Mrs. Beast Read online

  Beauty notices a row of thin silver scars on the underside of both Snow White's arms. "Are those scars from the thorn bushes?"

  Snow White yanks down her sleeves and hides her hands inside them. "I don't do it anymore. It used to calm me. When I couldn't comprehend or express my suffering, these cuts showed me my body could heal. I'm not lying about the elves!"

  Beauty's throat tightens and her nose prickles. Her sorrow comes from knowing that even though Snow White is ranting, unbalanced, possibly crazy as a coot, she's right about her beauty acting on others against her will. Such a high price to pay for so little power regained, for the cut, the scab, and the scar, tangible evidence that beauty does not grant self-acceptance. Don't cry! Beauty rubs her nose roughly, and her baby flutters.

  Please be a boy, Beauty prays, watching as Snow White curl into herself, cringing at her bogy delusions. Beauty decides she prefers the face slapping, potato-kicking Snow White. Still, as a beauty she is expert at diverting disaster by changing the subject, and she's eager to learn what became of Snow White's prince. "Then you found the dwarf's cottage and you were safe?"

  Snow White audibly exhales. "Yes. Safe. I know the dwarfs told you how I came to live with them, of Vanita's attempts on my life, and about my wedding. I was listening at the top of the stairs and I heard every word. I guess you want to know what happened after I married my prince." Snow White's gaze drifts to Beauty's tattoo. Did that hurt?"

  "Not while he was doing it; I was unconscious."

  "Did it bleed?"

  "Not much."

  "Three drops? Would you guess three drops?"

  "Yes, three drops."

  Beauty rises and walks to the window. From the position of the moon, she estimates it's near midnight.

  "How about when he pierced you with the other needle?" Snow White's voice is a coarse whisper at Beauty's back. "The one between his legs. Did it hurt? Did you bleed on your wedding night?"

  Beauty turns about slowly. Snow White is chewing on her thumbnail; she tears away a cuticle and grinds it between her front teeth.

  * * *

  "And you think The Young and The Restless is juicy," Elora says to Croesus whose nose is pressed against the crystal ball. They had been watching a meteor shower atop the Deco palace roof when Snow White's knock on Beauty's door sounded from the ball.

  "You can bet your last box of Milk Bones Beauty won't talk about her wedding night. I was there, and believe me, it was no Victoria's Secret fantasy. Look, a shooting star," Elora points to a blazing white trail through the black sky.

  Croesus paws Elora's leg and perks up his ears.

  "You're a shameless gossip hound, and I love you for that," she says and kisses the round bump on the top of his head.

  “Okay . . . after I turned Violet and Daisy to stone, I turned myself into a horsefly for the wedding reception. Runyon was the life of the party, pouring champagne, dancing with all the women, and some of the men. When the musicians fell on the floor, drunk and exhausted, Runyon plunked his pretty self at the harpsichord and played for an hour. He was radiant with charm. Women fluttered around him like moths, and I could tell, resting on Beauty's veil, that she wanted to have him to herself. I rode that veil up the stairs and into the boudoir. Bride and groom slipped between the sheets and I flew onto the headboard. Beauty nuzzled Runyon's naked chest, as had been her habit in pre-mating with the Beast. Runyon wrapped his hands in her chestnut locks, pulled her head backward and kissed her cherry pink lips. He explored every inch of her body with his soft, supple hands, caressing places the Beast's claws had not been able to touch."

  Croesus' eyes grow large and liquid. Elora passes her hand over her throat and speaks in the voices of the newlyweds.

  "Am I not the gweatest wover?

  Yes, yes.

  Much better than the filthy beast?

  Yes, yes, my love!" Elora squeals and Croesus howls.

  "No, no. After two embarrassingly brief minutes, Prince Runyon was spent. Beauty's first time with the Beast had taken two hours, and even so, he allowed only half his staff to breach her maidenhead. When Beauty had uttered those three little words and changed Runyon back to the prince, all his beastly parts were transformed to what they once were." Elora arches an eyebrow and smirks. "Small."

  Croesus wheezes a derisive doggy laugh.

  "Beauty snuggled against his arm and kissed the inside of his elbow." Again, Elora passes her hand over her throat.

