Just Beyond Your Sight

A/N: The joys of being in an English class! I get to write stuff… for a grade! This assignment was to transform an old folktake, and here it is! :)

Just Beyond Your Sight
By Greg Martin

Based on the folktale “Catskin” in which a father tries to marry his only daughter off. She asks first for a silver dress, and then a gold dress, and then a dress made of feathers, and finally a dress of catskin. Wearing the catskin, she runs away, where she finds a job in a neighboring castle. She goes to three balls at the castle in her three dresses, where the prince falls in love with her. Each time, she refuses to tell him where she’s from. The third time, he follows her and sees her change into the catskin dress, and realizes she’s his maid! He ends up marrying her, and they live happily ever after.

Well, it wasn’t that long ago that I met this pretty girl. No, she wasn’t pretty. She was more than that – she was amazing. Looking at her was like looking the sun in its face, like looking at the moon’s reflection on the water, like watching a rose begin to bloom – she was unmistakably beautiful. Right then, I knew that she had to be mine.

My mom and dad are lawyers, you see. Together, they have their own firm, and it would be modest of me to say we’re rich. We try not to flaunt it very much, but every now and then they like to throw a party or two. They won’t be much – just inviting some of their big clients over, have a nice catered dinner, and then they’ll sit and discuss politics in the lounge. I tend to just sit around for the show, because very rarely do any of them ever bring their kids, and when they do, they’re never my age. It’s always some little 5 year old or something, and I would much rather not babysit if I have the choice.

Well, that girl, right? She showed up at one of the big parties. Like, the biggest one we hold every year. It was around Christmas, and my parents had made sure to invite pretty much everyone they knew. So we had clients, family, friends, the whole kit ‘n kaboodle.

And she was there.

I was born on the fourth of May, the day my father had been expecting his first son. When he found out that he had a daughter, I was history. My dad’s a little traditional in that respect; he saw me as being nothing more than a burden. “I don’t need a hija,” is all I ever heard from him.

My life from then on was that of a maid. My mother, bless her soul, had passed on shortly after giving birth to me, and so my father looked upon me as if I had been a disease, the thing that killed her. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the truth.

When I turned 16, he decided that it was time for me to marry. I was old enough in his eyes, he could be rid of me. He could go on minding his company, and I would be gone; history. My new husband would be the heir. I was just a vessel to pass it on.

So, he put an advertisement in the newspaper.

Her hair was left loose, letting it cascade against her shoulders. The lights the decorators had put up around the yard made her hair sparkle, as though it was made of gold.

The golden threads flowed down, spreading out on her shoulders, on which a light, silver dress hung.

I never talked to people at the parties. My parents rather enjoyed that; less for them to worry about. But this girl… I needed to talk to her. I needed to hear her say something, as I knew her voice would be just as perfect as rest of her.

“Care to dance?” I asked, holding out my hand.

She gave me a long look, and then smiled, and we danced for rest of the night. We never spoke more than a few words, just letting the music guide us.

And then, in a flash of a Cinderella-esque moment, the clock struck midnight, and she said she had to leave. I asked her, “Where are you from?”

She just smiled and me, and whispered, “I live under the sign of ‘Basin of Water.’” and then she left.

The man that was to be my husband was a disgusting old fart. He was near 30, with just as many hairs upon his head, none of them seemingly washed. But he offered my father to take me away, to make me into a proper woman, and my father agreed.

I said I’d never do it, and so he tried to please me.

First, I was given a silver dress, the color of the moon. I tried it on in my room, and twirled in front of the mirror; I looked dashing.

Second, I was given a golden dress, the color of the blazing sun. I too tried this one on, and with a flourish, knew I looked amazing.

Third, he gave me yet another dress. This one, however, was not fit to make me look beautiful. Oh, I’m sure I would have, if I dared to try it on.

