Makarovia? Where The Hell Is That? Freshman Year - 19. Chapter 19

The weekend was nice…sort of a lull for what was going to happen in less than a week. I found out through Olek and Queen Alla that there were rooms set aside for some invited guests, but most of the news teams were being housed at the local inn. I asked about Drew Humphries coming.

Olek shrugged. “Well, that’s up to you. He can stay here along with your grandmother. We have room.”

The was the ongoing project with the webpage and photos I went through, sending my responses I approved of back to Northeastern. Then Jori came with Peter’s and my suits for the webpage photographs. The suits were nice. They had to be. After putting it on I was going to be photographed for the webpage. Everyone would see it. It was as we prepared for that…a young woman came with something on a pillow. It was not a big thing, but a solid gold round…crown. Not one of those things with points, but a simple ring of plain gold. I looked at it hesitantly.

“It’s your crown, Your Highness.” She said with a curtsy, wondering if there was a problem.

I just looked up at her, dumbfounded. “I just…”

Peter came behind me and took the crown from her. “I’ll handle this. Thank you.” He looked at me and I saw, once again, the uncertainty in his eyes. “Remember our rule.” He said softly. “Tell me what you’re thinking if I ask.”

Now, I was uncertain. “I just…” my mind going over all this crown meant. “I knew…but, it’s so much more real.” I waved at the crown. “I am going to be Prince Eric.”

Peter nodded. “If we marry. You will be.”

I saw his eyes and one eye narrowed at him. “Don’t do that!” I shoved lightly. “I’m not backing out. I said I’d never leave you. I meant it. I love you, Peter. Never, ever doubt that.” I waved at the crown. “Seeing this…just hit me a how important this will be. People are counting on me.”

Peter nodded. “They will.” He leaned into me. “I’ll be counting on you.”

I picked up the crown. It was heavy! It was solid gold! “How do they know this will fit?”

Peter grinned and waved at Jori. “He can tell just by looking.”

I smiled as Olek came in carrying his. Now his…was a crown. The points and all that stuff. I felt sorry for him seeing it. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” I said softly as he walked over.

Olek smiled and hefted it up. “Because it’s so damned heavy!” He handed it to me. “Now, you may know why I prefer not to wear it often!”

It was heavy with responsibility as well as the very weight. “I mean that,” I said quietly to Olek. “We’ll do what you need us to do.”

Olek smiled and nodded. “You are, already.” He said bringing me in for a kiss on the cheek.

Of course, Queen Alla outshined all of us. The shimmering gold colored gown she wore was cut perfectly and her hair done right…her tiara glistened.

I bowed. “Your Majesty.”

She smiled and gave a shrug and then nod. “Yes, yes.”

There was the shot with us together, standing behind Olek as he sat on the throne and individual headshots of all of us.

Later, Peter pulled me to him as we were changing.

“I will admit to having to look up Wallis Simpson.” He confessed. “I was not up on that particular history.” He smiled. “She was an American, but twice divorced and that wouldn’t do for the people of England.”

“Sure, but you and I are pushing it even further by getting married.” I nodded.

“With everyone’s support, including the people of Makarovia.”

I smiled, kissing him. “That’s the aim.”

Everything was being gone over, including the elevator as Peter and I were about to head out for the Grotto. If it didn’t work, climbing all those stairs!? I heard… "Трясця його матері. Дурний російських будівництва!" Damn it. Stupid Russian construction! We heard a bang of something metal hitting metal. Probably a wrench or something.

“I think we should probably walk down,” I said to Peter who was smiling at the unseen voice.

“I hope it works when we come back!” Peter called down happily to the unseen voice.

“It will be!” The voice assured irritated as he continued to work but now doubted who said it down to him. “Your Highness?” It said as an afterthought.

Grandmother agreed to come on that Tuesday. Of course, getting here she flew to Paris, then to Budapest and then to Stryia. She got off the plane and smiled, hugging both of us happily. Still stood tall and proud, but I could tell the flight had worn on her. Dressed nicely in elegant pants and blouse of blue, she kissed both of us.

“It’s so good to see you.” She said letting us go.

“I’m glad you got here,” I said. “I don’t have to ask if you’re tired.”

She nodded but smiled. “It was a long flight.” She waved back at the plane. “I can’t wait to see…everything.”

“We can’t wait to show you everything,” Peter said. “But first, we’ll get you back to the palace.”

I loved watching her face as we drove into the castle area and got out. Her opinion was clear, this wasn’t what she was expecting, but didn’t say anything. On the…elevator up…which was always an experience the first time, she still smiled, but…again…not what she suspected. Until we got out on the palace level her eyes grew and the polished floors and lights. It was beautifully maintained. Not opulent, but nicely furnished. She pointed to where were came in and back to the palace.

“But…from outside…” she said and then looked at the palace’s interior, “you have no idea…”

“…it looks like a fortress.” Peter nodded but smiled. “Surprising, isn’t it?”

I grinned at Peter. “Well, it is a fortress. That’s what it was made to be…the palace came afterward.”

“Sure, new construction.” Peter grinned. “Only about five hundred years ago.”

Then I saw my grandmother’s eyes widen from something behind me and she bowed. Turning, I saw Olek approach with a big smile.

“And this is King…”

“King Olek.” Grandmother said almost reverently. “I’ve seen him on TV a lot recently. A handsome man that’s a KING! He needs no introduction.”

Olek took her hand as he did the gracious bow and took her hand, kissing the top in that gallant, well-mannered way. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Sams having you here. Welcome to Makarovia.”

The heels on the stone told me Queen Alla was approaching.

“And this is Queen Alla, Peter’s mother,” I said to who soon would be my mother.

