When the glass shoe doesn't fit

“How do I look?” Carmela, Cindy’s step sister asked. It was obviously a rhetorical question. Carmela was dressed in her absolute richest and finest gold dress. It was overloaded with all the new styles and trends and stuffed with frills and jewels. It had been a murder to wash, but still it undoubtedly fit Carmela. It hugged her in all the right places and was the perfect size. Even the colour complimented Carmela’s pale blue skin. It wasn’t the dress that made Cindy frown inwardly though, it was the inane cocky smile Carmela wore with it, the way she constantly had her chin in the air and her hands fluttering endlessly over the dresses folds as if she was in some unvarying ridiculous pose. That was what seemed to ruin Carmela’s appearance in Cindy’s opinion. Still she knew very much what Carmela would do if she were to voice this opinion, and so instead bit her tongue and smiled hopefully back at Carmela. Carmela smiled back, and then put one hand on her hip, strutted up to Cindy, smiled one more sickly sweet smile and then sashayed back out of the room, grabbing her purse on the way out. Cindy stared wistfully after her, long after the door had been slammed and the clacking noise of the carriage and the bickering of her two stepsisters and stepmother had disappeared. Only then did she turn her way from the beautifully engraved door and make her way to her own room, further upstairs into the great house, hidden away in the attic.

It was at this time Cindy would be having a ball. It was one of those rare nights, when she had the whole house to herself. With the housekeeper and cook away for the night, she could do whatever she wanted and get away for it. But it was this very night that Cindy felt like doing no such thing. It was a beautiful hot August evening and the sun had yet to settle, it was still momentarily a squashed ball of orange and reds spread across a hazy sky. It was far too early to head for bed and yet too late for her old childish pleasures, Cindy decided it was a night for a party, a real proper party that she would be missing. How many evenings had she lain awake in bed, only to be aroused by the late arrival of her two step sisters, awake and giddy with the excitement from a party? How many nights had she heard the same stories from Cora, her older step sister, of the ‘posh and proper’ parties. The parties which Cora had actually never been asked to dance at, but from what Cindy could understand it might have something to do with the fact that Cora was always too occupied with the refreshment tables. It was Carmela’s stories that Cindy really enjoyed. Although she suspected the truth was often tainted with some white lies, where the most handsome man always asked Carmela to dance, and always seemed to fall in love with her after just one waltz. But still, Carmela painted such imaginative luxurious pictures in Cindy’s mind that she had always been able to grasp one true fact – it was a place where she could never be, or would never fit in. And yet it was something that her poor father had loved.

A single tear escaped Cindy’s eye, startling her back into reality. She hastily wiped it away, disgusted at how she could have let her mind wander so easily. She sighed heavily, and then because no one was there to hear her, she sighed again. She reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a book: The Fairy Godmother. It was the one and only book that she herself owned. Although the pages were yellowed with age and the thick cover ripped at the edges, it was still invaluable in her eyes. She flicked the book open to the first page, stroking the written words as she read.

“Once upon a time there was a Prince,” her lone voice bounced and echoed off the vast walls of the house as she read. Nevertheless, she hurriedly read on, desperately trying to hold back the tide of tears that were beginning to fall. “There was a prince, like none that any had ever seen . . . like none that any had ever seen.”

Suddenly her small hands had snapped the book shut and viciously hurled it across the room. Cindy watched as it slowly slid down the wall and collapsed into a heap of paper and cardboard on the floor.

Words weren’t enough anymore. They couldn’t hug and comfort her like a friend could, and they certainly couldn’t spin her story anymore like her father could. Instead Cindy folded her legs underneath her on the bed and rested her head on her elbows. The tears were still falling, but she annoyedly ignored them. She didn’t want to be weak. But she was so tired. Tired of putting on a brave face, tired of pretending like she didn’t care, and so tired of being alone. The Fairy Godmother, was a rubbish book, Cindy realized. Who would want to read about princesses and knights in shining armour? It was the true magical stories people wanted to hear.

“Not a princess, but a girl,” Cindy whispered to herself through her tears, wandering if she was going mad. “Not a girl, but a woman. A woman of true character and strength, with experience, wisdom and proper qualities.” Cindy’s voice grew as her confidence started to rise. She stepped off from her bed and wiped away her tears. “A proper woman. A woman who was left alone, cold and alone, and not accepted by anyone. But who still found the courage to go to the ball anyway. Who used her wisdom and cunning wits to make the most handsome dress from… nothing,” Cindy said looking down at her mere hands. Almost as if she was in a daze she strode back downstairs to Carmela’s room, and to her wardrobe. A smile crept across her lips as she reached inside, fingering the silk of all her fine dresses. “Yes, she would go to the ball. With an eye catching most fashionable dress that would make heads turn.”

