never meant to be the one to mindlessly stare at the TV screen, watching Sleeping Beauty on a sunny Sunday morning. I mean, I wasn't really watching it - not like that. The entire day and most parts of the last night I had spent with this, sitting in front of the TV and zapping through the channels, my mind somewhere far off. But this had caught my eye - the pretty girl, always singing, pretending to be something she wasn't really, something she did not really feel, suppressing desires she should not have, the comic prince, the hyperactive fairies, the dark, menacing witch, the rose hedge, the beauty of it all, the simplicity...

So here I was, Jacob Black, a sixteen-year-old teenager caught in the body of an impressive adult, sitting in my father's living room, watching Sleeping Beauty, awaiting the kiss, the final clue, the perfect ending as if I were a seven year old girl.

This would bring me a lot of trouble with Quil and Embry, many jokes, jokes my ears had started to overhear. This was my fate, my stage direction was to go, to leave the stage with my back bent and disappear behind the curtains where the audience could not see me, where I could not spoil the happy ending which was celebrated on stage.

At this very moment.

There was no part for me in this play anymore, and so I stood here all alone. I remembered some movie I had watched once, something about some arrogant and superficial bachelor and a weird kid who messed up his life, making him see sense in the end. I tried to remember the movies title but I could not bring it together anymore. But there was one thing I did remember. Something this guy, I guess his name was Will, had said.

The thing is, a person's life is like a TV show. I was the star of The Will Show. And The Will Show wasn't an ensemble drama. Guests came and went, but I was the regular. It came down to me and me alone.

Maybe I had been part of this whole "Edward - Bella - Jacob" thing for far too long. Maybe it was time for me to start my own thing... The Jake Show...

This was pathetic. And as far as I remembered, it had not worked out for that guy in the movie. More and more things came back into my mind about that film, strange considering that only a couple of minutes ago I had been stuck with Sleeping Beauty.

Once you open your door to one person anyone can come in.

Another thing that Will had said. And it was true - one hundred percent. Maybe you should just keep the doors closed so nobody enters and starts to destroy you from within. Some outside damage was not that bad, but from the inside it was a whole different story.

In my opinion, all men are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age.

Well, right now? Yes. Here I was, just me. And somewhere someone had some fairy-tale happy ending and I could not even say they did not deserve it. I didn't want them to deserve it but when in the name of God does anyone care about what you want?

I was an island right now, just like that guy. Maybe he and I should sit together for a while. I was sure he had some clever things to tell me, but then, all of a sudden, the face of that weird kid, Michael or Marcus or whatever his name was, appeared in front of my inner eye, his creepy woollen cap putting emphasize to his already rum appearance. And then his unpleasant, high-pitched voice sounded in my ears and he was yelling at Will... or me?

You don't give a shit about anyone and no one gives a shit about you!

He caught me off guard and I wondered if he meant me, if my memory was tricking me. How could I remember so much of the movie but not even the title?

I shook my head and tried to shake the voice and memory out of my head. I should be happy... yes. For them. For their happy ending. Because, after all, I might have wanted him to have been happy had I been given his fate. But I was not even sure about that.

The sound from the television changed, and as I focused on the screen again I realized that the movie was over - I had missed the happy ending. That made me laugh, a throaty, empty laugh. I could have foreseen that.

I was too lazy to pick up the remote from where it had fallen to the floor during my rearrangement on the couch, and so I remained still. Soon, my mind wandered back to some fairy-tale places and now I saw it clearer than ever - the happy ending I was denied of.

I saw her, my Bella, in a posh dress, surrounded by posh people - nothing and no one there like her. She was unique, she simply did not fit where she was now, where she would be forever.

My chest clenched and I felt all my muscles tighten as I thought of that part of my tragedy. It was the worst of all. Knowing that I would completely lose her, her life...

Had he been some random guy, I might have been able to live with my fate, knowing that she had a decent guy who loved her and looked after her. Not someone who would sooner or later suck the life out of the girl I loved.

It happened right now - the happy ending. She was becoming his princess in this very moment and here I sat, wishing it would be at least a different guy. I did not even plead for her myself - just someone with whom she could remain the Bella I had fallen in love with. Just someone who could keep her heart beating.

I had been in thought, off guard and so it almost made me jump when I heard the gravel in front of the house crunching under the weight of a body.

It took me a sniff of my nose to jump to my feet, the scent more familiar than any other. Strawberry, blood, human, Bella... mixed with the sticky sweet scent which belonged to them and was always etched onto her.

Right now, in my front yard.

