Happily Ever After, Ltd. - 11. A Long Night

“There’s still no romance,” Liam said.

“There can’t be none,” Dorothy said, peering over Liam’s shoulder at his computer. “Ryan is a man, after all. He must have some attraction to Cinderella.”

“There’s been no mention of falling in love,” Maria confirmed from the Core Book. “There’s not even a mention of like.”

“Could the terrorist have had something to do with this too?” Dorothy asked. “Could there be a virus he’s been giving Cinderella to stop her falling in love?”

“I don’t think so,” Liam said. “From what I could see, only Prince Charming was infected by the virus. There’s nothing irregular about Cinderella herself. The problem is the lack of attraction between the two of them.”

“Maybe it’s because they haven’t had a chance to fall in love,” Maria said. “They only had a few minutes on the dance floor together. Maybe they’ll have a better shot at it tomorrow.”

Dorothy wasn’t so sure. If two characters hadn’t fallen in love at a Royal Ball, she doubted they were going to fall in love over a shoe.

*

“So you’re going to choose your future Queen using a shoe?” the King asked.

“Sorry, maybe I’m not explaining it very well,” Ryan said. That was an understatement. He couldn’t remember exactly where the story was supposed to go from here, and the King was getting even angrier.

“Dear,” the Queen said, “there’s a room full of perfectly willing ladies, most of whom you haven’t so much as spoken with. It seems rather odd that you’ve got your heart set on a lady who turned up hours late and then left before midnight.”

“But this is how the story goes,” Ryan said. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, I’m not making such a ridiculous announcement,” the King said. “It’s your choice, so you can tell everyone your so-called decision. I’m not staying to hear it.”

He turned and stomped out of the hall.

The Queen smiled. “Don’t mind him, dear. He’s tired.” She kissed Ryan on the cheek again, then hurried after the King.

All eyes in the room were back on Ryan.

He made his way back across the hall. The only sound was the echo of his footsteps. He climbed up onto the platform, in front of the thrones, and looked down at the crowd.

Ryan had always hated public speaking. Ever since he was a child, it had crippled him with dread. For a year at primary school, he even refused to open his mouth during classes, to the point that he had to go to a speech therapist. Even a few years earlier, Ryan’s parents had asked him to do a toast at their twenty-fifth anniversary dinner. There weren’t even fifteen guests, but his hands shook so much that, when he tapped his fork against his champagne flute, the glass shattered.

Now, there was a huge hall filled with hundreds of guests, waiting for him to talk.

“Hey everyone!” Ryan said. His voice sounded tiny in the large hall.

There was jostling at the front of the crowd as Katrine and Lucille elbowed their way forwards.

“Um, so, thanks for coming!” Ryan said. His tongue felt thick and very dry. The pauses in between each sentence seemed to drag on forever. “I guess you’re all wondering about this whole bride thing?”

The ladies all leaned forward.

“Well, I’ve got this shoe, you see?” Ryan held it up. “And what I’m going to do tomorrow is I’m going to visit every female person in the whole kingdom! And the female who fits this shoe will be, you know, it! She will be the one I choose! As my bride.”

A few ladies looked at each other, shaking their heads, confused. There were a few murmurs.

“Did he say whoever fits a shoe?” Katrine said.

“That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lucille said.

“Alright, so that’s everything!” Ryan said. “You all have to go home now, because there’s going to be a lot of cleaning up to do. Alright. Thanks for coming! Good night. Bye!”

Eventually, still shaking their heads, the ladies began to turn and drift towards the exit. The disappointment was coming off them in waves, but Ryan was relieved that the evening was finally over. He sank into the King’s throne, his feet aching. The throne was so comfortable that Ryan could’ve fallen asleep right there, but Bjorn appeared next to him, his voice in Ryan’s ear like a mosquito’s whine.

“I must say,” he said, “I am feeling even more hopeful now that I’ve seen your complete lack of chemistry with Cinderella.”

Ryan groaned. “Go away.”

“Hey, I did everything you wanted me to. We both got what we wanted.”

“Yes, well, it’s been a very long and very unusual day. And even though you’re the only other human being here, you’re the most unusual part of it.” Ryan got up, the throne scraping loudly. “I need to go to bed.” Ryan hesitated. “Um … Bjorn?”

“Yes?”

“Can you take me back to my bedroom?”

“Are you asking me for another favour?” Bjorn said.

“Yes, I guess I am.”

Bjorn got up and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “You’re the best Prince Charming I could’ve hoped for. You can have all the favours you want.”

