Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 33. Chapter 33

My perspective with time was playing with me again. In some ways, it just seemed to crawl. We had talked about a honeymoon. Even made reservations on a few. Mario Basso's private island was going to be used by Boris and Yuri. The trouble with the Consortium made us rethink those places.

I was reviewing the website for Makarovia on the computer in our room.

“I got it,” Peter said happily as he came back to our rooms from Olek's office. “It's perfect.” He sat with me in the chair like we did at home. He motioned to the keyboard. “May I?”

“Sure,” I said waving at the keyboard.

Peter typed quickly. “We have to with a security detail. We need six guards. We needed more rooms besides the one we use.”

Up came a map. Of Israel.

“It's a large house on the beach in a community called Yafo Darom. That's West of Jerusalem. A private beach with a wall that surrounds the property. A pool...”

“Is it gay friendly?” I asked. That was always going to be an important concern.

“Sure!” Peter replied. “Tel Aviv is known to be the gay capital of the Middle East. We can walk through the city with our hands clasped. They even have a monument to gays of the Holocaust.”

“Really?” I marveled. “I knew they had one for the Jews that were persecuted and died. There's a separate one for guys like Milo and Bren?”

“There is,” Peter nodded. “We have to include security...”

“I know,” I said kissing him.

We had made inquires before now, but the recent attack we needed more security. As reluctant as I was to admit it, our faces were known now.

“Okay.” I said simply. “I just want you there with me.”

“I will be.”

Mom went through what was going to happen. It was getting easier to call Queen Alla Mom, but I had consciously do it. It would take a while before it became second nature.

“...and you will be brought to Peter,” she said. “The traditional question about who gives this man, Katrina will answer.” She walked a little as she spoke. Her high heels sounded as she walked. “It's pretty much a standard wedding with questions and vows. However,” she smiled, “As you took vows in front of all Makarovia, they have to agree with the marriage. They will be asked if they will except you, not only as Peter's husband, but as a prince of Makarovia. What you did this past year will determine if they accept or reject you.”

I know my eyes widened in surprise. “You're kidding.” I didn't know that.

Mom shook her head. “I'm not.” She smiled. “I know you shouldn't worry about that. The people love you.”

I held my hands up, “Hold on, just wait. Has anyone been rejected?”

“Olek the First's grandfather, King Phillip, brought a woman for the proposal and was rejected.” Mom said shrugging. “But she was a selfish woman, so I was told. She did nothing for the people of Makarovia. Her first thoughts were about her. She was never accepted as queen. They were married, but she was never queen.”

“So, Peter and I can marry, but if they don't...”

Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “They know what you've done. There is the monument planned for Makarovia for what they did in the past. They've almost all have seen the new websites. And they know about your idea to increase farm output. They won't reject you.”

“You said Olek the First's grandfather. Wasn't she his grandmother?”

“No,” Mom said sadly. “It was during the time of the Russain Revolution. We don't know what happened exactly, but she had an affair with one the men that were bringing all the Eastern European countries into the USSR. She wanted her lifestyle to go on under this new regime. She was found dead. A jealous rage?” She shrugged. “King Phillip was with officials when that occurred. He was found innocent. Olek the First's grandmother was the second wife years later.” She laughed lightly. “The people here like that you see them. No one's beneath you. She saw almost everybody as beneath her. The fact that you don't like the titles, asking everyone to use your name tells them you want to be their friend. You have nothing to worry about.” She hugged me. “Once the wedding portion is done, comes the coronation.” She looked at me again. “The wedding will be done by a judge. There will be a priest to bless your marriage and coronation, but he won't perform the ceremony. Olek will be giving you the crown He will bless you then, as well.”

After that, I hoped Mom was right about the people of Makarovia.

Olek joined us at lunch. “I think you two need to go to Skoal.” He grinned. “I know David and Edmond will love seeing you.”

“We have to take security.” I said.

