BETTIRELLA'S CHALLENGE (or A HEART OF ICE)
This is the answer to the advent challenge of MGSC, and is dedicated to all the wonderful Getty Girls (and the Getty Guy) there – plus to the one and only Freddy Rodriguez, who is a never ending source of inspiration to us.
This is my Christmas present to you all – and to the ABC, three words only: Bring Back Gio!
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a fair maiden named Bettirella. Her skin was golden, her hair black and her brown eyes were framed by bright red glasses. She smiled most of the time, showing her white teeth, for the time being hidden behind braces. She was a curvy petite who loved everything colorful and bright, and she had the biggest heart in the land, always willing to put herself aside to help others.
Bettirella was born in a small cottage where she still lived together with her father, sister and young nephew. She had a job in a mansion of glamour, and she loved it even if her days were hectic. She was going places, she was creating a career. From time to time she dated young men, and everything was fine – for a while, but sooner or later something went wrong. The young gentleman somehow didn't live up to the young maiden's expectations.
Our sweet, dear maiden wasn't content with her life; the family, the job, the hectic atmosphere surrounding her, her goals, her friends and colleagues – nothing mattered anymore. She felt she was a failure, no matter how much professional success she had gained in a short time. She felt she lived in a snow globe. There was no escape, only limitations. Everything she had waiting for the rest of her life already was within the globe. You could shake the globe, the snowflakes would fall in different positions every time, but eventually nothing was new. Nothing would ever change for real. Those prospects were sad, and they made our maiden even sadder. She missed something in her life to make it full, and she soon realized the missing ingredient in her life was love.
How do you find love in a snow globe? We're talking a big, huge snow globe, but sooner or later, living within, you have tried all the alternatives there are. Our maiden was a bright, young thing, she understood this, and the mere thought of already having tasted, tried and thrown away all the possibly eligible young gentlemen within the snow globe, made her sink into very dark moods.
"Sweet Bettirella, there is an ocean of men out there! You are just being too picky," her joyful and merry older sister, very seldom lacking a love interest, exclaimed.
"You deal with the cards you're given," her father wisely advised.
"There is always the possibility of switching lanes," her young nephew, already grown stylish and clever, suggested.
Bettirella didn't find any of the alternatives tempting. She had dreams, she had hopes, she had passion buried deep within, but she had no one to share this with. She has endless love to give, but no one had proved worthy of receiving this love. Yet she wasn't willing to waste all there was on someone who didn't live up to her standards. Never again. She knew what she wanted.
"But no, Bettirella, my angel – that is your problem!" a voice spoke as Bettirella sat over the computer, trying to cheer up over a website showing little ducklings.
Bettirella looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. She was alone in the mansion of glamour, working late as usual. Only the odd security guy would pass on regular time intervals, and she would give him a smile and a wave as he passed, and he would wave back with his torch or maybe give her a wink, but that was all there was to it. Her sister would have lightened up, but Bettirella wasn't startled. Uniforms didn't do anything for her.
"Where are you?" she asked in a loud voice, hoping she would scare off the prankster, or at least show she wasn't scare. No one that wasn't supposed to be in the building could possibly get past security. "Is that you, Amanda?" Her friend – sort of, could very well see this as some kind of joke. Amanda was unpredictable. "Marc?" Bettirella's voice trembled. Even her other friend – sort of, could do this, never giving it a thought she could be totally spooked out. "Willie – this isn't funny!" But the scary witch of the mansion of glamour would never sink as low as scaring Bettirella, whom she still considered one of the lowest servants in the mansion.
"Sweet dear, don't be scared!" Again the voice was clear in the quiet room, but this time a face filled the screen, shoving the little ducklings – one of them uglier than the other, into the background. It was like she was given a new screensaver. "I'm your fairy godmother," spoke the elderly woman from her screen. To prove her identity, Bettirella's new interactive screensaver slash fairy godmother lifted a lock of her curly gray hair and showed Bettirella her pointed ears. Well, she was a fairy. That was for sure. Like most females on the planet, the young maiden had watched Lord of the Ring with pleasure, over and over again falling for Legolas – and she knew he had pointed ears. Not that the ears were the bodily feature of Orlando Bloom's that attracted her the most.
