The only redeeming quality of brunch was the smell of freshly cocked eggs, avocados, and waffles I was not allowed to eat. The casual conversation was the side dish we didn't really care for. One of the things we had to pull up with if we wanted to eat nice. It was a dance we knew too well. One- two- three-step. good morning. One-two-three-stepp. How are you One-two-three-step. Marvellous, how about you? One-two-three-step. Glad to hear, same. Boring and fake. Beginning with the fact that nobody actualy wanted to know how you were doing. It was not a safe space to share. It was a space to comply, to smile, and to keep on moving - keeping a rhythm that felt like a chore.
"so will you start staying with us from now on?" Asked Drizella, daring to address the elephant in the room. I loved her for that. Drizela was the only peace I really could find in a world filled with things that didn't matter. There was a pause. Her question had thrown off the too superficial dynamic they had managed to keep so far - the faccade of a buioding that could be housing anyting inside of it. A building we were not allowed to se ethrough the windows of, and could only hypothesise the decicions that were being taking inside its rooms.
"well, that's the intention - that we will soon all be living under the same roof." said my mother. We are married after all. It's only natural that we start figuring out the logistics." Tremaine as she placed one of her hand on top of his neste husband's. He smiled back. Anastasia noticed Cinderella look at her plate uncomfortably - she shared the feeling. To a degree, she suspected they had been a little slower into pushing to live together due to the change in implied in the lives of their kids. She preferred to keep silent and not to dwell on it.
Anastasia noticed that there was something about Cinderella that made Anastasia feel insecure. While the Tremaine sisters where stunning - it was in a standardize way that made them forgettable - just like a doll in a shelf that is just as beautiful as the next, but not necessarily different. This is probably why both of them had such strong personalities - to call attention to themselves; to help themselves stand out. Cinderella on the other hand, did not seem to have that problem. She rather seemed like the person to own her imperfections, and stand out through the cascades of confidence this transmitted. The person to have a hidden fire in their soul that was difficult to explain - but would keep their spirit alive in a world that was filled with ice and frost. Anastasia didn't have that - Anastasia had rules to follow that were far more important than her own self validation. They were slowly finding out how different they were.
After return from the horse-riding competition with Drizella that afternoon, Anastasia sat by the fire with a book in her hand. She fancied herself an avid reader in spite of her mother's advice against it. It was the one indulgence she allowed herself, for it provided her with the escape she needed to pull up with the unbearable world they revolved around - filled with the shadow of impotence that being a mere lady brought. It tasted like infuriating helplessness, and it often made her feel like freezing or dying as she dropped her handkerchief to call a man's attention or chose her words carefully to be likable in conversation: dance monkey dance.
Cinderella was dusting the furniture close by, and Anastasia's eyes could not help but land on her activities. She felt a sting of guilt as she could not help but feel that Cinderella was put into that position partially because of her words. Maybe it was her conscience, maybe it was her boredom, but she found herself wanting to engage Cinderella in conversation. 'What did you use to do in your free time?' she asked her abruptly.
Cinderella arched her eyebrows and pointed at herself.
'Yes, you. Who else?'
'I like sewing. I like cooking.'
'Do you play any instruments?'
'No. My mother tried to teach me to play the harp, but I never quite liked it.'
'Hmm' Anastasia nodded in understanding.
'Where you ever planning to learn any other instrument?'
'Not really. I'm not all that interested in music. I like to do things where I can build with my hands.'
Anastasia blinked. It was this calm relaxed ability to speak that made Cinderella so special. She could have been livid with Anastasia, yet she tinkered in the conversation as if nothing had changed in the dynamic between them.
'Men are not interested in women without elegance, and I don't know any activities where you are allowed to build with your hands and still be considered elite. If you are interested, you can use us as reference, and find a skill that will eventually help you find a suitable husband to start a family with.' That comment got Cinderella's side eyes - a grim tone in her expression.
'Thank you, but no.'
Anastasia found the comment peculiar. 'Why not?' she asked curiously.
'No offense. I think there is more to life, so I would rather not use you as reference.'
Anastasia blinked, confused. This was unchartered territory. 'As you wish' she murmured as she shrunk her shoulders, and sat back to the couch to pick up her read once again.
It wasn't long until their father entered the room. 'Hey girls' he said 'I am going to the fair this afternoon. Is there anything you would like for me to bring you? Drizella already asked me for some fine garments and clothes.'