“So?” Olek shrugged. “Driving there won't be a problem. You'll be going to a military installation. Two guards will be fine.” There was something with his suggestion. A merriment in his eyes, but he wasn't saying what it was.

We got the two guards and went down the original elevator. What I saw in the courtyard made my heart beat faster. There was my red Mustang! It shinned and gleamed at me like it did in the showroom. I stopped holding Peter's hand tighter.

“Surprise.” Peter grinned dangling two keys on a key fob in his hand. I loved the fob. Not only could lock and unlock the doors. I was going to Northeastern. It would be cold! I could start the car to get it warmed up and turn the interior heat on before I got in the car. The seats would warm up!

Walking slowly toward it. “I didn't even know it was missing from the garage.” I said. “I never drive anymore.”

“Today, you can.” Peter smiled as he chuckled. “And you do have a license to drive.”

“In the United States,” I said. “I don't even know what the speed limits are here! Is there a Makarovian Department of Motor Vehicles?” I saw the license plate was still said Massachusetts. “How do I get a Makarovian Plate?”

“Just go about fifty kilometers an hour in the city,” Peter smiled. “Those other things will come.”

I had to calculate. “About thirty miles an hour. What about outside the city limits?”

“Just drive safely as you can,” Peter shrugged. “We don't have speed traps like the United States. We didn't have the population. In Winter there's no problem. No one drove except in special equipment or snowmobiles. No one will pull you over.”

I rolled my eyes. “It's been so long, I hope I remember how to drive.” Then I muttered, “I hate the metric system.”

Peter was enjoying this. “Just remember, we drive on the left.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I looked at the two guards. They weren't huge, but I grimaced. “I've never had a passenger in the back seat before. I hope there's leg room.”

I hadn't forgotten how to drive. The engine purred. Stryia had some traffic, but now with the underground, there was even less. I knew the road to take. There were houses scattered, but not many. Farms mostly. There were livestock of cows, sheep and pigs. People turned when we passed by. A sports car from America had never been seen here. There were Mustangs in Europe, but not in Makarovia. The road condition was hard to keep up with all the snow and ice during Winter. I went slower than I would like to have gone because of potholes. A Ford dealer and garage was a little far way. Would my insurance cover damage gotten here? I knew there were policies like Nationwide, but not Worldwide. Driving becomes second nature. Right now, I was keeping what I was doing in the front of my mind, the short term memory. I didn't want my mind to wander and slip to my long term memory and cause a wreck.

As we got closer to Skoal, I saw these long structures. In groups of three together. They were almost white that stretched a football field in length. The breeze caused what sealed these buildings to flutter. Plastic. One greenhouse next to another with people going in and out. The plastic was thin and clear enough to see there were things growing inside. Where these greenhouses were had been very rocky and it would have difficult to get the cleared to plant anything there. Now they could.

I pulled into a parking space in front of the joint base headquarters. They had a parking lot! Jeeps and military trucks were there now. The headquarters looked the same, but going inside we saw things had improved. There was a Senior Airman at the desk in front of General Burke's and General Hammond's office. He stood up quickly. “Your Highness. Your Lordship.” He said and bowed.

“At ease, Airman,” I chuckled. “Are the Generals in?” I pointed to the door that was now shut.

“They are,” the Airman said picking up the phone on his desk. Someone was fussing at the Airman, “I know, Sir, but Prince Pedro and His Lordship Eric Richards are here.” The Airman hung up. “They'll be right out.”

“If they're busy,” Peter began. “We can come back.”

The door of the office opened and General Hammond came out. “Peter, Eric it's good to see you.” He came toward us with his hand out. You just don't hug a General in front of the men. That Military Bearing was first. Showing emotions like hugging wasn't dignified.

However I could hear General Burke's voice. It was raised and angry. “...If I see any more of this bullshit, you'll be sent to Leavenworth! Dismissed!”

