Chapter 29: The Monsters Under the Bed

           After my little outing at the tattoo parlour, I went straight home. I let out a yawn and traveled to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

           "Oh, hey babe."

           I grinned naughtily at the sight of Prince bathing. I sat on the edge of the tub. "Hello, darling."

           "Where did you go today?"

           "Went to my old house. Step-mother's coo-coo, Drizella's bulimic, Lucifer's old, and Anastasia is dating an old fart," I said.

           "Is Drizella still with Robbie?"

           "Yeah. I still think Anastasia and Robbie would be better suited together, but whatever, right? The heart wants what the heart wants," I said, eyeing Prince with a smile.

           "What's that?" Prince cried, suddenly pointing towards my arm and sending water flying everywhere.

           The edge of my tattoo could be seen peeking out just below the cuff of my shirt. "I also went to the tattoo parlour," I said guiltily.

           "So you decided it'd be a great idea to get a tattoo?" Prince said icily.

           "Prince, don't be like that... It's a little one and it's not something crude. I went to the tattoo place because I wanted to meet Anastasia's boyfriend, apparently he hung out there a lot."

           "Whatever," Prince pouted, looking into the bathwater.

           I ignored him. "She's dating Scotty Beaver and he's ancient. And I saw Talan there," I muttered quickly.

           Prince turned his head towards me again. "Talan The Dick Sagar?"

           I snorted. "Yeah, but he apologized and we made out," I said.

           "YOU WHAT?" Prince yelled.

           "We... we made up?" I said, confused. Oh, god, had I said that we made out?

           Prince looked at me suspiciously. "How did you 'make up'?"

           I sighed and stroked Prince's broad shoulders. "He apologized and we hugged and we exchanged numbers. He wants to stay in touch."

           Prince sneered. "More like he's wants to touch... you."

           "Prince!" I cried, appalled, "I'm sorry for what I did, but I'm better now! I have to find myself again and part of that is to search into my past and mend wrongs..."

           Prince smiled innocently at me. "Okay, okay. I'm getting out now, so scat," he said, flicking water at me.

           "Oh, I'd prefer the show," I replied, backing up where I was safe from getting sprayed.

           "Have it your way," Prince said, toweling off seductively. "Oh, by the way, King went on a date today!"

           "Really? With who?"

           "I have no idea, honestly. But apparently it went badly because he wouldn't stop talking about his grandchildren and son and daughter-in-law," Prince said with a smirk.

           "I admire how dedicated he is to his family," I said, recalling what Anastasia had told me, "But he really needs to stop bragging about his family."

           "I agree," Prince said, stooping over to pick up his clothes, "I'm going to have a conversation soon about that."

           "Be gentle, though," I warned, "I think he might be insulted."

           "You know who else I saw today?" I added, "Medina and Girbits!"

           Prince furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not sure who Medina is, but apparently King also saw Girbits today. After his date left him, Girbits called him over wanting to talk to him. King really wasn't in the mood after his date ended badly, so he just pretended that he couldn't hear him and continued on his day."

           "I didn't think that Girbits was the type of guy who'd want to talk to the King..." I mused.

           "Maybe it's the wrong guy? King described him as being a pale vampire with slimy skin, bright blue eyes, and dark hair. And a giant nose," Prince said.

           "Yeah, that sounds like him. By the way, Talan is now a werewolf," I informed him with a sigh.

           "That's bizarre! I've noticed that there are a lot more unnatural creatures popping up. It's partly dad's job and partly my job to take care and control the supernatural population," Prince said.

           "Like, kill them?" I couldn't imagine it.

           "As in shipping them off to a country that's one hundred percent supernaturals," Prince said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "But I don't see the point as long as they aren't dangerous."

           "Time for bed, then," Prince said, as he was now dressed in his pajamas. On our way to our bedroom, I noticed that Andy was still up.

           "Andy, darling, go to bed sweetheart. Do you want daddy to check for the monsters under your bed?" Andy had started asking Prince to check for monsters.

           "I want to do it," Andy said bravely, "I'm a big boy now. School starts in a few months and I wanna tell the other kids that I am not afraid of the monsters."

           I patted his head and kissed his cheek. "Night, then, sweetheart."

           Prince hugged Andy, then we went off to bed. "It's nice that he's getting over his fear," Prince said as we got into bed.

           A few moments later, I heard a yelp and Andy came running into our room, panting. "MONSTERS!"

           "Andy, lower your voice please, your brother and sister are sleeping," I said calmly.

           "There are monsters under my bed!" Andy tried again, breathing heavily.

           Prince rolled his eyes and I shot him a look, elbowing him beneath the bed covers. "Andy, darling, do you want to sleep in our bed tonight?"

           "No, thanks, mom, dad sleeps naked," Andy said, making a face. I laughed.

