53. Swoop and Save
Swoop and Save
MARY
Slowly and delicately, I pulled myself from under Betty.
She was an encroacher. The more times I spent the night with her, the more I realized that she was going to force me to give up more of my half of the bed than anticipated.
If she wasn’t so bloody cute, I’d have hated her for it.
I decided not to wake her and tiptoed across to her closet when I began to file through her day glow and pastel life.
I pulled a pair of black leggings from a cubby, figuring those would do.
Her t-shirts were mostly either from sailing competitions or horseback riding events.
I finally found a shirt that appeared free of anything too wild and decided it would do.
I then searched for a sports bra to steal—of which she had two dozen.
They were all too big but would keep the girls going in a general direction well enough.
I picked up my boots and tiptoed out of Betty’s room quietly all the way down to the ground floor where I became confused.
A man asked, “Ask me about my horse?”
Betty’s older brother, Keir, stood in the hallway.
“What?” I asked.
“Your shirt… or rather, Betty’s… look,” he said. “On the back?”
“Great,” I groaned. “I grabbed what I thought was the only funny-saying-free shirt in her closet.”
“It says, ‘Ask me about my horse’. It’s some riding clothing company. Have you eaten yet? A few of us are up.”
“No. I was just—”
“Come on, at least get some breakfast,” Keir beckoned me to the breakfast room.
Betty’s cousin, Cici, smiled, “Sit wherever. The old people have gone out on the yacht. There’s food at the buffet.”
I appraised at the food on offer.
Keir chuckled, “Yeah, it’s a bit of everything since we’re an odd bunch.”
I smiled. “No, it’s delightful in a way to see brunost next to beans and toast. This is ridiculous. But I like it.”
“Which side of that debate do you land on?” Cici asked.
“My Mum is a Brit,” I answered, “like yours. And… well, she always tried to tell us a fry up was God’s way of showing us he loved us. I’m not much for it, personally. Nor do I think brunost is even remotely edible.”
“You sound like Ingrid,” Keir said.
“Where is everyone?” I sat with a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast.
“Well, the old people and my husband went out for a sailing run this morning.”
“So did my brothers,” Keir clarified. “And Ingrid is still asleep with Paul who woke us up at three AM with a nightmare. Basically, we are what remains. I expect that Betty will wake up in about two hours still complaining she’s tired.”
I snickered. “She’s dead to the world. I stole clothes and left. I didn’t want to overstay.”
“You’re not,” Keir insisted. “It’s fine. Everyone thought you were a pleasant surprise last night.”
I blushed. “You don’t have to sell me on things, Keir.”
“Well, you worried about overstaying your welcome, but… we sort of roam in a pack. I mean what I say. If you are stuck with Betty, you’re stuck with us and we’re stuck with you. And honestly, we like you.”
His words held more weight than I could express.
I always said parents weren’t my thing. They either viewed my job as silly or felt like I was a phase.
Perhaps the family viewed me as a curiosity, but it wasn’t because I was the first woman Betty brought home.
It was more because they genuinely wanted to know me and I wasn’t part of their world—not yet.
Strangely, though, I didn’t let that get to me.
Curiosity was about the best thing you could get from Scandinavians you didn’t know.
“Here, one second.” Cici stood and left.
Confused, I looked at Keir.
“Oh, it’s the press release,” he said. “She wants you to read over it.”
“Sure.”
“You really, really need a publicist. I don’t mean to frighten you, but the mob continues to grow out there. People want to ship you, whatever the fuck that means? My wife says it’s a good thing. Either way, you two have caused a stir and it’s okay to ask for help.”
I should have feared the mob, but somehow, this felt right.
For the first time in my life, I wrote my own story.
I wasn’t being handled. That kiss was the opposite of a perfectly-curated teen-queen existence.
It wasn’t the least bit overproduced. And for the first time, I realized this thing was bigger than me.
It wasn’t about pop songs or plans to play Wembley.
It wasn’t even just about Betty and I. People craved a happy queer love story, and we delivered on that hope.
Since it wasn’t going away, I could either get in or continue to fear it. It was time to get ahead of this.
“I will… reach out to Leah,” I said. “No doubt she will have leads.”
“Wait a sec… did you and Leah ever?”
I wanted to die. Even though I could say no, now I worried he thought ill of me.
