Makarovia? Where The Hell Is That? Freshman Year - 9. Chapter 9

Peter smiled at me as the call ended. “I guess I didn’t understand the interview’s significance.” He shrugged.

“I didn’t until Olek reminded us,” I said, then laughed at the other realization. “I haven’t even been to Makarovia yet. Your mother said it was cold.”

Peter smiled and nodded. “It is in the winter; often minus twenty degrees below freezing at night. We are in the mountains.” He shrugged. “We will be there in spring. It will be cool at night, but it will be warm in summer.” He turned to me. “It is beautiful in summer.”

I nodded. “Minus twenty degrees in Celsius is not much different in Fahrenheit!” I gave a shrugging nod at hearing that. “That’s cold.”

Peter grinned edging closer. “There are many ways to stay warm there.” He said kissing me behind my right ear. “One I will look forward to...with you.” He said as his lips moved over my sensitive skin there.

I smiled enjoying his affection. “Are you a little cold now?”

He chuckled. “We can always warm each other up.”

My fingers went into his hair. “Let’s do that.” I pushed back. “I’m feeling a chill.” Actually quite the opposite, but any excuse worked for us.

The next morning, we bid Queen Alla good-bye telling her we’d see each other again at the end of May. Her flight was commercial this time and she was being driven by one of the men helping keep our home secure. We went to the university and began our week. Midterms were coming up and the stressors of what happened with Makarovia, Peter’s and my wedding and approaching midterms was a lot. Some stressors weren’t really necessary and not just from the paparazzi or students. Professors, as smart as they are supposed to be…or were supposed to be, were just as…bad as some people were. I got to the dining area first and began studying a little waiting for Peter. It was now…just a day for most of the other students. They came and got a meal, walking past no longer just staring at me or my security. I studied geometry. Math. I hate math. I was looking over the theorems we were being tested at the beginning of the next week. That’s when I heard or rather felt books laid down a little heavier than usual. Looking up in surprise, Peter sat down blowing a breath in…frustration? Disgust? Both? He looked over at me. “Hi.” He said not really happy at whatever. Then, like he never did; he was preoccupied with whatever it was. He leaned in and kissed me. A peck! An afterthought!? I was not letting that one go.

I looked at him puzzled. “I’ll ask about this...whatever in a second, but first…let’s try that again.” I grinned, grabbing his collar and brought him into a kiss like we normally did…with feeling. “Hi, baby.”

Peter grinned and his eyes softened. “Sorry.” He said kissing me again. “Hi.”

“No problem,” I said running a hand over his face. “I don’t need to tell you what to do now, do I?”

He sat back sighing. “It was my Sociology professor. He was passing out what was being expected to be covered on the upcoming exams.” He frowned. “He says to me…” and he did a pretty good impression of the mousy little professor, “I hope you don’t expect favoritism in light of this new status you have.”

Even I was bothered by that. “I guess he expects a certain entitlement from you now.”

“Why!?”

“Well, has he ever had dinner with the President or interviewed by Anderson Cooper? You have.” I asked. “What did you do?”

“I merely told him…my status is not new, I’ve always been who and what I am…I hope that your new knowledge of the status I always had won’t affect how you graded me. I expect to be graded as before, not better…or worse. I mean, he’s been grading me for half the semester not knowing! Now because he knows my status, I’m now expecting favoritism!?”

I shrugged and smiled. “That was a great response,” I said squeezing his hand. “I’d like to think it was just ignorance he was speaking from, but what he said was just stupid. He knew better.”

“He is…” he transferred to English as he said, “…dickhead.” Perfectly.

I laughed out loud at him. “Okay, who did you hear that from? I don’t think I’ve ever used that with you.”

Peter grinned, his grey-green eyes sparkling. “Ted Dawe.” He said. “He’s in a couple of my classes.”

I nodded. “We are so articulate…Southerners.”

Peter chuckled.

I kept in touch with my grandmother, but normally by email with the occasional call about once or twice a month. On that Wednesday following the Anderson Cooper interview, after classes and we were home, I smiled as my phone rang and saw her face on my caller ID. I touched her face and said:

“Hi, Grandma,” I said casually. Peter looked over smiling.

“Hello yourself, or do I say Your Highness now?” Grandma teased. “You’re moving up the world.” She said, and as she always did, spoke Ukrainian. She insisted I learn it and spoke only that to me. Ukrainian and Makarovian were basically the same, so Peter knew what I would say.

“Now, Grandma, you were the one that cautioned me about the ramifications of a relationship with Peter. Remember?”

“I remember.” She chuckled. “Do you have a date for the wedding?”

I looked back at Peter. “Do we have a wedding date?”

Peter looked up from his studies and his eyes widened as he thought. “No, not really, but I will say it will probably be next spring. Mom will probably tell us that.”

“It will be in Makarovia.” I said to confirm.

“Absolutely.” Peter nodded. “Of course, she’s coming, right? We’ll pay for it.”