'Oh, I would really like some new pearls. You know how much I like jewelry.' answered Anastasia with a childlike smile. As she did, she waited observant for what her stepdad would do next. Would he have the decency of acknowledging her daughter in the room?
To her surprise, he did 'Okay, noted. Cinderella, what would you have?'
'I want the first twig that strikes against your hat on the way home.' she answered calmly.
Her dad looked taken aback by the answer. 'Uhm, okay. Are you sure you don't want something more special?'
'That's special enough for me.' she said. At this words, Anastasia could not help but feel intrigued, as she could not tell whether they were carefully chosen by Cinderella or just used out of practicality for the conversation. It could have been a discrete backhanded comment as to how abandoned he had left her the previously - a mere twig is special enough for the apparent likes of me.
Her father raised his eyebrows dismissively. 'As you wish' he said, and as he did Anastasia also noted curiously that it was the second time those exact choice of words were being uttered at her in a span of less than an hour. The family - it seems - dismissed her peculiarity to keep its own peace as coping mechanism - she was indeed a wrench in the gears most of the time.
A couple of minutes passed.
'The first twig that strikes against your hat on the way home?' Anastasia murmured, keeping her eyes on the book she was reading.
Cinderella looked up from the broom in her hands. 'Yes'
'Why? You could have asked for anything. This is the man that did not stand up for you, and allowed my mother and me to make you our servant.'
Cinderella nodded quietly. 'Exactly' she murmured after a pause. Her voice came out a bit more vulnerable than she had originally planned. The simple admission hung in the air like blanket of silence - making the message clear: I don't want to ask anything more than that because I'm hurt, and I don't want anything from him. Anastasia looked at Cinderella for a couple of seconds, impressed by her stubbornness and pride - seeing her a new. 'Fair' she answered before she turned back to her book again.
Cinderella was bothered, 'What do you care anyway? Keep your empty kindness to yourself'. This was a slip for her - something uncharacteristic of her regularly stoic mannerism.
'I don't care' agreed Anastasia while raising her eyebrows in the same dismissive way her father had done earilier. 'I'm heartless and cold' she said sarcastically.
Cinderella let out a small laughter. 'Sure' she said in the same dismissive tone her half-sister had used. They looked at each other, then, for a couple of seconds - both wearing their defenses. Anastasia's eyes eventually softened, and they returned to their respective activities once more.
That was it. That was the extend of their conversation that day - but it was evident to tell that a small bond between the two had begin to grow. In a way they both pawns that were played to the limits of their situation.
As promised, their dad returned home with the three gifts: fair clothing, pearls and the twig. Cinderella thanked their dad for the twig, and left to put the twig in her mother's grave. She was at the cemetery for a couple of hours crying. Without knowing she was being observed form the distance by a half sister that could not decided if she cared about her enough to be a helping hand.
Anastasia approached Cinderella by the grave, handing her a water-can. 'Here' she said annoyed. 'if you water it, it will likely grow into more stupid twigs.' A pause. Cinderella looked at her disconcerted, and then nodded in thankful manner. She had not made up her mind about how she felt in regards to Anastasia yet, and one nice gesture wouldn't make the difference. She hadn't necessarily being good to her in the past.
Anastasia seemed to understand this. 'And I'm sorry' she added, looking embarrassed to the side. Cinderella didn't acknowledge the comment. Anastasia decided to leave her half sister to her mother's grief as she turned back towards the house. In latter days, the twig would grow into a small tree stump Cinderella would visit regularly. It was a beautiful location where nature seemed to listen, and birds were not afraid of her vicinity - it was the place she would go whenever she wanted to pray or find some peace. The eye in the middle of the small hurricane her life had become.
Anastasia noticed that there was something about Cinderella that made Anastasia feel insecure. While the Tremaine sisters where stunning - it was in a standardize way that made them forgettable - just like a doll in a shelf that is just as beautiful as the next, but not necessarily different. This is probably why both of them had such strong personalities - to call attention to themselves; to help themselves stand out. Cinderella on the other hand, did not seem to have that problem. She rather seemed like the person to own her imperfections, and stand out through the cascades of confidence this transmitted. The person to have a hidden fire in their soul that was difficult to explain - but would keep their spirit alive in a world that was filled with ice and frost. Anastasia didn't have that - Anastasia had rules to follow that were far more important than her own self validation. They were slowly finding out how different they were.