*

The wooden floor was hard and dusty, when Cindy knelt down on her hands and knees, to peer through the gaping cracks in the floorboards. What a sight she must have looked, in a heap on the floor, red eyed and desperate looking with her hair all out and tumbling down her back. Cindy was way past any customs and formalities, such was the situation that she had resorted to peering through a crack in the flooring, spying on her step family. However, her eyes were not fixed on them, or their lavish extravagant dresses, or the buffet that was set around them, but her innocent blue eyes were turned towards the young man, who knelt awkwardly before her step sisters, a shining contrast to the gloomy dark room. He too was dressed richly, but he wore his clothes with a different air of authority, as if no amount of luxuries could set him apart from anyone, not even Cindy herself. And that was what she truly believed, that they were made for one another.

The scene before her almost looked comical, with them all sitting and waiting expectantly, for the glass shoe to be fitted. Cindy’s step mother was watching her younger step sister with her usual dead eyes, her face, refusing to show any emotion. Cora was sitting, no lying on the couch, her large frame draped across it and her chin resting on her elbows. Cindy saw the obvious pout on her thin red lips. Clearly she was still upset after Cindy’s glass shoe. And there was her Carmela, sitting proudly on the stool, her pale bony foot extended in the hands of Cindy’s prince.

Cindy almost envied the way she was easily able to flounce and flirt around her prince, but only almost. Of all the ways her prince had changed her, after their endless dance at the ball, she still attained her values of humility, and found it impossible to envy her spoilt step sister with her lack of personality and intelligence.

So when her prince finally raised the shoe to Carmela’s foot, Cindy watched in utter horror, when the fragile simple thing slid onto her foot and made a perfect fit! She shrank backwards, her hands flying towards her chest. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if not enough oxygen was getting to her blood supply. If Cindy had really felt any hope up until now, it was quickly slipping through her fingers, as she forced herself to ask the forbidden question, “Had it all been a dream?” Suddenly she felt like a snotty child with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Suddenly she felt the shame to be spying through a pathetic crack in the floorboard, and she shrank back even further.

Cindy hung her head, the cries of joy beneath her sounding strangely distant and yet they were still able to draw fresh tears from her eyes. She hurried to the window, still gasping for air. The tears fell and fell, never seeming to quite suffice the aching dejected pain she felt. Bitterly she wondered where the Fairy Godmother’s enticing words were now?

It was then that Cindy saw the prince and Carmela step outside. One arm of her step sisters was cramped tightly around the prince’s, the other gestured wildly as she babbled on. Cindy watched, as the Prince paused before the carriage, glancing back at the house. He looked up, catching her eye, bemused and puzzled at this familiar strange girl in the window. Cindy saw that same look of pain and anguish on her face was reciprocated on his. She held his gaze wanting to look away, but not quite able to. Again she was faced with the choice of staying in the shadows or bravely into the limelight.

In a heart beat Cindy was down the stairs, out of the room, flinging the door open and barging past her step mother and older step sister. She came to a panting halt.

“Do I know you?” he asked, staring puzzedly at her, his thick eyebrows forming arches.

It took a while for Cindy to answer, but she swallowed her fear, “Yes, yes you do.” She was all but ready to dramatically leap into his arms and declare her identity, but bony fingers gripped her arm, spinning her backwards, as her step mother violently slapped her across her face, her ring catching Cindy’s skin and drawing blood. Caught of guard, Cindy toppled over, into a shameful heap on the ground. How could she have been so silly?

“Excuse her, your majesty. She’s a raving lunatic we found off the streets. We only kept her out of the kindness of our hearts,” her step mother’s words dripped like poison.

“It’s not true!” Cindy wanted to shout, but she had not the will nor the strength to rise again, the floor was where she belonged and where she would stay. Cindy slowly felt herself slowly being dragged back towards the house.

“Stop,” came a soft but commanding voice.

All heads turned, and Cindy was shocked to see her prince, gently unwind her younger step sisters arm from his, and step towards her and gently taker her arm from her step mother’s. he helped her to her feet and Cindy, who was still slightly shaky, clumsily stumbled into his chest. She quickly righted herself, brushing down her skirts, her cheek a flaming red. Her eyes could not meet his, still he lifted her chin and his ice blue eyes met hers.

Later on Cindy would tell herself that of course he’d recognize her, after dancing with her endlessly at the ball. But then there was only the shock, when he discreetly winked at her, and whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her. Her prince then released Cindy, stepped back, nodding once at her then at her mother and then back into the waiting carriage, to my scowling green-eyed step sister. Each step he took, was tearing holes in Cindy’s heart. But at least this time she was able to turn away too, and step back towards the house. Cindy was able to endure the vicious beating her step mother gave her, when she unsuccessfully tried to bring Cindy back to earth. And why, because when her prince had whispered in her ear, he had placed a tiny seedling of hope inside her, that came in form of a whisper and a tease, “next time, do say goodbye.”

He did remember her, and her prince would return, and Cindy would get her ‘happy ever after’ after all.