3. Cedrick
“And there have been three cases of cholera, Dr. Vanecourt. We’ve put the patients in quarantine. But the bigger issue is stopping it at its source, in the water supply.”
I look out the window at my home office in my manor in Solvaria and sigh, not because of the stress of work. It’s the stress of being here rather than somewhere that actually needs me.
I should be in Mali helping Riva, not here. I start buying my ticket while I’m talking.
“Have you contacted the public health arm of the organization? They can start the process of testing the water for contamination. If they haven’t already.”
“I haven’t, no. They’re my second call, and the civil authorities are third.”
I can hear the exhaustion in Riva’s voice. As the country head for Mali, she’s used to everyday pathogens and hunger, but a cholera outbreak is a different beast altogether.
“I know you’ve got it under control. But I’ll try to make it out there in the next twelve hours. I’ll call as soon as I’m in country.”
“Sounds good, boss. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Riva. See you soon. I’m glad I have you doing the work.”
Riva only has two staff members helping her, and I’m sure she’s gotten no sleep. If this isn’t contained immediately, it could affect the entire country.
“Aaaand… booked.” It’s in my phone wallet, and my assistants are now aware of my travel itinerary. “King Francis International, here we come.”
It’s moments like these that justify my even maintaining a house here, considering my real home is in the field.
The question is whether I should go back to the palace to say goodbye or whether I should just bypass the guilt trip by leaving the country now and then letting Dad know later. His minions at the airport probably have a flag on the passport of anyone even adjacent to the royals. I might invoke even more wrath for going around him.
Even so, it”s better than guaranteeing his wrath by showing up. The less I see of him, the better.
I spot Ingrid, my house manager, as I collect my backpack and small suitcase. “I’ll be heading out of town again, but I wanted to thank you for taking care of the place.”
“Wonderful to see you, Your Highness. When can we expect you back?”
“I’m not quite sure. But I’ll be in touch.”
Isha seems to be recovering well, and you’d never think Father even had a stroke the way he’s back to his old self. His old insistent self.
Riva sends me photos of the sick patients, and I feel even more certain that I’m making the right choice by leaving. I’m nearing the airport parking when I get another notice on my phone. There’s an urgent email from the Royal Trust.
Dr. Vanecourt,
I regret to inform you that the Royal Trust’s support for your charitable foundation, WorldClinique, has been withdrawn for this coming fiscal year. The royal family of Solvaria wishes you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
Regards,
King Francis of Solvaria
“That motherfucker! He didn’t even spell the name of my organization right.” I can barely see in front of me from the fury.
The tires squeal as I make a U-turn at the entrance to the airport. If I had a can of spray paint, I’d deface the airport sign. It would be worth the night in jail. I’d make it ‘Fuc-king Francis International Airport.’
I park in the circular driveway in front and slam the doors, then storm into the palace before the guards can say anything.
I yell loudly enough so that I know it’ll reach my father’s quarters. “What the fuck did you just do, Dad?”
I race up the enormous staircase, skipping two steps at a time. The staff stops, and the halls fall silent except for the sound of my movements and breath.
“King Francis! Your Royal Highness!” I call sardonically, dripping with disdain.
He comes to his front chamber to his offices, strolling in as if it’s a social call from one of his nobles.
“How can I help you, son? I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again this trip. To what do I owe the privilege?” My father’s nonchalant demeanor and big shit-eating grin fuel my rage even more than if he had thrown a punch.
“You know exactly why I’m here, Dad. What the fuck?” I’m shaking and my chest is heaving from the fury.
“Excuse me? That’s how you address your King?”
“No. It’s how I address my vindictive dad. You told me you’d cut half. That was unfair and selfish, but I could live with it. Cutting it to zero? You don’t care about international public health?”
“Of course, I do. But wouldn’t it be better to support a more legitimate organization with a better track record?”
“No. It wouldn’t. My foundation is doing work no one else is doing, and those organizations can get funding from anywhere. How does it look when the Royal Trust won’t support a foundation from the royal family?”
The King shrugs, and if he were anyone else, I would take a swing.
“I don’t know what it looks like. You shouldn’t be concerned about such things. You should be concerned about what it looks like for a prince who’s twenty-five years old to have no marriage prospects on the horizon, to the detriment of his nation’s stability.”
“Not this again. I’m not ready to get married. I want to use my most energetic years contributing the most I can to the rest of the world, to the field of medicine, to humanitarian causes.”
“And I want to use the remaining years I have left to know who’s going to be continuing the work of this dynasty. I want to make sure our great nation is on sure footing. I want to know my sons are married to women who will make…”
“Make you look good?”
“...Them happy. And if they make the country look good in the process, well, what’s the harm?” My father grins, amused with himself, but I don’t find anything about this funny.
“And I think I have one for you.”
“No, Dad, you don’t. I couldn’t be less interested in hearing who it is. You care about one thing, Dad, and it’s not Solvaria. It’s yourself. You don’t care about your kids, just whether we follow orders. Well, I’m not anymore. I’m done.”
I glare at him before turning and leaving, getting out as fast as I can.
“Cedrick! Wait.” My father has one hand up.
“Yes?”
“Don’t leave. We can talk more.”
I turn my head and stop. “Are you willing to change your mind about the funding?”
He halts before speaking. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Cedrick. I’m afraid I can’t.”
I study his face, despising every inch of this man. “Then we’re done. Don’t contact me until you’re ready to apologize. What’s more shameful, having a son who’s unmarried, or having a son who’s estranged from you?”
“Cedrick…”
I speed out before I can hear the rest of what he has to say. I don’t care. I’m done listening.
I race down the red-carpeted stairs, and I hear a thud. Probably Dad throwing something around because he didn’t get his way.
I hear footsteps pounding just behind me on the stairs and feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Dad, I said…” I turn and see his face, but it’s not my father.
“No, Cedrick…” Haverty says ominously, with knit brows and shallow breath.
“Did he send you to chase after me, even though he has no intention of changing his mind?”
He pulls me by the collar to stop me. I resist, but he’s stronger than I imagined he’d be at his age.
“Cedrick, no, wait. It’s not that. It’s an emergency.”
“If this is a ruse, Haverty. I already had a false alarm…”
“Your father collapsed onto the floor. It could be another stroke.”
I close my eyes, and instead of seeing the smug power broker who can’t tighten his grip on his adult children, I see his ashen face on the gurney after his stroke nearly a year before.
I nod and clap Haverty on the back, and I put my doctor’s face on as we hustle up the stairs together. He’s no longer my overbearing father or the supreme monarch of a storied country. He’s a patient in need, and I took an oath to do no harm.
We run into his outer office, where my father’s personal physician is already working on him. I remember being in this very room so often in my childhood, playing with my best friend Henry and my mother. And of course, my playmate, Ellie, and her mother, who sat at the desk here.
And now here I am, a grown man, with my father getting on in years and suffering from ill health. His eyes are closed as I help them lift him up to the gurney.
His personal physician, Dr. Clemenceau, places the oxygen mask on his mouth and nose, and I help keep him still.
Then I take my father’s hand and look at his face, even though his closed eyes can’t see me. “Dad, it’s Cedrick. I love you. No matter what, I love you.” No matter how much of an asshole you are.
I go with my father and his staff to the medical wing, praying for him to live through this. Then we can resume the argument where we left off.