“She wasn’t,” Ceci whispered back.
When they’d first sat down, her aunt was nowhere in sight. Most likely she was flirting with one of the waiters.
Pixel cupped her mouth. “I know. And then she was. Like that.” She mimicked snapping her fingers. “Seemingly out of nowhere. How does she do that?”
“You’ll have to conspire in a softer voice than that, Cecilia and Piper,” said Aunt Delilah.
Pixel sighed. “Do you think your Aunt Delulu will ever refer to me by my chosen name?”
Aunt Delilah slapped her palms on the table. “Piper MacKenzie, while you might favor that absurd name, I do not. And for good reason. It is my understanding that a pixel is an infinitesimal dot, which when combined with other infinitesimal dots makes up the images I see on my TV or computer screen. You, my dear, can hardly be reckoned an infinitesimal anything, least of all, a dot. If you could, neither myself nor my niece would have anything to do with you.”
It didn’t matter how many times Ceci told Aunt Delilah that Pixel had adopted the name as a badge of honor, given her success as a game programmer and software engineer.
Shrugging, Ceci glanced at her friend, indicating it was no use responding. If there was one thing Aunt Delilah was set on—it was getting the last word. And as long as Ceci had known her, which was all her life, Aunt Delilah had maintained a perfect record.
“In any case,” Aunt Delilah said, placing her napkin on her empty plate, indicating the end of one topic and the beginning of another, “even you two can’t deny that we have the makings of a classic fairy tale.”
Both women looked at her with puzzled expressions.
She sighed. “It’s ‘The Swineherd.’”
The Swineherd?
“Oh,” said Pixel, “the one where the emperor’s daughter rejects the gifts from a prince. So the prince disguises himself and applies for the job of swineherd at the palace?”
“That’s the one,” said Aunt Delilah.
Ceci was used to Pixel spouting knowledge about things no matter how random. The girl had a photographic memory.
“I’m supposing,” Ceci ventured, “she gets to know the man, falls in love, and the two live happily ever after?”
Pixel shook her head. “The prince or swineherd makes a musical pot, and she pays for it by giving him ten kisses. Then he makes a musical rattle, and she pays one hundred kisses for that. Her father, the emperor, is disgusted she would kiss a swineherd and casts her out into the streets.”
“Oh,” said Ceci. “Okay, so after that she goes to the swineherd, discovers he’s really a prince, gives her father the middle finger, and then they live happily ever after.”
“Nope. The prince is disgusted too. He basically slut-shames her. He cleans up, dresses in his royal attire, shows himself to be the prince, and rejects her.”
Ceci looked at her aunt. “This is the fairy tale you liken my encounter with Sir Stick posing as the Man in the Iron Mask to? If it even was Sir Stick.”
“He was in disguise just like the prince. And you did kiss him.”
“First of all, he kissed me. And second of all, how do those two miniscule facts lead you to draw a connection between what happened and that swineherd story?”
“Well, you can’t argue that there’s no connection. He was in disguise. The two of you kissed. Finis.”
What Aunt Delilah could do with logic was truly mind-bending. And she managed to do it without the aid of magic mushrooms.
Suddenly her aunt’s eyes blew up. If she were a cartoon, she’d have a lightbulb above her head.
“It isn’t just ‘The Swineherd.’ It’s ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and ‘Snow White’ as well.”
Glancing at Ceci and Pixel and seeing their expressions, she frowned, drumming the table with her manicured nails painted Brazen Trollop. “Did I never read you any fairy tales?”
Ceci shook her head. “You did however read me the complete works of D. H. Lawrence, Anaïs Nin, and Henry Miller. Oh, and how could I forget? The Marquis de Sade, along with a slew of articles from yourCosmopolitansubscription.”
“Well, I wanted you to be well-read, erudite.” She sighed. “In ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and ‘Snow White,’ it’s the prince’s kiss that awakens our heroine from the Sleeping Death.” She tapped Ceci’s arm. “Heroine—that would be you, dear.”
“What about the Sleeping Death?” Ceci asked. “That hardly applies.” Ceci thumped her chest. “As you can see.”
