The Soap Bubble Fairy

By Matias Travieso-Diaz

We are blown upon the world; we float buoyantly upon the summer air a little while, complacently showing off our grace of form and our dainty iridescent colors; then we vanish with a little puff, leaving nothing behind but a memory-and sometimes not even that.

Mark Twain

Elisa was only five when her godmother taught her how to make large soap bubbles. It was a damp, chilly weekend in the middle of March and they were cooped up in Elisa’s home with not much to do. The godmother noticed that the girl was pulling listlessly at the arms of her favorite doll and suggested a new activity to keep Elisa occupied. “Say, Lissy” she declared in a bright voice. “I have an idea! Let’s go outside and make soap bubbles!”

“But Auntie,” replied the child, “it’s nasty out there. Shouldn’t we wait until the weather gets better?”

“Fiddlesticks” replied the woman. “If you want to blow large bubbles that last a long time, cold and wet weather is best. Put your coat on. I got the mix ready last night.” Stopping in the kitchen, Elisa’s godmother picked off the counter a large glass bowl containing water and dishwashing soap. “I also added some corn syrup, because it will help hold the bubbles together” she explained. “I’ll carry the bowl, you take this.” She handed the girl a couple of pipe cleaners that had been twisted at one end to form loops.

They went to the yard outside and sat on a blanket they had spread on the bare ground. “I’m sure you know how to do this, but let’s practice.” She took one of the pipe cleaner wands, dipped it into the bowl, and pulled it up, holding it above the surface for a few seconds so that surplus soapy mix could fall back into the container. Then she blew into the wand slowly, making an increasingly large bubble emerge until it broke away from the wand and flew into the air. “Now, you try it!”

At first, Elisa blew through the wand too hard or stopped blowing too soon, in either case creating bubbles that were small and burst in a matter of seconds. Patience and repetition finally paid off, though. Elisa succeeded in creating a bubble that grew steadily until it was larger than the girl. The godmother cheered her on: “You are doing great! Don’t stop now! Keep blowing carefully…”

The gigantic bubble ultimately detached itself from the wand and hovered in midair. It shimmered in the morning sunshine, displaying intricate swirling patterns of multicolored hues. Near the center, however, a darker form started to take shape, gaining form and apparent solidity in contrast with the ever-changing strands of color that surrounded it.

“What is that?” asked Elisa, watching with an open mouth as the figure in the bubble gained a humanlike appearance.

“That is a fairy” declared the godmother. “A fairy created from your breath … It’s a replica of you!”

“But it can’t be” replied Elisa, puzzlement showing on her face. “I’m here, so I can’t be there!”

“Well, Lissy, she is not exactly you, but she has your own features and in time her behavior will match yours.”

“Can she get out of the bubble?”

“Yes. If we leave her alone, at some point the bubble will burst and the fairy will be free to roam all over the world.”

“Should I follow her and watch what she does?”

“No, but I expect that you will always be tied to each other by an invisible bond. She won’t be able to control your actions, but the things you do may influence how she behaves.”

“Does she have a name?”

“You can call her anything you want. How about naming her Elise?”

“I like that.”

As they were talking, there was a sudden burst of wind and the bubble containing the fairy drifted away and was soon lost from sight.

“Goodbye, Elise,” shouted Elisa. There was no response.

***

As time went by, Elisa did not get to see her “double” but somehow Elise’s presence was always in her mind, like a minute tickle driven by the fairy’s movements or actions. The tickle accompanied Elisa throughout the days of her childhood into her adolescence; it had an almost imperceptible, but sometimes important influence on her behavior. Every time Elisa was faced with making an important decision, she would consider how her action or choice could affect the fairy. Elisa did not expect that Elise would approve or condemn what the girl was about to do but, perhaps the fairy would transform the girl’s actions into her own.

Thus, Elisa once found a wallet with money on the floor under a carrel in the library. She had a momentary urge to keep the cash but wondered how such an action of hers would translate in the wild and what inappropriate action the fairy would take. Unable to guess, Elisa sheepishly turned the wallet over at the checkout desk.

She was not always able to control herself on account of the fairy’s potential reaction. She got into fights, she lied, she stole peaches from the neighbor’s tree; but those were minor infractions whose consequences, if any, in the fairy’s realm should have been slight.

***

Something felt different on the morning of Elisa’s sixteenth birthday. By custom, this was the day on which a girl in Elisa’s home country would be deemed to have become an adult, eligible to marry and raise a family. Elisa did not feel different from how she had been the day before, but it was an important date, in which she would be honored with a party and a dance would be held in her honor, so she had to rise to the occasion and appear cheerful before her family and guests.