           "I do not!" Prince said defensively, "I wear boxers!"

           "Do you want us to fight off the monsters?" I asked.

           Andy shook his head. "I'll just sleep on the couch," he said, pointing towards the couch at the foot of our bed.

           I frowned. "Andy, darling, that's not good for you back. Daddy can sleep in your bed and you can sleep here, okay?"

           "Daddy will make my bed gross!" Andy said, appalled.

           "Hey!" Prince interjected, "I smell wonderful and I'm clean. Just let the boy sleep on the couch, Cind."

           "Prince, no-"

           "It's fine, mom," Andy said, and settled down on the couch.

           "Jerk," I whispered into Prince's ear, turning away from him.

           He wrapped his arms around me. "You love me anyway, though," he teased, kissing my neck.

           "Stop being gross, dad," Andy called from the couch.

           I giggled before falling asleep.

           By the time the twin's birthday rolled around, Andy was seven and had gone through one year of tutoring. Andy told Prince and I that he wanted a real school environment though, and at first we were worried, considering that Andy was a prince in the making, after all. In the end, we decided that we would send the twins and Andy to normal school and see how that went. We made Andy promise to never talk about Jessie at school, though. Andy agreed, but asked if we could help him with the potion making to prove he wasn't lying.

           "I'm not taking any part of this," Prince whispered furiously to me.

           "Prince, if he uses the potion and it doesn't work, so what? He'll never talk about it again and that's that. Otherwise, it'd be really cool to see who he's talking to all this time," I argued.

           Prince rolled his eyes. "You're not five anymore, Cindy. Unicorns and fairies don't exist."

           I bit my tongue about the unicorn part, but reminded him that I had a part witch, part fairy godmother. He agreed to help with the potion.

           The first step to making the potion was to collect the ingredients. I traveled to the local market to pick out everything I needed. A man named Wayne Martin helped me out. We ended up taking so long that he and I became friends. The list that Andy had given me was very peculiar, and I asked for ten times the amount of things on the list, because I knew that it would not take me one attempt to master the potion. In all, the trip was fairly expensive. Prince was not pleased.

           When I got home, Andy gave me directions to making the potion. I traveled up the third floor, where the chemist set was, to prepare the potion. A few mixtures later, I produced a bubblegum pink potion! "Andy, hon," I said excitedly, rushing over to him, "Is this it?"

           He turned happily towards me, but his smile slid off his face once he saw it. "No, mum. The metamorphium potion is orange. That's just a mood enhancer potion, I think," he said. One thing I could give Andy was that he was a clever boy.

           I gave the potion to Prince, since he was feeling so blue lately. "Sweetheart, drink this, will you?" I said, handing him the glass vial.

           "Is this one of the potions?" Prince said suspiciously, "What if I die?"

           "Hon," I said with a sigh, "Just trust me, please?"

           He took a deep breath and gulped the liquid down. For a moment, he seemed alright, but then he started sputtering, clutching at his throat.

           "OH MY GOSH PRINCE ARE YOU OKAY?" I screamed, terrified.

           "Ha, fooled you!" Prince said, and gulped more of the potion down.

           "Jerk!" I cried, throwing the nearest thing to me-a fridge door magnet-at him, "I thought you were dying!"

           Prince chuckled. "I feel fantastic now!"

           "I'll bet you do," I grumbled, and trotted off to the chemistry set to figure out what I had done wrong. Several minutes later, I was experimenting to figure out what I needed to correct. Unfortunately, at one point,  I sneezed, which was not a safe thing to do. Needless to say, some chemicals mixed together and started a small explosion. Just a tiny one. But my lab coat ended up getting caught on fire, so I had to tear it off and stamp on it, and the chemicals made my hair stand on end. I was covered in black soot by the end of it, and had to take a bath to scrub it all off. I didn't experiment again for a while.

           A few days after my experiment, I heard King calling me. "Coming!" I replied, trying to locate the source of his voice. I knocked on the bathroom door. "King? Are you in there?"

           "Come in," he replied.

           I could hear bathwater. "Are you sure?"

           "Yes, yes," he said.

           I opened the door and walked in. King was sitting in the bathtub, naked. "DAD!" I said, covering my eyes with embarrassment, "I don't really want to see you naked!"
           "I know, I'm sorry, but I don't have much time left," he explained. "And I have a lot to tell you. Can you sit on the ground? That way you won't see anything."

           I sat on the tiled flooring. It was cold and uncomfortable, but King was right-from my view, I could only see his shoulders and up. "What do you mean you don't have much time left?"

           King sighed. "I... I'm taking a bath so that I'm nice and clean for work today. It's crucial that I go to work today," King said, "I need to go to the political hall."

           "Why?"