I knew Leavenworth was a prison. A prison for active duty military personnel that commit crimes. Two men cane out. Both were young. One had one strip, the other had two. They looked at Peter and me and lowered their heads in embarrassment and headed out.

David Burke came out and smiled instantly. “Welcome back!”

I shook his hand. “We didn't mean to interrupt anything.”

David looked at two leaving the headquarters and waved them off. “Kids! They got drunk last night and got into a fight. Damaged things...” He sighed. “Sometimes I feel more like a parent then a general.”

“Well?” I grinned. “Aren't you?”

Peter looked back at the door they just left through. “They look like they just graduated high school,” Peter chuckled. “Have they been away from home before?”

David shrugged. “I don't know. Probably not. Their parents had them for nineteen and twenty years...”

A British Sargent came in the headquarters. “Whose car is that?”

An American Sargent with him. “That is sweet!” He concurred with the first Sargent.

“Brad,” Edmond said almost scolding.

Brad smiled, “Well, come see, Sir.” He encouraged the General.

“If it's red and parked out front,” I said. “It's mine.” I shrugged at them. “I bought it right before going to Northeastern.”

The American Sargent pointed over his should. “That's a Shelby GT5oo!” The man marveled.

“Have you lost your manners, gentlemen?” Edmond asked, but not that cross.

They both bowed to Peter and me. “Forgive us.” Brad said. “It's nice to meet you, Your Highness, Your Lordship.”

The American then grinned. “A car like that in the United States doesn't happen all the time, but to see one here!? In Makarovia!?”

“It was a present from my late mother.” I said.

Whatever thought of me marrying Peter or just gays in general...there always certain consistencies. A nice car just appealed to every human with a Y chromosome. It's what makes us male! Females liked cars, but men loved them. I know, I shouldn't stereotype, but when have you seen a woman short of breath and biting their own wrist to that near orgasmic sensation from causing them to burst? I haven't met one.

We walked outside where six guys were looking at my car. They were being careful not to touch it in fear of offending the car saint or god. Others were coming to look, too. The car was two years old, but was still sharp. I even started it with my key fob and opened the hood so they could ooh and awe at the engine.

“The big day is almost here,” David said as we walked. “Are you nervous?”

“Eric and I have been together two years in November,” Peter chuckled.

“I'm nervous about becoming royalty.” I clarified. “King Olek is making me a prince.”

“Okay.” David said. “So?”

“The people of Makarovia have give consent to let me become a prince.” I muttered.

Edmond's eyebrows rose at that. “What!?”

“According to tradition,” I said. “They can refuse. Peter and I will be married...I didn't know I'd be campaigning for office.”

Edmond looked surprised. “I've never heard of such a thing.”

“One of the wives didn't get that approval.” Peter explained. “She was married to the king, but not allowed to be queen. She was given no power.”

I explained the proposal year and how she did nothing for Makarovia and that was why she was rejected..

“Well,” David smiled, “in that case you have nothing to worry about.” He pointed the way we came. “I suppose you noticed the greenhouses.”

I nodded. “Yes, I did, but I didn't build them. You did.”

“Based on your idea!” David said smiling. “You were away at school.”

Edmond nodded. “The people know that,” Edmond said kindly but looked puzzled. “I wonder if some of the marriages would have happen with our kings and queens if they had to get approval for who they married.”

“Anyway,” David chuckled. “You'll have corn, tomatoes, squash and other vegetables at harvest time.”

“Someone has to can those things.” I said.

“Again. So?” David asked. “Your grandmother, Katrina, didn't can anything?”

“She's canned jellies and preserves.” I said thinking. “Oh, and green beans a few times Granddad raised them.”

“I bet there are people here that know how,” Edmond said.

Peter nodded. “They had to for the Winter.”

I nodded. “Right, they had to prepare.”