  "Don't be ridicuwass," she snarls in Runyon's voice. "You don't need to pwetend.

  Husband, I assure you . . .

  You're a wiar.

  My prince, I do not tell lies.

  Right, I forgot. Beauty the perfect, Beauty the fairest, Beauty the swut of a beast.

  Runyon. That beast was you!

  Throw it up in my face! Beauty the spell-bwayker. I'm supposed to be forever in your debt? I'll start paying you back this moment by weaving you in peace. From now on, I sweep in my own room."

  Elora restores her voice and dryly says, "As he sashayed out of the bridal boudoir, I flew over and bit his nasty ass."

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  auf Wiedersehen, Snow White

  "I gather your silence means I shouldn't have asked about Runyon's needle," Snow White says. "I want to know how it feels to . . . "

  Beauty blinks three times. "But you are a married woman."

  "A married maiden." Snow White pouches her bottom lip round as a cherry tomato.

  Now Beauty's curiosity is piqued. Was Snow White also a beauty spurned by her husband, or had she refused her groom? "Really?"

  Snow White nods, then reclines across the bottom of the bed. "Did the dwarfs tell you what Prince Otto said when he first saw me?"

  "Something about wanting to take the coffin, and that he couldn't live without you?"

  "He could not live without looking on me. Unfortunately, that's all he wanted to do."

  "Go on!"

  "Truly. Can you imagine awaking in a coffin? I'd been in that glass box a whole year with a chunk of poison apple stuck in my throat. The last thing I remembered was an old peasant woman offering me an apple. It was January, and you know how hard it is to get fruit in winter. This apple was beautiful; deep red and shiny. The old woman cut it in half and the flesh was firm, white and juicy. I swear, I didn't know it was Vanita, even though Otto later insisted I did." Snow White sits up and hugs her knees to her chest.

  "The next thing I knew, I woke up in the coffin, flung the lid open and shouted, Where am I? I heard a voice answer: You are near me. I turned around thinking, Do I know anyone who would come up with such an incredibly stupid response? There was Otto, all six feet of him, dressed in a gold tunic, arms spread as if I'd just won a raffle and he was the grand prize. Otto wasn't handsome as you've described Runyon, but not unattractive either. He had an air of self-confidence and strength I found extremely appealing. He said, I would rather have you than anything else in the world. Come with me to my palace and you shall be my bride.

  "Well, what was I to do?" Snow White stares at Beauty with a stupefied expression.

  Beauty does not know how to answer. If she had asked what Beauty would have done, she could have said: Talk with him, allow love to grow if it will, then marry him, as I did with my Beast. But then, she reconsiders, I thought his love would remain constant in spite of his transformation.

  "I'd been living with the dwarfs four years, and still they worried about leaving me home alone. Obviously, Vanita wasn't going to give up tormenting me. And, I had dreamed of a prince coming to claim me, and of the happily ever after I'd been promised. I bid a tearful good-bye to my seven friends and rode off with Otto." She sighs and lifts her nightgown to pick at a scab on her knee.

  "You spoke of Runyon's passion for mirrors. Otto's passion was glass; more precisely, objects enclosed in glass. Pastiche Palace contained rooms of glass cases displaying Otto's collections: brilliant butterflies, bird's eggs of every shape and color, presse
d flower blossoms, and dead animals stuck in unnaturally serene poses."

  "Oh," Beauty murmurs and Snow White meets her eyes.

  "You're quick as well as beautiful. Yes, I was the piece de resistance of Otto's collection. Being so, I wasn't allowed to mingle, despite the scores of visitors to the palace. I was confined to my rooms where hairdressers, beauticians, dressmakers, shoemakers, and the royal jeweler prepared me for the nuptials. The wedding, as you know, was a glorious affair, in spite of the incident with Vanita and the iron shoes. However, our wedding night, began curiously. Otto escorted me to the royal bedchamber, and what did I see as he carried me over the threshold? A glass coffin made for two. He asked me to lie inside wearing my bridal gown. I tried to speak, and each time he put a finger to my lips and said, Shhh, let me look at you." He was my husband; what else was I to do?"

  Beauty wishes she would stop asking rhetoric questions, but she asks, "What did you do?"

