If the Slipper Fits, Part 2

Part 2

Preparing

I ran up to my room, not minding manners along the way: Not being dismissed from the table,  not lifting my dress to go up the stairs, and of course, the biggy, not walking. But who cares? I’m going to Italy!


I arrived in my room, frantic to get everything packed as soon as possible. A suitcase, that’s the first step. I go to my closet, then started throwing things around, excited to find one. I slowed down, knowing something was wrong. I then stopped.


“Why am I looking for a suitcase? I’ve never been out of the house, and never planned on it, so why would I have a suitcase?” I said aloud.


I headed back downstairs, this time following all the rules applied in the castle because I wasn’t in such a hurry.


“Does anyone have a suitcase I could borrow?” I asked pathetically.


“I was wondering about that,” my mother replied with a grin on her face, “look in the closet next to the restroom.”


I ran back up the stairs, yes, I ran, and swung the door to the closet open. Just as mother had said, a suitcase sat before me. I grabbed it, then rushed into my room to get my things packed.


I opened my closet, grabbing all of my dresses, shirts, skirts, and trousers. I folded them all in half once, then once more. It resembled a ball. Knowing that I was hopeless, I whistled for one of my servants.


A tall man with a shiny bald head rushed in with his navy blue uniform fresh and tidy. He bowed before me, then asked, “Yes, Madam?”


“Do you know how to pack a suitcase?” I asked him.


“Of course, dear lady. May I ask what for?” he politely asked.


“My Aunt Darla and Uncle Robert are taking me to Rome. I think it will be a great time!”


“Yes, yes it will! What would you like to bring, ma’am?” he questioned.


“I would like a few of my ballgowns, a swimming suit, sunglasses, sandals, nail polish, sundresses, all of my cellular telephone cases, yes, all, and some sunblock. I would also like my swimming suit cover-up, some facial cream, and some cucumbers to put over my eyelids while I am resting with the cream on my face. I think that will be it. If there is anything you think I am forgetting, please pack it anyways,” I instructed.


I left the room, leaving my servant to pack my things. I glided back down the stairs, taking my seat once again at the table.


“Shouldn’t you be packing?” Aunt Darla asked me.


“No, I realized that I should leave the expert to the job rather than me. If you saw how I started off, you would agree, then whistle for him for me,” I explained.


“Sounds good,” mother told me.


There was a long moment of silence that seemed to go on forever, all because no one had anything to say.


“Nice weather we’re having,” I said. There were some mumbles of agreement among me, making it noticeable that I, along with everyone else, ran out of words to say.


I then heard a sound come from upstairs, a bell-like sound. I trot up the stairs once more, knowing I already got my daily workout from going up and down those stairs.


I arrived in my room, and sure enough, the servant was finished packing up my things. I glanced at his suit, and there was a name tag sewn on saying that his name is “Farfal”. Farfal. That’s an interesting name.


“Thank you,” I told Farfal.


“Anything for you, ma’am,” he replied. He then bowed, then left the room.


I plop onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. I watched as the blades of the fan spun round and round, making me dizzy. I sat up, then shook my head to get the dizzy feeling out. 

“Isabelle, we are leaving! We will see you at 4am sharp,” Aunt Darla yells up the stairs.

“Goodbye!” I replied.

I glanced over at my clock, seeing that it was already 21:08. I decided that I should probably get to bed. I put on my dressing gown and fell back into my bed, then shut my eyes as I fell asleep.

* * * * * * * *

I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I looked over at my clock, noticing it was already 3:30.

“Dear? I think you should get up. You need to get some breakfast in you and get ready before your Aunt and Uncle get here,” my mother whispered through the door just loud enough for me to hear it and not my sleeping father.

I blinked hard several times, then sat up. I slowly did a little zombie walk down the stairs, then made my way into the kitchen.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked our personal chef, Carmine.

“A fresh egg white sandwich with cilantro and my signature sauce,” Carmine told me with his thick Italian accent.

I licked my lips at the sound of my breakfast that I would soon be eating. It was already starting to smell like perfection, as Carmine’s dishes always are. He quickly brushed through his English moustache, then continued on his cooking.

“Isabelle? I am in the living room,” my mother said.

I made my way into the living room, finding my mom sitting on the couch. She looked very sleepy with bags under her eyes and still having a bed head.

“How are you this morning?” she asked me.

I replied, “I can’t wait to go. I am shaky!”

“Breakfast!” Carmine shouted. He stuck his head around the corner of the room, then chuckled.

I walked into the dining area as I was served my breakfast. An egg white sandwich with cilantro and Carmine’s signature sauce was my favorite thing to eat, and I wanted something that I would remember from home before I left for Italy.

I dug in, completely ignoring the fact that I was a princess and needed to use my manners. I gulped down my orange juice, then patted my mouth with the crimson napkin that sat beside me. I stood up, then turned to go upstairs to dress myself.

What to wear, what to wear, I thought to myself. I couldn’t look scrubby, but I didn’t want to look too 

over the top. I grabbed one of my sundresses, then threw it on. I walked over to the mirror, then looked at myself. I decided that this would do. Then, I put on some earrings and a nice necklace. I brushed through my blonde curls with my fingers, then pulled it all over one shoulder. I nodded in agreement with myself, then walked out the door after slipping on some sandals.

The doorbell rang. They’re here!