“I heard that,” Grandma said. “I intend to be there, there is no choice. My grandson is marrying someone he loves. My place will be there. Is there a chance I can see you before you go?”

“Can we go to North Carolina?” I asked Peter.

Peter smiled. “We could…” he said, “but she might do better to come here. If we go, there will be several people with us.” He pointed out.

“Come up here,” I said to her. “We have room.”

“How about next weekend, if that’s no trouble?”

“Stay a week or two!” I said.

“I have a life here, honey. I still work. A nice long weekend is fine.” Grandma laughed. Then she added seriously. “I’m so happy for you. He’s a good man.”

I grinned looking at Peter’s puzzled face. “Yes, he is. We’ll see you next weekend.” I turned back. “We’re booking this!”

“I’m not arguing!” She laughed. “Flying into Logan isn’t cheap!” Then she said again softer, serious. “I love you, baby.”

I smiled. “I love you, too, grandma.” Ending the phone call, I smiled at Peter. “Katrina Sams will be on the way!!”

“Yea,” Peter said and he tried to put enthusiasm in it, but she was my grandmother.

It was on Friday. King Olek was in Makarovia, and this time…the TV broadcast was coming from there. We had to hurry home to hear the broadcast live. It was nearly five in the afternoon on the east coast, but eleven at night in Makarovia. The reasoning was most of Europe had an invested interest, so the broadcast needed to be more convenient for them. While it wasn’t like a visit from a president or something, there was an interest by the world as to why there were so many militaries in this little, often forgotten country.

Peter and I gathered in what we had as a den/media room, so Yuri, Boris and anyone else that worked with us could see the broadcast on the big screen. There were a few cameras as Olek approached a podium. Dressed in a nice suit, he stood proudly. He spoke in English, again sort of accented, but understandable. Most of the nations that supported Makarovia spoke English. Translations in other languages were going to be by each country as the broadcast was showing.

Olek cleared his throat and began. “There has been much talk about the increased military presence in Makarovia.” Olek said smiling as the flashes of camera bulbs for stills came. “I am pleased to tell you why that is now. A little more than ten years ago, a discovery was made; a discovery that will change Makarovia and many parts of the world as a whole. For the last five years, I and Queen Alla have worked with many more developed nations around the world to help us extract this new discovery. Beneath Makarovia lies a rich and sizable deposit of uranium.” His eyes sort of narrowed as he said. “It is beneath our ground and belongs to Makarovia. With the help of the United States, England, France, Germany, and other nations, the extraction of this resource will begin in a few weeks. The processing of the uranium will also…eventually, be done here in Makarovia. As it is our resource, I tell you now; the uranium taken from us will be used, and contracted not to use, to create weapons, but provide power for homes, industry, hospitals, and business in places where needed. Responsible use and care must be done. The military is here to ensure that all comply with the peaceful and careful extraction of Makarovia’s uranium.” He smiled. “There is much to celebrate in Makarovia. This new source of income for Makarovia…the upcoming marriage of my brother Peter and Eric Richards just added icing to this wonderful cake of upcoming events. I plead with all that hear me. In the past, there were those that came to Makarovia thinking what we had, they deserved. I can’t say that there is no resentment, but Makarovia and its people were frequently used and tossed away. We became a refuge, a sanctuary, for the many souls that other countries decided were unwelcome and unwanted, but steps have been taken place to be sure, no one is taking what is clearly ours. We will share with you, but I would think seriously about any incursion into Makarovia. This will be a good thing. Let’s work together to help it stay that way.” Olek smiled, but his eyes showed, he was very serious. He bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

Peter sighed as he sat back. “Well, as you Americans say…” and he said in English, “…the cat is out of the bag now.”

I nodded and looked at Peter. “Do we say that? I don’t think I ever have. Ted Dawe must have taught you that along with dickhead.”

He smiled, but he was thinking seriously. “Things may also become more dangerous,” Peter said feeling the gravity of the upcoming situation. “There are many angry people out there. People who will think that threatening one of us…or my brother or mother…will get them what they want.”

I shrugged. “That is always the case. We’ve had two terrorist attacks in New York and the attacks in England and other cities…” I looked at the men here to protect us now. “These men are doing well. We should trust them to do their job.” I got closer to Peter. “They’re American.”

Peter’s eyes widened, but then he laughed. “Well, I love this American.” He confessed kissing me.

I wasn’t stupid. He needed to know that I knew what those threats could be. “And there are those who might be upset with us,” I said, he needed to know that.

“Us!? You and me?”

“Sure.” I nodded. “I remember…I read when the President…or whatever he is in Iran…Ahmadinejad…was questioned at a university in the United States; he was asked about Gay Rights. His reply was there were no homosexuals in his country.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “How did they manage that!? We’re everywhere!”