It was covered in feathers, from as many birds as I could think. A sharp red of a cardinal, a pale blue from a bluejay. There was an emerald green, stolen from a duck; a pale white, thieved from a swan. As he handed it to me, my suitor whispered to my ears, “I killed many a bird for you, my sweet.”

That night, I ran as fast as I could, wanting to get away from my house – my life – as quickly as I could. How could I be near such a man for a moment longer?

The second time I saw the girl was at a school dance. It was our Valentine’s Day one, and I was with a friend. She had had to drag me here, as my silver-clad angel had never left my mind. I wanted nothing to do with the fools’ day of love… I was alone; I knew I would never see her again.

Except, I did. She was by the food table. I recognized her instantly; she was dressed this time in a piece of flowing gold. She had dyed her hair, but I knew in my heart. No one could be as beautiful as the girl that stood twenty feet from me.

Once again, I went and asked her for a dance. A look of surprise covered her features for a moment before she recognized me, and we danced. We danced for hours, until that accursed clock chimed once again, and she made to leave my heart again.

“Come on, where do you live? I want to see you again!”

She smiled and blushed. “Look for the sign of the ‘Broken Spoon’ and maybe you’ll find me.” And with that, she fled my sight.

I took a bus as far as I could, and then I found a place to sleep. It took me a few days, and when I was nearing the last of my pennies, I found a job in a cafe. It was a quaint little thing, and they gave me enough to pay for my room, and let me eat on the house. I was able to get into the school, and it seemed as though life was going better than it had ever.

It was bliss, except for one shift supervisor, who I absolutely loathed.

By the time Christmastime rolled around, life had fallen into a routine. I had a few friends at school, none of which knew of my circumstances – being on the run, and all. We laughed, we joked, and it was on one of these joking occasions that Emily whispered to me, “You should go to Jake’s party.”

Jake. The cutest boy in school; he was a God. He kept his brown hair cut short, and had magnificent emeralds for eyes. I, as well as rest of the girls, just drank him in.

“How on Earth would I ever get in?”

“You got those really pretty dresses, wear one of those. And we’ll let your hair down, it’ll be beautiful. And I’ll ban you from those god-awful glasses.”

“How do I get in?”

She smiled and held up a piece of paper. “This way.” And so I followed her.

When I told my shift supervisor at work that I wanted the night off, because I was going to Jake Summer’s parents’ party. She laughed, and dumped the basin of dishwater on me.

“There, you’re all cleaned up now.”

I didn’t let the tears fall. Instead I went to my room, properly cleaned up, and then slid into my silver dress. I was going to look beautiful, if she believed me or not.

I danced with him, that night, you know. I never told anyone though, because he didn’t know who I was. It was better, this way. He wouldn’t like me normal.

When I told her I needed the night off for Valentine’s Day, she laughed again. Harder, meaner. And then she slammed the spoon down on the counter, snapping it clean in half.

“See that, girl? That’s gonna be your heart when you realize no one’s going to love a little poor girl who eats from the garbage at work.”

I eyed that spoon, wondering if maybe she was right.

So when Jake asked me where I was from, how he could find me… all I could say was to look for the broken spoon. Maybe he would find me, with my broken spoon heart… because she was right, there was no way he’d like me in my plain clothes. He looked past me every day at school, anyways…

The third time I saw her was at prom. Her hair had changed from the previous brunette to a fiery red, but she was my angel. I just knew.

I asked her to dance, and she gave me a sad smile. Did she too think that this might be the last night? Well, I would get her name tonight if it killed me.

But as my hands took hers, and we moved like one to the dance floor, all thoughts left my mind. I was with her – my sweet, and we just swam in the ocean of bodies, moving to the music, moving to our hearts.

The clock chimed far too early, and as she made to leave, I realized I hadn’t found out her name – her address – nothing! “Please, tell me who you are!”

She looked at me for a long moment. “Jake,” she started. My name! She knew my name! Why didn’t I know hers? “I live just beyond your line of sight.” and turned and left.

I had to work until right before prom; she wouldn’t let me have the full night off. No, that would be too kind.

