by Newman, Liz
I withdrew my electronic translator from my purse and typed in the word. "Blessing."
"Oui." She ran her hand along the wall, where an engraved sword hung in a glass case. "This sword once belonged to the Executioner of Calais, who was the bringer of quick, merciless death to the royals. This is the very sword that beheaded Anne Boleyn after she displeased Henry the Eighth. Some say when they hold this sword and imagine who they would like to leave them, in less than a month, they are gone from their lives. Wives, husbands, girlfriends, amis terribles. Gone."
I shot her an incredulous look. "Were they...killed?"
"I would never allow such a thing." Her nose wrinkled. "They go away from those who wish it."
"Ah. That's good. You got anything to make someone special arrive?"
"Ask and you shall see. This," she said as she came to a glass case, "is a glass slipper. The only one remaining from the story of Cinderella, what Americans believe to be a fairy tale, but was indeed a true occurrence here in Normandy. The daughter of Duke Phillipe de Moreau, forced to work as a slave in her own home, was given these slippers as a gift from the gods and transformed into a princess. And that is what she became."
I snickered. "Yeah, sure. I suppose you want a thousand dollars for me to try to squeeze that shoe on my fat foot."
"Not a single Euro. Not one." She gestured to a chair. "Please, try it on. You have nothing to lose."
"Except my pride. But I lost that a long time ago after seeing myself in the mirror, so I guess I will." I sat down and slipped off my shoe, embarrassed of the pungent way my feet smelled even though I tried my best to scrub in between my chubby toes everyday. She wiped my foot off with a moist cloth. Removing the slipper from the glass case, the shoe mesmerized her gaze as the glass caught the light and sent a thousand sparkles dancing on the walls of the room.
"There is no way a shoe that small is going to fit my foot," I said.
"Try it. You will see."
She carefully handed me the glass slipper. I groaned inwardly as I bent down to reach my foot. My belly rolls impeded the movement. I pulled my leg up and placed my ankle upon my opposite knee and slipped my toes into the shoe. The shoe didn't look like it would fit over my heel. I removed the glass slipper from my foot and gave an exasperated sigh.
"Try," she insisted. "Try harder."
I pulled and pulled at the shoe, until miraculously, the glass grew warm and the shoe molded to my foot. I placed my slippered foot down on the ground with a loud clack. "Now," she said. "Behold."
She led me to a mirror. At first I hobbled, but as I balanced, the shoe began to feel comfortable. I gasped as I looked into the mirror. Staring back at me was a slender woman with blonde hair and blue eyes just like mine, but with a chin, cheekbones, and a long, lean body. She disappeared slowly, and there I was, my fat, pudgy old self. My shoulders sagged with disappointment, and yet the glass slipper still fit.
"Do not despair," she said. "Demain. Awaken with the rise of the sun, and you shall become the true beauty you are inside. But when you forget that true beauty lies within, the spell will be broken, and all shall be as it was. I will take the slipper from you now. "S'il vous plaît, do have a look at the beads." I purchased a trinket necklace and a few pairs of earrings and left to board the train back to Paris.
Chapter Three
The alarm clock on my cell phone jingled at seven in the morning, Parisian time. I opened the window shades, letting the sunlight in. I pulled up a chair and sat at the mirror. Same old me. I got up and took a shower, dried off and slipped a plus size shirt over my head. I must've slipped a dress over by mistake as it hung from my body. I tried to belt it, and found that my belt was too large to cinch properly around my waist.
The belt dropped to the ground as I ran to the mirror and threw off the dress. I was thin and beautiful. My body had changed into the shapely body of a real princess in fairy tales. The lock on our hotel room door jiggled and Tammy walked in. Her mouth fell open. I stammered about Normandy and Madame Noir.
She stared at me, open mouthed. "Honey, we have got to go shopping," she said.
* * *
That evening, at the Christmas ball at the Palace of Versailles, the first man to ask me to dance was a handsome, dark eyed gentleman named Louis, who was an investment banker for a descendant of French Royals. We laughed and talked, and went out onto the balcony and sipped champagne. I ran my hands along the solid gold balustrades and marble fixtures as we strode together.