*

Waking up from the tranquiliser felt even worse the second time around. Dave’s entire body ached. His elbows and knees were bruised from the fall, his neck and shoulder hurt from the darts, and his head was pounding – but the shame he felt was the worst thing of all. His rescue attempt hadn’t only been a humiliating failure, he had put Ryan in even more danger. Dave’s willpower, whether to escape from the building or to rescue Ryan, had sapped away completely.

He didn’t even turn around when Burnham came in and stood up on Dorothy’s desk with a blow torch and three metal bars.

“There’ll be no getting up here now,” Burnham said.

“I don’t care,” Dave said, and meant it. “Do what you need to do and then go away.”

“Won’t be another minute.”

There were a few short drills, then the hissing of the blow torch.

“Strange job,” Dave said after a minute.

“What is?”

“What do you even do here? Wrestle trolls and giants?”

“Once or twice.”

“It’s pathetic,” Dave said. “And that gun you carry around – it’s not even a real gun. It looks like a toy.”

Burnham hopped down onto the floor. “Works well enough though.”

“You’re a kid who never grew up. Like Peter Pan.”

“I sure can be.”

Burnham wasn’t taking the bait, and Dave didn’t want to keep trying to pick a fight. He wanted to go back to sleep.

There was a knock on the door and Maria poked her head in. “Are you boys decent?” Even after the long day, she was as cheerful and upbeat as ever. She brought in a pile of blankets and cushions, which she set down on Dorothy’s desk.

“I rummaged up as much as I could,” she said. “I hope the blankets are alright. Some of the ones I found were a bit scratchy but these ones will be nice and warm. The cushions are from the foyer but Fiona’s bringing up some pillowcases, so you won’t need to worry about putting your face where someone’s backside has been.”

“There you go,” Burnham said. “That ought to make you a lot more comfortable.”

“Oh sure, pillowcases will make this all okay,” Dave said.

“The chair reclines right back,” Burnham said. “It’s actually pretty comfortable.”

Burnham had had firsthand experience of the chair’s reclining function. It’d been a few months after Dorothy had been promoted to Cinderella. It was late, very late, on a weeknight and, as usual, Dorothy was still working. Burnham had been called in at last minute to cover an uneventful night shift. He wandered up to Dorothy’s office on the twelfth floor. Her desk was covered in paperwork and her face was lit by the glow of her computer screen.

“It’s nearly midnight, Cinderella,” Burnham had said. “Isn’t it time to ride your pumpkin home?”

Dorothy looked up and smiled. He’d found her in one of her increasingly-rare softer moods. She was tired, but the last thing she felt like doing was sleep. The knots she had in her shoulders and back all seemed to loosen.

“Come in,” she said, “and close the door behind you.”

But that night had been a one-off. Burnham had tried to recreate it a few weeks later, but she’d resisted, insisting that someone would hear, it was too reckless, impractical. And so sex in the office was off the table. Then, within a year, all sex was off the table. Even now, it was hard for Burnham not to get angry when he thought about how sour everything had become.

Every conversation quickly became an argument.

“What time will you be home?” he’d ask.

“You know how busy I am!” she’d snap. “You know that, I’ve told you a thousand times. Please don’t make me feel guilty about it again.”

Or she’d ask, “Why don’t you fly up to see your nephews next month?”

“Sure. I’ll look at flights for us.”

“Oh – no – well I don’t need to go. I was thinking you could go.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Burnham, they’re your nephews.”

“They’re your nephews too.”

“In name only. I’ve got more in common with their Cocker Spaniel.”

Then every sentence, even every look, became an attack. And, lastly, there was bitter silence, which was the worst stage of all.

*

Dorothy was alone in front of the Core Book, turning to the same pages over and over. Cinderella looked beautiful in her dress. She had arrived at the Ball. She had danced with the Prince. The clock had struck midnight and Cinderella had fled. Prince Charming had retrieved the shoe. So many of the elements were on the page, but it still wasn’t working. It was the human variable. Ryan was a complete unknown. That had been the gamble – and in many ways, Ryan had been a very lucky choice indeed. By some miracle, he had gotten Cinderella in and out of the Ball before midnight and he’d remembered to fetch the shoe. But the connection itself, between Ryan and Cinderella, which they needed if they were ever going to get a happy ending – that hadn’t even been hinted at.

“Thought you might need this.”

Burnham came in, holding two mugs of instant coffee he’d made in the small kitchen next to the photocopy room. Dorothy usually despised the office coffee but tonight she was grateful for it. She took a large sip. It was dark and sweet, exactly what she needed.

“Is Dave locked in for the night?” she asked.

“Actually, he’s welded in.”

“Good.”

“Where are Liam and Maria?” he asked.

