Slow Dancing

01 | anacrusis

0 1

a n a c r u s i s

[Lat.] : A note or group of notes which precede the first full measure; also known as a ʺpickup note.ʺ

ON MY SIXTEENTH birthday, my stepmother Rosemary threw out the last of my fairytale collection. She claimed it was sitting in the attic for so long that it had begun to collect dust, but I knew that she just didn't like the way stepmothers were often portrayed in fairytales. The stepmother of Cinderella, for example, was pure evil.

I wanted to tell Rosemary that the Cinderella book I had was really the Grimm Brothers' version – Aschenputtel. Then I thought better of it because Aschenputtel was a far more gruesome story than its Disney counterpart. For instance, both stepsisters cut off parts of their feet to fit into Cinderella's glass slipper and they were blinded by doves in the end. I would never wish for fictions like these to play out in reality, especially to Parker, whom I loved more than the world.

Besides, all Rosemary wanted was to get rid of any prejudiced notions I harboured about stepmothers. So I let her, watching sombrely as she trudged down the stairs hauling a black bag with Aschenputtel sitting right on top of the pile of unwanted things. She threw it out in the garden where the rest of the rubbish was.

And that was that.

I was in a rather grave mood for the rest of the day. Part of me was psyched because I was finally sixteen – every kid wanted to grow up fast, yearned to reach that pedestal where they stood on top of the world and had everything beneath their feet. Another part of me, however, felt rather wistful. It seemed like any remnants of my childhood had been thrown out with the last of my fairytale collection. And much as I felt no strong liking for Cinderella, it was always nice to harbour some sort of wild fantasy that a prince would come sweep me off my feet someday.

But Parker set it all right when he returned from work with a teddy bear that barely fit through our door.

"Special delivery for my favourite princess," he said and smirked, his grey eyes twinkling under the dim porch lights.

Normally, I considered myself a relatively calm sort of person. But my stepbrother had just bought me a teddy bear that was the perfect present for a three year-old; only I knew he had put in a lot more effort than that, because the bear held a red cushion in between its paws, and on the cushion sat a charm bracelet.

I couldn't help but let out an ear-piercing shriek, before racing across the hallway and lunging right into Parker's arms. He caught me easily and swung me up into air as if I weighed nothing at all, before pulling me into a ginormous hug. I wound my arms tight around his neck and laughed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I gushed. "But you shouldn't spoil me, honestly."

"Princesses are meant to be spoiled," he returned, in that smooth debonair manner he'd perfected so long ago, and set me down. "Happy birthday, sis."

"Thank you," I murmured again and hugged the teddy bear this time, slipping the charm bracelet easily around my wrist. It had but one charm so far – a tiny 16 in white gold – but I was more or less certain that, knowing Parker, he'd add more charms in the future. "It's a very convenient present," I commented, wrinkling my nose as the thought suddenly came to me, "you just need to give me a new number charm each year and consider it a gift."

Parker hushed me as he shut the door. "You just ruined my plans for all your future birthdays," he grumbled and I laughed. "I'll have you know I spent ages thinking of that."