We were both quiet, processing, before I finally felt like I had to point out the obvious.

“You don’t really believe the curse is as bad as you say, not unless you’re really as selfish as you sound, only focused on how it hurt you regardless of whether it helps everyone else.”  She didn’t answer, but that felt like it proved my point.  Marilyn wasn’t exactly known for her selflessness, but I couldn’t entirely believe that even she would be so selfish as to want the feud back just for herself, no matter how much it hurt most of the town.

“Marilyn…why do you still try to support the feud?”  I let those words sink in before continuing.  “You want to make your parents proud of you and have them see you instead of your brother.  But you already know that’ll never happen.  They’re bad parents,” I told her bluntly, “and they’ve already proven they’re not capable of considering you and your feelings or anything you achieve.  And I think you know they never will.”

She blinked several times, very quickly, but didn’t say anything.

It might have been unkind to be that blunt, but on the other hand, dancing around the subject wouldn’t help either.  I was already the ‘bad guy’ to Marilyn and wasn’t about to be a friend, so even if she hated me, it was probably better to get the truth across even if it wasn’t as smooth as it could be.

“I think you should stop pretending you can’t see that the curse has benefited people and stop pretending the feud is better.”  I took a deep breath, then said words that genuinely felt bitter in my mouth.  “You have the potential to be a leader, Marilyn.”

She paused, then slowly turned to look at me.  “I thought you said I was a bad leader?”  She asked bitterly, mockingly.

“You were.  You have been,” I agreed.  “But that doesn’t have to stay that way.  You can change how you lead.  Look, I’ve been hearing about how things changed for you.”  Maybe that was part of the reason she was talking to me now, and had listened to what I had to say, even if she didn’t like it.  She’d become isolated and alone with no one supporting her.

“But you’ve still stood up for kapras and defended them from Bill and his crew.  Maybe you’ve also been a problem for some kapras,” I felt like I had to point out, “but you’re still trying to be there for people.  And you know the basics of being a leader.  You have the potential to be a true leader helping the town if you wanted.  If you’re willing to forget about your parents, forget about your personal wishes, and focus on what the town needs.”

She had to think this over.  “An entirely new path,” she murmured.  “One unrelated to him.  There’s no way they could credit him for it if things went well.”

I decided not to point out the selfishness in her motives, because at the end of the day, even if it was selfish, if she was helping the town, it was something, right?  Maybe.  Okay it wasn’t ideal, but I actually thought she might start to care about more than her parents’ opinions if she stopped focusing so much on how angry she was about the curse.

“I don’t think I can ever entirely forgive you for killing Mark,” I told her bluntly.  “But that just means you and I will never be friends.  It doesn’t mean we can’t both want the same goal at the end of the day, even if for different reasons.  And it doesn’t mean I can’t support you if you show you are being a good leader.  And it doesn’t mean I can’t let it go for the good of the town, same as everyone else.”  Well, maybe I should just hint at the selfishness?  Just in case.  “And that you’re willing to commit to thinking about the town over your own interests, long-term, you know.  Not just for a few months or anything.”

She didn’t answer immediately, then suddenly sat down on one of the logs, looking down at her feet.  “They haunt me.”

I had no idea what she meant, so I just waited.

“All the ones I killed.  They haunt me.”  She kicked at the dirt.  “My parents told me I was being dumb when I was upset the first time, when I came home and cried.  They said they were just hydras, I shouldn’t care.  That my brother never did, and I shouldn’t either.  So I pretended it didn’t.  But they do.  They all haunt me.  I see their faces when I try to sleep.  I can’t sleep.  I can’t forget them.”

That shocked me almost as much as the fact that she was telling me this.

So, Marilyn wasn’t quite as evil as she pretended to be.  She had a conscience after all.

“They were all so young,” she said softly, her entire being radiating defeat.  “Even now, that stands out.  That’s all I see.  They were all so young.”

I hesitated, not really having the background to offer counseling and not really having the emotional connection to Marilyn to want to offer comfort, but also not really able to not say something.