“What is it? Are you alright?” Cici burst back into the dining room, a look of concern on her face.
“Oh, I asked her an impertinent question and just got an answer I didn’t think she’d provide,” Keir said.
“I never… we didn’t… no,” I answered. “Has every lesbian in London probably thought about her… yes. Well, if they are into femme manic pixie dream girls.”
Keir snickered.
“Oh, Keir, c’mon!” Cici admonished. “Ignore him. He used to fuck Ollie’s wife. You don’t know Ollie but they will be here this evening. She’s come out of the Danes since they made the final.”
Keir rolled his eyes. “You’ll never let it die.”
“You two were reliable FWB’s for the better part of a decade and then Ollie married her, so…”
“Ollie is?” I winced.
“One of my younger twin brothers,” Keir explained. “It’s Lars, then me, then Nate, then Ollie and Win. Ollie married Queen Edina of Denmark, so—”
“Okay, so let me get this straight, the Brits, Norwegians, and Danes are all intermarried?”
“Many times over, yes,” Cici said. “My husband is Edina’s younger brother.”
My jaw dropped.
“Yes, it’s incestuous. Which is why I would remind my dear cousin to stop playing stupid games unless he wants to win stupid prizes.”
Keir fell silent as Cici passed a piece of paper across the table. I tried to center myself and catch up with Betty’s large, ever-reaching band of family members. The next few days would be a blur, but even more so once I met all her royal siblings and their spouses.
We’re no longer in Kansas anymore, Marit.
“This is just the presser,” Cici said. “Let me know your thoughts.”
I read over the printed statement and noted something.
“Norwegian, English, and Swedish?”
“I had them add the last bit,” Cici said. “For you all. I figured the Swedes would be touched by it. After all, they’re here, too. The Crown Prince wants to meet you at the finals.”
“Betty mentioned that,” I read.
From the Desk of the King-
Recently, details of a relationship between our niece, HRH Princess Elisabeth, and Ms. Marit Jensson broke when a video was taken of their private conversation backstage at the UniVox semifinals. The two met while filming a forthcoming documentary on UniVox.
While in most cases, the palace does not comment on such chatter, we can confirm that the two are in a relationship. However, that is all we will do given the ongoing UniVox competition and Ms. Jensson’s standing as a private citizen, rather than an official member of this family.
We request that you please grant Ms. Jensson privacy as she prepares for Britain’s final performance in UniVox.
His and Her Majesty wish all the contestants the best of luck and plan to sit with the Norwegian delegation at the finals tomorrow.
We hope that the competition proceeds safely and are so grateful to see this celebration of unity between our nations in a time of international division.
-HM The King
“That seems fine,” I said. “But the timeline is off. And I’m not sure how forthcoming I should be about that. I don’t really know what I’m doing, you know?”
“It’s fine if it was later. We just wanted to keep it brief and give cover, so it looked less girl-on-girl action and more committed partnership. I know it’s the latter not the former, but people are dicks.”
“They are. But… it’s longer, not shorter.”
Cici cocked her head. “How so?”
“We… uh… we met five years ago. For the first time. And I have pined for her in a way I literally couldn’t imagine.” I realized this poured out of me uncharacteristically.
“Five years?” Keir asked.
I winced. “Please don’t think it pathetic or—”
“I won’t. Ingrid and I broke up once for about six months and it was hell for me.”
“He was a sad sack,” Cici said. “And Betty helped reunite them.”
Keir smiled. “Yeah. She loves a second chance. Somehow, this is perfect. How did it go?”
His genuine interest in our little love story delighted me. Mortification led to me wanting to shout from the rooftops.
“I didn’t know who Betty was. And I had to leave because my Mum fell and I needed to go help her. I regretted not getting her number for five years. And… it turns out… she felt the same.”
“Aww,” Cici brimmed. “It meant that much?”
I couldn’t help myself. “I wrote ‘Wayside’ after Mum died. There were opportunities to sell it to someone else, but I kept it for myself because it’s about so much—including Betty. And it was like… if I gave it up… I’d have to give up the memory of that night.”
I fought tears because speaking it into words made it true.
“Fuck. That’s beautiful. I want to vomit and hug you all at the same time,” Keir chuckled. “It’s sickeningly sweet.”
