Mirror Me

39: The Rose Festival

It was the day of the festival, and the whole town cheered and made ready in the streets. The event of the season could not be missed. Many people had heard that this year a special guest was to appear, the Rose Girl.

In the foyer of Madame Beatrice's mansion, Vanessa waited with me. Wearing her red fox-furred hood and bright red shoes, Vanessa looked stunning. She clicked her heels in anticipation and danced merrily around the room. I had dressed up as well. Everything from my fabulous red sequined dress to my shoes capped with small roses, from my red handbag to my red glittering gloves and flowery headband, my outfit was complete and perfectly in style to the festival's theme. As jubilant as Vanessa appeared for the upcoming festivities, I could show no emotion. My eyes glazed over looking like they were lost in a stormy sea. I could remember nothing of who I was or how I had come to be at this place. All I understood was this mansion was my home, and I loved it here. Vanessa said my name was Rose, and Madame Beatrice was my mother. I would do anything in my power to not displease her and follow her every command.

"I am so excited, Rose," said Vanessa shaking my arm. "I love your name. It has a lovely ring to it. Rose. Rose. Rose." I said nothing.

Beatrice cascaded down the stairs in her usual delicate manner. Her large gown mimicked that of a rose, one which had wilted over and wrapped itself around Beatrice's waist. Atop her hair sat an exquisite headdress whose flowers appeared to bloom from her scalp. If there was one thing Beatrice could not do, it was to disappoint.

"It looks like we are ready," said Madame Beatrice observing my ensemble. "Did she dress herself?"

"I helped a little," said Vanessa. "But she did most of the work."

"Hmm," said Beatrice. "I would have liked to see a bit more red and better hairstyling, but it will have to do." She petted my cheek. "My precious youthful flower. Soon even this will be mine." Beatrice turned to Vanessa. "Vanessa, dear, where are my mirror-bearers?"

"Here they come right now," said Vanessa motioning to a group of men in red suits each carrying a different sized mirror. They surrounded Beatrice.

"Perfect, darling," said Beatrice winking at herself in the mirror. "I look divine."

The suited gentleman lifted Madame Beatrice up on a humongous feathered pillow from which she would be paraded around and accompanied by her mirror-bearers should she require a reminder of her beauty. Behind her on a matching feathered pillow sat Vanessa and I.

Exiting the mansion's iron gates, horns blared announcing the beginning of the Festival of Roses. Beatrice waved at the crowd as they tossed rose petals in the air cheering, "Praise be to our Rose Queen!"

All around people were dressed in their finest red outfits. The streets decorated in bouquets of flowers radiated with joyous celebration. While the occasion called for little reasoning besides the over eccentric display of one woman's beauty, even an outsider had to admit, it made the people happy, and that's all that really mattered as far as festivals were concerned. While everyone celebrated and danced with exhilarating delight, there was one person in the masses who was not cheering, me. Deep in my mind a small shadow of my old self remained. That girl was screaming.

"Rose Girl," shouted the crowd when Vanessa and I passed them by. "Let us see your flawless beauty. Not as flawless as the Rose Queen of course, but exquisite nonetheless."

Vanessa whispered into my ear. "You see how beautiful you look without your silly glasses hiding your face. Everyone loves you. Everyone adores you. You are finally where you belong, where the world appreciates you." I looked out over the crowd. I tried to fight back but my body was not responding to my demands.