“You were, too.  We all were.  And we were thrown into a war when we were children.”  I sat down on one of the other logs, still a distance away from her.  “I hated that.  I hated that we couldn’t even have a childhood.  We were just expected to fight almost as soon as we could walk.  And the worst of the battlefields were usually at school, since that was where we mingled the most.”  It was horrible, really, that children were the focus on the feud so often.  “As much as I hate what you did, you did so because we were in a war, not just to kill them.  And it wasn’t fair to ask a kid to have to make decisions like that, to fight and maybe kill someone and then to live with that.”

Marilyn’s hand flashed briefly to her face to wipe at an errant tear.  “I know why you want the feud to end.  To stop all of that.  To have the school neutral.  I – I get it.”

I wouldn’t have imagined she’d admitted that when I first approached her, but now I could see it.  Marilyn had been affected by this feud in other ways than I had, but she had been deeply harmed nonetheless.

“Then help end it permanently,” I suggested, my tone gentler.  “Don’t let other kids deal with the same thing.  Make sure this feud never gets back up off the ground.”  Err, maybe I should point out that I was kind of planning on doing that anyway.  “For the record, I don’t plan to lift the curse unless I think it’s safe to do so, but I want the town to be committed, too.  Maybe we’ll never have 100% of the town on board,” that seemed unlikely to happen, “but let’s be honest, we both know you can be a force if you’re on the warpath.”

She smiled faintly, but she didn’t look too comforted.

“I think you’ve been lost since the curse started,” I told her.  “You were leading with a specific goal, then that goal was taken away.  Well, here’s a new one – make the peace permanent, make the feud end for real.  Help the town be better.  Help the kids not have to fear death at school.  Help make sure the fighting doesn’t start up again.  Help make sure the town changes forever.”

And then I offered the last thing I could think of.  “Stop trying to live up to an impossible standard and gain the approval of people who don’t appreciate you as a person.  Find people who are worth getting their approval.  Find a cause you personally believe in and will push for even if no one is cheering you on.  I know you’re a tough person, Marilyn.  You’ve stood this long without anyone behind you, but don’t forget – if you are willing to fight for peace, you will actually have people standing behind you.  You might have to earn their trust at first, but there are a lot of people who want some leadership right now and while there are some people trying to step up, you have natural leadership qualities and more influence than most of them.”

I never thought I’d be trying to talk Marilyn into joining the pro-peace group, but here I was, pointing out that she could be the leader they all needed.  To be honest, I thought it would help a lot to have a former leader of the pro-feud group show up and start supporting peace.  It should make a lot of pro-feud people second-guess themselves and, knowing that Marilyn could be very stubborn once she set her mind to something, it should also give the pro-peace people some fresh enthusiasm because Marilyn was capable of arguing the pro-feud people down and she wouldn’t back down if any of them disagreed with her.

Honestly, Marilyn joining the cause would be good for them.  It wouldn’t be without issue, because I knew people wouldn’t believe her at first and, well, there was Mark’s dad to consider, but I also thought if she was fighting for something she actually believed in instead of something her parents decided for her, she’d probably be a lot more willing to handle the criticism and weather the storms until she won them over.

“I don’t feel like a leader anymore,” she whispered.  “I drove everyone away.  My parents are mad at me because of the curse, Abigail hates me, Ryan left, everyone just kind of avoids me when I walk through town.  I don’t feel like a leader.  I feel like an outcast.”

“It won’t be easy to win them over,” I admitted, not wanting to sugar-coat this.  “But you can prove to them you’re serious.  That you’re willing to help and lend your support.  And that does mean you have to stop arguing with people about integrating both sides,” I warned her.  “And maybe starting with apologies to Annette for making her retire and Jorge for making him consider closing his shop wouldn’t hurt.  It might prove to people that you’re serious about this.”

She groaned, but didn’t object, either.  “I hate apologizing.”

“I think most people do.”

She kind of shrugged at that, then nodded, before at last she looked at me straight in the face.  “There was one thing I’ve always been able to count on you for.  The truth.  I knew you never lied to me, and even if the truth made me mad, I appreciated that.  In my own way, I guess.”  She cringed a bit.  “I guess that’s why when you called me a bad leader, it hit me so hard.  I knew if you were saying it, it had to be true.  I’d never really sat down and thought of it like that before.