One of the attendees at the celebration was Elisa’s godmother, who had been away for several years. After exchanging embraces, kisses, and family news, Elisa broached a subject that had been bothering her all day. “Auntie, do you remember the time, years ago, when we went out to blow soap bubbles?” The godmother smiled broadly. “Of course, Lissy. It was one of our nicest outings. And you managed to make the most humongous bubble I have ever seen!”

“And there was a fairy trapped in the bubble, and you said that she and I would always be linked somehow, right?” The godmother’s brow furrowed at Elisa’s eagerness to get confirmation, so she allowed: “I guess I may have said something like that.”

“Well,” continued Elisa, “you were correct, as always. Ever since that morning I have felt there has been a bond between Elise and me, something like a little tickle on my brain that reminds me she is there, watching me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but there is a problem. Since this morning, I don’t seem to feel Elise in my mind anymore.”

The godmother’s face registered a mixture of alarm, concern, and relief. “Well, my dear, you are a grown woman now and have no need to spend time worrying about fairies.”

“But Auntie, I love my fairy friend and would miss her terribly if she were to go away.”

The old woman’s expression hardened. “Elisa, you are a grownup now. You know there are no such things as fairies. You need to get over those childhood fantasies.”

Elisa felt like crying, but that would not do. She bit her lip and turned her back on her godmother, just in case she would be seen shedding a tear or two. Rather than a day of joy, her birthday was turning into one of the unhappiest moments in her life.

***

Elisa’s spirit was still shrouded in sadness as she went to bed that night. She sought respite in sleep but, as she was plunging into unconsciousness, an apparition materialized before her closed eyes. It was a glowing creature with gossamer wings that shimmered in some distant light. It was dressed in a loose gown that kept changing colors from violet to lilac to sky blue to seafoam and many other hues. The apparition resembled a girl, perhaps a tad younger than Elisa; a broad smile graced her lovely face. She hovered in silence before the prone body of Elisa and then spoke in a crystalline voice that resembled the sound of water streaming softly down a waterfall:

“Greetings, young one. Your distress has summoned me, and I have come to bring solace to your heart.”

“Elise … is that you?”

“If that is the name you have assigned to me, yes.”

“But Auntie says that fairies don’t exist.”

“She is both right and wrong. If you choose to believe that we do not exist, then we do not.”

“I don’t understand. Something can’t be and not be at the same time.”

“Do not try to make sense of it. Do you believe I exist?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then, for you, I am real, and happy to be with you. Now, why have you been so upset?”

“Because I have always felt your presence within me, and now I don’t.”

“Oh, that. The loss that you have experienced is quite common; it happens to all humans at some point, sooner or later.”

“What do you mean?”

“At birth, humans are endowed with other senses besides the five obvious ones. One of these hidden senses is what is called the sense of wonder. Through wonder human children can perceive things that are invisible to their sight or hearing, smell, or even their touch. The way children use their sense of wonder is sometimes called imagination, and through it they can perceive things that would otherwise be invisible. When you feel my presence, you are applying your sense of wonder.”

“And how is it that I can no longer feel you through my sense of wonder?”

“Because the sense of wonder, like a muscle that is rarely used, gets atrophied with the passage of time. Humans teach their children to do sensible things, that is, act in accordance with what their five obvious senses tell them. Except in rare cases, the sense of wonder is extinguished when humans are fully grown. That is what happened to you.”

“But I don’t want to lose you! I want you to always be a part of me!”

“The remedy is in your hands, and in your hands only. I will be gone, but you must try to remember that you saw me and believe I am real. Always keep your heart open to what lies beyond your senses, and try to find the beauty that is hidden in most things. But now I must take my leave. Farewell and good luck!” With that, the vision disappeared, leaving Elisa engulfed in darkness.

The following morning Elisa remembered the dream or whatever it was that had appeared to her in her sleep. She resolutely declined to write it off as a fantasy and kept the image of the shimmering bubble fairy alive in her mind. Although no longer in direct touch with the fairy, she let her remembered presence guide her through the rest of her life.

Elisa became a painter and the images she created on her canvases were widely praised as being abstract, yet endowed with an inner sense of reality that a viewer could readily perceive: all it took was for the viewer to exercise that sense of wonder that is one of humankind’s secret gifts.

Born in Cuba, Matias Travieso-Diaz migrated to the United States as a young man. He became an engineer and lawyer and practiced for nearly fifty years. After retirement, he took up creative writing.

Over one hundred and eighty of his short stories have been published or accepted for publication in a wide range of story anthologies, magazines, blogs, audio books and podcasts. Four anthologies of his stories have also been published.