To my Father’s Second Wife,
To use the word mother in your name feels wrong to me, and I do not even like the thought that you married the man who raised me when my mother was gone. I received your letter many years ago. I have written back many times, and the letters simply landed in the garbage. There have been so many things that I hoped to say to you, and ten years later, I’m still not sure that I know what I would like to say. I have children now. Two of them. A son and a daughter. I love them with all of my heart. Maybe someday I could understand why what you did to me was in the best interest of your daughters.
When you spit on me and kicked dirt onto me, I thought it was purely due to how revolting your daughters were. I thought that your inner ugliness is more horrid than their outer ugliness would ever be. You said in your letter that your father was a man trying to pay off his debts. I truly am sorry that you were sold when you were thirteen. That is not something that I would wish on my worst enemy. That is not something that anyone should endure. Yet, you abused me. I have listened to your side of the story, and I have read your letter many times. I know some of it without even looking at it. Yet, I still cannot decide if I trust the woman, you say you are. You claim to know the torture that I endured but had you actually known, you would have loved as if I was yours. You made me question my worth. I knew
what my father did was wrong. I was broken, but what you did to me did not feel like love. It felt like pure jealousy because I was the daughter you always wanted and never got.
My mother showed me love, beauty, and warmth. You showed me hatred, ugliness, and jealousy. Your letter is filled with plenty of tales of woe. I know you were miserable, but I suffered too. Not only did you not help me, but you made the suffering worse. About 5 years after my mother passed, I was about fourteen, and he started to look at me differently. It felt like he didn’t see me as a daughter anymore, but as a sexual quest, he was setting out to fulfill. And after the first time it happened, I felt dirty. When you came, I thought it would end. I thought that he would be satisfied with you. Yet, it happened again. I almost confided in you, but I was scared that you would not understand. You did not love me, and I could feel it. I felt like I deserved the hatred you bestowed upon me. So, I let everything go. I was sad, yes, but I had nowhere to go. As I spent more time in the kitchen, sleeping in the soot kept me warm, I realized I was stuck and had nowhere to go.
He stopped looking at me like I was just a challenge. He did not care for dirty girls, so I wasn’t an option for him anymore. A few years had passed, so I was too old in his eyes anyways. He had moved on. I couldn’t look at him the same, and he didn’t care for me anymore
either. It was too late to tell you. I just mourned the loss of my innocence alone.
It wasn’t always just me, though. I had two friends, a dove, and a mouse. They kept me company. There were several nights when I would take the scraps that were left for me, and I would split them to feed them .
Food is a secret path to the heart, or so my mother used to say. So, they ate. Most nights, they ate better than me. You never noticed. You never seemed to care that I was the one dying. I was the one dying when everyone else lived. Honestly, it's not your fault. How would you know?
My mother always told me, if you don’t have anything nice to say, tell them you like their shoes. It was a way to say something kind even when you didn’t mean it. You didn’t even need to look at their shoes to say it. They will take it and move on. Most of the time, they don’t like it when you say something nice when they are mean. So, there is nothing better to do, than be kind. I like your shoes.
I like your shoes.
Do you know how many ugly shoes your daughters have that they think are beautiful? Too many to count. I wonder why.
My heart was good. My heart is good. I know you tried to break me down. You tried to make me small and worth nothing. In some ways, you succeeded. Because there were nights that I went to bed, and I hoped I didn’t wake up. There were days when I hoped that starvation would finally eat me from the inside out.
When we received the invitation for the ball, it clearly stated all the eligible maidens in the land were invited. When I so much as hinted that I wanted to go to the ball, you not only laughed in my face, but you ordered my help with getting everyone ready for the ball. You took my broken heart and you put it right there on display for everyone to see. You made a mockery out of my dirtiness, and you took advantage of my kindness. Back then I didn’t understand. The way you didn’t even consider me going to the ball. I was so mad and angry at you. I was 16. I was close enough to the age to be married truthfully, I should have been allowed to go to the ball. I felt as if I had been robbed of an opportunity because you were afraid that I would take the light away from your daughters.
