In my dream, I am sitting in front of a magic mirror. It compliments me, and tells me everything I want to hear. As I bask in the praise, I start to notice cracks beginning to form. I scramble to find tape and glue, frantically repairing, but the cracks keep spreading until the glass finally shatters.
The mirror in my dream is then replaced by a television, the big boxy 90’s style. I’m sitting on the couch eating Kraft Macaroni as I watch Snow White marry her prince. It’s raining out and I watch movies all day until the princes start to blend in my head and I doze off. My mom carries me to my converted toddler bed filled with stuffed animals and covered by a worn Cinderella comforter. I dream of carriages and princes, but the princes begin to transform into the movie villains. I wake abruptly. I’m curled up in a small corner of a vast, empty California king bed.
The fairytales of my childhood look a little bit different as I get older, but the plot remains consistent. In my community, the kingdom is rolling hills and ranches, and neighborhoods dotted with American flags hanging outside every home. In this fairytale, women have chubby babies on their hip, and work on their sourdough starter recipes. Their husbands work hard, coming home with electrical tape holding together split cuticles and cut hands.
Our high school college and career center hosts Army recruiters and gives out flyers about trade school. In other far away kingdoms, the children are courted by universities, but not here. In this kingdom, our balls are Friday night lights and bonfires, where the glass slippers left behind are empty cans of Coors. At the ball, the princes sometimes duel, but that’s just what princes do, trading fists instead of words.
I meet my prince charming for the first time on the tailgate of his truck in the school parking lot. He has a black eye and a split lip, and he wins every duel. He compliments me, and tells me everything I want to hear.
After graduation, the fairytales start to solidify. The princes become linemen and truck drivers and electricians. My prince is a plumber. Together we attend weddings hosted in fields of sweet- smelling hay under the summer sun. High school sweethearts become husband and wife. But I stumble off the fairytale path, into a far-away land called college. I’m given ominous warnings of student loan debt and political agendas.
The prince and I work hard at our fairytale, and he travels far and wide to visit me. The prince begins to grow frustrated with the distance and the deviation from the path the story had laid out for us. He imagines villainous fraternity brothers around every corner. His jealousy grows. He throws things, and I flee, hiding behind a door that he breaks down. The magic mirror has begun to crack, but the next day it compliments me more than ever. Flowers appear, and the prince is just so charming.
After college, the story gets back on track. I marry the prince in a field of sweet-smelling hay under the summer sun. The sun lasts, although an occasional dark cloud rolls through, bringing things thrown and broken. After every storm, there are more flowers, and beautiful promises of a better fairytale. The mirror continues to crack, but remains intact.
Fairytales continue all around me, and the weddings begin to transform into baby showers. I hold chubby babies on my hip, and start to wonder how a baby would weather my fairytale’s storms. It’s the traditional next chapter, but I’m afraid to turn the page, despite the prince’s urging.
The prince enters a dark forest. His father falls ill, and he gets lost. He struggles to find his way. The prince does what he knows best: he drinks and duels his way through the forest. One night, during a duel, a stray fist hits me in the face. The magic mirror is shattered. No flowers appear. The prince is not charming. It was just a duel, it’s just what princes do, he reasons.
The fairytale has turned dark, and fear trickles through the broken pieces of the mirror. I banish the prince from my kingdom. I pack boxes, and change locks, and live in a castle that I bought with my own money. I sit in my castle and stare at the empty wall that used to hold a mirror. I no longer see my reflection, and I feel lost, in my own dark forest.
I settle into the forest, feeling too tired to continue the story. This chapter is long and uneventful. But over time, I start to see friends in the forest with me. I notice flowers that grow wild, that do not need to be brought by a prince. I hire a lawyer, who helps fight my battles and secure my castle. I regain my strength.
One day, I pick up a paintbrush and start to paint a new fairytale on the empty wall where the mirror once hung. I paint a story with no prince, but lots of adventures. I travel to far-away lands like Korea and grad school. I fall asleep at night sprawled in the center of my California King bed that no longer feels too vast or too empty. It feels just right.
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Maggie Dani is a communications director with a passion for storytelling and connection. When not immersed in her work, she can be found reading, finding peace in the outdoors, or spending time with her dogs and horse. An avid traveler, she enjoys discovering new places and cultures. Her life is enriched by nature, adventure, and the written word.
© 2024, Maggie Dani
Halfway Down the Stairs 