"You're right at home, aren't you?" Louis said. "This place is a relic, but it's good enough for a princess like you."
"I don't know," I said, looking around at the elaborate moldings and six foot tall bouquets of fresh flowers. "It's a little too busy. Okay for one night, though."
"Not your style, huh?"
"Nah. I'm kind of a country gal at heart. This," I said as I patted my Cinderella bouffant, "takes some getting used to. I plan to let my hair down tomorrow." I placed a hand on my chest, still in wonder at the feel of my collarbone.
"I'm a bit of a jeans and T-shirt guy myself. Don't tell the finance wizards over there, though."
"Your secret is safe with me. So," I purred as I gave him a sidelong glance. "Where are you from, Louis?"
"Glamorous Oklahoma," he said with a smile. "Let me guess. You're probably from Los Angeles or New York."
"Nope," I laughed. "Tulsa, Oklahoma."
"Good old Tornado Tulsa," he grinned. "I just moved to Oklahoma city from Chicago. I've got a cousin in Paris. That's how I got hooked up with the LeJouet account. Well, Ceci from Tornado Tulsa, sure is a pleasure meeting a hometown girl here in France. Hey, wait a minute. Is your dad a baker?"
"He's an insurance salesman at Eastern Policy."
"Then why are you so hot?" he grinned. "I'm just wondering, did it hurt when you fell from heaven because you are an angel."
My heart sang with joy at the campy lines for here was strikingly handsome, broad chested Louis throwing them out with a crooked smile on his full, gorgeous lips.
"Is your name Gilette," I replied, "because you're the best a man can get."
"Yes, here I am," he chuckled. "So what are your other two wishes from the genie? You rubbed the lamp."
"Louis," I giggled. The champagne made me feel so light and filled with laughter. "You are a dear. Truthfully, I'm an emergency room nurse. And my daily life, myself included, is far from glamorous."
He sighed as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulder. "Come closer," he said in a deep, husky voice. He placed a hand on the back of my waist and brought me to him. "The more you talk, the hotter you are. I like that. I like the fact that a girl as pretty as you wants to help people."
"They didn't hire me because of my looks." I smiled as I sipped my champagne.
"Of course not." His beautiful lips were almost upon my ear as he murmured, making my body melt. "You're smart, not just beautiful. You've got a good sense of humor, too. Dance?"
He took me into his arms and we twirled on the dance floor. His hand rested delicately on my waist as if I were a porcelain doll he secretly feared to handle. My body molded to his beautifully and he was just the right height where I could stare up into his eyes. He gazed at me and I lay my head upon his chest as we swayed.
"Oh, Louis," I whispered. "Darling, darling Louis." I could tell he liked it when I said his name, for he placed a kiss upon my head almost every single time.
We sat down at our table on the balcony and talked. The eyes of so many handsome men were upon me and as soon as Louis rose to chat with another male guest, I practically jumped into the arms of another. Just this once, I thought. Let me be the prettiest girl they have ever danced with. Let me be the one everyone looks at.
My suitors whisked around on the dance floor, as I smiled and flirted and had the time of my life. None engaged me with conversation so much as Louis, but as the champagne flowed and I was surrounded by beautiful people, I forgot about him..
Louis tapped
me on the shoulder as I held court in a crowd of handsome billionaires.
"Ceci, would you still like to join me for a drink?"
"Of course, Louis," I replied as another gentleman handed me a glass of champagne and clinked his glass against my own. "In just a few minutes."
"Have a canapé'," another suitor said. "They are delicious."
"I shouldn't... " I hedged, worried I would balloon outward with one bite and break the spell.
"A woman as tiny as you can eat as much as she wants," the suitor said. "Go ahead." He piled a napkin with the buttery pastries that melted upon my tongue, tasting cheese and cured ham and all sorts of lovely flavors. I grasped pastry after skewer after tasty delicacy and stuffed them into my mouth.
