The Reflection
929 Words
When I wake up the next morning in a warm, soft bed, I’m totally disoriented. I haven’t slept in a bed in… well... decades. As I struggle to pull myself back to consciousness, it seems like my day with the dressmaker was nothing but a dream. A strange, happy dream. But when I sit up and blink my eyes open, I see the quaint little room around me and it all starts to come back.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch a little before standing up. My body is definitely not used to being on land for this long.
Once I finally drag myself out of bed, I decide to go downstairs to look for Angelo and see if he’s awake yet.
At the top of the stairs I’m greeted by the sweet smell of coffee and fresh bread. It fills my senses with a serenity I haven’t experienced in a long time. I sleepily rub my eyes when I reach the bright room at the bottom of the stairs, and the old man begins to come into focus. He’s still behind his desk working tirelessly.
“Good morning!” He chirps.
“Good morning,” I answer in a deep, groggy voice. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I was too excited… too inspired to sleep!” He answers as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“Help yourself,” he says, nodding toward a table in the corner with a kettle and a tray of bread. “I’m just about finished.”
I walk over to the table and tear a chunk off of the loaf, then hold it up to my nose for a moment. It’s been so long since I tasted bread… and I’ve forgotten how much I missed it.
“Good?” He asks, looking over his spectacles at me as I eat.
My mouth is stuffed full, so all I can do is nod in response.
“Good,” he says. “Get your fill, because we have a full day ahead of us!” He stands up straight and pulls the gown off of the table with a flourish. The blue fabric captures the morning sun like waves on the ocean after a storm.
He walks over to me with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, holding the gown across his arms proudly. I swallow down the lump of bread and take a swig of coffee to wash it down, and I nervously stand up to meet him.
“All right, my child,” he says, “Let’s see how it fits now.”
“Okay,” I answer.
“Arms up!” he commands. I lift my arms and he slides the gown over my chemise. Once again my skin tingles at the soft sensation of the fabric as it caresses my skin.
I can see that he’s added more gold embroidery, and now there’s a pearl brooch at the neckline. “Hold still now,” he orders me as he starts to pull at the buttons on the back. He fastens them quickly, pulling the gown tight against my torso.
Just when I think he’s done, he pulls two long sticks from his apron. “What are those for?” I ask.
“Hush! Let the master work!” He hisses.
He begins running his fingers through my hair, pulling it back on top of my head. He twists it up with a flick of his wrists and puts the sticks straight through the knot.
Then, Angelo goes over to a basin of water and wets a rag. I try to steal a glance at myself in the mirror as he walks away, but he knows exactly what I’m doing. “Don’t even think about it!” He scolds without looking back.
I huff a little and cross my arms, but I manage to control myself. Alonso returns with the damp rag and begins to wipe my face off with an almost fatherly touch. Then he smooths the wild tendrils of my hair with it too.
Finally, he pulls a little canister of pink powder from his apron. With a little blush he applies some of the pigment to my cheeks and lips, then takes a step back to survey me.
“Perfection!” He exclaims. “All right, go ahead!”
“It’s about time,” I grumble, though I’m not really mad.
I turn around to face my reflection, and when I see it my hand flies to my face.
I can’t breathe.
Who is this girl looking back at me?
Angelo walks up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. “Do you like it?” He asks.
I feel unwelcome tears forming at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away and nod.
“I don’t think you realize how beautiful you really are,” He says. “And I’m not just talking about physical beauty. You are sharp and strong… powerful even. I wanted your new look to reflect that.”
I look at the strange girl in the mirror and take in a shaky breath. He’s right. I still look like me… just a more confident and polished version.
I look like a princess.
- Writer
