Broken Strings

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

Anisha couldn't help but resent her own fate. Resent the way everything had turned out. 

"Last week, he kiss me when we playing tag and today he said Kwista Cheng was pwettier than me. He said that I look stu-uwpid and that Cinderella can't have black hair. And...and he said Kwista was pwetty because she wear sparkly lipstick. So I want to wear spwarkly lipstick."

"He kissed you?" Anisha looked down at Mira as her eyes widened, clearly she wasn't supposed to tell her mother that. "Does your Dad know that Aaron kissed you?"

"Ugh...Daddy said we're going to meet Cinderella tomorrow. I can't wait to meet Cinderella. Mommy, can you wash the blue sparkly dress. I want to wear it when I meet Cinderella." Mira smiled, her innocent brown eyes staring back at her mother as she tried to change the subject.

Anisha shook her head. "You're too young to be kissing boys Mira. Your father is going to be mad, you know how protective he is." She watched as her daughter looked up with her, slanting her eyebrows to make a mad face.

"I'm serious Mira." Anisha tried wiping away the lipstick Mira had smeared all over her chin and lips. "You don't need to grow up so fast. Being this age, Mira, take it slow. There's nothing fun in growing up too fast."

Mira shrugged, looking down at the floral sheets. "I want to feel pwetty. I just wanted Aaron to tell me I was pretty."

"You are pretty, Mira. You're beautiful. You're kind, you're funny, and you're the best daughter in the whole world." Anisha nodded at Mira. "You, Mira, you are beautiful. Nothing can change that. Ever."

Anisha motioned for Mira to sit on the bed. She slowly stood up, her hand against the wall.

Anisha felt a rush of blood as she stood up, she felt dizzy.

She took small steps towards the dresser and opened the third drawer, pulling out a raspberry pink lip color. It was her favorite lipstick. A shade of love and hope. It was the only color that made her feel pretty. 

Anisha made her way back to the bed and sat down next to Mira.

"Mira." She waited for her daughter to look at her. Smiling she continued. "Makeup doesn't make you pretty. Being a good person makes you pretty."

Anisha brushed the hair away from Mira's face. "A lot of boys, they'll tell you that you look pretty when you're wearing a certain dress or a certain color of lipstick. That's only on the outside though. Mira, the boy that really loves you will tell that you look pretty because he loves all of you, even without the makeup. He'll love you because of the kind of girl you are."

Anisha's voice was soft, a little unsure of what she should tell her daughter. She wanted Mira to be good. But not too good. Just the right amount good.

As long as Mira wasn't too much like her mother, that was all that mattered for Anisha.

"Like Daddy loves you?"

Anisha gave Mira a small nod, sighing. The question had clearly caught her off guard. She didn't want to tell Mira the real answer to that question. Even Anisha didn't know the answer to that question. 

Maybe love was based on look, on youth and beauty. Maybe it wasn't. She wasn't even sure. 

"Yea, just like he loves me."

There was the biggest problem for Anisha. A part of her was hopeful and then, another part of her was resentful. 

She was telling Mira two different things, two very different things that she'd endured. 

Mira was young. She was at the age where all that mattered was sparkly dresses and glass slippers.

Anisha still wanted Mira to fall in love. But she wanted Mira to know when she should stop loving too.