The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [25]
I’m embarrassed now for bringing it up, for asking that question.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay—I probably should … I don’t know.” He looks around the cafeteria. Everyone seems to be having so much more fun than we are. Jeremy would never transform all the kids into knights and ladies, the teachers into earls and duchesses. He’d never understand if I told him that I give the different teachers’ lounges names like the Earldom of Literary Greats, the Duchy of Scientific Stresses. He doesn’t see a royal court; he just sees girls in their short skirts, with tall boots and just the right shoulder bags; boys in baseball caps and loose jeans. How does everyone else spend the time that I spend spinning in my head? I would be bored; then I would be lonely.
Three sophomores walk right past us, blatantly staring at Jeremy. I try not to laugh when one of them slips on her high heel. We’re not supposed to wear high heels to school, and her skirt is so short I can almost see her underwear. Jeremy raises his eyebrows at me to show that he doesn’t find that attractive.
“You looked freaked-out in physics today,” he says finally.
I’m relieved, both for the help he’s offering and because this is a topic I know how to talk about. “Oh God, I really, really was. I didn’t know what was going on.”
“Not to worry, though it doesn’t look like we’re going to get anything done during lunch. Let’s get in some tutoring before tonight’s cig break—I’ll come over around eight, okay?”
Jeremy is a Physics Knight in Shining Armor.
“Okay.”
“Later, Sternin.” And Jeremy leans over and kisses me on the cheek goodbye. In front of everyone. In the lunchroom. I press my calves back against the metal legs of the chair, make myself stay seated, like that kiss was nothing at all.
After school, I change into my pajamas and swallow three Advil without water, hoping that it will cure my new headache, hoping it will go away before Jeremy gets here. I lie on top of the blankets on my bed. They never deal with emotional complexity in fairy tales. Like, how did Cinderella forgive her father—not for dying, but for not putting her first when he chose the woman he would marry? How did Snow White deal with knowing that her beauty led another woman to such madness? How did Rapunzel survive being locked in a tower, not only imprisoned but never able to set her feet on the ground, something that would drive most people crazy? Did she ever run her hands along the stone floor, wondering what dirt would feel like? Did she ever consider jumping out that window? Did she ever want to cut off her own hair, a fairy-tale version of cutting off your nose to spite your face? And, most intriguing and damaging of all, what about her relationship with that wicked witch? How do we even know she was wicked? The witch fed her and put a roof over her head, high and solitary though it might have been.
I prop myself up on my pillows, twist my neck so I can see out the window. We’re twelve floors up, and my bedroom looks out onto Madison Avenue. Sometimes, from this window, I can see my mother coming home from one of her lunches, a walk, the supermarket. Sometimes we go to the market together, but whenever I’m not with her, she still picks up exactly the foods I want; I never have to tell her. She knew when I switched from regular Coke to Diet Coke, and started buying it for me. She notices when we’re running low on cereal, even though she doesn’t eat it, and always makes sure there’s a fresh box and non-expired milk. Maybe the witch thought she was protecting Rapunzel, not punishing her. Maybe she thought that if Rapunzel was locked away, no one could ever hurt her. Maybe the witch kept Rapunzel because she loved her, because she was scared that if other people could get to Rapunzel, they would hurt her. And maybe Rapunzel didn’t understand the witch; maybe she was angry at her—but maybe she loved her too.
10
Jeremy rings the doorbell at eight exactly. He’s in general much more prompt than I would expect him