2 Unhitched (29 page)

Slumping toward the closet door, I eye my ivory tulle wedding dress crumpled on the floor. The magnificent work of art that Armando designed for my wedding to Gallant. The
Fairytale Tattler
called it the ultimate princess dress for the ultimate fairy-tale wedding. Gazing at the gown, I hear a voice in my head. It’s the dress—begging me to hang it up. I give it hard kick, shoving it into the corner of the closet.

“After tonight, you’re nothing to me!” I yell back at it and kick it again and again. Tears tumble down my cheeks and onto the dress. I’m going to lose My Prince. I cannot stop crying or kicking the dress. A hard kick from the baby finally makes me stop.

Still wearing the torn black taffeta gown and blurry-eyed from my tears, I stumble down the stairs and lumber to the kitchen. The cackling fire in the hearth illuminates the dark room. I head straight away to the pantry and madly start consuming everything in sight. I’m not going to the gala. No gala. No Gallant. I might as well just get fatter.

As I’m stuffing my mouth with raw oats, a strange ruffling sound startles me. My eyes dart from corner to corner and then I look up. There’s something flying around the room. Crap! A bat? It lets out a screeching squawk. I recognize it immediately. It’s The Potato Sack Princess’s obnoxious raven. Amigo. Né Deevil. There’s nothing friendly about this bird.

He’s carrying something in his beak. A large singed leaf. The bird zooms toward me, getting too close for comfort. I throw a jar of jam at it. I miss.

“Beat it,” I scream. The bird squawks angrily. Shit! It’s going to attack me. Gothel’s dragon slaying lesson flashes into my head. “Reach for the nearest weapon.” Yes, that’s what she said… or something like that. The same philosophy must apply to slaying a crazy bird. I hastily survey the kitchen and grab the first weapon I see—a large frying pan. I chase after the bird, trying to swat it. But it’s too fast for me. The bird hovers in a corner and then, to my wide-eyed horror, makes a beeline for me. I hold the pan up to my face like a shield to protect myself. Something hot dribbles onto my scalp. I know what it is and clench my fists so tightly my nails dig into my flesh. The damn bird has pooped on me! He’s ruined my hair! Now, it’s personal.

“I’m going to get you!” I lunge for it with the pan.

To my frustration, the big bird squawks in mockery and flies out the open window, leaving me a few souvenir feathers and the leaf he was carrying in his beak.

Well, at least, it’s gone. Cleaning up, I pick up the leaf it’s left behind. On it is a scribbled note from The Potato Sack Princess. I step closer to the blazing hearth to read it.

TO: Jane Yvel

FROM: The Potato Sack Princess, P.I.

RE:
Prince Gallant Affair

DATE: Once Upon a Time

After extensive investigation, I am pleased to inform you that your husband, Prince Gallant, and a princess by the name of Aurora are indeed having a very mutually rewarding affair. I will shortly bring you the proof you requested—their love child.

Their love child!
Oh my God! Gallant and Aurora had a baby together? A mix of shock and rage races through my blood. I’m hyperventilating. My legs are like jelly. This is beyond my wildest imagination. My hand shaking, I crumple up the note and hurl it into the hearth. As the red-hot flames eat it up, every muscle in my body twitches. I don’t even know how my legs are holding me up. Somehow, I manage to stumble to the butcher-block table where Calla and I often take our meals. I collapse into a chair.

I bury my hands in my arms and tears explode. My wails echo in my ears. It’s futile! What’s the use of telling Gallant about the baby! He already has one! With his Sleeping Beauty. My marriage is over!

My shoulders heave as I sob harder. Gallant must be making his grand entrance with the slut on his arm right about now, and soon he’ll be announcing to the world that he’s leaving me and marrying her, his first true love. Everyone will gasp, I’m sure, but when they see how perfectly matched they are—how radiant they are together—they’ll just see me as a little filler-inner. Of course, The Prince was grieving over the loss of Snow White and needed me for temporary relief. Until, his first true love came along. And then he’ll tell everyone about their love child. The heir he
thought
I could never give him. A kick jabs my womb, then another and another. I look down at my swollen, fluttering belly and let my tempest of tears pour down upon it.

Gallant! I wish I had had never met him! I wish I had never fallen in love with him! I wish I had never married him! I wish I had never become preg—

Before I can finish my thought, the baby kicks me hard. As if to say, SHUT UP!

