Sunday, November 12
Sebastiano is thrilled to see me. He keeps going on and on about how tall and curvy I have apparently become since the last time he saw me (at least that is what I think he is saying. He is rather hard to understand when he starts speaking very fast). During rare moments when he isn't complementing my new, slightly longer hair (too depressed to cut them) he is telling me about this new line he is working on (actually, I am surprised there are no lines by him in stores yet. He might annoy me most of the time, but I have to admit that he is a very, very good designer. I mean, before the influenced-by-meat growth in my chest department, his gowns were the only pieces of clothing that successfully created an illusion that I actually had something there). Apparently, he is taking traditional gowns of countries all over the world, transforming them into their 'How Would They Look In 21st Century' version.
He showed me the modernized version of the dress that was, according to him, worn by Greek Goddess. It is in dark turquoise and it is gorgeous. And super comfortable. I mean, he totally made me try it on.
"Sebastiano, this is great," I said but he just shook his head. It looked pretty theatric since he was wearing this bright green shirt with a very, and I mean very big collar.
"Your hair. Your hair do not ma the dress."
"What?"
"This is a dress the requi long hair. Yours are too sho. I canno put them over one shou. The dress fits perfe, but the hair is missing."
And that was the problem because …?
"Yeah, well, but it is not like I am gonna wear it or anything," I shrugged.
Sebastiano already opened his mouth to say something but then the door swung open and René came marching in, with the ever-present grin on his face.
And similarly ever-present smell of alcohol floating around him, as I discovered.
"How is my Baby Cousin doing?!" he shouted, walked straight towards me and hugged me. It totally caused me to lose balance and I almost fell off the footstool I was standing on.
"Stop calling me that," I said, "and let go of me."
"Let go of you? Why? I missed you!" he exclaimed, lifting me up and (I changed my mind about Sebastiano. This was way more theatric) swirling me around, "I haven't seen you in so long!"
I doubt he even remembers the last time we saw each other since he was so drunk he ended up sleeping in a lobby of Genovia's biggest hotel, thinking it was the palace.
"And you are my baby cousin. How old are you, again? Seventeen?"
"Sixteen," I corrected him. Do I really look only seventeen years old? I feel way older.
"Then you are even more of a baby than I thought!" he laughed, "I am going off to some casinos in the evening. You want to come with?"
"Casinos? Are you crazy, why would I want to go there? Besides, don't we have formal dinner or something? The Queen is here, right? That's why I am here, anyway."
"Who said they wouldn't go along too?" he winked at me. Then he frowned. "I get a feeling you are not too happy to see me. Is it because of that thing at the end of the summer? I just drank a bit much, I said I was so…"
Honestly, he annoys me so much, but somehow, I can't really resent him. I mean, this is René, after all. He doesn't mean any harm; he is just clueless most of the time. Life is just one big party for him.
"It is not you, I just don't feel very social at the moment," I dismissed him.
"Oh, how insensitive of me!" he said, made a sad face and embraced me again. "I heard about Michael. I'm so sorry, BC. I know how it feels."
"How what feels? Having your heart torn out while it is still beating?"
"Oooooh …" frowned René. "He broke up with you? Well, I did find it hard to believe you called it quits - I mean, you were all about him the last time we saw each other?"
"It is so sad," nodded Sebastiano, "you two were the cut coup."
"It's complicated," I said.
"Complicated? Break ups are never complicated, at least not as far as I've experienced them. Break up is a break up, the most obvious thing in the world. Relationships are what is complicated here. Come on, tell your cousin René what happened. I am a guy; I might be able to help you."
Yeah, right. I will tell René how I dumped my boyfriend because he slept with a fruit-fly-cloner before we started going out. Because René will totally understand my perspective and comfort me. Because René is so not the one who got busted having something that suspiciously resembled an orgy on a royal yacht this summer.
"Honestly, I'd rather tell Oprah. Besides, when did you have a relationship that lasted long enough for you to be an expert on topic?"
"Well, I am a guy so that automatically makes me more of an expert on guys' minds than you will ever be, BC."
"I told you to stop calling me that. Why do you even care? It is not like we are friends or anything."
"Ouch, that hurts! Of course we are friends! We danced together the whole summer!"
"Just because Grandmere forced us to dance together, it doesn't mean we are friends," I said.
"So where is Princess Amelia of Genovia that my granny cannot stop talking about?" I heard somebody shout. I turned around to see who entered the room and in front of me stood none other than Harry, with his bright hair color and notorious grin.
"I thought we weren't supposed to be introduced till dinner?" I asked.
"That's my cousin, always super worried about the protocol," René pointed at me (he totally needs Prince Lessons more than I do, I mean, pointing at people is NEVER under NO circumstances polite).
