Happily Ever After

My sister and I are not alike. She dances, and I have to clean up after her when she tracks ashes on the floor. I want to be a princess, too. That’s all she talks about.

Actually she’s my stepsister. My real sister wants to have babies, be a mother, take care of the world. Crazy, I know. She doesn’t even have a husband or fiance. She has a crooked nose, like me. I hope I don’t have to take care of her forever, though I do love her. I’m afraid I’ll have to take care of all of us. I’ll have to marry a rich man to do that.

And so, I’m washing my hair and learning to speak politely. I hardly ever swear anymore. I don’t call Cinderella “Turderella”; I’m learning how to sing, how to dance; I’m embroidering flowers on pillowcases. Some man will think I’m a good catch. Yet really I want to stay here, live a single life, play with my dog, learn how to read, how to cipher. People say that is the road to wealth. I heard someone say there are stories in books, and that you can have a story anytime you want if you have a book. I knew that already. Mother did okay by marrying the widower, but he’s not well off. It’s up to me to save us.

Cinderella does have golden hair; mine is brown and thin.

I’m practicing dance steps. Cinderella showed me. “Hold your left arm this way, and the gentleman will hold his this way.” We danced around the room until I slipped and fell. She lifted me up and held me in her arms. “Little sister,” she said, “You’ll marry a prince.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “I just want to take care of us.” I sneezed.

She kissed me on the top of my head. “I’ll help.”

“I’m cold.” I shivered. “I’m hungry.”

“I am, too. Let’s get a blanket and sit by the fire.”

“The fire is out. There’s no wood.” I coughed.

“Let’s get you a blanket.”

She found a few twigs for the fire. She placed the holey blanket around my shoulders and sat next to me. We stared into the flames.

“Are rich people happy?” I asked.

“Happiness depends on virtue,” she said. “Joy is in the mind. Virtue is the most important thing. You don’t need to be rich to be happy.” She adjusted the blanket, poked a finger through a hole in the blanket. “But it would be nice.”

I swallowed. My throat hurt. “I’d like to be happy.”

“Is it because of your nose?”

“No. My big feet.” I stretched them out before the fire, which sputtered and hissed.

“Your feet are fine.”

“They’re not the feet of a royal princess.”

“They’re fine.”

“They’re bulbous.”

“Strong.”

I cramped them to make them smaller. “Ugly.”

She pointed her toes, delicate, graceful. She made circles with them. “I’ll teach you how to read. I’m not a good reader, but I know the alphabet.” Her hands, too, were slender.

She started with the first letters, but it was boring.

“You have to persist,” she said. “Your mother will be proud.”

Mother, Stepfather, Sister were working in the field. I had a cough and stayed home. Cinderella watched over me.

My feet are shivering. She put her hands around my toes and rubbed them, warming them up. “I’ll get you another pair of socks to wear on top of the ones you have on. The holes will be in different places.” She came back with socks and a book.

Outside, Spot whined and the wind blew. Cinderella walked to the door and let him in. He jumped into my lap. We both got warmer.

“I’ll read you a story,” she said. She opened the book. “Once upon a time, there were three sisters who had dreams of nobility.”

“Let one of them want to write a book.”

“And the other can be in love with the prince.” She patted the blanket. “A true love story.”

“Sure, but what about the one who writes a book. What happens to her?”

“Let’s say she writes another book.”

Spot turned around in my lap. “Sure. Then what?”

“Then she marries a prince and never has to write again.”

“I don’t like that.”

She stroked my hand. “She won’t have to work again. She’ll be deeply in love with the prince and they’ll have babies, a boy and a girl.” She closed her eyes dreamily. “Their lives will be complete.”

“That’s it? Nothing else? No dragons to conquer? No witches to trick? No magic flowers to seek?”

“No: just happily ever after.”

“More adventure. Another story, please.”

“There once was a beautiful princess, and she pricked her finger because of a spindle a witch gave her, and she fell asleep for a hundred years. She was awakened by a prince.”

“I know that story. They married and lived happily ever after.” I coughed. “Her parents died in that hundred years. The kingdom was overgrown with briers and thorns.”

“True, but finally she lived happily ever after.”

“I’m tired.” I yawned. I leaned into her shoulder. I pretended to sleep.

“That’s right, sleep now,” she said. “Have happy dreams about living happily ever after.” She stood up and walked to the fireplace. Spot jumped off my lap. I opened my eyes. Her shoulders drooped. She sighed. She threw a twig on the fire and stirred the ashes. They sputtered and caught fire. She was tired. I could not save everyone.