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle. I rub my belly gently, and the baby stops kicking.

As my hand continues to circle my belly, a montage of memories drifts through my head. My first encounter with Gallant… Our first kiss… Our fairy-tale wedding… Our romantic honeymoon. Yes, that unforgettable night I made beautiful love with him for the very first time, and he whispered in my ear, “Jane, let’s make a baby.”

On that magical night, I vowed that I’d never leave him. And I believed he would never leave me. That our life would be happily ever after. That our love would be forever. As the memories fade, the should haves become could haves. Oh, what my life with Gallant could have been! How much joy this baby could have brought us!

Gut-wrenching chokes replace my sobs. Damn, damn, damn it! I wish Aurora never existed! I wish that Gallant were still mine! But forever is over. I yank at my gold wedding band; there’s no use for it anymore. It belongs in the hearth. Let it melt away with my heart. But it won’t budge over my knuckle, no matter how hard I twist and turn it. My finger is too swollen from the baby weight. I give up and bury my head in my arms again on the table, drenching it with my tears. “It’s just you and me, kid,” I sob aloud.

“So not true.” A familiar voice startles me. I lift my head, and a portly figure stands before my blurry, tear-soaked eyes. It’s Emperor Armando. My fairy godmother!

He’s clad in a glittery caftan and matching cap. A large Ballgown Emporium shopping bag dangles from one hand. “Dahling, you can’t miss the gala!”

“You’re too late,” I wail. “Gallant is going to divorce me and marry his childhood sweetheart, Aurora. They even have a baby.” Burning tears storm down my cheeks. “It’s their destiny.”

“Puh-lease. Fate is so overrated.”

I blink my watery eyes several times. “How do you know that?”

“Dahling, just trust me and get dressed.” He scrutinizes my torn gown and shakes his head in dismay. “You can’t go looking like that.”

“Nothing fits! I’m pregnant!”

“It’s about time you told me,” Armando pouts.

My eyes grow wide. “You knew all along?”

“Of course, dahling
. I’m
your fairy godmother! I know everything!”

“Am I having a boy or a girl?” I blurt out.

“Dahling, I didn’t say I was fortune teller,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I glance down at the torn black taffeta gown and then at his shopping bag “You bought me another dress in Size 12?” I hate to admit that he was right about the size I needed.

“Sorry. Sold out, dahling,” He scans my body from head to foot and shakes his head again. “I’m afraid that nothing at The Ballgown Emporium would fit you.”

He’s right. I look down at my tummy. It looks like I’m baking a large round loaf of bread inside it.

“We need to get creative,” says Armando, surveying the kitchen. His eyes dart from corner to corner and then he grins.

“Perfect! Bring me that potato sack.”

A potato sack?
My eyes widen. Mystified, I cross the room and retrieve the burlap sack.

Armando takes the sack from me and turns it upside down. Two large potatoes roll onto the stone floor. Sashaying over to a counter with the sack folded over his arm, he grabs a pair of meat scissors and heads back to me. My eyes stay riveted on him as he cuts a half-circle on the top seam of the sack and two more on each side.

“Dahling, put this over your head.” Is he kidding? He wants to me wear this to Gallant’s gala? I’ll be the laughing stock. A Potato Sack Princess! Just like Princess Lisbon, whose true love Prince Roland ditched her for wearing such a hideous outfit. Gallant will scorn me too!

“How could I be married to
that!”
he’ll proclaim to the kingdom, and then he’ll introduce my replacement, Princess Aurora, looking perfectly princessy in her black taffeta ball gown. Yes, they’ll boo me and sing her praises! I can see and hear it now! Inside, I’m shriveling.

Reluctantly, I put the potato sack over my head and pull it down over my distorted body. My head eases through the top aperture, and I slip my arms through the two side ones. It fits over my big tummy and extends to my ankles. I have to admit, except for being a little scratchy, it’s quite comfortable. But there’s no way, I’m going to let Gallant see me in it.

“I can’t go to the gala like this,” I sulk.

“Of course not, dahling. The fashion police would arrest you!”

He reaches into his shopping bag. Of course, he’s brought me a fabulous dress. A custom-made creation. He was probably just playing with my head when he said The Ballgown Emporium had nothing in my size.

My heart sinks with disappointment when he pulls out a small, shiny pin. He surveys the kitchen again. Now, I’m confused. His eyes land on an ivory lace doily on the butcher-block table.

