THE MOON KEY
by  J.R. Stampfl

Wendy stood on the fire escape outside her window.  A barely noticeable summer breeze whispered against her face.  It was almost midnight.  Almost June 21st.  Time to start her first birthday party.  For 12 years, Wendy had hoped that someone would remember her birthday.  But no one ever had.  This year, she would do it herself.

She pushed her limp, dirty-blond hair away from her face with determination and grabbed her basket.  Carefully, she climbed the fire escape looking for her friend, the moon.  Whenever she had a terrible day, she went to the roof and found the moon.  The immensity of the moon, the mystique of the moon, the iridescent light of the moon always soothed her.

As she reached the tarred rooftop, she gasped.  A gigantic orange moon was just rising in the sky.  Her heart started pounding.  It must be full.  A full moon for her birthday.  That had to be an omen.  Quickly, she made a birthday wish.  She didn’t bother to wish that her parents would come back miraculously and find her.  For as long as she could remember, every time she had made a wish that had been it.  But, no more.

Instead, she wished that there was a place, a magical place that she could go to, her own Neverland where she could be the wonderful Wendy that she knew had to be inside of her.  If she only knew how to let that Wendy out.  If she could only learn to fly.  How often had she stood on this roof and felt as if she could just take off?

Wendy sighed.  Like she had on every other birthday, she wondered how she might have turned out if she hadn’t been left by her parents.  She picked up the small wicker basket.  It looked like something for a doll.  She marveled that she had ever been small enough to fit in it.  As she had for every day of her life, she wondered what had caused her parents to leave her in it, just a few days old, outside of the Shubert Theater wrapped in a white towel embroidered “Hilton Hotel.”

Wendy held the now-yellowed terry cloth against her cheek.  A piece of paper fluttered out of the folds and almost gusted over the edge of the roof.  Wendy lunged for it, aghast that she had almost forgotten it was there.

By the light of the rising moon, she stared at it.  Scrawled hastily on a Wendy’s Restaurant napkin were the words, “Please take care of her.  We’ll be back.”

Wendy stared at the bold loops of the writing.  She had always thought it looked like a man’s writing, her father’s writing.  But, it said, “We’ll be back.”  That implied that they had both been there, both her parents.  But why had they left her?  Why couldn’t they take care of her?  Were they sick?  Poor? In danger?

They had to have loved her.  “Please take care of her...”  She hadn’t been carelessly abandoned.  The Family Services Counselor who had given her these things had told her that she had been clean, well fed and bundled carefully in the towel.  Family Services didn’t know her real name so they had nicknamed her for the Wendy’s napkin and the Hilton towel.  The name had stuck.  Wendy often wondered what her real name was.

And, there was one more thing that her parents had left  her.  Wendy fingered  the small silver necklace around her neck.  On it dangled a silver charm, a sliver of a crescent moon.  For Wendy it had always been a sliver of hope.  For the millionth time, Wendy pictured her mother impulsively taking it off her neck and placing it around her baby’s.

A basket, a towel, a napkin and a necklace - that’s all her parents had left with her at the stage door.  They had promised to come back.  Why hadn’t they?

The only sensible conclusion that she could reach, was that they must have died or they would have...

Unfortunately, because her parents had indicated on the note that they were coming back, Family Services had not been allowed to put Wendy up for adoption for several years.  Until it was too late.  By the time the authorities had decided that Wendy’s parents were never coming back, she was an awkward, overweight child who didn’t know how to smile.  Couples wanted to adopt babies, smiling babies whom they cared for from the beginning.  No one wanted her.

By age 10, she had already been bounced around to seven foster families.  So, when Ralph and Liz had taken her in to be an older sister, and let’s face it, baby sitter, for their three boys, Ralphie, Joey and Eddie, Wendy had vowed to stay there.  Even though Ralph and Liz were more like employers than parents, she had grown to love her boys.  They were her family now.

Wendy’s eyes were transfixed on the glowing moon as she fingered her necklace.  She thought about all the years she had wasted waiting for her parents to reappear and change her life. Twelve years, a dozen years was too long to wait anymore.  It was time for her to take charge.

She cleared her throat, aware that her hands were shaking.  “I, Wendy Hilton, named for a napkin and towel, understand that it is up to me to make my life whatever it is.  I realize now that my parents are not coming back to save me.  I have to do it on my own.  I believe that I am special.  Somehow, I will find my magic and use it.”

A chill went up Wendy’s spine.  She could have sworn that the moon was looking right at her.  She bundled up her precious possessions and crept downstairs looking forward to all the things she had planned for her very first birthday celebration.

***

It was not  your typical party.

Wendy got off  at Times Square.  Growing up in New York City, she was familiar with the subway system. She had been taking it by herself with the boys since she was ten.  But, as she got off the train tonight, she found that her knees were shaking.

It wasn’t all the people, the noise, or the confusion.  She was nervous about what tonight meant to her.  She wondered if she could pull it off.

Well, first things first.  She found the alley between West 44th and West 45th.  She stared at the brass stage door of the Shubert Theater.  Twelve years ago she had been left right there in her basket.  And, now she was back.