Louis returned in a half an hour and asked me to dance. "I'd love to, Louis," I said as I was whirled away into the arms of another gentleman, "but you'll just have to wait. A girl's got to have fun, right?"
"Ceci," he said after he asked for a moment alone, "I really like spending time with you and I hope-"
"Louis," I said as I looked him square in the eye, "I'm having the time of my life. Just wait for me, please. I want to enjoy all of this attention. And if you can't wait, well... I'm afraid you're just not for me." I pinched the edge of my ball gown and whirled onto the dance floor, laughing as another man swept me into his arms.
When I looked up again, Louis was gone.
Tammy and Francois canoodled like an old married couple, and when the night was over, Tammy said goodbye to Francois, and we linked arms. "Tomorrow I'm just going to eat and flirt," I said as I clutched a stack of business cards with my various suitors' contact information. "And break hearts all over the place. Love 'em and leave 'em."
"Sure," Tammy said absentmindedly, as she typed a quick text to Francois on the ride home.
Chapter Four
Louis. His name popped into my head the moment I woke up. A pang of guilt made my stomach sink as I recalled the forlorn look in his eyes as I laughed at him and danced away. The memory of my laughter sounded like the braying of a donkey.
I swung my legs over to the side of the bed. No, dragged was more like it. My thighs stuck together with the customary sweat that plagued me as I slept. The floorboards creaked under me when I rose out of bed as the mattress groaned in relief. A feeling of despair punched me in the stomach. Fat, hideous me stared back in the mirror. Tammy and I walked down the row of boutiques on the Right Bank, returning clothes to their proper stores. The salesladies gave me only a glance, perhaps thinking I was the ugly sister of the beautiful woman who shopped there yesterday.
The day before New Year's we flew home. "I'll always think you're beautiful," Tammy said. "No matter what."
I snorted. "Yeah. That's easy for you to say. Everybody thinks you're gorgeous. Everybody thinks I'm a whale. Look at me. I'm so fat if I was holding a basket people would think I was a hot air balloon."
"You're not that big. Anyway, who cares what people think?"
"You, obviously. With your haute couture and your perfect make up and teeny weeny little body." My eyes filled with tears.
Tammy's head swung away from me, and then snapped back. She grimaced, with one side of her lips curled closer to her cheekbone. She was pissed. "Maybe you think I don't have image issues, but I'm going to tell you that no one is treated like a beautiful person every day of her life. I had an awkward stage, too. Once when I was on the pay phone with my mother, who forgot to pick me up because we had a half day at school and she was too drunk to remember. A bunch of kids came by and every time I spoke into the receiver, they yelled 'You're ugly, girl! You're ugly!''
"You never told me about that."
"You know why? Because I didn't believe them. I told myself I was beautiful, I visioned how I wanted to look while remembering what I had to work with. I don't look outside for approval anymore. I'm just me, and if someone steps up and tells me I shouldn't love who I am then I unleash hell. And I feel damn good about it. So don't cry about how look. If you don't like it, change it. You are who you believe you are, every day. You spent one day being the most beautiful woman in a room full of the world's most beautiful people and that's an experience that ninety-nine point nine percent of the world will never have."
"You've had it."
"Yep. And I'm grateful."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm attacking you and I shouldn't be. It's my own fault I'm disgusting."
"I forgive you. Only if you stop thinking like such a loser. You're better than that, Ceci. Do yourself some justice, and if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the people who care about you and wish you'd just stop being so mean to yourself. Mean is contagious, you know." She flipped open a magazine to signal the end of the discussion.
* * *
On New Year's Day, I shoved boxes of processed foods, cookies, and unhealthy snacks into a trash bag, slamming down the lid of the garbage can. I sat down on an overturned recycling bin with my mouth opening to give myself some sort of pep talk.
A stray cat curled around my legs and meowed. I rubbed the kitty under the scruff of its neck. "Saying goodbye to all of that junk is like letting go of someone you love who treats you like crap," I said to the cat. The cat blinked green eyes at me. "I suppose I can understand why I'll never see Louis again. Why would he want someone duplicitous? Would I?" The cat jumped on my lap, curled its little mouth into a smile and winked. I placed a plate of food out for the stray and named him Prince. "Would you?" I rubbed the underside of his chin. "Of course not. Maybe if I kissed you, you'd turn into a real prince."