           "It will all be explained in due time. Now, I need you to listen patiently to me, without interruption  Can you do that, Cinderella?" King said seriously.

           I was still having trouble taking him seriously, considering he was nude in a bath. "Yes, dad."

           "Okay, good," he said, relaxing. "To start, I want you to know that you have been like a daughter to me."

           "And you're like a father to me," I said.

           "No interruptions," King said sternly.

           "Sorry."

           "No need to be sorry. Anyway, you're the only other woman that I've ever approved of for my son-apart from one girl he dated. I'm sure he told you about her. They were young, and perfect for each other-or so I thought. The girl was charming-pardon the pun-and lovely. I chatted with her a lot. I approved of her, and I thought, in fact, though I have told no one, that my boy didn't deserve her. I know what you're thinking, that I'm a horrible father for thinking that. But it's true. He didn't deserve her. So I would spend time with her to find out all of her interests, dreams, and ambitions. I wanted to make sure that I could give her everything she wanted when she married Prince so that she would be happy and they would live happily ever after. Alas, that is not how life works out..."

           "I wasn't aware of how much I was pushing Prince away. I didn't care for him because I knew he would always be there. I didn't know how unhappy he was getting. Not until the day he cheated on the girl. At first, I was disappointed in him. I was ashamed. But then, I grew to forgive him. Eventually, I realized that it was my fault. So when he married you, I wanted to make sure that the same thing didn't happen. I decided I would let you and Prince be free to do whatever you wanted, and I was so sure that if you wanted something, you would talk to me about it. But you didn't. And you, too, became unhappy. You, too, cheated. Thankfully, though, my son forgave you. If he hadn't, I believe that I would have been disappointed in him all my life. But he forgave you, and that made me proud. Because I know that you didn't do it for your own personal gain, nor to hurt Prince. You were confused. It happens," King continued. "And I want to be there for when Andy and Sandy and Buzz grow up and have children of their own who have children of their own... But I can't. I love you, I love Sandy, I love Andy, I love Buzz, and I love Prince. I always was a family man," he chuckled.

           "What about Becky?" I couldn't help but blurt out.

           "Ah, yes. Becky and Jodi... I went over to Becky and her husband's estate to see them. Jodi wasn't there. I talked with Becky for hours and hours. I explained myself, apologized, and congratulated her with her marriage. I think she understood. Understands. But they sent Jodi off to boarding school. I... will never see her, unfortunately," King said, looking sad. "I hear she has my hair colour."

           My heart broke for him. 

           He looked over to me, where I sat on the floor, my butt numb, legs crossed. "Cinderella," he said, his voice breaking. "Cinderella," he tried again, "I'm getting out now, I have to ask you to leave. You probably won't see me for a while. I hope you won't see me again for a long, long time."

           "Wait, I don't understand!"

           "Any questions you have should be answered by following our normal breakfast routine. The time where we talk and eat together. Just do what you would normally do," King explained.

           "Alone?" I said fearfully.

           "Yes. Alone."

           I stood up to leave. "Well, good-bye, then, King," I said, confused.

           "Not goodbye. Till we meet again. And, Cinderella," King said, stopping me as I made my way out, "Make sure to follow up on Andy's wishes. He's a good boy, I think he deserves a friend."

           "Okay. Till we meet again, dad," I said, and left the bathroom.

           After King left for the government complex, I decided to 'follow my normal breakfast routine.' I started off with a cup of coffee.

           At the bottom of the cup, I found a small, waterlogged piece of paper. Under the coffee brewer, it read. Under the coffee machine was a long roll.

           To Whom It May Concern,

           To start off with, no, this is not my will. That remains in the hands of my financial adviser and one of our many excellent government officials. This is a personal letter.

           I am writing this letter with the intentions of Cinderella Casmin, my daughter-in-law, to be the first to read this. I shall write assuming it is you, Cinderella, who is reading this.

           By the time you are reading this, it is most likely that I am dead. Do not panic. I have traveled to the city hall, the place where I take care of all business matters. Do not follow me. Stay at home. By this time, I will have been dropped off by my excellent driver, who by the way, has kept me safe over the years, although I have to admit, I never did like the colour of her car. Or the make. I suppose that it is inconspicuous and unsuspecting enough, though.

           I dropped a note to our acquaintance and paparazzi news-story woman, Kerry Kasmir, to come at this time. I want someone that I know will publish an unbiased story of my death, and Kerry is the woman to do such a job.

           To continue my rather lengthy story, I need to first make a request. It was originally the request of my lovely late wife, but I had dismissed it as being ridiculous. Now, though, I see her point. 'Charming' is not the name of a family with feelings, it is not the name of leaders, kings, queens, princes, and princesses. 'Charming' is a word which describes someone who is pleasant, polite, and likable  This would be our ideal image. This is the image that us, the 'Charmings' set for ourselves. It is not, however, who we are.