"Well, what our grannies don't know don't hurt them, right? I'm Harry," he winked at me.
"Mia. Please don't call me Amelia. Or Princess," I shook his hand.
"Yeah, I know all about that. So, you hitting the casinos with us this evening?"
"No, and you are not supposed to go, either."
"Well, who is going to stop me?" he shrugged. "This is a free country, I can do whatever I want. I don't think your father put out a notice that everyone should wear the same haircut as him, has he?"
"We have to be here, this is an important evening for our families. Our grandmothers worked very hard to arrange this for the benefit of our countries. How can you be so ignorant of that?" I frowned.
"Worked hard? Are you high? They have people that arrange that stuff for them, you know?" he laughed.
"Honestly, I think nowadays Clarisse puts the hardest work into yelling at Chanel for not having just the right shade of purple," added René.
"And benefit of our countries?" Harry went on, "yeah, right. I think all they want is some attention and in the case of Clarisse the dearest, an excuse for new facial…"
"Why are you so mean?" I asked. "We are royals, we attend dinners, it is what we so. You can't just ignore it."
"Yeah, well, I might be royal but I am also a human being. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we rent a car and drive to Italy? I am in the mood for some genuine Italian pasta!"
"Totally with you," nodded René. "And Sebastiano will go too, so you are now in minority, BC and are coming along."
As if Sebastiano understood what he way saying. He can get by in English, but a normal conversation is too fast for him to follow. He didn't care, really, he kept looking at the dress I had on.
"Yeah, right," I rolled my eyes. "Grow up, you can't just ditch dinners when you feel like it. It is mean."
"Who are you calling mean?" laughed Harry, "me? I am sorry; I thought you were the one dumping the boyfriend?"
It felt like somebody hit me in the stomach.
"How do YOU know about that? Does EVERYONE know that?"
"Clarisse is telling everyone who has a spare minute. Or rather two, because she is really excited. I believe our grannies are currently discussing the most inappropriate consorts we had. I had some bad ones but my granny makes them sound like angels comparing to your dear Michael."
Honestly, I didn't know where to even begin. Who was this guy and why was he so rude? And I could totally hit René because he was on his side! What did he say again about missing me?
Luckily, Sebastiano saved me.
Or unfortunately, don't even know anymore.
"I have a great id! You could be my mod!" he exclaimed.
I looked at him skeptically. I thought I misheard him. Because, I mean, come on, I know he is a genius and geniuses are usually crazy but this was way too pathological to come out of a mouth of a sane person.
But I have to say, I love Sebastiano. He always tries to make me feel better even when he has no idea what is happening.
"Yeah, thanks, Sebastiano, but I kind of don't have time to be your model."
"What else is there for you to do? It is not like you have a boyfriend or anything," smirked René.
Sebastiano didn't listen to me, but who ever does, anyway?
"I ask Paolo to do your ha. I have it in my mi alread!"
"No, really, Sebastiano, I am sure you can find someone better for modelling…"
"Why are you so against modelling, BC? It ain't like you are deformed or anything."
"I don't want to be a model."
"Rubbish, every girl wants to model," said Harry.
Well, of course in princes' minds, every girl can be a model. And usually is a model. Just look at my Dad. And from what I've read, Harry is not much different.
See, this is why I don't like hanging with royal people too much, they all live in their own little bubble, where everything has a tiara mark on. They have no idea what real life really is like. Just look at René – he is completely incapable of understanding that just because he has a royal title, it doesn't mean he is automatically the king of the world (he totally got kicked out of some fancy French economic school because he partied hard wearing formal outfits of his school, thus making it look bad in the media. The principle didn't care that René was royal - 'no exceptions' – not even when Grandmere stepped in. I mean, you gotta admire a guy who has the guts to say no to Grandmere!). And honestly, I like real world. I like being able to go to the store on a bad hair day without getting on the front cover of gossip magazines. I like knowing people like me for me and not because I happen to be royal. I like being treated like everyone else because I don't believe in being different or more special just because my family is royal.
These guys, princesses and princes, they have grown up knowing they have the title, they don't know what real world is like. Their whole lives everyone bent down in front of them, fulfilling their every, no matter how bizarre wish. They just don't understand what life is really like.
I mean, just look at Grandmere.
I don't want to be like her, ever. And I am heading down that path if I spend much time in the company of these people.
I want to be able to yell my heart out at the bus station without worrying how it would make my family look.
If I see myself on the front cover of Times, I want it to be because I did something extraordinary, like saved whales or something.
I don't want the answer to every question be 'because she is a princess'.
I just don't want to be that person.
And that is exactly who I am when I am in Genovia.
And that is exactly who I am turning into ever since Michael left for Japan.