Grandmother bowed again. “Your Majesty.”

Queen Alla smiled and came to stand next to my grandmother. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Alla.”

“And I’m Olek,” Olek said. “You’re family.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I looked up some of the footage of your performances with the New York Ballet. You were stupendous!” Alla said.

“That was what…forty years ago!” Grandmother said with a nod.

I grinned. “I know she can stand on pointe!” I said proudly. “Something I vowed never to try again after the fifteen minutes I attempted it.”

Grandmother laughed shaking her head. “Not like I used to be able to.”

“She does it every day at her school,” I said smiling at her. I knew my grandmother, and she would never admit to being tired even if she were exhausted. “Well, I’m going for a nap.”

Of course, grandmother knew me. “Subtle, Mr. Richards.” She chuckled. “I could do with a little rest.” She waved at the palace. “Just point the way.”

I shrugged. “Well, I want you to be comfortable.”

Grandmother looked at the palaces’ interior. “How could I not be?” It was harder then she would admit to…adjusting to the few hours difference, but she comfortable in her rooms at the palace which was like Peter’s and mine, designed to keep heat. Smaller spaces, but a few rooms.

The same happened with Drew and Wayne the next day. When they arrived getting off the elevator, they both stumbled in as they stared at the inside of the palace. I knew who was whom, from the photos. The inch or two in height and the hair told me the dark-haired man was Drew’s husband Wayne. Nice looking, both of them in their early forties.

“But…” Wayne said pointing to the elevator and then back to the palace’s interior. “…but…it…you don’t see this out there!”

“We don’t want you to,” Peter said holding out his hand. “Peter Ivanov.”

Wayne grinned shaking his hand. “You…I know.” Drew smiled shaking Peter’s hand and turned to me. “And you are Eric Richards. I’m Drew and this…” he pushed the bigger dark-haired man beside him forward. “Is my husband, Wayne Jenkins.”

“Makavoria is great at hiding things…things and people,” Peter said.

“I read where you had to.” Drew grinned as we walked farther in. He looked back at the elevator. “And that is the only way up?”

Peter shrugged. “It was pretty much for freight. The palace had to be supplied.” He said. “Before the…” he waved to the elevator, “was mechanized by the Soviets of Russia, it was used to bring food and supplies. It is locked in place when we’re attacked. My great-grandfather refused to ride the thing.”

“And you’ve been attacked on many occasions,” Wayne stated.

“Frequently.” Peter groaned. “I suppose we’d been attacked so often, we got so good at it because of all that came to do that.”

“But you hid this!” Drew said waving at the palace. “This!”

“If we didn’t, we’d have even more invaders,” Peter said logically.

“Which is about to change as the whole world will see it,” I added.

It was at dinner, Grandmother, Olek, Queen Alla, Peter and I at the table with Drew and Wayne.

“Okay.” Drew contently sighed sitting back with a smile from the good meal and looked at me. “You know what sort of reporter I am. You wanted me. Here I am. Can I ask questions now?”

“Drew,” Wayne said in a warning tone and looked at his husband. “Be nice.” Saying as if he’d said it before, but was going to be ignored…again.

Drew looked a little annoyed at that, but I had a feeling it was mostly in fun. “That’s what reporters do.” He said logically. “What do I report if I don’t ask questions?”

I waved at Wayne. “It’s okay,” I said, but he could ask some questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. If that happened, I’d just say that. I know he…asks unconventional questions to understand the truth.”

He nodded and looked at Peter. “When did you know you were gay?”

Peter looked at me, smiling from having told me recently. “I was about thirteen or fourteen.”

“But you were raised to not believe your behavior was…odd or bizarre and just…strange.” Drew wanted to be sure.

“I never believed it was,” Peter said.

“But you weren’t raised here,” Drew said to me. “Were you raised to think it was strange?”

I gave a shrugging nod. “Not really.” I grinned at my grandmother. “My grandmother raised me with my mother.” I smiled as I remembered. “I remember the reality of the situation hit me after hearing a song.”

“A song. What song?” Drew asked.

“Don’t Take the Girl, by Tim McGraw.” I chuckled. “To admit that…is hard enough. I don’t like country, but I love that song.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know it,” Drew said. “I know Tim McGraw’s married to Faith Hill, but that’s it.”

I shook my head. “I listened to the song, but it was so…sweet, I guess?” I chuckled. “Each stanza had Don’t Take the Girl. First starting a when he was eight and asking his father don’t take the girl when they were going fishing. I guess she was six. Johnnie, the boy sung about later in the song, would do anything to protect her when asked don’t take the girl. It progressed until she became his wife and faced a health crisis the guy asked God Almighty don’t take the girl, because she meant something to him.” I shrugged. “It is a beautiful song! What if Johnnie didn’t change his mind about her later, but instead fell in love with Tommy, Jimmie or Bo he mentioned to his father when he asked his Dad, don’t take the girl? Would there even be a song then? I wanted that song to be about my life! I love it! Really, but it will never be about me!”

“Why would you?” Drew asked.

“Why wouldn’t I? Here is Americana served on a plate! You had God, baseball, hot apple pie…all the good parts of America, the best sort of love there is all on the same plate! People were rooting for them to make it! Everyone! That made me sick! I was jealous…of a life in a song! I knew I’d never have that life…why?” I waved at Peter. “Because I’m marrying him! I’m thrilled to be marrying him. At least we’re not hiding it.”

“I’ll have to listen to it.” Drew nodded and he turned to my grandmother. “Maybe we’ll find your song.” He looked at her. “And you had no problem with it?”

Grandmother laughed heartily. “Heavens, no.” She shook her head. “I was in the ballet.” She offered as an explanation.

Drew nodded with a grin. “Oh.”