           In the name of my wife and I, I would like to ask you, Cinderella Casmin, and my son, Prince Charming, to alter the names of your three children to bear the name of 'Casmin', an uncommon Turkish name that is rich in culture. 

           I wish to extinguish any concerns you may have regarding my health. I have lived a peaceful, wonderful life, however, I have lived it to its extent. I have been the father of five children, but I have only raised one. Jodi, my dear, my darling daughter, I do not know if you have been told who your biological father is. I am not your 'real' father, though. Wylie Luck is. Wylie is indeed lucky to have been blessed with lovely ladies such as Becky Lack and Jodi. I was once, too. I threw this opportuntiy away, however, in self-defense. I was afraid of hurting myself, so I hurt others.

           This, again, is why it is not right to hold the name of 'Charming.'

           As to my one child who I raised, the son I raised successfully, the boy I am proud of and always will, be, you will be taking my place as king. It may come as a shock to you-it was to me-but this is what you have been raised to do your whole life. I have managed the country for a long time. But times are changing, and I am not needed anymore. A king is not needed anymore. Sure, a speech here and there, an appearance once or twice, but you haven't any responsibilities other than keeping your image. Continue your dream of writing, son. Continue it for me.

           As for my three lovely grandchildren-Andy, Buzz, and Sandy. Your parents can give this to you to read when you're old enough. You three are special to me in your own way. I happen to know that your parents think I favour Sandy, but I can't. Each of you rests at the top of my heart. Andy, you are a smart boy. You're kind, caring, friendly, and you have a good sense of humour. But I feel like you restrict yourself. You play by the rules. You're hesitant to try something new. You will go so far in life, Andy, if you let your curious side take over for once. Be free.

           Buzz, oh, you are quite a boy! You're rather different from Andy-you're a rule breaker, a trouble maker, and bratty. You, too are clever. Perhaps too clever for your own good. Don't be upset when reading this. I'm not done. Behind all of that, underneath that mischievous grin and brown smudges marking the cake you stole, you care for others. You are impressed easily, and because of that, you try to impress. When sitting down with someone, you want to know all about them. I admire that about you, Buzz. Just try to keep yourself in control. make sure you be good. Be good, Buzz.

           Sandy. My sweet, sweet Sandy. You're rather more like Andy. You have the sweetest, nicest personality. And you are smart, oh, how smart you are! I see you reading books, learning new words. At the same time, you're as friendly as can be. However, you tend to be serious. You take life seriously, by the reins. You are quiet with your ways, and do what you're supposed to. This is, perhaps, why your parents think you are my favourite. Because you listen when I tell you to do something. Just make sure that you make your own decisions. Don't let others control you. Just because someone says something doesn't mean it's right.

           To the person reading this: Perhaps you are wondering why I decided to die in my workplace. Why not at home? Why not the beach? Why, why, why?

           You see, I could feel my death approaching for a while. I didn't know when, exactly, though. So I asked Cinderella's fairy godmother when my death date was, exactly. She gave the date to me. It was startling to know that I wouldn't even live to see my grandchildren become teenagers. But I needed to make use of my time.

           I have lost many friends over the years. Most of them have died. I will always miss them. Most of them I knew from working in the building, the city hall.

           So why, still, would I choose to die there? Well, for starters, I know that wherever my grave is, that is where I shall reappear as a ghost in future years. Every few days, I will emerge as a ghost wherever my grave is. I think that if I reappeared as a ghost at home, it would be too much for Andy, Buzz, and Sandy to handle. They are too young. It would be painful for me to see them, but not be able to hug them or really be with them. I chose the building where all of my strictly work related business was held as my death spot because I wanted to make it just the opposite. I wanted to personalize it.

           As you finish this letter, the Grim Reaper will have taken me. I will be with my wife, who I have longed to see for so long. I will be at peace. Feel free to visit me, on occasion. Although it is entirely your decision, please do not remove my tombstone. I have received legal rights to place it there. If you feel you need to though, you may take the tombstone. You shall receive a small tin containing my remains. My ashes. Do whatever you please with them. Store them. Scatter them. Do as you please. Make the best of your life.

           Sandy, I love you.

           Buzz, I love you.

           Andy, I love you.

           Cinderella, I love you.

           Prince. I know my death will be hard on you. But remember.

           I love you.

Love,

King Charming

           P.S. Andy, that friend of yours, Jessie? Keep her close by. I can see her too.

           Tears spotted the letter as I stood clenching it in my trembling hands. I had been reading the letter while trying to create Andy's potion, and it had gone badly. I was covered in ash again, my hair on end. I reached behind my neck and touched my tattoo that was inked on. It was a broken heart. It so resembled my own.

Rest in peace, dad. Both of you.