The Truth About Ginny

The Cat's Meow was golden in the afternoon light. The walls were enchanted to resemble a forest, complete with birds taking flight. Around my ankles, a familiar moved with eager approval. Kitty was in love with the smell of dragon leather.

I was sipping a Thunder Dip Chocolate Espresso. It crackled on my tongue, making me sigh. I hated having to apparate to America just to have something hot and sizzling. Tea was so bland, I had forgotten it the moment I visited my first WitchHazel Coffee chain.

Unlike the dim and murky tea houses in Magical Britain, WitchHazel hummed with energy and electricity. People on modified computers read news, worked on their papers, and enjoyed conversation. Study groups moved in and out of the private rooms, expanded for their personal preference. Girls in jeans and billowy robes passed towards better things.

I tried to shut out the dark thoughts in my head. How easy would it be to disappear here, to become like one of these girls. I wouldn't have to worry about Ron and his demands. I could just let my old self die.

"Ginny!"

I looked up. I had hoped Barney would be late. I didn't want to have a conversation right now. I knew I couldn't waste another moment on him, but I held out that he would be understanding. He wasn't pureblood, so perhaps the demand for kids would be less. He wasn't even an only child. Hope bloomed and died in turn, winter and spring tightening in my throat.

He wanted kids.

I wanted freedom.

I wanted him to want me more.

He asked me if I wanted a scone. I nodded. "Chocolate please."

"Of course."

He brought me two, neatly positioned in a paper bag. The green letters on the delicate bag blurred. I put it into my bag and thanked him.

My hands went wet, so I clenched them around my coffee.

"What did you want to talk about?" Barney asked. He had divine dimples, his wide smile crooked. I loved that about him, how his face tipped slightly to the right. It made everything about him boyish and charming. His curling hair, cherub gold, gave him the friendliest aura. He was the sort of man who was always waiting to love someone.

I felt cruel and made of stone. Two years down the hole. All because I was damaged.

"Ron and I got into a fight," I said. My tone sounded flat.

Barney wet his lips. "Your brother is going through a lot."

"He keeps asking me to help him with the kids."

There it was, the first step towards honesty.

Barney shrugged. "Marsha left. He needs someone to help him. With your mom gone, it's just hard on him. I have been helping Jennifer out since Rob-"

Jennifer was his loving sister, another perfect, loving person. I felt dirty. She was someone he admired. Perhaps he thought I was like her, another *Jenny* to fill his world with kids and comfort. He had met my mother, once, and found her utterly delightful. He had commented on the amount of life she had in her, saying he wished we would be as happy as them one day.

I had thought he meant loving and understanding. Now I could see he wanted the same thing, a thousand kids and a crumbling house. Poverty wasn't charming to me. Not anymore.

I finished off the last of my coffee. Setting it to the side, I licked my lips. The last taste of chocolate filled my mouth, crackling with electricity. I knew. I wasn't who I wanted to be with him. I was suddenly facing down a Deatheater, or seeing the Twins split up again. It utter unfairness of this internal war. It wasn't the same, it would never be the same as war. But it felt like that protracted moment between uttering a killing spell and deciding to just run.

Fight or flight.

The nothingness stretched across the galaxy, swallowing earth in nothingness. Like a frisbee, it moved across existence. When it passed completely over the world, things resumed.

"We got in a fight because I told him I wouldn't be helping him out anymore."

"Why would you tell him that?" Barney asked. He truly wanted to know. I surprised him. And not pleasantly, if the look of confusion meant anything.

"He kept trying to push off the mothering to me. I don't want to be a-" I couldn't say it.

"A burden?" Barney asked. He smiled. "I know its hard. But when... When you have your own, it might seem easier. Jennifer does the same thing to me. She is so used to people being willing to take the kids, she just assumes..."

"I don't want to be a mother."

"How can you not want kids?" Barney blinked. He reared back. I was fire. I burned him. "You are the last person I would have thought that about."

"I grew up in poverty, there was never enough. And I am happy with my life. I don't want it to change, ever."

"I want kids. Not 100, not even 3, just two. I am not asking you to become your mother." Barney seemed to come to some understanding in his head, as if I had just merely said "not now" or "I am afraid."

"No. Barney, I don't want kids at all. Ever. Not adopted. Not helping with my nieces and nephews. Not even for the weekend. I don't want them at all." I was rushing the words. I needed to say my fill. "I am sorry. But I am not going to have kids... I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Barney was reeling. His hands were moving around like pixies.

"I got the procedure done. I can't have kids."

"Why would you do this to us?" Barney demanded. He was screaming now. "You selfish, stupid-"

Then he stormed out.

I promise ring on my finger melted off, into nothing.

We were over.

I felt lighter, but it hurt, like I had lost a limb.