The Woman Who Married a Cloud: The Collected Short Stories Read Free

and green eyes and, whenever I wanted, the magical ability to make gold bracelets and jewellery for me out of thin air.”
    “Which explains the Dixie jewellery in the stores?”
    Michael nodded. “He said he got bored just hanging around, so I suggested he do something useful. Everything was fine so long as it was just the earrings and keychain.” He slammed the glass down on the counter. “But I didn’t know about the fountain pen until today. What’s with that, Fiddlehead?”
    “Because I wanted to try me hand at it. I loved the one you showed me, so I thought I’d use that as my model. Why not? You can’t improve on perfection. The only thing I did was put some more gold in it here and there.”
    I put my hand up like a student with a question. “But who’s Dixie?”
    Lenna smiled and said, “I am. That was the secret name I made up for myself when I was little. The only other person who knew it was my secret friend.” She stuck her thumb in the other’s direction.
    “Wonderful! So now ‘Dixie’ fountain pens, which are lousy rip-offs of Sinbads, will be bought by every asshole in New York who can afford to buy a Piaget watch or a Hermès briefcase. It makes me sick.” Michael glared at the other man and waited belligerently for a reply.
    Mr Fiddlehead’s reply was to laugh like Woody Woodpecker.
    Which cracked both Lenna and me up.
    Which sent her husband storming out of the kitchen.
    “Is it true?”
    They both nodded.
    “I had an imaginary friend too when I was little! The Bimber-gooner. But I’ve never seen them for real.”
    “Maybe you didn’t make him real enough. Maybe you just cooked him up when you were sad or needed someone to talk to. In Lenna’s case, the more she needed me, the more real I became. She needed me a lot. One day I was just there for good.”
    I looked at my friend. “You mean he’s been here since you were a girl? Living with you?”
    She laughed. “No. As I grew up I needed him less. I was happier and had more friends. My life got fuller. So he was around less.” She reached over and touched his shoulder.
    He smiled but it was a sad one, full of memories. “I can give her huge pots of gold and do great tricks. I’ve even been practising ventriloquism and can throw my voice a little. But you’d be surprised how few women love ventriloquists.
    “If you two’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go in the other room and watch TV with the boys. It’s about time for ‘The Three Stooges’. Remember how much we loved that show, Lenna? I think we saw one episode ten times. The one where they open up the hairdressing salon in Mexico?”
    “I remember. You loved Moe and I loved Curly.”
    They beamed at each other over the shared memory.
    “But wait, if he’s ... what you say, how come he came back now?”
    “You didn’t know it, but Michael and I went through a very bad period a little while ago. He even moved out for two weeks and we both thought that was it: no more marriage. One night I got into bed crying like a fool and wishing to hell Mr Fiddlehead was around again to help me. And then suddenly there he was, standing in the bathroom doorway smiling at me.” She squeezed his shoulder again. He covered her hand with his own.
    “God, Lenna, what did you do?”
    “Screamed! I didn’t recognize him.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean he grew up! The Mr Fiddlehead I imagined when I was a child was exactly my age. I guess as I got older so did he. It makes sense.”
    “I’m going to sit down now. I have to sit down because this has been the strangest afternoon of my life.” Fiddlehead jumped up and gave me his seat. I took it. He left the room for television with the boys. I watched him go. Without thinking, I picked up Michael’s half-empty glass of milk and finished it. “Everything that you told me is true?”
    She put up her right hand. “I swear on our friendship.”
    “That beautiful man out there is an old dream of yours?”
    Her head recoiled.