"A fairy godmother?" Bettirella asked, showing more than a little surprise. "No one ever told me I had a fairy godmother!"
"Ah, your poor father probably didn't know," the godmother said, shrugging her shoulders. "I would have expected him to call out for me from time to time during your childhood, but he never did. Now – if your mother never told him about my existence, that would explain a lot."
"My mother knew you?" Bettirella whispered, tears in her eyes. Her dear mother had been dead for a long time, but there wasn't a day gone by that Bettirella didn't think of her or didn't miss her. All her grown up life she had missed a mother's guidance, a mother's gentle advice, a mother to turn to when life was difficult and she couldn't tell right from wrong – she believed her life would have been much different had her mother been alive.
"Well of course your mother knew me! She was the one who sent for me when you were born. She asked me to look after you if she couldn't do it, and she asked me to come whenever I was called. But no one ever called me, Bettirella, so I have just watched. Until now, when I felt you were in such desperate need of guidance, that I just had to make my first appearance."
Bettirella nodded. She was touched by the mere fact that her mother had chosen a fairy godmother for her. That was a gift she had never expected. And she got teary eyed over the fact that the godmother had watched over her all these years – and that she actually had entered her life, willing to assist and guide her. She felt cared for and loved, and that hadn't happened in a long long time.
"I didn't know you fairies were online," she said, drying her eyes, hoping the mascara didn't smear.
"Oh, sweetheart, we fairies have always been up to everything new in our time. How could we help if we weren't? But we don't have a website, mind you. We hack in. We come when we are needed – to those needing us. And of course to those who have prepaid the three wishes."
"Three wishes?" Bettirella's eyes widened.
"Well, there are gift packs, you know, "her fairy godmother said. "Three wishes, five wishes, a dozen wishes – but that demands three godmothers, and with health insurance and stuff, that costs, my sweet. The most usual package is the three wishes – the one your mother chose for you." The fairy smiled, her face cracked up in wrinkles – this wasn't the kind of fairy godmother the catoons had prepared Berttirella for.
Fairy godmothers read thoughts. "Well of course I'm not all rosy and smooth skinned! I wouldn't let anyone inject me with botox no matter what! Anyway, sweetheart, your mother said to me she didn't want you to think everything came easy in life, that's why she didn't want to give you more than three wishes – or three advices, as I like to call them. She didn't want you to become one of those spoilt girls who sleep their days away, only run from nightclub to nightclub in too short skirts and too high heels, their only challenge carrying a purse by the elbow. She wanted you to know that life isn't easy, but that every challenge you meet makes you a stronger person. She wanted you to be whole and happy and to learn to make the right choices. To be honest with you, I never really want people to pick the twelve wishes pack – or even the unlimited wishes pack – those only really create spineless people, usually too full of themselves, they think they can get away with everything. Usually they do, as they come from money – how else could their parents afford the exclusive packs? They cost, which is why I'm not allowed to guide our clients against picking them." The fairy godmother sighed. "Your mother, however, was wise. She gave you just enough wishes to ensure you had guidance when you really, really needed that."
"So I get a wish now?" Bettirella asked, already contemplating what she should wish for. Zac Efron dumping his girlfriend, falling helplessly for her? George Clooney dumping his girlfriend etcetera etcetera? Orlando Bloom? Endless money pouring into her account whenever she started to get broke? Days of leisure and luxury? Ravishing beauty? A stylist to trust?
"No, no, no!" her fairy godmother said in a soft voice. She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, sweetheart." You call for me in your hour of need. Or – as in this case, an red light goes off in my office, showing me you are in real need, your need is analyzed by the Council of Elderly Fairies – or these days, the program they set up for analysis, I get the answer to your needs – and here I am. Telling you what to do. Assisting in any which way possible to make you do what you need to do."
Bettirella wasn't as pleased with this solution – she would have liked to wish for just the best thing she could have come up with, but she assumed the fairies knew best. She supposed they had been in the business long enough to sit on the knowhow.
