19. Cedrick
In the grand hallway of the palace, on a visit to check on my father and give updates on the charity – and my love life, I’m sure – the face of King Francis himself, about two decades younger, looks down at me.
“Why would anyone commission this?” I ask myself, shaking my head.
It’s a gaudy pop art portrait, painted in neon hues. He’s dressed in a fur coat about two centuries too old and holds a scepter in his right hand, his face lit in pink, violet, and orange color blocks.
The thought of commissioning a painting in this style makes my brain nearly explode. An ordinary portrait is bad enough. Even photoshoots can be a bit much for me.
They’re a necessary evil for the foundation, but for the Royal Family? It seems like an exercise in vanity.
As I walk down the hall, there’s a jeweled basket of fruit, a Faberge creation that my father always loved. The banana is gold, while the apple is studded with rubies. There are blueberries in sapphire and grapes in jade and amethyst.
He made our personal quarters as a family quite cozy for my mother’s preferences, but for his own purposes, he’s always loved the pageantry of the position.
There’s no question who I took after. My mother always presented herself as if she were the most ordinary woman despite being a Queen.
I think about what my life would have been if I weren’t a royal, and immediately I get an image of meeting Ellie within the hospital walls or a field tent.
I’m finding that every bone, tendon, and synapse in my body is pulling me toward thoughts of my wife. I wonder if we’d flirt or if we’d avoid each other. Maybe we’d be academic rivals in medical school. Would we date? Maybe we would fall in love.
A light giggle echoes through the long hall, and the clatter of feet follows.
“Someone’s feeling better, I see! Here to visit Grandpa?”
“Uncle Cedrick! Hi!” Isha, my seven-year-old niece, runs over to give me a hug.
I raise her up with her arms outstretched like a bird, and we nearly knock the bowl of fruit over.
“Hi, sweetie. It’s good to see you.”
“Isha! Careful! You’re going to break something.” Ishmael’s smile betrays the stern warning. He clearly adores his little girl. “You be careful, too, Cedrick.”
He and Liza, his wife, approach holding hands, and he looks up at the painting of Father.
“It might be for the best if somehow that got broken.” He points to the brightly hued painting.
“You said it, not me. That’s all I need, for Dad to think I desecrated a royal painting somehow.” I place his daughter back on the ground and run my fingers through my hair, feeling beads of sweat on my forehead.
“Tough day?” Ishmael asks.
I laugh. “What could be tough in the life of a Prince?”
Ishmael gives me a brotherly glance. “I’m one of the few who could answer that question honestly. I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”
There’s an empty space where Isha just was, and a blur disappears behind a pillar with a laugh.
“You might have a higher priority at the moment.” I point to the spot where Isha’s hiding.
“Yeah, it would be embarrassing to have to file a missing person’s report in my own family’s palace.” Ishmael power-walks to catch up.
He shouts into the mostly empty hallway.
“Isha! You didn’t disappear through a magic portal, did you?”
I shake my head and laugh.
“You’ll be here for a while, Ishmael? I have to talk with Dad, but I’d love to catch up later.”
He turns his head and calls out. “I should be. If I don’t get lost forever playing hide-and-seek.”
On the way to my father’s quarters, I open the door to an empty room where my father once taught me chess. I expect there to be cobwebs, but it’s spotless even though it hasn’t changed at all since I saw it last.
“You sentimental old fool,” I say with a chuckle.
So much about our lives has changed, but this room is a memory frozen in time. There were bigger, fancier rooms, with better technology, but this was always my favorite. Stripped-down, as if it hadn’t changed in two-hundred years.
I find myself wishing Ellie were here so I could show her. And I think about bringing our own child here, and holding Ellie’s hand the way Ishmael held Liza’s while we run after a spirited copy of ourselves.
And then it dissipates. Is this just wishful thinking? Happy families are not built on contract marriages.
But can I imagine stepping back if she wanted me to?
I hear footsteps, and I realize that I’m not alone. “Reminiscing, are we?”
I turn to see Ishmael now unaccompanied in the hallway.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here.”
“I figured I’d go up and see the old man, too. Maybe run interference if things with the two of you get heated. What are you doing in this old room?”
I shrug. “Door was open, so I figured I’d go in. So many memories.”
“It’s funny,” he says. “You used to hate this place. Now you’re getting nostalgic.”