Too kind would have also let me wait the other table, the one that didn’t have Jake at it. He was letting his hair grow longer; it almost covered his eyes now. He had to brush it away when he ordered. One coffee, one fried egg, and a pile of pancakes.

I wanted to tell him, I really did. I wanted to let him know we would dance, that I could see the future. That he would fall in love with me, when I was prettied up, but here, he couldn’t care less. But I didn’t.

So that night I just told him that I lived beyond his line of sight, covered by his growing hair. And then I ran away, knowing that I would never have to deal with this again.

I watched her walk away, rather quickly. I waited until she was at the door before I started following her. I was going to find out who my angel was, and why she refused to tell me.

I followed at a safe distance, and as she walked, I saw her transform.

Her red hair went from lying against her back to being in a tight ponytail.

High heels were traded in for sneakers, crammed into her purse.

Her beautiful black dress was covered in a ratty old coat.

She walked into the cafe I had been in earlier.

She turned the sign to Closed, and began to clean off tables in her gown. I watched as a plate slipped, and left-over food flipped, covering her.

I watched my angel kneel to the ground and begin to cry.

I knew from experience that the cafe opened at 5 in the morning. More than a few late nights have left me there, looking for some coffee to relieve me before I head home.

So they weren’t too surprised to see me waiting outside the door.

“Late night, Jake?” the owner asked me, smiling.

I shrugged, and made for a bar stool.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Just realized last night how dumb I am.”

“What happened?”

I looked around. I was in this cafe at least twice a week, if not more. I brought friends here all the time. A few times, I had come with girls. And almost always, the sweetest waitress helped me. She knew my order by heart, and would give me the smallest smile when asking if I wanted the normal.

She had started with blonde hair, and then dyed it brown as winter waned on. Spring time had led her to a red color, and why hadn’t I noticed?

“Jake, dear?”

“Oh, uh, just stupid. Being a guy stupid.”

“Ah, that sort of problem.”

“Alyson… didn’t work last night, did she?”

“She went to prom, but then came back afterwards and did some clean-up… did you miss her? I know it’s her normal night to be on…”

“When does she start today?”

“Five.”

I swirled a spoon in the coffee she had put out for me, pondering what to do.

I got in, I clocked in, and I headed up front.

“Oh, Alyson dear, can you come help this young man?” It was Manny, the owner.

“Sure, one minute.” I made my way to the front, and there sat Jake Summers. He was staring into his coffee, seemingly ignoring me. “What can I do for you?”

He looked up, away from his coffee, and as his eyes took me in, they got bigger and bigger, and it was as if he began to glow, his smile grew so great. “To explain what ‘basin of water’ and ‘broken spoon’ mean, please.”

A/N: Feel free to stop reading here. As this was an assignment, I had to try and represent the original tale’s ending. But for my story’s purposes, I’d say it ended with Jake asking for an explanation :)

We learned to talk about this and that and everything, and I properly asked her out two weeks later, and we were beyond happy together. We never discussed where she was from, and I learned to accept that she wouldn’t tell me. That is, until, many years later, when our son was a wee little tyke, and we were were walking around outside.

A homeless woman was sitting on a corner, eyes downcast, and a tight shawl draped around her. Andrew, our little boy, whispered to us that he wanted to give her some money, and so we obliged. He walked over to the lady, and she took the bill with a smile. Andrew gave a little cheer, and walked back to us.

We were barely 10 feet away when a voice piped up. “Ah, look how little beggars take to looking after old beggars. All in the family, eh?”

It was that vile supervisor from the cafe, the one that had forced my dear Alyson to work all those hours… the one that we had hoped never to see again.

Alyson grabbed my hand and we moved quickly away, and as we walked, she began to talk. She told me that no, she was no beggar, she was the daughter of a very rich man. But she had ran away when he wanted her to marry some old man, and how she wished she could show him that she was happy…
Well, I guess it’s time to start planning.