“Now, they'll have more to can.” David said triumphantly. “You're creating jobs!” Then he looked at me seriously. “We have to create more greenhouses. That one won't feed everybody. I propose one for each village and town.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “That was the idea. What about fruits? Like apples and pears...”

“That's coming,” David said. “The vegetables we started first.”

“Wise,” I grinned. “I guess we need to get some Mason Jars.”

“Those people going in and out?” Peter asked.

“Agreed to and paid by King Olek,” Edmond stated. “Most of them are Makarovian. There are spouses of the men serving here with them, too.”

“We expect you there at the end of next week.” Peter told them. “There's a formal party the night before and of course the wedding the next day.”

“There will be kissing there.” I teased David.

“I said I was sorry.” David defending.

I hugged him. “It was forgiven, but now it's just fun.”

We headed back to the palace.

“There are many royals that gave up their titles,” I said hesitantly quiet.

Peter looked at me in alarm. “You don't want the title?”

“I'm just saying,” I went on. “Even if they reject me, we'll still be married.”

“Yes,” Peter nodded, “but have no power.” He turned so he could look at me more directly. “You will need that title for when you say, this is what needs to be done and it's done. What's really going on?”

“I've never been popular.” I shrugged. “I never tried to be. I never even campaigned to be class president. It's just the thought I might be rejected is bothering me.”

“My mother said it, Olek said it, David and Edmond said it. You shouldn't be worried.” Peter said. “Now who's doubting themselves?”

“Pardon me, My Lord,” One of the guards in the backseat said leaning forward so we could hear him. “I can say, without a doubt, you will be accepted.”

“Thank you, Jordon” I said to the man in security. “I'm not doubting myself, Peter.” I struggled to think of how to say it, but I had to nod. “I guess I am doubting myself.” I smiled as we rode at a smooth pace. “I'm not a real competitive person. I never went after anything against anyone. Track and field were my sports. I didn't really compete against another person. I would try to break records, but...” I shrugged. “It's just hit me that I was possibly not going to be accepted like I was competing. I know that's silly...”

Peter grinned and hit me lightly. “A very wise man told me, what you're feeling is what you're feeling. It doesn't matter if it's silly or not. You feel it.” He cocked his head. “Who are you competing against?”

“Makarovia!” I said. “I don't want them to think I can't do the job.”

“We know you can,” Jordon said.

It was like when someone was dividing guys up to form a team. No one wants to be the last one and grudging going to the team that has no choice. That was how I was feeling. I knew it wasn't rational. I'd just have to adjust to it.

Next, was Jori. The Makarovian Master Tailor from France that made all of Olek's suits as well as others. He said it often, he had a reputation to keep. He wanted to see if either of us had lost or gained weight.

After he was satisfied we hadn't. He smiled. “I have the two suits done for you...”

“Two!?” I said. “I thought we going to have three total, not four. Two for the dinner and proposal and one for the wedding.”

He pulled one additional finger on my hand up. “You can't go to the formal dinner the night before the wedding,” I held fingers up as I counted, “Then the wedding. That's four.” Jori said. “I have...”

Peter and I finished with him, “a reputation to keep.”

“Believe me, Messieurs,” Jori said happily. “Vous aurez l'air fantastique.” I didn't speak French, but I got that Peter and I would look fantastic.

Hearing Makarovian spoken with a French accent was humorous to me.

“Do I have an accent?” I asked Peter.

“No,” Peter replied. I tell you, horns practically grew out of his head. “Not anymore.”

My mouth dropped open as I was certain I was glaring. “Not anymore?” I looked at him firmly. “Meaning I did.”

He shrugged smiling at me. “You did. With words that had the vowel A.”

“You...” I rushed him tackling him as he laughed.

Even Jori was laughing and he sighed in envy as Peter and I sort of wrestled. “Ah, pour être jeune.” Ah, to be young.

Drew and Wayne were coming Wednesday before the wedding. Mario Basso was coming. The press was coming. I just wanted all this to be in the past.