"We do," the fairy godmother said – again proving she could read thoughts. "Most people never know what to wish for, which again and again leads them into trouble. That makes you one of the majority, sweetheart. You really don't know what to wish for. You don't know what is best for you. And that again makes you make the wrong decisions"
Bettirella swallowed hard. This was harsh love.
"I know you are seeking for love, aren't we all! Well, dearest girl, you open your heart too easily. You allow anyone who shows you some interest, entrance. But everyone isn't worthy of your trust. Some walk straight in and thrive on your love and then walk straight out – never giving you anything in return. You shouldn't be so naive, my dear. You must learn to know yourself, to learn about your own needs – and you must see where you have thread wrongly." The fairy godmother pulled her breath. "That is why I'm giving you a challenge. I will send you out into the World of Past Possibilities – and I will let you make acquaintance with the past possibilities of your life. You will enter their mansions, and you will see them with fresh eyes. I say you'll learn a lot about them and about who you are." She winked an eye. "And as we know how easily you give your heart away, we decided we would prevent you from being too impulsive. We protect you from yourself, Bettirella." She waved her magic wand, and Bettirella shivered – and somehow felt different.
"The wand is merely for the effect," the godmother giggled. "I need no effects, really. But it looks good. From this moment on, your heart is frozen. The princes of all kinds won't reach to the chore of it by just winking an eye or showing you just a crumble of kindness. It will take a heart full of love – meeting that sparkle of true love in your heart, to melt it. This time you won't give it away to anyone unworthy of it. It's for your own protection, dear. Look at it as a heart condom."
Bettirella flushed. She was a bit of a prude, even if multiple persons had tried to change her.
"Now – off you go!" the fairy godmother said. "Hush hush!"
"Now? But it's cold outside? It's late. And where shall I go? Where is this World of Past Possibilities? How do I get there? Do I take the subway? I don't reckon any cab driver will know where to take me. Don't I need to book a hotel in advance? And how do I find these princes? How do I recognize them? What if some homeless guy melts my heart?"
"Well, then you can choose him or not, "the fairy godmother said. "It's not like we're pushing people into marriages. Your feet will take you where you need to go. You will know which mansions to enter – when you meet the princes, it's totally up to you to ask the right questions. And what you get out of your adventure – well, that is totally up to you. We master in guidance, in life coaching, not in marvels, sweetheart. You make the marvels happen. You create the sparkles – when you meet the right person. So – off you go!"
And that was why the sweet maiden Bettirella wandered out into the dark December night, looking for the World of Past Possibilities and the princes said to inhabit that strange land.
As the fairy godmother had said, Bettirella had no problems spotting the mansions of interest to her. She hadn't walked far when she reached a glorious mansion where a big ball was held. She had no invitation, she wasn't dressed for the occasion, but as she approached the entrance, the doors opened and to her surprise, she was warmly greeted and welcomed – as if she were a guest of honor. Our maiden grabbed a glass of champagne and pretended she belonged. She was good at pretending.
Who might this house belong to? Who hosted the party? Our maiden recognized some of the guests. They were not her people. All were famous. She had seen them on TV, in glossy magazines. J. Lo was there as well as LiLo. The handsome Christopher Gorham had a joyful chat with the even more handsome Freddy Rodriguez over a beer. Talented America Ferrera was stunning in a red dress that did oh so much for her. Silvio Horta, the infamous producer, showed most of his teeth over a glass of expensive bubbles. Jennifer Aniston was there – and in the other room, clinging to a Bloody Mary, passionately discussing with Super Nanny how to raise problem children, Angelica Jolie. Bettirella didn't want to witness that possible meeting, and she fled the room – only to have to hide behind the curtains as she walked into a private conversation. One of the voices she knew all too well. He spoke with a Latin woman.
"I've never sought glory as a lover," he stated.
The woman snorted. "What then, senor, do you seek?"
"A moment that lasts a lifetime," he eventually responded.
A female servant entered the room. She accused the man Bettirella knew of taking a pig to the house. He pretended he didn't know what she was talking about. The servant wasn't impressed. She raised her voice. "My Lady says the pig must stay outside, but the animal, we'll take."
