A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Dear Diary - 51. Scene 51

21st January 1995

Dear Diary of Cultural Exchanges,

I'm sorry I didn't come back to you yesterday, not even to tell you things were going well and you didn't need to worry.

Actually, no, I'm not sorry. Yeah, maybe you were worried and all that, but why should I interrupt the best date I've had in ages, kill all the sexy cosy mood we were in, only to scribble a few lines about how Lydia is happy to be my girlfriend again as long as I don't fart or poop in front of her (I think pissing is also included in the agreement. At least this means I know a few kinks she’s definitely not into...)?

That's very selfish of you to expect that.

It's late morning now (the kind of late morning that's more like "half an hour before lunch" than an actual morning), and it's the first time I'm away from Lydia since she came into my room yesterday after school. We're back to that exciting relationship stage where it is painful to be away from each other, and we can't stop thinking about each other or even consider the possibility that we have to detach our mouths for such trivial things as eating. You know what I’m talking about, right?

Or maybe you don't, because you're an old yellowed book made of paper.

But if you were a real person you would know what I mean!

Unless you were one of those socially awkward ones who didn't get in any kind of relationship until you were in your thirties.

You know what? Let's just be glad you're only a diary and I don't have to imagine what you would be like as a person. It's better for everyone's sanity.

You should've seen how cute Lydia looked when she came knocking on my door (again, not like you can actually see anything, but that's why I describe everything that happened). She wasn't that beacon of self-assurance that I usually find sexy. She didn't even try to come into the room, just opened the door enough to make herself heard and identifiable.

'We should talk.' She hid behind the door, but I could still see her. Tiny Lydia, staring at something in the corridor so she wouldn't have to look at me.

'Yes, we should. Why don't you come in?' I patted the bed next to where I was sitting.

'Because I have some horrible memories of the things you did in there.'

'But everything I did was in the loo! Is it such a strong taboo for you?' Hopefully I didn't sound too harsh. 'I mean, I have no idea. I didn't even know it was a thing until Unn pointed it out to me.'

'You didn't know? At all?' Lydia opened the door a little wider, but still didn't step inside. 'How is that even possible? That's the first thing people associate with dwarves!'

'I thought it was the facial hair?'

'That too.' Lydia ran her hand through her beard, though I don't think she noticed the gesture. 'But our hygiene standards are equally well-known. If you watch any comedy show that feature dwarf characters, all the stereotypical jokes about them are how they shed more than the family dog and freak out every time the toilet flushes.'

'I don't watch TV, though. I've been in this country for what? Two weeks? And even if I did, it's not like I can understand what's been said.'

'But don't you get those shows in your forest? I thought Daisenian TV was world-wide famous. We had those shows in our mountain before I came over.'

Why had our relationship talk suddenly turned to TV shows and dwarf stereotypes? Surely we had more important things to talk about! Though if the TV talk was making Lydia more relaxed and more inclined to come sit next to me on the bed, who was I to force a sudden change of topic? Considering what the last few days had been like, I should be glad she was talking to me at all.

'We don't get international TV stations, at least not without paying a lot of money for it. And we produce plenty of great TV shows too, so it's not like we need to import foreign things that make no sense to our culture.'

'But then how do you get to learn about other people?'

I didn't meant to laugh, but I couldn't help it. At least Lydia didn't take it personally. 'I think the fact that I didn't know about what is apparently the most well-known aspect of dwarf culture kind of shows that we're not that great about learning about other cultures? I don't think most fairies bother with what's beyond our forest.'

'That sounds horrible.'

And to think there was a time I would've disagreed and started an argument to defend my fairy culture... 'That's also why I only speak Fadalesh and I haven't quite got to terms with the fact that everyone here speaks a minimum of three languages.'

'We learn them all at school. Half our classes are about language and culture.'

This wasn't the relationship talk I imagined we would be having, but it was no less enlightening.

And it made me feel rubbish about my own culture.

Not that it was my culture anymore; not when I didn't have the wings to show it.

Lydia must have sensed I was getting upset, because she finally came into the room, though she stopped in front of me instead of sitting on the bed. 'It's OK. I'm sure you'll catch up. You can't possibly be the first clueless fairy the school has dealt with, if this ignorance is as widespread as you say.'

'Are they even going to consider me a fairy?'

'What else would they consider you?' Lydia reached forward, stretching her tiny body to reach a lock of my hair that had been displaced when I lowered my head. She struggled, but managed to push it behind my ear (it didn't stay there for long, but it was the gesture that counted). 'You are still a fairy to me, wings or not.' She stepped closer, finally within a proper hand's reach of my face. 'And, here between us, I think you're the prettiest fairy I've ever seen.'

As you can imagine, Lydia jumped on my bed after that, and didn't leave until now. And I'm sorry, but as much as I want to remember the wonderful times we had for the rest of my life, I don’t want to immortalise them in yellowed sheets of paper. Those memories are for my eyes only.

Lydia is back. Time to go enjoy the rest of my Saturday.