Usually people begin their stories from the beginning but my story it has to be told out of order and out of love. That seems to be the one thing that I just can't grasp; love. What kind of love do I want anyway? It seems as I've always strived for attention, the love of the people, but know that I know my story I don't think that's what I was looking for at all. Once you hear the full story you'll know exactly what happened and what I was truly looking for.
In all the confusion of the mid-day that California carries none is more confusing than a child in a fight with her mother. Sure it happens in most places but not in the gated communities of Genovia. There everyone is all happy and polite not trying to pick a fight. Once I left Genovia I felt clarity. I saw the restrictions and the life I could never have. I guess I had the classic syndrome of wanting the grass on the other side but for my case the grass truly was greener.
And it's not like I was the only one in my family that left Genovia for America yet I'm the only one that my parents have a problem with it. And it's not like my mother doesn't wish she could live in New York. She still wishes she could paint and act crazy and be sleeping with my algebra teacher (just kidding my mother would never do that). Is it really my fault that I actually did something and left?
It's not like Genovia actually needed me. I was third in line and the actual chance that'd I'd be crowned is like zilch. I'd much rather be here making a career for myself. Sure modeling isn't the thing that I want to be doing all my life but it gives me the opportunity to have a life separated from my royal heritage.
And sure I left suddenly but what was I expected to do? Ask parliament? GENOVIA DIDN'T NEED ME! I was the royal they forgot about (until I started to revolt). My mother barely even talked to me. She was always with Stephanie or Charles. Even after Stephanie got married she found a way out of having any influence in my life. I've often thought what'd it be like to have been the first born and my mom and dad would have stopped after that then my mother would have left for what she really wanted, New York, and I wouldn't find out I was a princess until I had to take over for one reason or another then my mother would have an affair with my algebra teacher and have his child then they get married and I could fall for my best friend's brother who I wouldn't know liked me then he'd tell me and I wouldn't believe him but he'd make me believe and then we'd life happily ever after. That is until I had to go off to Genovia to rule. But yeah pretty happy.
All of this, plus the fact that my mother never approved of my whole modeling thing, gave me a strange felling when she actually called.
"Mia," I heard her voice quiver, "I know you have an urge to hang up but please don't. Your father and I have some very disturbing… news. Stephanie," she sobbed heavily. Will you give me the phone? I heard my snotty grandmere say.
"Mia, with my greatest apologies, I just wanted to tell you because this blubbering thing that your mother-"
"Grandmere," I said interrupting her, "Can you just come out with it. I'm busy."
"Oh right." She liked the fact that I was a model, I actually think I'm her favorite grandchild because I'm double famous. "I don't want to keep you. By the way how is that wonderful boyfriend of yours?"
"We're engaged," I said shortly. Just because she likes me doesn't mean I have to like her.
"Wow, engaged. Did you hear that Philippe? They're engaged! Congratulations, Mia. We do need to start planning dear. Lots to do engagement party, wedding, bachelorette party,-" I heard a struggle for the phone Mother give me the phone!
"Mia, this is your father. Congratulations of course. We find this a time of some urgency. Your sister and Taylor have," he stopped for a second taking a deep breath, "they have got in a wreck. I don't mean to alarm you but, it's quite serious." I slide down the wall felling as if I was going to faint. "She wants you in Chicago. We are sending the jet. It should arrive at around 2 I believe. It's about 12 there right?"
"Yeah," I said my throat raspy. I felt my head clog. Everything was overwhelming me now. I tried to dissect it. Wreck. It repeated in my head. Wreck. How could this happen? Wreck. I didn't even like the word. Wreck. It sounded like metal and plastic shoved into my mouth not being able to breath but having to keep it in there. Wreck
"Well that should give you time. And Mia, I'm sorry about everything that has happened." Take it to my politically correct father to not be able to say what happened just 6 months ago.
"Bye Dad."
"I love you Mia."
"I love you too Dad." And he hung up. The dial tone was in my ear and a wreck in my mouth. Wreck. Wreck. Wreck.