Bettirella smiled, but she managed to stay hidden till everybody else had left the room. Then she could laugh. Oh, she had pined for this man! She had never been good enough in his mother's eyes – and she had never really believed she was good enough for him. She followed him out of the house – but at a distance. She didn't want him to see her.
She needn't worry. This man never looked over his shoulder. He encountered another woman. She was very beautiful. Bettirella hid in the shadows. She wasn't at all ashamed of eavesdropping.
"True love," the woman said, "does not grow with the number of lovers. It wastes away."
"I, too, come here to make confession," the tall dark man said.
"What have you to confess?" his female companion asked. Bettirella could tell they had been lovers. The body language gave it all away.
"Well, let's see," he made a point out of thinking. "Jealousy. Pride. Covetousness. Despair. And you?"
"I came to prepare my soul for marriage," the woman responded.
Bettirella watched the man kiss the woman. She didn't hang around to see how it ended. He didn't hesitate to kiss the woman. He knew she was getting married, and he didn't hesitate to kiss her. Bettirella fled. She ran through corridors heavy with expensive art. She stitched her way through all those celebrities who a) clung to a drink that would never leave them the party through or b) downed every drink in sight as they were I)totally new at this or II) feared they would be out next week.
He still was gorgeous to her eyes, but she saw that part of the attraction was his wealth and the power his money gave him. OK – so she wasn't aware of who he was when she first met him. Then he was goofy and nerdy and she totally loved that. He saw her and liked her – he even fell for her – HER, and she liked the feel of being special. Watching him kiss the woman who was going to marry some naive guy, Bettirella remembered how she felt when he let her know she wasn't exactly his first or second or even third. She was his hundred and umpteenth someone.
Her frozen heart didn't even crack a little.
Bettirella left the mansion, never looking back. She had never been much for big, formal parties anyway.
She hadn't walked long before she bumped into another party. It had to be the season for those. They were a joyful bunch, and our young maiden let herself be shoveled into the club where hip people were dancing hip dances to hip music. She wasn't an inventive dancer, but as she tried to cross the dance floor, she accidentally invented hip moves. Before she knew what happened, she was next to the stage, and her heart bumped as she recognized the man on stage. She actually had wondered what had happened to her old neighbor, but time had never allowed her to figure that out. He hadn't even added her as a friend on Facebook, and she sure wouldn't be the one making the request. And here he was, yelling into a phone he had switched on loudspeakers.
"Hi, Jesse!" a male voice cried on the phone.
"Hello," Jesse responded.
He dressed better than when Bettirella knew him.
"We're live across the nation," the voice continued, and Bettirella understood this had to be some radio station. "And you're number 1!"
The man on stage laughed.
"How will you be celebrating?" the radio voice asked.
Jesse danced on stage. He performed. "I don't know. Er, either I could behave like a real rock and roll loser, and get drunk with my fat manager, or when I hang up I'll be flooded by invitations to a large number of glamorous parties."
The audience cheered. Bettirella found it hard not to join them. He had earned this.
The radio voice said, "Let's hope it's the latter. And here it is. Number one from our very own Jesse. It's "Neighbor Girl Stole my Heart".
Jesse laughed out loudly. "Oh, Jesus, not that crap again!"
He had changed. Bettirella guessed she had changed as well. She had been his muse for a short time. He had written music about their relationship. That had to count for something. She had wanted to love him – because one day he would be famous and she could steal some of his light – at least she could stand in it. He would love it if she did walk into his light and let herself be seen by him – but somehow she couldn't do that. Her heart melted a little, but he produced no heat wave. She supposed he never had.
Lighter at heart – if anything, she walked down the street. A party of young people drew her attention. This was no mansion. This was her neighborhood some years back. She smiled as she recognized the smells and sounds and she saw who had afforded to paint the facades and who hadn't. She had attended parties like this, and she barely dared enter the house from where loud music flooded into the street.
Her heart almost stood still as she recognized her first boyfriend. She wouldn't say love. He never was. He was her first boyfriend. He was the first fella who ever saw her, who ever wanted her. Maybe he had liked her for the same reasons. She was the first girl who wanted him.
She wished she had never heard the conversation between her first boyfriend and his equally idiot friends.