  "I fell asleep, and when I woke in the morning, Otto was still there. I said, Good morning, dearest husband. He said, You snore like a bear. Then things got curiouser. Although our early days as husband and wife were spent walking hand and hand through Otto's collections, two weeks passed and our marriage had not been consummated. He grew critical of my appearance. If I came to breakfast without sitting for the hairdresser, he'd ask, Did you do your own hair today? When we entertained, he'd come to my rooms for inspection before the guests arrived. He'd say, Those shoes don't match your gown. That string of pearls is too short. Powder your nose. Because you're exquisite, dear thing, you must adorn yourself beautifully.

  "I wanted so much to please Otto, and I did for a time. He hosted one gala after another, and when we descended the staircase, he puffed out his chest like a partridge in mating season. He'd look over the crowd and say, You're the most beautiful woman at the ball. "

  Snow White slaps her forehead and gasps, "Then Vanita showed up, whirling around the palace, starting fires, and pressing her grimy face to the windows. I began to miss the dwarfs and our little cottage, the easiness, the laughter, even the work. Otto hated my laugh; he said I brayed like an ass."

  Beauty twists a lock of hair between her fingers. "Did you visit the dwarfs?"

  "I wouldn't go into the woods unescorted, so I asked Otto's permission to invite the dwarfs to the palace now and again. He consented on the condition that I was to be examined by the Grimm psychologist. We met on the appointed day in Otto's study. Herr Doktor paced, head bent, chewing on his mustache. He wore metal plates on his soles. When he posed a question, he'd stop in front of me, lean close with his peppermint breath and lightly touch my knee. Every question was about my father, my stepmother, or the dwarfs."

  "He didn't mention Otto?"

  "Pah!" Snow White huffs. "Does a dog bite the hand that feeds him? Precisely one hour later, he clicked out of the room and returned with Otto in tow. He spoke to him as if I wasn't even there! He said: On the subject of Snow White and Queen Vanita, the problem is one of vanity. Understand, each gift of Vanita's in her attempts to kill Snow White appealed to Snow White's vanity, and each in a more intimate way. The laces bound her body as a lover's arms might; the poison comb, like a lover's hands in her hair, actually pierced the skin. With the third attempt, the poison apple, Snow White took the forbidden fruit inside herself. Snow White allowed herself to be tempted by Vanita, showing how close the queen's temptations were to Snow White's inner desire to be the most beautiful, but on the deepest level, shows her desire for sex, which we all know is the little death. As for the dwarfs, Prince Otto, do not concern yourself. Although they are symbolically phallic, penetrating dark tunnels with their picks and all, they are harmless as children."

  Beauty makes a mental note to avoid contact with the Grimm psychologist. "I'm sorry," Beauty says. Snow White doesn't hear; she's stuck fingers in her ears and is wiggling them vigorously.

  "I couldn't believe my ears!" Snow White chirps, and dislodges her fingers. "I tried to explain that I didn't know it was Vanita who visited the cottage. She was excellent at disguising herself, and her three visits were spaced a year apart."

  "Excuse me, Snow White. I've been meaning to ask why the queen hasn't been captured."

  "Scores have tried." Snow White rolls her eyes with exasperation. "You can't get near her on horseback; one whiff of her fire and smoke and the boldest stallion turns tail and runs. You can't lay hands on her; even when wearing gauntlets, three layers of skin are seared away. Set a trap for her? Dig a hole and cover it? The covering burns before she reaches it. Throw a net over her? It melts like meringue in August. Douse her with water and a cloud of steam covers Grimm Land for a week. Otto tried everything, and when all his attempts failed, he implied that I was responsible for her presence."

  Beauty doesn't respond, because she knows that Otto was right. However, if Otto hadn't brought Snow White to his palace to add to his collection, if her father hadn't married the evil queen, if the old woman hadn't sold him the mirror, if Snow White had been born plain . . .

  "What of your father?" Beauty asks. "Couldn't he influence Vanita?"

  Snow White jumps to her feet, a Y-shaped vein on her forehead bulges as she snarls, "I hope I never see that bulbous-nosed, pot-bellied, shingle-shinned, bunion-toed rat again." She flings her body on the mattress and blubbers, "He hasn't visited in me fifteen years."