“I dunno about that. Maybe just examining the scene of the crime.” I laugh to myself. “Where’d your family go? They’re not seeing Dad?”
“Not right now. They’re having lunch. Isha loves checking out the huge kitchen while the staff prepares. They love teaching her. And, of course, Liza is a better baker than all of them.”
“You know, I appreciate you coming up with me, but you should go back and join them. You don’t have to be my defender.”
“No, of course not. But I want to be your brother. I see them all the time. You, I see… When was the last time?”
“Not too long. That day when I came in and Dad was trying to set me up with Ellie.”
“Yeah, but I mean before that. Years, maybe. And how are things with that…?”
I sigh and fold my arms. “I don’t even know how I’d describe it. It’s…”
“Different from what you expected?”
I pull out a chair to one of the small desks, and Ishmael sits at the seat next to mine. “Yeah. Very.”
“Marriage is hard. Especially…”
“Marriage Dad-style?”
We both laugh, and I hope it doesn’t carry into the hallway. I don’t need my father coming in to investigate the commotion.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Are you not getting along?” Ishmael looks serious, his analytical mind always working.
“No, we are. That’s maybe the problem.”
“That’s a problem?” He grins at me. “I mean, my marriage was getting back together with the love of my life who jilted me. So we had a rocky reunion before things got better. But getting along too well was not one of our problems.”
“Oof. Thank God it worked out.” I lower my head. “But I don’t know if my story will end as happily. She wanted a baby. I agreed to be the father. I get funding, we’re all happy. But…”
“Hmm?”
“I might be getting too attached. It’s a transaction, and I’m treating it like it’s real. We agreed to a year together, for the funding and for the baby. But after that…?”
He pats my shoulder.
“Things don’t always work out as planned. Sometimes they’re better.”
I widen my eyes. “I mean, when you’re lucky. You at least had been romantic with Liza.”
“Yeah, but she left me without saying a word, and then I had to find her and ask her to marry me right away. That’s not the best start to a relationship. Especially finding out, ‘Surprise! You have a kid.’ I was so pissed that she hid that from me. At least your child will have always had a dad.”
“Yeah, but I might only get the beginning and miss out on the rest. Yours is better in the long run.” I drop my head and look down at the floor. “She was planning to have a child on her own, not with a man. I don’t know how much she wants one.”
“Just remember, Cedrick, all of us went through the same thing. I think you can make the best of any situation. I think all five of us can. I think no matter what happens, you’ll figure out the best thing.”
“But what if I don’t? What if she regrets not just doing it along with the fertility clinic?”
I look up at him, and I see a warmth spreading across his face. “I have never seen you worry so much about a girl not liking you. First, it’s impossible. You’re too charming. Second…”
“Second, what?”
“Is someone catching feelings?”
I hold up my hand in dismissal, but my smile betrays me. “I mean, we were always so close as kids. And now she’s beautiful, and accomplished, and so similar to me. And, really, she’s a lot like Mom.” I pause. “But it’s for the child. And for Dad. Not for me. Not for love.”
“But maybe it could be. Maybe it already is.”
“Oh, come on. You’re crazy.” But there’s no conviction in my words.
“Look,” he says. “It may have started out one way. But you’ve seen us brothers. Things change. And it seems like for you they’re changing now. You’re falling in love.”
My face is sealed tightly, not wanting to betray any emotion. If he can tell, can Ellie?
He continues. “And maybe she’s getting feelings, too. You’ve been through a lot together in a short amount of time. And that’s after having spent so many years being close. It might not be as crazy as you think. I think you need to have a real conversation with her.”
I bring my eyes down, looking at the individual grooves in the floor tiles. “Maybe. But I don’t want her to change her mind. I don’t know what would happen with the funding. Or with the baby.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Ishmael puts his finger on his mouth.
I nod.
“Is she pregnant?”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”
“So talk to her. If she’s appalled, you only have Dad to deal with, and she can walk away. But I have a feeling…”
“Who has a feeling?” comes a booming, jovial voice just outside the classroom.
“Dad!” Ishmael yells.
“We were just coming to see you.”
“I should hope. Because it’s…” He looks at his gold wristwatch, studded with precious jewels. “Twenty minutes after you said you’d be here.”
Time flies when you’re questioning everything about your life.