I shrugged. “They can deny it, but you’re right. We are everywhere.” I said. “Everyone there laughed at him…he often talks about God and science…but all he’s done was spew hate.” I shook my head. “He’s not alone. Our own Vice-President has a history of that.” I smiled. “What we’ve done, baby…is take what was hidden and in the back room and displayed it proudly. We told the world we were getting married, for love. We’re not going somewhere private to do what they think is immoral and wrong. You are a leader. Your brother is a king! He not only didn’t object, but he also loves us. Your mother went on national television and not only supported us but told everyone she encouraged it.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t understand it.” He said distressed. He nodded at me and held his hand up to stop me. “I know…I’m innocent…all because I can’t see a problem. What’s wrong with the fact I love you?”

“You’re not supposed to love me.” I shrugged. “They think that’s impossible and unnatural. Your mother said it; we’re not perverse or deviant.”

“Crimes involving sex aren’t done by us!” Peter objected.

“No, it’s done by criminals who identify as straight most of the time. Pedophiles, rapists are usually just…people; they have issues, but should be punished. Not necessarily gay.” I nodded. “I’m on your side. There are those that don't see us as being just human, that is the crime; they see what we do as being...not only against the law of the land but the laws of nature!” I smiled. “But we are now known by a great many, so targeting us wouldn’t be a good idea as we see many who don’t care who we love.”

“But they may want to make a point.” He nodded.

I gave a shrugging nod. “They could do that…it’s been done for a lot of reasons. It won’t be because of us.”

Midterms are done and we waited at Logan Airport for Grandma’s plane to unload. My grandmother finally arrived from the throngs of people getting off various flights. She was the only living relative I had now; if I didn’t count Peter, Olek and Queen Alla. Seeing her always gave me a warm feeling. Dressed immaculately for colder weather with a fur hat (it seemed to be the trend in East and Northern Europe), but still stood straight and her walk was precise. She is always a ballerina. Seeing us, she had a bright smile on her face instantly, came and hugged me.

“Hello, Darling!” She greeted hugging me hard, which could be pretty hard. She was a strong woman!

“Hi, Grandma.”

She looked over and grabbed Peter. “Hello, Peter.” She hugged him as hard as she did me kissing him on the cheek. “You’re my darling, too.” Then she noticed two of the men in the dark suits behind us. “Well, you did tell everyone. I guess that’s part of those ramifications I warned you about.”

I nodded. “They are why it is easier for you to come here.” I shrugged. “There are more in the car.”

Peter smiled. “Even more at home.”

Grandmother looked at me. “How are you adjusting?”

I smiled. “I’m fine.”

The weekend began well. My grandmother loved where we lived, but was always watching the many people that were around doing…things. It was the following day when the doorbell rang. I knew who it was as I planned this, so I told Boris I’d get the door. Opening it, Carla Bowers, my former landlord was smiling at me, but then was looking at the men by the door, inside of course. It was cold outside!

“I was happy you called me.” She said entering, but still looking at the men who weren’t moving. “I hope there were no hard feelings about what happ…”

I hugged her. “None at all; don’t worry about that,” I said. “It’s perfectly understandable.” I waved at one of the men. “Otherwise, you’d have them at your front door.” Then I stage whispered. “I don’t think they can even talk!”

She laughed as she walked in and looked around. “Well, I couldn’t offer you this.” She stated the obvious.

“I loved that apartment!” I said smiling, “and Peter felt more at home there than here.”

“Is that..?” My grandmother’s voice came as she walked quickly in the foyer.

My grandmother was in her seventies, Carla was in her sixties, but suddenly they were just two little girls! There were two loud squeals as the two old friends were reunited, hugging each other and talking all at once! Grandmother told Carla she swore she was going to come by, Carla said how nice grandma looked and hadn’t really changed…it was chaos, but they understood each other. Peter walked in slower and stood behind me as they were still at it.

“They aren’t speaking English,” Peter said to me. “I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying.”

I chuckled. “No, they’re speaking a very unique form of English…Old Friends.” I grinned enjoying my grandmother and Carla’s happiness. I took his hand. “They’re using a special dialect for girls.” I led him from the room so the friends could talk.

Later, after Carla said she had to go…which I didn’t get, she owned the apartment building and her life there. We again visited with my grandmother, had a good meal. She swore again she’d be at the wedding. We took her back to the airport and saw her off.

I was pleased with the work I was shown on the web page for Makarovia. It was much more inviting. I was also happy they included photos Olek had sent of his mother. While she wasn’t like Queen Alla, she was pretty and Olek’s father loved her. I was surprised to see a picture of me! I was in that tux and at the White House with Peter. The caption even said I was “Future Prince Eric Richards of Makarovia.” I smiled. They’d have to change that when I took Peter’s name, but it was a nice picture.

Life at the university remained the same. People were still clamoring for interviews and talk show appearances which Penny handled and let us know about. The semester was finally coming to a close. Now, it was time to get ready to go to Makarovia. I packed as did Peter. I was excited to see where my new home was, not that we were leaving Boston. We both had a few more years at the university and would be back, but I was going to see the new home for me…a home I was sharing with Peter.

Peter walked up to me as I watched my suitcase being carried by Yuri. “This is it.” He smiled. “We’re off to Makarovia.”