Chapter 6 #2
Flashes burst in front of my eyes as I step from the SUV.
The media is here to see my portrait and to log my reaction, which I’ve been told should be categorized as polite gratitude no matter what it looks like.
This is all so surreal. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that this would be my life.
I wonder how long it will take me to get used to it, but also, I hope that I never do.
I never want to forget about my childhood and the values that Paul and Fran raised me with.
I want to remember that I’m normal, that I was normal, even when I really wasn’t.
Growing up a princess without knowing that I was actually a princess is the best gift that my family ever gave me, even if my uncle, the King, might regret my lack of training now.
Dahlia and I smile and wave as we make our way into the national gallery. She charms everyone we come across. The director greets us with a huge smile and a bow as we shake hands.
“I’m so pleased that you’ve come to see our gallery, your highness,” he gushes as he talks to me.
“Of course,” I reply with a bright smile. “It’s not every day someone gets to see a painting of themselves.”
“There will be many more in the future,” he says and I demure. I’m not sure what else to say. “I’d love to give you a tour of the gallery.”
“We’d appreciate that so much,” I answer, “That is if you’ve got the time.”
“Of course. Shall we?”
“After you,” I reply and he leads us down the hall.
“This hall is the royal hall,” he explains, pointing to the paintings on the wall. “The Alexander House has had their portraits displayed here for as long as these walls have existed.”
“That’s some stretch of time…”
“It’s true,” he laughs. “The gallery was founded in 1948, not long after the second world war, but the portraits in this hall date back to the 1200s.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Here you can see some of the earliest to have ruled over our nation,” he says before looking just beyond us to someone who has joined our small party. “Oh, there you are. I’d love to introduce you to our new Queen.”
“I believe we’ve already met,” a familiar voice says and I turn just in time to see something unpleasant pass behind Dahlia’s eyes.
“I didn’t know you’d met the vice admiral before,” the director says.
“We christened a ship recently,” I tell him. “The princess and I did.”
“Staying out of trouble, you two?” the vice admiral asks with a smile on his face.
“No,” Dahlia snaps.
“Yes,” I answer. “What brings you out today?”
“Your portrait unveiling, of course,” he explains. “Also, I’m on the board of the National Gallery.”
“He does more than that,” the director teases. “But we won’t bore you with the ins and outs today. Now if you take a liking to the art world, well of course we’ll drag you in and hash out all the dirty details.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“It really can be.”
“I’ll discuss it with the powers that be,” I reply in what I hope is a polite enough way to let him know that I’m game if allowed but am also not at liberty to say that directly.
He’s polite enough to smile in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and then leads us on to the next hall with more modern portraits.
Dahlia is quiet as the vice admiral makes snide comments to her at the back of our party. I’m upset with myself that I let the delightful gallery director lead me at the front and that I’m not able to keep her close.
“And here is the most recent portrait of our late king,” he says as we all circle around to admire it. Dahlia’s eyes are red rimmed, and I can’t tell if it’s because she misses her dad or because the vice admiral has been particularly cruel.
I hold out my hand and reach for her, pulling her into my arms in a comforting way. “It’s easy to forget our grief with the amount of joy our family has experienced recently,” I say quietly. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”
“Of course,” the director replies. “The ladies’ room is just around the corner here.”
“Thank you so much.”
Dahlia and I make our way to the women’s restroom with Leo trailing behind us. He knocks on the door and when there’s no response, he pulls it open and does a sweep of the two stalls and any corners he deems unsafe. When he’s sure that the window won’t open after testing it, Leo leaves us to it.
“Are you all right?” I ask, holding her by her upper arms and making her look me in the eye while she answers.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she replies. “It’s stupid really. I know the whole world thinks of me as a waste of time, and I was for a long time, but I was just—”
“Hoping that they would catch on pretty quickly?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I mean why does it matter that some old man doesn’t like me?”
“It doesn’t.”
“And then that picture of Papa…” she sniffs. “You were right.”
“How so?” I ask even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’s talking about. It’s still better for her to get her feelings out of her system. Bottling them up is what had her skidding off the tracks in the first place.
“I forgot to miss him for a second with all the excitement, but”—she sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand—“it hurts.”
“I know it does, sweets.”
After a minute, she takes a deep breath and says, “I’m okay now.”
“Good.”
“How’s my makeup?” she asks, making me laugh.
“Perfect. What setting spray do you use?” I ask.
“A professional grade lacquer.”
“Nice.”
“All right,” she says. “Let’s go see this amazing portrait. I hope he gave you three nipples and one eye.”
“Bite your tongue, you brat,” I laugh and follow her out of the ladies’ room.
“Whatever, nothing could make you ugly,” she says with a soft smile just for me.
I love this girl. I never had siblings or much of a family before, and here I am with a sister I adore and a husband I’m finding I no longer want to live without.
When we make our way back to the group who is waiting patiently for the most part, I say to the kind director, “Thank you for your patience. Please lead us on, if you will.”
“I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I wasn’t thinking… only that he was such a wonderful king, as is your husband, and we all miss him.”
“It is lovely to know that he was so loved,” I tell him. “But a daughter will always miss her papa, am I right?”
“Of course.”
I hear a muffled but indignant, “Harrmph,” from the back of the crowd and narrow my eyes at the vice admiral.
“You disagree?” I ask him after I hang back to poke at him a bit. I know that I should let sleeping dogs lay, but I find that I cannot let him continue to pick on Dahlia.
“I wouldn’t know anything about daughters missing their fathers,” he says coolly.
“Well, one day, maybe you’ll have a daughter and it will all make sense,” I reply.
“Yes, one day,” he agrees.
I want to push him to ask what he means but we stop at the next wall where there’s a curtain with a gold pull covering a frame hanging on the wall.
“And here we are,” the director says. Several members of the press are waiting behind a velvet rope to watch me pull the chord and see if Dahlia was right and that I have three nipples.
The thought makes me smile in earnest. “Now, we’ll have you stand here and pull the chord when you’re ready, your majesty. ”
“Thank you,” I reply as I move over to the far side.
“Smile, your majesty!” someone shouts and I turn to give them a winning picture opportunity and hope I don’t have the face of a mass murderer. Anything is possible. It’s not like I know what I’m doing anyway.
“Well, are you ready?” I ask them. “I am.”
“Yes!” they call out and I pull the gold chord.
The velvet curtain falls, revealing a painting of me in my wedding dress and I feel my breath catch in my chest because this woman I’ve never seen before.
She’s stunning, absolutely beautiful. She looks away from the painter at something that she likes and there’s a beautiful…
almost hopeful look about her. Like she’s just had all of her dreams come true.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it,” the director says.
“Well, I guess no extra nipples,” Dahlia mutters as I pose for my picture with the portrait and my smile is genuine. That’s the picture that all the papers will run with in the morning with the caption “Queen loves stunning portrait.”
Unfortunately, by then, I’ll be too busy watching my back to notice.
It was nice while it lasted.