You Think You Can Handle The Truth

You Think You Can Handle The Truth?

You know the story, right?

The maiden, downtrodden by a stepmother and stepsisters. The maiden who somehow makes it to the ball. You know that one. Of course you do. The maiden, beautiful beyond belief, sorely abused after her father’s disappearance. The maiden who gets help from none other than a fairy god mother. Can you hear the snark in my voice? Down here in the kitchen we don’t take stock in magic, I tell you. We don’t have any pennies to lose on wagers like that.

So, you get it. The story isn’t quite like what you’ve been told.

Oh, I made it to the ball, but mother-dear and my sisters and I were just four of the many hired hands, recruited at less than minimum wage, I might add. The Count who was hosting the party simply didn’t have enough people on his regular staff. So, all the girls and women from the village were dragged to the castle to serve. And we did. We fetched drinks and carried trays. Turned meat on the spit and worked our butts off for a penny or two.

It was late in the evening; most guests were more than sloshed. I was coming back from the large ball room, on my way to the kitchen to get more food, when I ran into this guy. He was a bit tossed. Slightly weaving. How he got lost in the servants’ section, I don’t know, but I figured I’d better steer him back to the toffs, you know.

“Sir.” I murmured. “You seem to be lost. Please come with me.” I tried to turn him around, but he would have none of it. The music from the Great Hall could still be heard in that hallway.

“Dance with me.” I’m not sure, still, after all these years, still not sure if it was an order or a plea. But I like a good rhythm and with the right partner, I can cut quite a rug, yes, sir. So, I let him wrap himself around me. Hah, half the time I wasn’t sure who was leading who. I told you he was a bit squishy, right?

“You smell divine.” He told me. “You dance like an angel.” He declared. “You sound like a siren.” He asserted when I hummed along with the dulcimer. “You look heaven-sent.” Then he kissed me! Oh, boy! I can tell you that he was and still is a really good kisser. Really good. Och…

“What’s your name, my heavenly angel?” He asked when the music stopped, and I turned toward the kitchen. I told him. Really, what are the chances that I’d ever see him again, right?

“Don’t leave, my love. Come away with me.” He urged.

Before I had a chance to point out that I was merely a servant girl, a seamstress’ daughter, the curtain at the end of the hall parted and a booming voice told him to come back and play his next hand.

“Alas, my angel. Till tomorrow. I will find you then.”

Yeah, my foot, I thought and went on to the kitchen to help with the washing up.

It was sunrise before we left the castle and shuffled with the other villagers to our homes. I believe I would have slept the day away if it hadn’t been for needing to milk the goat. Before suppertime, the news had spread that there was this young bloke, some said he was a prince, who was looking for a fair maiden.

Well, you can see, my hair is pitch black, so I shrugged and went about my business. More fetching water, more carrying firewood, stoking hearths, baking bread, and such basic tasks. My mother and sisters, who are blond, went to the town square to see what the hubbub was all about.

They came back quite late and the dinner I had worked so hard on had dried to a brick. For once they didn’t seem to notice. They were all excited. Yes, they told me, there is this man, who claimed to be a prince. They told me that he told all who'd listen that he had danced with the most beautiful, sweetest woman he had ever met and needed, not wanted mind you, need to meet her again.

I’ll admit, my heart did a little two step. I mean what are the chances that it was the same tipsy guy? And then again, did I want to be an angel to a drunkard?

Have you ever been in your cups? I bet you have, once or twice, right? The world looks better then, doesn’t it? All maidens are fair, all blokes are gentlemen. Am I right? I know, I am.

And then the next morning you think ‘What the …?”

So, I didn’t put much stock in the declarations of a man with a hangover.

But the rumors did not die down. According to Madge, the butcher’s wife, this gent was going from house to house, meeting all the gals. Holy Mary! I thought. Well, no. I thought a few other things, but you won’t print those. How long would it take this sot to get to my stepmother’s house? For, yes. That part is true. She’s my stepmother, Lucille and Esmeralda are my stepsisters. Lovely gals, just lovely. A bit lazy, but sweet, sort of.

How long did I have to hide?

Why, you ask, do I want to hide? I’ve worked more than my fair share of Saturdays at the tavern. I’ve seen men imbibe just a tad too much and lose all sense of propriety. If it weren’t for Gorgo, none of the gals who work there could still call themselves gals, if you know what I mean.

Days passed, a week. I started to relax. He must have given up. Realized that he had been a bit too far over the limit and imagined his angel.

But I was wrong. Well, of course, you know I was wrong.

It was ten, maybe twelve days after the ball that his footman knocked on my stepmother’s door. Of course, she let him in. I was busy in the kitchen, my domain, but heard the commotion. He wanted to meet all the daughters of the house, so Lucy and Esme donned their best frocks and paraded in front of him.

“Nah,” he sighed. I was listening at the door. Of course, I was. What chit would not, I ask you?

”There are no more young ladies in the house?” he asked my stepmother.

“Well …”

I tried to outwait her hesitation. I really did. Had all intensions of returning to the kitchen when Janus thrust the tea tray in my hands. He reached around me, opened the door and all but shoved me into the drawing room.

And the rest is history.

Though neither the brothers Grimm nor Mr. Disney got the tale perfectly correct; our Happily Ever After has lasted for more than 250 years and counting. He's still charming and handsome and still believes I'm sweet and beautiful.