“They’ve gone home for a few hours,” Dorothy said. “Liam was falling asleep in his chair. Maria still seemed fine and wanted to stay, but I could tell it was only a matter of time before she crashed.”

“Do you think one of them ...” Burnham trailed off awkwardly, unsure how to ask.

But Dorothy had been thinking the same thing herself. “Do I think one of them helped the terrorist? I can’t bring myself to believe it. Liam’s been with us from the beginning – and Maria loves Cinderella. Or at least, she seems to.”

“Well, I’ve got Ivan from downstairs sending up security tapes from two months ago,” Burnham said. “I’ll start looking them over, and see if there’s anything unusual.”

“Good, thanks.”

It felt like old times: late nights, bad coffee, knowing smiles. But these pleasant, confusing moments had been occurring ever since their separation, even during the worst of it. By now, Dorothy knew that each of those moments was nothing more than a mirage, a cruel hallucination of happiness.

Dorothy forced her attention back to the Core Book. It was going to be a long night.

*

Bjorn returned to his small room in the servant’s wing. He stretched out on the lumpy mattress and yawned. He was tired, but he knew he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. He was too excited. It wasn’t just going to plan; it was going better. The replacement was perfect. The Ball had been a disaster. Ryan’s dancing had been particularly awful.

It’d been a perfect evening.

Almost, said a small voice.

If Bjorn could’ve wished for one more thing, he would’ve wished that he hadn’t been alone. The irony was maddening. Bjorn had devoted so much of his life to attacking happy endings and romantic delusions, and yet here he was, head over heels in love. It’d happened instantly, even faster than between a pair of fairytale idiots.

Two years earlier, Bjorn had been in a crowded pub to see a band. Before the gig, he was jostling with twenty-somethings for the bartender’s attention.

All he'd done was glance to his left and, snap, the moment their eyes met, he was in love.

Even more of a cliché: the object of his affection worked for his sworn enemy, the fairytale factory itself, Happily Ever After, Ltd. By rights, the two of them should’ve hated each other. However, although they disagreed on many topics, their disagreement didn’t turn into hatred, it turned into passion. They argued for hours on end, from sunset to sunrise, and never tired of it. It was love. Sickly-sweet, sugary love.

Then one Tuesday evening, nearly a year ago: the two of them had been sitting in front of the TV.

“We had to use a human today.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bjorn wasn’t listening. Half his attention was on his laptop, and the other half was on the TV.

“The bean-seller from Jack vanished. Only for thirty minutes, but we had to use a human replacement.”

“Mm,” said Bjorn.

“They picked some guy from the maintenance department at the university. It was a disaster. He gave Jack an extra bean. The beanstalk shot right past the giant’s castle.”

“No way.” Bjorn pattered away on his laptop, then watched a commercial for vegan dog food.

Your dog will moan for our meat-free bone!

Then he looked up. “Wait, did you say you had to put a human into one of your stories?”

“Yes.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m trying to tell you about.”

The seed had been planted that night. There’d been weeks of thinking, a month of persuading, then came the planning. Now, one year later, Bjorn’s plan had worked.

Yet he found himself pining. Pining in the same pitiful way that Cinderella, Sleep Beauty, Snow White, the Mermaid, and Rapunzel all pined for their princes.

Bjorn was no different to any of them after all.

*

Back in his bedroom, Ryan was finally alone again. He collapsed onto the bed. His eyelids were so heavy that he thought he’d be asleep within seconds, but he wasn’t.

Ryan knew Bjorn was insane – he had to be – and yet, as insane as he was, Ryan couldn’t help but think that there was some truth to what he’d said. Of all people, Ryan was thinking about Doug, and of the endless numbers of girls who let him treat them so badly. And Ryan had actually had that thought before: that all the girls let Doug treat them badly because they were desperate for a happy ending. Each girl was hopeful that Doug would be the one guy who would be different, the guy who’d call them the next day, who’d charm their parents, who’d make their friends jealous, and who’d eventually get down on one knee and make their ultimate dream come true.

It wasn’t just Doug. Ryan found himself thinking of that one evening, ten years ago, when he’d been Prince Charming in the school play. For ten years, his parents never stopped telling how proud he had made them that night. They’d told him over and over how much they wanted to see him live happily ever after, with a nice girl, with a wedding, with children. That was the happy ending that they’d always wanted for him. For a long time, Ryan had tried to convince himself that was what he wanted, too.

But even if Bjorn was right about society having a problem with its expectations, Ryan didn’t believe that children’s stories weren’t the problem – or at least, they weren’t a big enough part of problem to go as far as he had gone. And, even if Cinderella was a big problem, destroying her happy ending was surely not going to solve it.

Eventually Ryan fell asleep, but dreamt all night of unhappy endings.