Walter did pop the question. "Guys, uh, what exactly does third base feel like?"
"You want to take this one?"
"Like warm apple pie."
Bettirella almost choked behind the half open door where she was hiding.
"Yeah?" Walter was interested.
"Yeah!" one of the idiot mates said.
"Apple pie, huh?" Walter asked.
Bettirella remembered the apple pie she had baked for him. On request. She would never eat apple pie ever again.
"Uh huh," another of the idiots responded.
"McDonald's or homemade?" Walter asked.
Bettirella escaped. If anything, this had made her heart grow colder. What on earth had she seen in Walter? A man who could just as easily be pleased by an apple pie? Her homemade apple pie.
She had felt sorry for him for quite long, as he was the first man she had ever dumped.
Now she knew her instincts had been good.
She kept on walking, but her feet were aching. She had started wearing higher heels. Heels showed power. She needed that in her job. Queen Willie wore 4 inches heels. Bettirella was sure Willie could run backwards in those. One day she would be able to do the same. She found a bench where she could rest her aching feet for a while. She was awakened by a gentle voice. As she opened her eyes, she looked straight into the most handsome face she had ever seen. He was like chiseled in stone, all his features perfect, his smile big and bright, and his eyes glittering behind the Clark Kent-glasses. He told her he'd get her a cab home. For some odd reason she accepted. But she was oh so tired, and she napped away in the cab. That could not be recommended by the fairy godmothers – our maiden was deeply asleep. The wise advices of the godmother did not reach her.
The next she knew, she was waking up in a strange bed – and the Adonis from last night watched her. Instead of calling 911, she asked, "Have I been here all night, alone?"
Her hero smiled. "If you don't count me, yes."
She froze. "So, I've spent the night here – with you?"
"Well now, I – I don't know that I'd use those words exactly, but, uh, from a certain angle, yes."
She wanted to disappear into a hole in the floor. Instead of disappearing, she said, "how do you do?"
"How do you do?" he responded – showing he was raised right. "You do realize we have spent many a night together?" he asked.
She snared, "Well, of course I do – I am no idiot!"
"So how have you been?"
"How is Charlie?" she asked. "How is Nate?"
He told her. He didn't tell her she was the one. And she didn't tell him he was the one. Most likely because he wasn't. Henry had been her first love. She felt a lot of warmth for him. The ice layer surrounding her heart became a bit thinner, but it didn't melt.
"You have moved on, then?" Bettirella asked with a thin voice.
"I still care a lot for you…"
That wasn't enough. They both knew that. But he would always be a special person in her life – as she would be in his.
"I couldn't let you sleep on that bench," he smiled.
He was a good man – some day he would make one lucky woman very happy. Bettirella kissed his cheek before they parted.
"See you at Facebook," she said.
"Or Twitter," he responded. "I'm more often on Twitter these days."
By now the maiden knew the drill. "Who's next?" she asked. "There can be no one else. There has been no one else. I'm no slut!"
Bettirella found comfort in that thought. She found herself in front of a house she knew. She rang the doorbell and was allowed in without a question. The elevator took her to the right floor. She didn't understand why she was here. This was no past love. This was no future love. So much for the wisdom of the fairies! She'd swap Legolas for her fairy godmother any day! At least she could take advantage of him.
"You?" her old friend uttered as he opened the door and let her in. "What are you doing here? You look like you have slept in those clothes."
"I ran into Henry, "she said.
"And accidentally slept with him?"
The maiden had never expected to find spite and sarcasm in her oldest friend, in her best friend. "Don't you dare judge me! As if you never slept with anyone you bumped into!"
"Not the past years."
He could be wrong. He could be a saint these days, but he had been a man slut for years, and she had never used that against him. Never. Till now. Bettirella opened her mouth and all she'd kept inside flooded out.
"So this is your opinion of me," he said after listening silently to it all. "Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might have be overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty…"
"My pride?" Bettirella froze.
"… in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?"
"And those are the words of a gentleman," Bettirella uttered, just as proud as he saw her. "From the first moment U met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."
