The click-clack of sparkly, plastic, princess heels catch my attention. A little girl with wild curly hair rushes past me in a blur, her play-heels happily clicking on H&M’s white tile. I can hear her heels and suppressed giggles even when she hid in the safety of a clothing rack, a fortress. I realized then she was hiding from her older sister.
I poke my partner in the side and say, “Look, they’re playing hide and seek.”
His eyes follow the older sister who becomes mildly frustrated as she has not located her sister among the endless clothing racks.
“Hmm, cute,” he responds.
While he focuses on the heavy price attached to his new clothes, my focus stays on the little girl with the sparkling heels. Again, I hear the delightful click-clack emerge from the rack she was safely hidden in. I realize how the sound of these heels are purposeful. She wants to remain a mystery to her sister, but still wants to be sought after, to be found.
A scene plays in my head. A princess, wandering the palace, hiding from her duties. Her dress swishing behind her as she lets her beautiful, Cinderella shoes echo off the marble floors and float through the castle, alerting the patrons of the princess’s presence within the walls. A true painting of beauty and grace with just the right amount of mystery, intrigue, and a wilderness.
I smiled as the little girl’s older sister finally spots her and runs to her. The little girl bursts into a fit of laughter even though she has lost the game of hide and seek.
She danced with her sister, letting her heels sing their song.
She spins and she sways
To whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I'm sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders
It's been a long day
And there's still work to do
She's pulling at me saying
"Dad, I need you
There's a ball at the castle
And I've been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please"
~~~
Adorned in one of her only dresses, sandals, and a thin jacket to cover her shoulders should a slight chill bite through the night air, she stepped out of the car onto a short red carpet. She had felt like royalty. Her father had chosen to accompany both her and her sister to this event. He had chosen to. He had chosen them. Adored and cherished by their father, the sisters walk into the banquet hall, arm-in-arm with their father. Nothing could hurt them or damage their fragile hearts. For the first time, both daughters felt what it truly meant to be cherished and loved in the way they need.
After a night of music, feast, and conversation, her father had gifted her and her sister two glass-like hearts. When the light hit it just right, a rainbow of colors glistened from the heart-shaped gem. Clear, bright, and pure did the necklace emit. She never really wore jewelry, but she would wear this one over her heart every day.
So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone
~~~
A new love. Different and intimate. Much more intimate than a long distance relationship. Much more personal. So much more. She imagines him looking at her with those eyes when he first saw her walk into the room. Those eyes that desire her entirely. Not physically, necessarily. The desire for rolling over in the morning and seeing her there, sleeping peacefully. The desire for how she has a voice for talking with her dog. The desire for her hand in his whenever she was near. The desire for her bubbly laugh and incredibly terrible sense of humor. The desire for her soul to bloom. She imagines.
She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed
She wants to know if I approve of her dress
She says,
"Dad, the prom is just one week away
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"
~~~
Golden light streams through her long locks and dances across her face. She knows that she is glowing, radiant. She is free, wild, and the embodiment of everything lovely. She gazes down at her hands, perfectly folded over one another. “Dainty”, her mother and grandmother would describe them as. “A pianist’s fingers.” Playing the piano was something she tried, she liked to play, but she was nowhere near a professional. Her thumb grazes the top of her left palm, her fingers move like dancers in the light. Looking over the endless pine trees, she imagines flying over the tops of them. Defying gravity and reasonable sense, she desires to fly. She desires to flee from the threat of darkness as the sun sets behind those trees. Her light grows brighter, a beacon against the growing darkness. Surely her light will scare the darkness away.
Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned
She says,
"Dad, the wedding's still six months away
But I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"
~~~
Flying away seems to be the only option as his words pierce through her, leaving scars. She had thought that she was lovely, desired. His words had convinced her otherwise. She was anything but. Her identity as a woman was threatened. Everything she thought she was turned out to be a lie even though she believed in the truth her loveliness had originally told her. Who was she if not beautiful both inside and out?
Calm. Collected. Peaceful. Dainty. These attributes turned sour in her mouth. She tried to spit them out as an acidic rage filled her. Long forgotten are the feelings and thoughts of peace. Patience and compassion lay broken on the floor. His words felt prickly on her skin and devastating to her heart.
“I am too much, I am selfish, I should stay quiet, there’s no point”, she thought.
The dress is tattered and ugly, her carriage abandoned her. Her Cinderella slippers shattered on her way out of the castle, her prince would have no desire of finding her now.
She will be gone
~~~
Fear has caused her to cave into herself, to hide her personality, her vulnerability. Fear locks her in the cellar, forcing her to clean out the ashes in the fireplace. Coated in dust and ashes, she convinces herself that she is not worth finding, that she is not worth the effort. Too dirty to be desired. She is not lovely anymore, she never was. She tried desperately to fill the cracks in her skin with gold, but it all flaked away in the end and revealed a void underneath her porcelain.
She will be gone
~~~
The desire to be admired like the light between the trees and the morning dew decorating the flowers creeps into her mind. Thus far in her story, she has subjected herself to desperately cleaning shattered glass off the dirt-ridden floor. Being admired seemed only a dream. A mirror stood across from her so her eyes rose to meet it. Hair strewn in all directions, dark circles, nothing to be seen was lovely. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as she thought again of the light and the morning dew. She raised her hand to the cool glass, wishing she had the strength to shatter it.
She will be gone
~~~
Cracked, dirty, undesirable. This is how she felt hiding in plain sight as she walked down the pavement. Her glass slipper and her dress were ruined beyond repair, her prince wouldn’t be coming to find her. Deeply wounded by the assaults on her vulnerability and character, she ordered high castle walls to be built so no one could get in and see. She stole other people’s loveliness for appearance, even if it meant killing the hope of what was once uniquely lovely within herself. A hill peppered with trees caught her attention. They were peppered with frost and shining like jewels, ripe for the picking. Tears welled in her eyes as she had never wished she could fly more than this moment. She knew hiding wasn’t the answer, but she didn’t care. Dreams she had held on to for her whole life desperately grasped at her, wanting to be let in. Hopeless and drained, she ignored them and continued with her walk, listening to her boots click on the pavement.
So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone
~~~
Samantha Van Marter is an English major with a Creative Writing emphasis at Northern Arizona University. She hopes to become a published author and live a long life with her dog in a cottage in Connecticut. She was also on the design team for this literary magazine.
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