She felt light-headed and sat down on a low wall across from the door.  Why was this so important to her?  What did she expect to learn?  Wendy really wasn’t sure.  She just knew that she’d been wanting to come here for a long time.

Her breathing was barely back to normal when they started arriving: the cast, the crew, the people who worked there.  A couple came up hand in hand.  Wendy’s heart stopped.  Her parents might have been just like them.  She had always thought her parents might have been actors.  But, since she was wrapped in a hotel towel, maybe they were just tourists.

Wendy was not sure how much time had passed when she realized that there had been no traffic through the stage door for a while.  It must be close to curtain time.  Sure enough, it was just after 8:00 O’Clock.  It should be safe now.  She moved up to the doorway on wobbly legs.  The same walk that her parents had made.

Had her mother hugged her and cried, devastated to leave her?  Had her father gritted his teeth as he set down the basket?

She looked up at the lights and the sky.  For a second, she had a premonition that she had seen this all before, exactly this, as a baby.  Wendy wished she could know for sure.

It was all too much for her.  She felt like she might faint.  Remembering that she had eaten very little all day, she moved off slowly.

***

The Wendy’s Restaurant was just a few blocks away.  This was the second part of her celebration.  She had been saving for months for this night.  She had promised herself that she would treat herself to whatever she wanted.

Balancing her tray, she found a table.  This could have been the very Wendy’s where her parents had sat trying to figure out what to do with their new baby.  Impulsively, Wendy took out a pen and grabbed a napkin.  Just like they had.

June 21st

I came back on my 12th birthday.  Now, I will take care of myself.

Wendy Hilton

Wendy stored the napkin carefully away in her purse.  She took a couple more bites of her burger and then threw everything away, amazed that, for once, she had no appetite.

She walked quickly back to the Shubert Theater, to the front door this time.  Just as she arrived, the double doors popped open from the inside and everyone came pouring out.  It was intermission, just as she had figured.  In all her planning for this night, she hadn’t even paid attention to what was playing at the Shubert.  She spotted a program that had been dropped on the sidewalk.

“A Midsummer’s Night Dream,” by William Shakespeare.  Amazing, thought Wendy.  She hadn’t read any Shakespeare, yet.  But, she knew enough to know that her birthday, June 21st, was on a special day, the longest day of the year, the shortest night, a midsummer’s night.

The lights blinked under the marquis.  Intermission was over.  It was time.  Wendy had been fascinated by the theater for a long time.  She had read that a lot of young actors saw their first Broadway productions by sneaking into performances at the intermission.

Wendy felt guilty about sneaking in, but she could never have afforded a ticket.  If a seat was empty, what was the harm?

Trying to look confident, trying to look like all the other theater patrons, Wendy tucked her program under her arm and headed into the theater.  She prayed that there would be empty seats.

She was one of the last people to reenter the theater.  The lights began to dim.  Wendy panicked.  She spotted a seat in the last row.   It was awfully far back, but she should grab it before she got caught.  Just as she was heading for it, she spotted two seats on the aisle quite far down.  Boldly, she scurried down the aisle and sat down just as the curtain opened.  It was the 12th row.  How appropriate.  For her 12th birthday.

She sat there terrified that an usher beaming a flashlight, like a searchlight, would find her, reveal her as an imposter and humiliate her.  Her head buzzed, her heart banged, she was coated in sweat.

Minutes passed.  Nothing happened.  Everyone was watching the stage and no one came for the seats.

Eventually, the antics of the characters crept into her consciousness and reality melted away.  Little by little, she began to unravel the tangled tale of the confused lovers.  And, all the while, in the background of the forest set, the gleaming moon oversaw the fun.

Wendy gasped when the Queen of the Fairies, Titania, appeared high over the stage.  Her arms were full of flowers which she dropped tenderly on the lovers.  Then, she flew over the audience.  Wendy had the distinct feeling that Titania was flying directly towards her.  The next thing she knew, one of the white roses had landed right in her lap.

Wendy was thrilled that something so wonderful could have happened on her birthday.  Delighted, she followed the twists and turns of the play’s silly plot until Puck delivered his final lines:

If we shadows have offended.

Think but this and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear.

That was it exactly, thought Wendy.  The whole night had been like a dream.  Everyone clapped and clapped.  But, finally, the lights came up and Wendy started gathering her stuff.  That was when she noticed the tiny rolled-up scroll of parchment nestled in the center petals of the rose.  Curious, Wendy pulled it out and unrolled it.

Happy Birthday, Wendy, dear.

We’re so glad you made it tonight.  We knew you would.  Now that you’re of age, you are cordially invited to attend LATCH,  the Lunar Arena of Transformation, Concentration and Hope.  See you there.

Wendy stared and stared at the tiny little paper.  What in the world did it mean?  For the tenth time, Wendy re-read the note.  It couldn’t be a coincidence, a random prop that was thrown out to anyone in the audience.  It was meant for her, on her birthday.

But, what in the world could the Lunar Arena of Transformation, Concentration and Hope possibly be?  She was invited to attend.  But, how did she get there?  Where was it?  When?