Carrie
Genny had been gone for three weeks now. I woke up every day expecting to feel better, to miss her less, but somehow it never worked. Every day I felt like I was walking through mud, unable to find joy in anything, even my painting.
“I don’t understand why I’m so hung up on her,” I told my sister over brunch one Sunday.
“I knew her for like a week. Well, I knew a version of her. The version that filled in when I was short-staffed and cooked great eggs and tripped on every single root in a three foot radius when we went hiking. There’s this whole other version of her that wears fancy dresses and crowns and dances with royalty. ”
“Have you been cyberstalking her?”
“I may have set up a Google alert on her and the royal family,” I said primly. “There’s been more press than they usually get because of her sister’s coronation.”
I conveniently left out the way I’d spent countless hours scouring the internet for anything I could find about Genny or her family.
“Have you heard from her since she left?”
“Yeah, she texted a couple of times.”
My sister gave me a shrewd look. “Did you respond?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but I kept it brief.”
Lizzie set down her fork – which told me she was about to get serious – so I did the same. Leaning forward, she pinned me with a hard look.
“Let me get this straight. You’re in love with this woman. She’s in love with you. You’ve both said the words to each other. Out loud. She tells you she’ll be back for you. She texts you to let you know she’s thinking about you. And you’re being what? Coy?”
“It’s like I told her before she left, a clean break is best.”
“Best for who? Not you, that’s for sure.”
“It is best for me,” I huffed. “It was never going to work out between us. It wasn’t real. Grown ass adults don’t fall in love in less than a week.”
“Says who?”
“Says every other adult.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” my sister scoffed.
“No I’m not. How many times have you seen people fall in love on vacation or when they’re working together or whatever and then when they go back to their real lives it all fades away. And I’m too damned old for childhood fantasies about instalove.”
“Or maybe you’re old enough to recognize love when you see it,” she countered.
“I’m infatuated with a woman who wears a tiara and grew up in a castle,” I reminded her.
“How often is she even back in her country doing stuff like that?” Lizzie asked.
“I don’t know. I think she said she goes back for the holidays and occasional events.”
“And the rest of the time she lives a normal life in Seattle?”
“I guess. But don’t forget the age difference. She’s not even thirty.”
“So what?”
“So one day she’ll wake up and realize her life is passing her by while she hangs out with a middle aged caterer with a trick knee and less than two thousand dollars in the bank.”
My sister shook her head, her expression clearly communicating that she thought I was a hopeless case.
“You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to be happy. I’ve been searching my whole life for someone that would make me feel the way Genny makes you feel.”
She picked up her fork and took a bite of her omelet before adding, “Such a waste.”
“I really miss her,” I admitted quietly. “I thought once we weren’t seeing each other, I’d discover that it wasn’t love, it was just infatuation. But I was wrong.”
“Then reach out. Ask to see her when she gets back. Give her a chance. Give yourself a chance to see if what y’all are feeling is real.”
My sister’s words were replaying in my brain all the way home. I was thinking about Genny so much that I thought I was imagining it when I saw her sitting on my front steps. I pulled the car into the garage and by the time I got out of the car she was standing behind me, watching me carefully.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You’re back.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Genny looked a little rumpled. Her hair was coming out of her ponytail and the white linen pants she was wearing were wrinkled. There were shadows under her eyes, like maybe she hadn’t been sleeping.
“I came here right from the airport.”
“SeaTac?” I asked inanely.
She shook her head. “My sister lent me the royal jet.”
“Oh. Sure. I guess princesses don’t fly commercial.”
Meanwhile I’d never even flown first class.
“I fly commercial sometimes,” she corrected. “But I didn’t come here to talk about my flight arrangements.”
“Why did you come here?” I asked.
“Because I missed you and didn’t want to wait another minute to see you.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest, but then my damned brain kicked in, reminding me why this was a bad idea.
“Maybe we should talk.”
“That sounds ominous,” she said lightly, her eyes searching and serious despite her tone.
“You want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
She followed me into the kitchen, both of us carefully maintaining our distance as I brewed some coffee and brought it to the table.
“How was your trip?” I asked politely.
“Are we really doing this?” Genny asked impatiently.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending like a few hours before I last left here we weren’t taking turns eating each other out.”
A series of dirty images flashed through my brain, but I carefully shut them down.
“Look Genny, I had fun with you when you were here, but that’s all it was. Fun.”
“Bullshit.”
The word came out loud and angry, making me flinch.
“I told you that I love you, and you said you loved me too,” she reminded me. “What’s this really about? Did you fall out of love with me already?”
I shook my head.
“I saw the press coverage of the coronation,” I said.
“I saw the pictures of you and your family wearing crowns, dripping in jewels, surrounded by some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the world. Love isn’t enough.
Feelings fade away and then you’re left with the essence of who you are.
I don’t fit in your world, Genny, and we’re very different from each other.
You’re still young, when you’re older you’ll realize that us not seeing each other is for the best.”
“I didn’t handle things well with my parents,” she said softly.
I blinked, confused by the change in topic.
“I behaved like a spoiled kid, running away, hiding, knowing that they’d be worried even though I’d emailed my sister.
I knew it at the time, but the truth is that once I was here with you, I wanted to hide away and be with you.
Take the time to get to know you. I knew if I reconnected with my real life, my time here would end, and I wasn’t willing to let it end too soon. But it was selfish of me.”
I didn’t respond, waiting for whatever she wanted to say next.
“I understand that you seeing me act that way gave you the impression that I’m impetuous and flighty.
I can also understand that you have concerns about the differences in our ages and about who I am.
My being a princess would be a lot for anyone.
But there’s one thing you haven’t learned about me yet. ”
“What’s that?”
“When I want something, I’m tenacious. Single-minded. Focused. And I want you. Not just for now, but forever. I’ll do whatever it takes, wait as long as it takes, for you to believe me when I say that I love you and want us to be together forever.”
Ignoring the excitement coursing through my veins I made myself ask, “What if I don’t want you?”
“If you really don’t want me, I’ll have to accept that. It’ll kill me, but I’ll accept that. But I won’t accept it without you giving me a chance to prove to you that I mean what I say.”
“That means what, exactly?”
“The thing is Carrie, we did this all kind of backwards. I want us to start from the beginning. Pretend we met the normal way people meet. On an app. At a party. When we both reach for the same melon at the grocery store. We jumped into cohabitation. Now I want to date.”
“You want us to date?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“We go to the movies. Visit the Farmer’s Market. Have romantic dinners at Italian restaurants where they put candles in old wine bottles and let the wax drip all over the sides.”
“Are we going to eat off the same side of a piece of spaghetti until our lips meet too?” I joked.
I started to explain, thinking she didn’t understand the reference, but she did.
“I love Lady and the Tramp,” she said. “My sister and I used to watch that cartoon with Mom. We should watch it together sometime.”
“So we’re going to date?” I repeated, wondering if there was a punchline here.
“Yes. And one more thing.”
“What?”
“No sex until we have a commitment.”