That Day
Galinda thinks about that day a lot.
Not the day with Dr. Dillamond and the lion cub. That day was somewhat unremarkable for her. At the moment it was, at least.
And not the day that Elphie died. Well, she does think about that day a lot, but she would prefer not to. It's not that she doesn't think about that day, rather that she can't stop thinking about it, try as she might to forget it. It's why she can't sleep most days, regardless of how many times the Emerald Palace staff brings her the newest, most lavishly comfortable bedding in all of Oz. No matter how many pianists and violinists she hires to lull her to sleep, their melodies can never drown out the haunting cacophony of Elphaba's screams. And her own, from when she held that stupid little hat to her chest and sobbed until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. She remembers clenching it in her hands so tightly that her nails poked holes through the pleats and, eventually, her palms. She wishes she hadn’t held on so tightly to that hat, because once she was done crying, she took a deep breath in and suddenly the hat that used to smell of incense, figs, and tea leaves was stained by the overpowering stench of Galinda’s blood and tears, metallic and salty. Galinda would look at that hat often, hidden deep inside her wardrobe, and regret that even in death, she couldn’t help but stain the memory of her best friend. Like a flame to a moth, she just couldn’t help but ruin even the smallest of things. Even the smell of that stupid hat.
No, the day that she couldn’t stop thinking about was the one where she could have fixed everything. If only she’d stepped onto that broom. Or if that balloon was just a little bit faster. Or if she’d just been a little smarter to realize all the lies she’d been told. About everything. About the Wizard. About Morrible. About herself, most of all. If she had just been a little smarter to realize that there was nobody in the world she could trust but Elphie, maybe things could have been different.
But she had been lied to her whole life, just like Elphie had.
But not in the ways that Elphie had been. Not the lies that felt like a dagger through your heart, or a rug swept out from under you. She’d never been teased on the playground or stared at, for reasons other than adoration, that is. In fact, she’d never known anything other than love, really. Even the few girls in grade school who teased her were just jealous. And for most of her life, she believed that jealousy was just another form of love, for those who couldn’t accept that some people were just better than others. But the lies Elphie was told were much more direct, much more obvious, and in that way, Galinda thought Elphie got lucky.
Because the lies she had been told were the sweet, sickly kind that lift you up into the clouds and cradle you there for so long that you forget where you are, and then suddenly, when you do realize you’ve been lied to, you realize just how far you’ll be falling, and just how much it’s going to hurt when you finally land on the hard, solid, callous ground.
Galinda wishes that she could have done something, anything different. Because now, she would choose Elphie over anyone else, every time. She would choose her over all of Oz if she could.
But she’s gone, and there’s nothing Galinda can do about it.
And that’s the truly terrible part. She knows that if she were the one that melted, Elphie could have gotten her back as quickly as she had left. But Galinda was just never that skilled, never that smart, never that powerful.
Galinda was never that good.
And she hated herself for it.