Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 79. Home Again

Three years, Daniel.   Exactly three years ago I was forced to say goodbye.  Your leaving wasn't by choice. Cancer never asks.  I swear, I thought up until March you were going to beat it.   I knew you would.  My Hell began then.  I am a happy person.  I am.  I was losing everything, including my sanity.   I wrote to keep you alive.   I made you a vampire so you couldn't die easily.   I think of you every hour of every day.  I still love you.   I miss you.  I write to keep you.  Wait for me.  

Home Again

We got into some vans to take us to the palace. Home. It's a very special word. It meant more than just a building where you slept, ate, and raised a family. No, home was where you went to get away from the world and issues there, it was a shelter from storms. Home was where you felt safe. It was like a comfortable and warm quilt around you on a cold day. That's how I felt. The Consortium was still out there. That pirate lady was out there. Out there. Not here.

We didn't talk a lot on the way to the palace. Why? When you were in the backseat and spoke to someone in the front seat, I won't even ask how that went for you. With everyone talking...it was better if we didn't start that.

I said Stryia hadn't changed from the air, but as we rode through I could see some changes. The work underground I knew was well underway. What I said about Makarovians and the warm weather was also true. There were quite a few people above ground walking on sidewalks and shopping or just stretching their legs.

I had been told, this was when Makarovians prepared for the long and harsh winter. The underground was to help the need for urgent preparation. If you didn't prepare what was needed, they may feel sorry for you, but you had no real sympathetic ears about having run out after you're stranded because of the snow and ice. If you couldn't, that was another issue. Makarovians would help.

It was so nice outside; I wanted to go on a picnic!

“Have you ever had a picnic?” I asked Peter.

Peter grinned looking at me, "Not in a while. You want to go on a picnic?"

I smiled and said, “It's so pretty outside now. It would be a crime to let it slip past us without one.”

Peter chuckled, "We can't have that!" He looked at the sky through the window of the van. Looking back his smile grew warmer and much more personal. He liked what he saw.

"I'm comfortable here," I explained. "I feel like...we've come to sanctuary. I'm home."

Peter's head went back a little, but he nodded, “That's right. It is.”

I smiled and said, “Picnic.”

Peter's eyebrow started to go up, “Yes.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, “I love words that despite the language sound and mean the same thing.” I shrugged. “English, Makarovian, Ukrainian, Russian all say picnic and it means the same thing."

Peter chuckled again, “I never thought about that before.”

The route we took us through the town of Stryia where the idea of warm weather was cherished. In the near center of Stryia, there was a large traffic circle. There wasn't a lot of traffic, but I saw more than there had been a year ago. It was the only addition the Soviets wanted I agree with. That and the mechanized elevator in the fortress/palace. They predicted more cars and trucks in Makarovia's future. The circle was to take the need for traffic signals out. Traffic went one way on this circle and when you got to the street, you exited. Simple. Makarovia took the center of that circle and added a garden. The only flowers I knew on sight were daisies and roses. Now I saw several out there putting plants in. Work had been done as I saw plants fully bloomed with red, white, yellow and a lot of purples.

I turned to Peter, “This was here last year?”

Peter gave a smile and a grudging nod. "The park was here, it hasn't been maintained since the early nineteen-nineties and the breakup of the Soviet Union.” He shrugged. “We were too busy staying alive. The idea of a garden didn't have high priority."

“It does now!” I grinned. “I’d love to see it up close.” I sat back and looked at him more critically. “And where’s the garden for the Queen?”

“What?” Peter asked a little startled by the question, but not surprised or upset. He knew by now how my brain worked.

I held up my hand and began counting them off, “England, France, Switzerland, Sweden, Germany, Japan, even Russia…maybe no one sits on the throne in these places, but the gardens are still there.” Peter shrugged, “It’s been a busy decade or two.” He said almost helplessly, “We didn’t have people to do that.”

I waved out the window as six or seven people worked, “What are they? The United States' and Great Britain's military are helping with the greenhouses, but I don't think any of them are."

Peter smiled and nodded, "We have to speak with Mom, Olek, and Helga."

We took the elevator to the palace level. It was used by quite a few people. We needed to add another elevator to handle the increase in traffic by people who worked at the palace and guests in the hotel portion. When it came down to the palace and infrastructure, I left that to people that did that for a living. Peter was going to Northeastern for Urban Development. Olek had control of it now.