I shrugged. “She was too young for me then and remains too young for me now.”
“I won’t cast stones. Honestly, I haven’t seen her this at-ease and happy with anyone, Marit. So, well done on you both.”
I fought the way my throat scratched. It signaled tears. I wouldn’t cry before virtual strangers. I already bore my heart out.
“Well, if you all want to walk the carpet together, this means you can,” Cici said. “But I wouldn’t put that pressure on you.”
“I would never presume Betty has time. She’s hosting and—”
Cici patted my hand. “Sweetheart, she would make time for you. She will think it’s uncool to ask because no man she’s ever dated would have wanted to go public like that. But you are a bonafide star and… if you wanted to, I think it would make her day.”
I cleared my throat. “I must get back. I’ve got vocal warmups. I will text Betty, but… sure… and thanks.”
“We’ve got someone to drive you back,” Keir said. “Auntie cleared it this morning.”
“Oh, I can… call a cab or…”
“No, trust me. You want our help.”
I soon understood why. While I felt I was far too old to hide away in a delivery van, I could hear the music all around as we drove a few blocks to my hotel.
Out of the dark rear windows, I saw a line of reporters waiting—a line that grew exponentially from previous days.
They took me around to the service entrance and I landed back safely.
I was glad to be home free, but didn’t fear the future.
I told myself I feared the spotlight or press, but it was more about my freedom.
I worried attaching myself to Betty would dull it.
Instead, her free spirit brought peace. We did this together in the way we wanted.
Everything I did to build my career and find my voice led me here.
And just as I thought I figured out what using my voice felt like, I realized defining my relationship wasn’t the only way I could write a new story. Because as I returned to my room, I was faced with a fork in the road.
Alia sat on my bed with wet hair and a Ramones crop top stolen from Clarice.
Clarice approached, as if needing to explain.
She took me into the bathroom and turned on the fan. “I wondered when you’d be back. Alia showed up last night and I couldn’t turn her away.”
“Why didn’t you ring me?”
“You had your own shit, darling. And given that you look happy, I suppose it did turn out well?”
“Her family is… super nice,” I admitted. “They ran a statement by me. We had… a lovely evening.”
“Oh, good. I am glad the day got salvaged. Alia is fine… well, here. She just didn’t feel safe and I didn’t have the heart to turn her away.”
“She needs to reach out to her parents. Let me talk to her.”
I sat with Ali, who was already in tears.
She was so young, frightened, and needed someone to tell her to stand strong.
I saw so much of myself in her. It was time to be the grown-up I needed almost three decades ago.
I couldn’t undo the scars from my first attempt at a career on that stage, but Alia had a chance to survive.
I’d fight like hell to make sure the same didn’t happen to her.
“First, before you say anything,” I said. “Clarice told me what you did, and I want to say I am so proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I am glad you came.”
“I know you were… with Princess Betty,” she said. “And I think that’s lovely. She’s so sweet.”
“She is,” I agreed. “But let’s focus on you, dear.”
She looked at her lap.
“I know that Jason and Max have isolated you from your parents over time. He did that to me.”
She nodded bravely.
“Call them. And if you want me to involve myself, I will. They will believe you. They will support you. He wants you to think they won’t.”
“Can you come with?” Alia asked, face so pathetic I couldn’t say no.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, revealing the sender.
?LSKLING
Do you want to come out on the yacht tonight? I can sneak you in.
My two worlds collided. I didn’t want to tell Betty no, but couldn’t stand to let her go. I also had nothing left in the tank to try to avoid the press on the family yacht. Who the hell had a family yacht?
“Give me just a sec. We will figure it out,” I told Alia.
I stepped back into the bathroom and ran the shower for the sake of privacy.
“Why are you calling? Is everything okay?” Betty asked.
“It’s fine, Bets. I have a situation here and I need to attend to it. Alia needs… support. I don’t think I can come tonight, even if I want to. It feels like… I don’t know.”
“Unfinished business? The chance to do it right again?”
I smiled at myself in the mirror. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“Take care of the kid,” Betty said. “I will suffer the atrocity of my family alone and see you tomorrow.”
“Your family’s nice,” I said. “Don’t lie.”
“They can be a lot.”
“Sometimes, you need a lot.” I looked towards the door and thought about where Alia found herself. “It’s good to have people show up.”