“I love it!” he exclaims with a little clap of his hands. He picks up the dainty doily and pins it onto the back of the potato sack. A flourish? I grow even more confused. And impatient. He dips his hand into the shopping bag again and pulls out a long glowing stick. His magic wand! Waving it in the air, he chants:

“Bippity boppity boo,

Potatoes and paper won’t do.

Whip them together

To look good with a feather;

Bippity boppity boo.”

Suddenly, a whirling dervish of sparkling dust spins around me. I cover my eyes with my hands. When the storm of dust finally dies down, I flutter them open.

GASP! Armando has done it again. He’s magically transformed the potato sack into a stunning oatmeal-colored silk sheath that loosely frames my pregnant body, camouflaging my baby bump. An elegant train of ivory lace—formerly the doily—drapes down the back and reaches almost to the kitchen door. A masterpiece of understated elegance. The gown is beautiful enough to be a wedding dress.

Armando circles around the dress, straightens the train, and makes a few other minor adjustments.

“Dahling, what does the baby think?”

“It’s magnificent!” The baby is actually kicking up a storm. I give my fairy godmother a big hug and gaze down at the dress in awe. My feet are bare.

Armando lowers his eyes and looks pensively at my bare feet. “Dahling, you really should treat yourself to pedicure,” he tisks as he digs a hand once more into his “magic” shopping bag. He pulls out a pair of stunning six-inch high stiletto heels. They’re the same color of my dress and encrusted with crystals. Smiling, I already know whom they’re from as Armando hands me a gift card from inside one of them.

Dear Jane~

Kick Aurora’s butt! I’ll be there tonight with Winnie to watch your

back.

XOXO~ Your BFF

Of course, the shoes are from Elz—custom-made Glass Slipper works of art. My size—6. Yes, I’ll let Aurora know how I feel about her stealing Gallant from me. From taking him away from
our
baby. I
am
going to kick her butt. And that’s just the beginning.

I pluck the shoes from Armando and place them on the floor. Holding on to The Emperor’s broad shoulder, I slip my feet inside them. Except I can’t get my feet into them. I try harder, squeezing them as far in as I can get them before I groan. And that’s only half-way. Dragonballs! My feet have swelled up from my pregnancy.

“Time for Plan B,” tisks Armando. He gazes at my swollen belly, which is actually not that noticeable under the flattering gown he’s created for me. “Honestly, dahling, you’re in no condition to be strutting around in six-inch heels. Heaven help me, if you fell and something happened to
my
fairy grandchild.” He places a hand on the bump, and I feel the baby flutter kick inside. “Oooh, a feisty one!” exclaims The Emperor, pulling his hand away.

Twirling his magic wand, Armando sashays over to the two potatoes that fell out of the sack. He waves the wand over them. Before my eyes, they transform into chic pair of beige leather ballet flats. Where there were once spuds, there are now pearls.

Armando slips them onto my feet. They fit like a glove and, honestly, are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn.

“Who said you can’t have sensible shoes with style?” gloats Armando. “Dahling you’re good to go!”

But wait! I can’t go with bird poop all over my hair. Serves me right for wishing Cinderella to get caught in storm of pooping birds at our EPA meeting. Just proves what goes around comes around. I’m literally about to kick myself when Armando brandishes his magic wand in the air yet again. My eyes grow wide as Amigo’s souvenir feathers rise from the floor and float toward me; they hover above me. The Emperor waves his wand again, this time high over my head. I close my eyes as fairy dust enshrouds me. When I flutter them open, I can tell something’s sitting on my head. I run my hands over it. It’s a tiara with jewels and feathers. I can’t wait to see what it looks like and reach for Shrink’s mirrored locket to take a peek. And then I remember—I loaned it to The Potato Sack Princess. My blood curdles.

“Don’t worry, dahling. You look like a princess,” Armando says effusively.

He locks his elbow in mine and escorts me outside. Waiting for us in the courtyard is an ornate golden sleigh with two handsome white stallions hitched to it side by side.

“After you, dahling, and my new fairy grandchild.” Armando helps me into the spacious sleigh. The plush velvet seat is roomy enough for the two of us, which given my girth and his, is a welcomed blessing.

“Don’t you just love my new cross-country sleigh,” gushes the Emperor. “Riding horseback is so uncomfy, and chariots are so yesterday.”