I had been hurt so much already that my age did not determine my maturity. I was far more mature than I should have been for my age. Being raped by my father was enough trauma to age me past what you knew to be mature.
When you left, I was enraged. I stood in the dust watching you ride off over the hill. Not only did you leave without me, but you didn’t even look back. How can you have no pain in your heart enough to look back at what you left behind? I finally broke.
I ran to my mother’s grave and fell to my knees when standing became an impossible task. And I cried.
I don’t even know how long I was there. Hours? I just remember laying on my side when a feeling of warmth was above me and a light showed upon me. I opened my bloodshot eyes to see my friends, the dove, and the mouse there. Perched on my hip, the bird looked at me with big eyes. I about fainted when she started talking. All of the sudden I was having a conversation with a bird. My mother told me to befriend those who are kind to me, show them kindness and they will be help in return someday when I need it.
My saving grace came then. I was off to the ball in attire that was nothing shorter than spectacular. You can attest to all of this though; you saw me at the ball. You didn’t know it at the time, but that was me whom the prince was taken away by. I had strict instructions to be home before midnight, so that is why I left in such a hurry. Well, that and mostly that I needed to be home before you and the girls. But when I left, I missed a step which caused me to almost fall, that is when I lost my shoe. The prince was following me, so I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want
my life to end there like that. I was scared that he would hate me for being just a girl from no one special. I almost told you about what happened, but the thought of facing your wrath after your daughters didn’t win over the prince was enough to scare me quiet.
A few days went by and all I did was reminisce about the ball and how good it was to me. My friends ate well that week. I was so happy, I couldn’t eat. It showed on me. You became angry with me more than normal, because I was weak. I completed my chores, but you weren’t happy still. I had myself convinced that you would truly never be happy with anything I did.
After a few days, they announced that the prince was to be wed to the girl who fit the shoe, and I didn’t tell you it was me. I didn’t tell you that it was me whom it will fit. With my small size, I figured that someone else would slide into it and he would believe them to be his true love and forget about me. That was what I thought would happen.
When they came knocking on our neighbor’s door, I almost had hope that I could try it on and maybe get out of this hell I was living in. You told me to go to the attic and grab a chair for them. As I began my way up the stairs, I heard the door behind me slam shut, followed by the rustling of the key in the lock. Then it was quiet.
I sat there for a while, and I could hear your voice telling the girls to be on their best behavior and to look more attractive.
Then came the loud knock on the door followed by the order of all eligible maidens to try on the shoe. It pained me to listen, so I went all the way up and started singing the song my mom taught me to sing when I was sad.
It wasn’t much longer and there was a knock at the staircase door and a loud male voice that summoned me down. I could hear you saying that I was nothing, I was scum, and they didn’t want me. But they ignored every word to come out of your mouth. I heard the keys rustling in the lock, followed by the door opening. I was still standing at the top when the prince looked up the staircase at me.
My heart danced when I saw him. I wanted to run down the stairs and throw my arms around him. But I walked. I tried to be as graceful as I could, but I was so nervous.
The rest is fate. He is the man of my dreams. He loves me. He cares for me and our children. I never felt love like this.
In your letter to me, you said my husband would abuse me, hate me, and rape me. None of this has ever happened. You were so wrong. Not every man is a horrible man like the ones you experienced. My prince is my knight in shining armor. He rescued me when I felt like I was drowning. He showed me true love and happiness. Not only does he
love me, but he loves our kids. I am truly sorry that you never got to experience love as I have.
So, no, I won’t forgive you. I hope you get some closure from reading this letter. I know it has been quite lengthy. I have my peace with you. I am hoping to close the chapter of my book that you infected and live my life of pure joy and happiness now.
I will never forgive your words, your thoughts, and all you did to hurt me. I will never let you in my children’s lives but know that they are beautiful, they are loved, and they are perfect. I hope you have found your peace. I wish you all the best.
Sincerely, Cinderella