Sometimes, my mind went in directions I didn't plan on. We got to the palace level and were walking through the Grande Hall. People going about on many tasks. Some people for the palace and some for the governing of Makarovia.

“Olek,” I said in English. Mario was still with us. “That plane was awesome!" I only paused a second, "Doesn't require more..." I thought about the word needed. "It's high tech."

Olek didn't look as if he quite understood. We often add shortcuts and shorten words as a habit.

I raised a hand over my head, "Very complex? No ordinary pilot will do and no simple mechanic will do."

Olek nodded, "Ah, yes." He shrugged. "It is. The pilot and copilot we had to hire from elsewhere. No one from Makarovia ever learned to be a pilot. I hired men that knew how and the mechanics that knew how." He grudged another nod. "I would love to have them be Makarovians, but Makarovians need to be taught and they will be. Eventually.”

Peter nodded, “Like the miners now are being instructed to extract the ore.”

Olek nodded, "That's it. That also includes refining and processing the ore. It will take time, but we're learning."

It wasn't late, Peter and I weren't tired. There were things we needed to talk about. Yuri had reported everything that happened that he knew about.

Peter and I didn't have to tell Olek some things. The news and entertainment media had done that for us. We just added more accurate detail. Montenegro didn't release much about the political side of our visit. Montenegro didn't, but CNN, the BBC and a plethora of other networks did. (Plethora and other words like pontificate I don't get to use a lot) That coverage was true also for Greece and Malta. Greece and Malta didn't report anything bad about our visit, but reporters often sensationalize. Think of it like someone explaining how the fish was nearly caught but got away. The story grows as it's told. What may have been a foot in length, becomes a whopper maybe six feet (two meters) long and the struggle to get from the water by net becomes an all-day battle with a fish that just wouldn't be caught! Which version sounds better?

Olek smiled, “I'll be guessing, but I think Athens was your favorite stop.”

“I love Greece,” I said again.

“We saw the person,” Helga began, “that owned that bar. Pano Consentino. The angle they filmed the interview was shot made him look big.”

Peter chuckled, “Yeah, well, your modern media embellish stories.”

“They always do it,” I grinned, “It doesn't seem to matter which country either.”

Peter shook his head, “Pano wasn't big.” Then he smiled brightly. “That man was huge!!”

I laughed, “His bar is called Big's Bar for several reasons. He is the Big of that bar. There's a play on the word."

"The man is over two hundred centimeters tall!" Peter said. (Six feet, eight inches)

“Hopefully,” I added, “You can see for yourself in August if they come for someone's birthday.”

"He's the nicest guy," Peter assured. "He and his husband Barry..."

"And his father Edgar!" I added quickly.

Peter nodded, “We couldn't forget about Edgar! Or the Ouzo!" Peter and I laughed harder together.

He best thing about sharing the good parts were the smiles of our family as we did. They were interested.

“And we owe it all to Mom,” Peter said.

Queen Alla was surprised, “Me!? Why me?”

It wasn’t difficult following the logic, but he needed to say it.

Peter waved toward Mario, "Because you brought him into our lives."

"Peter's right. You brought Mario to us and we made him family. He and his sister Maria have done for us what can never be repaid." I looked at Mario. "I fully intend to thank your sister. A thank you card isn't enough. I prefer to do it in person. Is she available to come here, or should we go there?"

I didn't know anything about Mario or Maria except they shared the same parents. Mario was older than Maria.

Mario smiled. He didn't do what I had complained about earlier. He didn’t minimize or divert the compliment. "I think either can happen."

"You two are close," I stated the fact. "Can I ask how it's possible that you two are so generous?"

Mario smiled, “We are close. She is my sister, but we're also the best of friends. She and I were sent away to bordering schools, but not the same one. We saw the family for special occasions and holidays." He chuckled. "I went to a school for boys and she went to an all-girls' school. Her school was run by the Catholic Diocese and she fell in love with the church lifestyle." He shrugged. "My school was a sort of military school. I loved the discipline and the days’ structure where there was no question about what you were going to do or even how long it would take to get it done. Maria loved her school and from the time she was eight told everybody she was to become a nun." He chuckled again. "It essentially came down to the same thing, a structured life that took away any guesswork.”