“Anyway, if I’m going to do this – if I’m going to give up the reason I was born for and go in completely the opposite direction, and fight for everything I’ve once abhorred – well, I need you to tell me the truth.”

Her eyes almost bored into mine.  “Do you really think I can do this?  Do you really think I can help the town and be happier and win them over, all of that?  Do you really think this is the best option for me?”

Since she’d made it clear how serious she took this, I took a few moments to think over my response and make sure I was telling her the truth.

“I believe in the feud ending, and I believe that’s best for the town.  I believe you can be a good leader, a real leader.  I believe you can win the town over – both sides, even – but it won’t be easy and it might take you a long time, especially for people who personally have had struggles with you in the past.  And I do believe it’s best for you to give up on your parents, hard as that sounds, and focus on what you want.”  I paused.  “You want to help, don’t you?  You don’t really agree with the feud anymore, not after seeing the alternative, not after what you’ve dealt with yourself.  If you don’t believe in it, well, fight for what you do believe in instead.  Fight for peace.  Even if no one ends up following you, even if it takes decades to earn their trust, don’t you think you’ll be happier if you’re fighting for something you genuinely believe in?  Helping make sure other kids don’t have those same fears and nightmares?”

She blinked a few times.  “Fighting for myself,” she said slowly, like this was a strange concept.

“Oh, and you should consider therapy.”  I gave her an awkward smile.  “My aunt politely required that when I moved in with her.  I don’t know if the nurses here are trained in providing psychiatric services,” I doubted it, to be honest, “but there are phone options, or maybe that can be something the town tries to help fund, either bringing in new people or helping the existing ones get training so they can help.”

She was quiet for a moment.  “Does it help?”  She asked abruptly, her eyes almost hopeful.

“Sometimes I feel like there’s so much baggage we’ll never work through it all.”  I shrugged a bit, feeling weird discussing this with Marilyn, but also trying to help.  “But yeah, it does.  I’ve learned how to deal with things better, how to express emotions healthily, how to handle confrontations without letting them get to me, how to deal with grief.  A lot of things.  It’ll vary per person and therapist, but if you’re really wanting the help and the therapist at least knows some basics, well, I would think they could help.  It might not be perfect, but it can help.”

For another long moment, we were quiet again, as she thought over everything I said and I just let her think.

Slowly, I saw that steely look I recognized return to her eyes.

“I’ll do it.”  She told me abruptly, firmly this time, with renewed determination in her voice.  “You’re right, I hate the feud now.  I hate that I didn’t get a choice and everything was decided for me before I was even born.  I hate that it has destroyed me and the town and – yeah.  I hate it.  Peace sounds better.  The idea of what the town could be sounds better.  So I’ll – I’ll fight for it.  Even if I’m on my own, but I’ll do it.  And I’ll do what I can to win them over, too.  Make them understand I’m serious.”  She stood up abruptly.  “I’m going to go apologize to Jorge now.”

And then she marched off, without so much as a goodbye, already setting her new plan of actions into motion.

I sat there on the log, kind of amazed at the conversation as I reflected on it, but the hope I’d been feeling was now burning brightly.

Marilyn was on the side of peace now.  That alone told me this was going to work.  Maybe not immediately, maybe not for decades yet, but it would.  If Marilyn was able to see and change, then so could others.

The talk had also changed things for me personally.  For one thing, I saw Marilyn in a new light.  I wasn’t kidding about never being able to entirely forgive her for Mark’s death, but I also felt like I could be more at peace with her despite that.  I could support her new endeavor and believed she would be good for the town, now, despite the past.  And maybe because of it.

Everyone was capable of change.  Maybe not everyone would take advantage of that, but they were capable of it.  And Marilyn had just proved that.

I looked down at my hands thoughtfully, then out at the lake.

Maybe this conversation had provided me something of my own.  Maybe it had provided me with my own goals for the future.

Maybe we had both come out of this changed, with our futures changed.

I couldn’t think that was a bad thing.