My eyes were still bleary as I slumped over to the hearth in my chamber. That was an odd dream. I could vividly remember each of the eleven girls I had dreamed about. The food, the music, the sweet aroma of the apple orchard were all etched on my me...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My father's laughter filled the hall. The pure mirth bouncing into every corner. "The cobbler's boy that's a good one Mirabelle!"
My face was red and hot. I put forth a weak smile. I had not wanted him to broadcast my answer. Why had I shared with him the name of my true love? In what crazy world would my father - King Cole, The Merry King - ever take such a tender matter seriously. In an effort to sway the sting I pretended to sheepishly wave it off.
"Oh, don't be so modest Mira! Tell everyone your joke!" he let forth another round of laughter.
I couldn't speak. The stone in my stomach was tying down my tongue too. The five guests at my father's table leaned their ears to me.
"No, I couldn't" I protested.
My father was making a hissing sound now and he had to gasp for air.
"I ... asked ... who ... she might ... ahhhaha ..." he hugged his girth and kicked his feet in the air. "who she might have an eye for - gasp - and she said - "
He started into another round. "The cobbler's son." The room was over taken by a cacophony of different styles of laughter: Some hissing, other's roaring. I tried to look for a way out of this.
My father was starting to squeak, his face was purple, and tears were streaming down his eyes. "I ... can't ... stop ... hee hee hee help!"
I took the chance. I clapped my hands, "Music! Dancing!" I started on the dance floor.
Most of the other guests followed me. It was one of my father's favorites with lots of jumping and clapping. Once in a while on the jump, I would glance at my dancing shoes - pale blue, with golden embroidered wings at the heels symbolizing Mercury. Felix had stitched these for me. And I had dragged his name through the mud. I feigned a dizzy spell.
"Oh I must sit down!" I grabbed my fan and fluttered in earnest. My father had gained composure and was fixated on one of the guests who was telling him a riddle. My father loved riddles almost as much as he loved entertaining. Every night or so, a new group of guests would come and he would trade off jokes with them. then the next night, he would use the previous party's jokes and claim them as his.
I was especially disgusted with it tonight. No, I was disgusted at myself. I didn't want to stay a moment longer. I retired to my bed with the excuse that I was near fainting from the dance.
As I lay down on my bed, I looked to where my dresses and my shoes lay. Part of entertaining nearly every night, was dressing the part. My father made sure I always had twelve dresses for dinner, and twelve dancing slippers to match. "Twelve for luck" he said. And twelve had been lucky for me, because if I hadn't needed so many slippers I wouldn't have met -
I hugged my pillow. I couldn't stand to be in my chamber. I had already been clothed in my dressing gown so I carefully crept down to the area of the garden far away from the festivities. I sat under an apple tree. Removing myself from my room did little to calm my mind. I fiddled with a long hair pin that had been left behind in my hair. I had insisted on dressing myself for the night and must have missed the pin. I poked the pin in the ground while I wrestled my thoughts.
Why couldn't my father take me seriously? And why had I been a fool and told him? It was only a matter of time before Felix heard the "castle joke" and was laughed at and scorned. Before this day, I thought I might have had a chance, a small hope that Felix and I could be together. Now that hope had vanished. My father had all the power to change Felix's standing. Now it was clear that my father considered the idea ridiculously funny.
And even if there had been any hope with my father, I surely had no chance with Felix. We had grown close. He seemed fond of me, and I tried to convey my fondness for him. We had talked a great deal, and confided in each other. But I had broken his confidence. If only I could gobble the words back into my mouth. My face was hot and large tears streamed down. I wished and wished that Felix and I could at least have a chance.
I brought my hands to my face. Took a moment to compose myself. And reached back to find my hair pin. I couldn't find it. I looked up to see the night had become overcast and dark. The wind was picking up. I was tired and cold. I could find the pin tomorrow.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
* Slipper modified from a picture from the L. A. County Museum of Art