I nodded. It made sense. Every kid that reads this will hate me, but they need that disciplined structure in their lives to give comfort and security.

“She almost made it,” He laughed lightly, “Her life was turned around when she was nineteen. She met Alexi von Bar."

I smiled hearing at that.

“She pretty much took the vows of celibacy and poverty from the beginning when she was still a child." He grinned remembering something. "It made my job as her older brother a lot easier. Human-denying virtues sort of went away when she met Alexi.”

Peter frowned, “But she loaned us her yacht! She had to know who we are and what we'd done.”

I nodded, “Those in the Catholic Church don't like us very much.”

Mario smiled bigger, “She's not in the Church.”

"Don't play obtuse!" I growled a little. I saw his and some other looks of confusion. "In this case, obtuse means slow to understand." All that had looked confused now nodded with an almost audible "oh."

Mario chuckled again, "She would never presume to act for God. She doesn't judge. Alexi's brother is like you and they are still close."

“Yep,” I nodded and shrugged, “We are everywhere. We just need to find one in every family and the struggle will almost be over.” It's a sad truth, but there are many families that have one or two that are ostracized or severely repressed. I'm grateful that it didn't happen to me or anyone in Makarovia.

“He loves her,” Peter grinned.

Mario nodded, “He really does. She had finished school,” he bobbed a nod, “she was in her second year at Tre Fontane Abby and was about to make her first vows leaving only one last step to being a nun." He looked at Peter. "That you were so protective of your mother, I wasn't offended at all. By this time our parents were dead and I was even worse with Alexi than you were with me. I saw Maria as innocent! He was going to take that away!”

“He must have proved himself to you,” Grandma said.

Mario nodded, "It took a lot longer for him to prove it to me than I have with you."

Peter had a satisfied grin and nudged me, "See? I told you."

I rolled my eyes at that. "How old was she when this happen the first time?”

“Six,” Mario replied.

“Did she want to be sent to this school?" I asked. "Did you to yours?”

He looked as if he didn't understand the question, “There was no option to not go. We just went." He considered something and said, "I know she cried a lot at first. I did, too, at first."

I nodded, “But when you at home for a holiday or whatever; did you have parents that took care of you?”

Mario shook his head, “We had nannies.”

“The same ones?” I asked.

Mario shrugged a nod, “Occasionally.”

It was the poor little rich kid story all over again.

Peter looked at me, "Why are you asking these leading questions?"

"Because it explains a lot," I said. I looked up at Mario. "Sorry, but you answered some other questions I have."

Mario smiled, "Like what?" He knew the answer but wanted to see if I did.

“Were many of the teachers for her or did your teachers change?" I asked.

Mario's smile grew a little, “No.”

Grandma was nodding with a smile. She knew, too. She taught me to see that!

“Where was the only place Mario and Maria knew would be the same?" I asked and I answered the question. “School!!”

Mom, Olek, and Helga were nodding now.

“Maria and Mario transferred their feelings about home and family to their school and teachers because they wouldn't change!”

Peter just blinked and then shrugged, “Okay.”

"You and I can't empathize,” I said, “I can't imagine doubting my mother's, father's, grandpa's or grandma's love for me. I understand it happens, but not to me.”

Mario's smile was still there, “And you did that with only a little time spent with me. The doctors I saw took weeks for them to reach the same conclusion.”

“One hour sessions once a week aren't enough," I said. Looking at Peter I said, "It's obvious!" I waved at Mario. "The path to this is big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through."

The only one to smile was grandma. She'd spoken English quite a while now and knew what I meant.

Peter grinned at everyone and said quietly, "He's teaching me some Southern Proverbs." He looked at Mom. "I know you don't just play around, but is there a wedding in the future?"

I swatted his arm, "Peter!?" He couldn't have just asked that, but I know he did. I was appalled! That just wasn't done.

Peter didn't back down at all and looked at me and pointed at me closely, "You know it, too!" He looked at Mario and pointed to me with his thumb. "You know what he called her the whole time? Our future step-aunt!" Then he looked at me at nodded a quick, so there nod. He looked back at them. "Don't tell me you haven't even discussed the possibility."

Mom looked a bit embarrassed, but Mario grinned.