With three long strokes I was at the front door, my foot kicking the remote out of my way, crushing it against the table. I was just about to reach out my hand to open the door when I stopped my movement mid-air.

And I waited.

I listened.

Soft but hurried footsteps became louder in my ears, approaching with every second, and when they reached the steps to the porch they became harder, faster. It only took another second before I heard her heavy breathing, now and then interrupted by a sob and then there were three weak but urgent knocks at the door.

I stood there, frozen. This was real... she was here. But she should be... there was a happy ending she should be celebrating at this very second. And yet she was here, in my own little abandoned world, knocking at my door.

Slowly, very slowly, I reached my arm out further and opened the door. The first thing I could see was a fist, stretched out to knock once again and then it just fell down lifelessly, allowing me to see the full picture.

There she was, standing in front of my door, barefoot, her white dress strangely twisted around her tiny frame, fabrics which I guessed to be illegally expensive torn and dirty, her face red and swollen, her eyes framed by deep black shadows, black color running down her cheeks along with her tears, her soft lips quivering as she watched me with something in her eyes that reminded me of fear.

"Jacob..." Her voice sounded vague, raspy and unsure, as if she had no idea what to say.

I just watched her, my own personal miracle. A glimpse of the happy ending I had never received. Just watching her. And then she broke the silence.

Never before had I heard Isabella Swan talk that much in such short time.

"Jacob, I'm so sorry. This is all so... messed up and I am so sorry. I don't know how to make it up to you - I want to so badly. I just... this is my fault... I should have known that it could never work out. He... I... you... I can't give you up. Not us. I die when I think of never seeing you again, or everything that comes along with you...the whole life that is etched to you… I was standing there... all day I thought that I was making a mistake. And then I stood there in front of him and everyone else and... I heard him say ´yes` and then I heard myself say `yes` and then he kissed me and... I felt as if I died that very moment and I knew that I had made a mistake... My choice - it was wrong all along. And I am sorry for realizing it so late and hurting you... hurting us like that. I messed this up, the little bit we had. I am so sorry. Please, Jacob. Forgive me. I can not... I left them behind. But I can't... I can't stand losing you... not like this. I need to... I need you... Please...," her voice died in another sob, more tears streaming down her face and I understood nothing at all.

Before I could even ask what she was blabbering about, she continued already, her voice still thick, her expression now a mixture between fear and despair.

"I want to leave all this behind... all this magic and... I want the life we should be having. As you said... without monsters and magic. I'm just a girl, Jake. Please, can we just... forget?"

She reached out her delicate, pale fingers and brushed them against my own hand carefully. The moment she touched me I understood.

She was afraid that I would reject her, that I could not forgive her for choosing him instead of me. She wanted me back and was scared that she had messed up that option and had lost it now.

I shook my head in disbelief and eyed her with more attention now. The leafs and branches in her messy her, the tiny scratches in her face... Suddenly I had the picture of Bella in this dress riding a white horse in my head and I involuntarily started to laugh.

And this time it was laughter. There was joy in it - emotion. It was true.

"Jake?"

It took me only the fragment of a second to pull her tiny frame against me and wrap my arms around her, keeping her as close as I could. I felt her relief immediately and she relaxed against me, her arms curling around my waist, holding onto me, her breathing calming down.

This was the moment when all of a sudden the movie's title returned into my memory: About a Boy.

Maybe I had been wrong, somehow. Maybe it had been my show all along. And that boy - that was me. Jacob Black. Just a sixteen year-old boy. Nothing more. Just the story of a lifetime.

One which was far from over yet.

I kissed the top of Bella's head and closed my eyes, hearing only our breathing and heartbeats and the rush of the ocean in the distance. I knew that right now, someone else was deep in thought. That someone got a different fate.

Whether or not this was fair I could not tell, and I did feel pity blossoming in me. But I could not bring myself to waste any second of this with worry. There would be enough of that later, I knew. There had been too much to just be ignored. So much that needed to be talked about, to be thought about.

I clearly felt the pressure of a filigree ring against my back and I knew that there would never be a distinct line. It was just a wrecked up, poorly staged drama.

And here we were. The protagonists, both unsure about the fairness of this. But I could see it for a tiny second. Our fairy-tale happy ending. The Happily Ever After. It would never come true that way, but at least it did not seem too far off anymore.

This was my show now. Our show. The Jake and Bells Show back on air.

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The quotes in this are from the movie About a Boy. If you haven't seen it, you definitely should. It's funny, emotional, has great actors and a nice story.