The atmosphere between them was loaded. For a second she wanted to fall into his arms. He had held her so often. She knew how strong he could be. And she knew what a child he could be. There had been times when no one else but Daniel could have comforted her. There had been moments when she had been the only person who could reach through to him. OK, so she had been attracted to him. He was a handsome man. She had hormones! Obviously he had some hormones too.
Their faces fell closer. She opened her mouth. He opened his. She waited for the kiss. If they ever were to kiss each other, this was the time.
He withdrew. "Forgive me, madam," he said, "for taking up so much of your time." And he left her.
He left her.
Usually she dumped the man. She was the one who did the walking. Bettirella almost cried for her fairy godmother. This was not acceptable behavior. Where was the timeout mat?
He didn't return to say he was sorry. And her heart melted, but not enough.
She could have married Daniel – had she believed there was no one else for her. That could even have been a rather happy marriage. No passion, but mutual interests, a lot of care, a solid friendship, a connection that would last for life. Pretty much what she felt for her very own sister. Daniel was her friend, he could have been her brother. You didn't marry brothers.
"We don't marry brothers!" she spoke out loud as she tried to find her way back home. It wasn't easy. She should have worn sneakers. Heels had to be invented by a man who wanted to slow down skilful women. Tired and thirsty she walked into a night open restaurant. She made it for the bar and asked for a White Russian – she felt adventurous. She downed the drink and thought the barman looked familiar. "Another one, please!" she said.
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine!" the bar man sighed as he served her the drink she didn't need.
Our maiden emptied the glass once again – not very ladylike, and then she recognized him. She hadn't allowed herself to think of him in years. And there he was – in real life, just in front of her, looking as gorgeously as ever.
"Giovanni," she said. "It's really you, Giovanni Rossi!" She could feel the ice melting. Her heart was vibrating. Outside the bar she could see icicles falling. They melted.
"Betty," he said. He had never recognized her as Bettirella. He had told her that was a childish nickname, and she was no child.
"I have been walking in the cold so long," she told him. "My feet are aching. These shoes are not made for walking. But how could I know I should wander so long. Past possibilities, she said. Well, who reckoned they would be miles away from work? I'm not sure if it's the shoes or you – but gee, am I glad to see you! How have you been? Did I tell you that you look amazing? Have you worked out?"
"No questions," he smiled.
"No questions," she responded.
The water on the floor wasn't Bettirella drooling, it was that frozen heart melting.
Gio held her hands across the counter. "Who are you really?" he asked. "And what were you before? What did you do and what did you think, huh?"
"We said no questions," she said.
He sighed, "Here's looking at you, kid…"
She leaned over, grabbed his t-shirt and kissed him. That felt about right. She hadn't thought of him. She hadn't allowed herself to. He had challenged her. He had made her think along paths she didn't want to think, he had made her make difficult decisions. It had hurt, and she hadn't been mature enough for those challenges. She had liked him, but she hadn't been at the same place in life as him when they last met.
Now – however, was a totally different story.
Not only the icicles hanging from the roof outside his bar, melted. The ice on the pavement outside his bar melted.
He closed the bar. He gave her espresso and black and white biscuits.
"So – what brought you here?" he asked.
She wasn't ready to put that in words.
He held up those strong arms. God, she loved those arms! He had worked out – a lot.
"I'm sorry for asking, " he said. "I forgot we said 'no questions.'"
"Well," she smiled, braver than in a long time. "Only one answer can take care of all our questions." She approached his lips for a kiss. "My frozen heart just melted."
There is not much more to relate, for the maiden knew that she had found her True Love – not just any Love Interest. Her True Love carried her in his arms up the stairs to the first floor, where he had a tiny apartment. He held her in his arms. He made her cocoa and held her in his laps as she drank it – and as she slowly sobered, she quickly fell in love.
She knew she had two more wishes – but she didn't want to spend them in a moment filled with so much happiness as what she experienced. She kept her secret. There doubtlessly would come says when she wasn't as happy as this. Then she would need a fairy godmother. Now she only needed Gio.
Did they live happily ever after?
For many, many years, yes. But nothing is granted forever. Or as Gio would put it, "Are my eyes really brown?"