I planted a kiss on the top of his head. He stared with green eyes, then winked. "I get it," I said. "Fairy tale's over. That's all right." I pulled a piece of cat hair stuck on my lower lips and brought Prince inside to show him around his new home.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, I took money from my savings and joined a gym. I starting walking on the treadmill, then running for five minutes, then ten, and in a couple months I was up to thirty minutes of jogging. I signed up for sessions with a personal trainer, and borrowed nutrition books from the library.
I checked the social networks and directories, trying to find Louis in Oklahoma. I searched and searched to no avail. Perhaps he was only a figment of my imagination, only as real as the princess I was for one fleeting night. Perhaps he wasn't real either. Maybe he was the prince that I failed to see the true beauty within. Maybe that's how the spell was broken.
I reminded myself daily that even though I was fat, I had a great sense of humor and my job as a nurse made a difference in people's lives. Outside of my workplace at the hospital, I stopped thinking about the perception of strangers, and started thinking about the type of woman I wanted to be. Confident and healthy.
I saw my endocrinologist, who did some blood tests and determined I was taking too small of a dose for my hormone problem. He tsk tsked me, lecturing for me to see him once every three months, which I had neglected to do because of my high stress job as a emergency room nurse.
* * *
Over the course of that year, I saw my chin beginning to emerge, and my cheekbones. When I received the invitation for Tammy and Francois' Christmas wedding in Paris, I had already dropped forty pounds.
Tammy called shortly after I sent the response card. "You rsvp'ed for one. Just you?"
"Me and the imaginary kindergartner I've lost in weight." I twirled a coiling phone cord around my finger. "Hey. Does Francois happen to have a friend named Louis?" Prince climbed on my lap and purred as I googled the location for the wedding in France on my laptop.
"What does he look like?" Tammy said.
"Tall and broad, tan, brown hair, blue eyes. Adorable smile."
"Hold on, love. I'll ask him." I heard the Francois' soft voice in the background responding to Tammy's question. "There are six hundred guests at the wedding with at least a dozen named Louis. I'll ask Francois' secretary to call every Louis on the guest list. Wait a minute. Should I have he
r ask him about... the girl at the ball?"
I salted a handful of baby carrots. "Bad idea," I said, shaking my head.
After I hung up I bit down thoughtfully and chewed, my mouth curling downward. Prince nudged my elbow, then my wrist, until my knuckles grazed the laptop screen, directly on the green shaded area that marked the Bois de Boulogne.
"Kitty cat paradise." I stroked his fur. "I wish you could go. I could use a date." Prince purred. I sighed and shut down the computer.
* * *
The week before my flight was to leave, I gazed at my body in the mirror. I wrapped a blanket around my lower hips and found I resembled the figure of Venus De Milo, with arms, of course. I watched my new, muscular and womanly physique as I bent my body from side to side. The princess at the ball I was not, but what I saw pleased me enough.
The day I flew into France I went for a jog in the Bois de Boulogne, and took a seat on a bench, letting the unseasonable sunshine warm my face. A cat entwined its furry body into my ankles. "I've become a cat magnet," I murmured. "This could be a very bad sign of my future as a spinster. The cat's tail straightened as it stared at me. "Bye kitty kitty. Wish you could meet my Prince." The cat sauntered away, a smile seeming to play under its pink nose. I closed my eyes.
"Ceci." I heard a man say. "Is that you?"
Louis looked down at me, clad in jogging clothes. I greeted him warmly. "You've gained a little weight," I blurted. I tried to hide my pleasure at that.
"We both have," he said. "But you are still beautiful."
"And you're still handsome, too. I'm so sorry, Louis. I made such a mistake that night."
"I forgive you," he said as he shifted from one side to another. "Would you like to have lunch with me?"
I rose from the bench as he took me by the arm. "Oh, yes. Someplace healthy."