I mean, don't you think I want to dance the night away in casino or eat pasta in Italian cafeteria? I do – it must be way better than sitting behind a table, having boring conversation about politics and economy.
But I know that that sitting behind that table is what I am supposed to do.
Who I am supposed to be.
And, basically, who I am.
And I can't run away from it.
I have an obligation to my family, to my country.
Because I am a princess.
And I will forever be a princess.
And it is swallowing me but there is nothing I can do about it.
All I can do is just … surrender.
"Well, not me, I don't want to model," I insisted. I mean, I could already see the headlines in my mind – Princess Mia decides for modelling! Who cares about whales, all we care about are over the top pricy clothes and stuffing paper in our mouths to lose weight but satisfy the hunger.
"Just because you want to throw snails in the sea, it doesn't matter you can't also be a part-time model," said Harry.
"And have the whole world commenting on my non-existing breasts and extraordinary height? No, thank you."
"What are you talk about!" shouted Sebastiano, "you are beaut!"
"Thank you, Sebastiano."
"If you wanna throw snails into the sea for the rest of your life, why are you so concerned about your looks then?" asked Harry.
"I am not concerned about my looks."
"Hmmm… sorry, but your previous statement objects this. You are fine just the way you are, isn't she, Harry?"
"I'd rather not say anything, it might give her the wrong idea."
"And please don't say that Michael dumped you or whatever because of your extraordinary height. The guy was gaga for you last Christmas and you were not much shorter then," said René.
"Michael didn't dump me because of how I look."
"Then why? Clarisse is too happy telling everyone he is passé to tell anyone the reason," insisted René.
"He just … he just left for Japan," I shrugged.
"Oh. To study?" asked Harry.
"No … he made this prototype for cardio surgery and his university gave him a chance to go to Japan and build it. And he took it."
Leaving me behind, saying he did it for us while really trying to get away from his frigid girlfriend but he was too kind to say it bluntly, I wanted to add but refrained myself
"Wow. That sounds great," Harry kind of sounded impressed.
"Well, if of course you dismiss the fact that he even bothered building it in the first place. Do you New York kids really have no idea how to party?"
"Michael has a direction in life, comparing to you, René. He built it because he is super smart and this will now save millions of lives."
"Are you serious? He built that?" Harry suddenly got this very serious look on his face. Really, how presumptuous can one person be? What gives him to right to interrogate me about my life when we know each other for like … 5 minutes?
Oh, right, the title.
"Yeah. And I am not speaking to you."
"And you broke up with him just because he went to Japan? Have you ever heard of Skype? And, besides, we are royal, remember? You could just ask Philippe to let you borrow the jet for the weekend or something," suggested Harry.
"Yeah, like that would happen. He's happy that I am not dating Michael anymore. He always thought he was too old for me."
"Age is relative," quickly said René. Sure, if it wears a short skirt, age totally doesn't matter in his eyes. "So, what, he decided the long distance thing wouldn't work out? I thought you two were handling it pretty well, I mean, you did spend like a quarter of the year apart anyway when you were in Genovia."
"We didn't break up because of Japan … it … it is complicated and I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I had my heart broken a few times and keeping it inside never did me any good," shrugged Harry and actually looked at me compassionately.
"It must have been really bad if you stopped wearing that necklace he gave you," added René.
The snowflake necklace … I can still feel it around my neck, you know, that phantom feeling that brings tears into my eyes. It was the token of our love and now it is in some landfill where it ended up after the cleaning ladies vacuumed it from the carpet into which it sank like Titanic after Michael wouldn't take it.
"I … I threw it back at him when … "
And I was practically sobbing again.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, that might explain why he never wants to talk to you again," admitted Harry. "I mean, if he gave you that necklace as a proof of his love or something and you threw it at him … it must have been pretty heartbreaking."
"Actually, we are still exchanging emails."
René and Harry quickly glanced at each other
"You two are still emailing each other? You threw the necklace back at him and he still wants to talk to you?" René raised his eyebrows.
"And he went to Japan to build something that will revolutionize cardio surgery?" asked Harry, sounding like he was deep in his thoughts
"Yeah, because that is just what 19-year-olds do on, like, everyday bases," smirked René and once again exchanged looks with Harry.
"Yeah, René and I totally invented CardioFoot when we were 19, it was a huge success and made us super rich."
"Don't make fun of Michael," I said gloomily.
"Oh, we are not making fun of Michael. Quite frankly, I think I like the guy," laughed Harry.
"You are so mean," I rolled my eyes.
"And you are so dense," laughed René.
"And that is supposed to mean what exactly?!"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing …" smiled Harry but I could see he was struggling to contain laughter.
"You are so mean," I said, "I am totally not talking to you."
You'd think they are sixteen and not me.
To Be Continued.
Broughttoyouby:::winter.