  Beauty pats Snow White's back in a feeble attempt to comfort her. It doesn't work; Snow White lifts her chin and howls like a coyote.

  Gerda stumbles in yawning. "Miss Behaving, get hold of yourself. You'll wake the whole commune." She paddles to the bed and kisses Snow White's forehead. "Keep it down, and don't keep Beauty up all night, she needs her rest," Gerda scolds and totters back to bed.

  Snow White she seems pacified. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and speaks softly. "Gerda's right. I should let you sleep, but if I go now, you'll never learn what happened after the psychologist left." She cocks her head like a cat beside a mouse hole.

  Beauty can't resist. "What happened?" she whispers.

  "Otto leapt across the room, swept me into his arms and carried me to the royal bedchamber. He laid me in the glass coffin and began disrobing. He'd unbutton one button, then roll his eyes and moan. He said, Do not fear, little one, I'll be gentle," Snow White giggles.

  This is not what Beauty expected to hear, and she doesn't like it a bit. To kiss and tell is bad enough; to kiss and ridicule is unconscionable.

  "I wasn't scared . . ." Snow White drops her gaze to the bed, "not yet. I was curious to learn the guarded secret; the reason married people locked their bedroom doors, why my father and Vanita made strange sounds behind those doors. Otto undressed down to his drawers, slipped under the cover and told me to do the same. I got in and he curled around me. We were snug as two spoons in a drawer." Snow White sighs and hugs herself for a moment before her eyes drift and her mouth goes slack.

  "Then he removed his drawers, kissed the nape of my neck and said, Turn and behold the gentle beastie about to pluck your flower. That was when I fear squeezed my heart, and I rolled over quickly. Otto lifted the sheet and wiggled his eyebrows. I'd never seen a penis."

  "Never?" Beauty can't help ask, thinking of Horst the huntsman, and of Snow White living with seven men in a one-room cottage.

  As if reading her thoughts, Snow White replies frostily. "The dwarfs were true gentlemen. From them I learned the difference between manners and morality. I said I'd never seen a penis. I had touched one. Otto said, Touch him, he won't bite," Snow White murmurs, her voice shaking.

  "I did, and I remembered--no, I was actually back in the woods at the mulberry bush with Horst, the baby fox, and the cutlass. Then Otto said, Remove your chemise and open your legs so the beastie can enter your garden. I jumped from the bed and ran screaming, You don't love me. You want to kill me!"

  Beauty lays her hand over Snow White's fist clenched into the quilt. "Many brides are frightened on their wedding night. Surely Otto u
nderstood."

  "He never forgave me. The next day, he acted as if nothing had happened. I tried to apologize, to explain, and he changed the subject. Thereafter, entertainment at Pastiche Palace ceased, and Otto attended balls elsewhere without my company. He satisfied his lust with Constance the cunning chambermaid. If I met her coming from Otto's room, flushed of face, hair a tangle, she'd look me up and down, toss her head, and swing her hips down the hall."

  A case of the pot calling the kettle black, Beauty thinks, remembering the way Snow White looked at her the first time they met.

  "My only happy days were those when the dwarfs came to call. We'd talk about old times, laugh and carry on for hours. Otto expected me to be perfect, and I was always afraid of not living up to his expectations. After Constance gave birth to twins, I stopped trying. I dismissed the hairdresser and the beautician. I wore comfortable clothes, I laughed loudly, scratched my itches, and belched when I needed to. Otto tried to cower me with disapproving glares, then he'd explode and berate me, then order me from the room. Finally, he simply wished I would leave, and I did."

  Was Runyon relieved when I left? Has he reclaimed his beastly self and become sick with regret and worry. Is he now tracking me with repentance in his heart? Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll have the mirror, Beauty reassures herself.

  Snow White has gone silent, absorbed in scab picking. Beauty can't bear the suspense. "How did you return to the cottage?"

  Snow White pulls her nightgown over her knees and three drops of blood seep through. "Otto arranged an escort. Good thing too, because along the way we were attacked by boars, bears, and wolves. At last, the cottage came into view, and my heart filled with joy. How easily I embraced my old routine: sweeping, sewing, cooking, a place for everything and everything in its place. There's a big difference between order and perfection, you know," she says, a mite too defensively in Beauty's opinion.