"It's been discussed. The question was asked and a yes given,” Mario said looking at Mom.

"Okay," Olek said. "When's the wedding?"

Queen Alla was more embarrassed, “We had your wedding, Peter and now Olek's and Helga's wedding...”

“Mom!” Peter said in a whine as every child, no matter the country or language, knows how. It’s high at the beginning, drops in pitch and then rises again and lasts longer than necessary. "Stop doing this!" He looked at me. "She's always doing this," He said quieter to me. He got up and knelt in front of her. "You consider everybody else before you." He shook his head. "That's made you a great Queen, but this once; you need to think of yourself."

“And poor Mario!” I added with a smile looking at Mario, “You're tormenting the man! It's written all over his face." It was the opposite. He knew what he had and showed the patience of a saint.

Peter nodded, “Yes, the torment comes later.” He chuckled.

I discovered another reason for the fluffy pillows on sofas. I hit him harmlessly in the head.

"There's always going to be something on the horizon," Peter said. "But after the wedding tomorrow, I would like a day you would like or at least a season!" He rose and said quietly. "Yes," he said, "He isn't Dad, but Dad's gone."

I watched as Mom's eyes watered again. The gunk she used still didn't cause anything to run.

“It doesn't matter if we approve,” he added, “or don't approve, but just in case. I do approve.”

I got up and stood with Peter, "We approve.”

“Me, too.” Olek said, “if anyone's asking.”

Now the tears came unstopped by Mom.

“And Olek,” Peter began smiling, “I can't even begin to tell you how much I recommend it.”

“Marriage,” Olek clarified to make sure the subject of our discussion was the same. He was pleased that Peter was happy.

Peter put his arm around me, "When it's right, it makes other things make sense. Eric for me, Helga with you," Peter looked again at his mother, "and Mario for you. It's wonderful. You need wonderful in your lives."

Mom got up and hugged Peter. The other two ladies were also crying. It was a that's so sweet kind of crying. That's was a good cry.

I heard another sob come from behind us. Turning, I saw Boris comforting Yuri. Mr. Tough Guy had been touched by the emotions here at play.

Mario got up and produced what I'd heard of in the past, but hardly ever saw. A handkerchief. These days, the threat contamination with germs and disease after disease, they weren't used anymore. It looked a near blinding white as he gave it to Mom.

"Okay," Mom began, cleared her throat and went on. "I would love Autumn. And..." she touched Peter's arm, "Understand when I say this; I don't want to marry Mario here.”

Peter's brow wrinkled a bit, “Okay.”

“I love Makarovia,” Mom said. “There are so many reminders about your father here.”

“Is that bad?” Peter asked.

"No," Mom said softly, "Not at all, but I want to make vows where I'm not reminded of Olek, your father."

Mario rose to stand next to Mom.

"I'll want my focus on Mario," She said. "I want to do it in Boston." She looked in Peter's eyes, "Do you understand? I can never forget your father and I wouldn't want to."

Peter nodded and hugged his mother.

This situation was unique. Mom was including Mario as family. I wasn't sure yet but he wasn't marrying Mom and becoming a member of the royal family. If anything, he would marry her and helping Mom out of the royal family.

(A short history review. Olek the first made her Queen Consort by marriage. She became Queen Regnant when Olek the first died. Olek the second hadn't finished school yet. She took control and she was the ruler. When Olek II did assume the throne, she stepped back, but she never backed down. To Makarovians, she was Queen.)

Mario was helping her get distance from the family. She would become a Basso. The people won't let her leave. Would they award him a title? I don't know. I don't have to remind you how well I received all of mine. There were all these rules! I love rules. You know that. Rules prevent problems and chaos. Mom was a queen that should have stepped down. She was a queen dowager. If any Makarovian were asked, she was Queen! When Olek II took the throne, Mom let go of some things. Olek II took the governing of Makarovia and business. Queen Alla kept control of the education and health needs of Makarovia. The two made a great team and did very well. If it isn't broken, don't fix it.

Helga would be Queen soon. I remember some discomfort with the idea of two queens voiced by Helga. I couldn't believe there would be problems. This wasn't a typical royal family. Makarovia wasn't a typical people or country.

"When do you think we can meet Aunt Maria?" I asked Mario.