Isolated isn’t the right word. I don’t feel
isolated. I actually feel like I fit in with all of these people and that’s why
this is so damn strange. These aren’t my people. These are his people…but
so what if I’ve traded my yoga pants, sweatshirt, and lacrosse stick for
Louboutins, Michael Kors, and Barney’s? Maybe I wanted these people to be my
people, too. Besides, dressing up never hurt anyone.
But I may have spoken too soon because as I lifted to
gold-rimmed champagne glass to toast all of his accomplishments, I felt a pang
in my chest and it did hurt. I put my hand to my temple and tried to
steady myself. What was I doing? I swayed a little before catching my balance
on a nearby chair covered in some fancy-looking cloth. I looked at the chair in
disgust. God, it was so ugly. First of all, who dresses their chairs? And
second of all, who dresses their chairs like that? I felt a hand clasp
my shoulder, which allowed me to snap out of my chair-trance. A voice that I
didn’t recognize followed.
“Woah there. Either that champagne is already getting to
you or those Louboutins weren’t your best choice for footwear this evening.” I
turned around with a snarky remark ready to be fired but came up short when I
came face-to-face with the Prince. I smiled weakly, now clearly embarrassed, and
nodded at him.
“The Louboutins,” I agreed. He gave me a knowing look. “I’m
new to this if you can’t tell.” He nodded. He kept intently staring at me, not
saying a word...and not leaving. I didn’t know what to do…So, I kept babbling. “So,
did you like the Diplomat’s speech?” I gestured over to where my boyfriend was
still standing, accepting handshakes, smiles, and pats on the back. Prince
Alexander looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.
“What? That clown? He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Oh,” I stammered. “I thought that it was a charming
speech.” I looked down at my feet, which were so nicely disguised in shoes that
I couldn’t afford. “Well, thank you again for, uhm, saving me? I guess?” I rose
my glass in his direction, as if to salute him, before turning around and
trying to find my best friend. Not even a minute later, I felt an arm link
through mine and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” I
whispered.
“You didn’t seem to be looking for me as you were chatting
with Alexander.” She smirked.
“That wasn’t me. That was all him. He saved me from my
shoes.” Amelia chuckled.
“You never were the most poised, darling.” I nudged her. “But
look at you, a diplomat and a prince? Impressive.” I sighed.
“You can have the prince. He probably thinks I’ll fall
over him if he gets too close.”
“Elizabeth, we all saw that little scene…well, everyone
saw except for Charles,” She rolled her eyes. Of course he didn’t see it. “But
I know that it wasn’t those shoes. You’ve been walking in them since Charles
got them for you for your birthday. What really happened?” She knew me too
well. I lifted my head to survey the room. The prince was still watching us
walk.
I lowered my head and my voice just close enough to her
ear so just she could hear.
“Not here, Amelia.” I patted
her hand, unlinked our arms, and strolled over to where Charles was still being
celebrated. He welcomed me with open arms and before I knew it, I too was
receiving handshakes, smiles, and pats on the back.
***
***
“You promised,” Amelia whined.
“I did no such thing,” I protested.
“Elizabeth!”
“Okay, fine. Give me a minute. I turned my back to her and
walked into my closet (I hadn’t even heard of walk-in closets before meeting
Charles). I slid out of the long Vera Wang silk party dress and held it in
front of me for a moment wondering how my body was even able to wear something
so stunning. I draped the dress over the ottoman and pulled my pajamas on
before heading back to Amelia. I flopped onto the bed. She was looking at me
expectantly. I pulled my knees up to my chest and sighed before starting.
“I’m trying desperately to keep up with him…but sometimes
I feel like I’ll get left behind. None of my accomplishments come remotely
close to his. I don’t want him to get sick of me. Sometimes I feel like he does…but
I already give him so much space. He practically controls our entire
relationship. I mean, that doesn’t bother me but sometimes I also just feel
like a friend. I like when he holds my hand and kisses my forehead or my cheek
and I like when he shows me off. And I love when he tells me that he loves me
but I feel like I’m saying it most of the time and he’s just responding with
the standard ‘I love you, too’ because he has to. I feel like he says it less
and less or maybe it never really happened enough. I don’t know. I just don’t
want to be taken for granted.” Amelia nodded. She understood but I didn’t know
what else to say so I just shrugged my shoulders. After a minute or two, she
finally spoke.
“You know that he loves you.” I nodded.
“I know.” We let the words
hang there. It was the first time that I had heard silence all day. I pulled my
covers up to my neck. I curled myself into them and willingly welcomed them
coupled with the silence. Eventually, I drifted to sleep.
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