by Renna Peak
“An excellent point.” The professor nods. “Though, everyone here is a new graduate student. Maturity will come with practice. And with attending these round table sharing sessions.” He chuckles. “It’s a good thing they’re required, isn’t it? None of you would be here if they weren’t.”
There’s a grumbling of agreement among those of us seated at the table.
“Well, I’ll say that for our first session, I think we made a lot of progress. I think we’ll all do a lot better when we meet again in a few days, but don’t wait until the last minute to start your new poems. Sound good everyone?”
The group all nods in agreement as they gather their things.
I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I make my way out of the tiny conference room. I only wanted to participate today because of my fear, not that I had much choice in the matter. I also knew it would give me something of a reprieve for the next few days—though I had no idea the group would trash my writings so harshly.
They still weren’t as cruel as William… But unfortunately—either for them or for me—William is the only thing I’ve been thinking about the past few days. I had thought I was doing pretty well, trying to get over him, but after the news at the clinic… I’m not certain what I should do. Part of me wants to call him—to tell him the news. But would he be happy? I’m not so sure. He was quick with his pen to annul our marriage—once again with no input from me—and I can’t imagine that knowing he’s going to be the father of twins will be somehow calming for him.
No, this is a secret I’d best keep to myself for more reasons than one.
I’m still not able to eat very much, and when I do, it seems all I can stomach is mushy, plain oatmeal. The medication the doctor gave me at the clinic helps some with the nausea, but it makes me so tired I can barely stay awake. And I was having enough trouble with fatigue before I took one of those pills. But I suppose I’ll be hungry again for real food soon enough.
I make my way back to the small campus apartment the school has allotted me. Graduate students don’t have to share rooms, though our apartments are all in the same dormitory. It’s been nice being alone—at least, that is what I’ve been telling myself since I arrived here. The only thing I really miss about living in the palace is having someone to prepare my meals, but since I’m not eating much at all now, it hasn’t been that big of a loss.
I’ve only allowed myself to acknowledge my feelings about what happened with William when I’m writing, which is why the criticism of my poetry hurts more than it should. I haven’t wanted to cry—I haven’t allowed a single tear to fall since that day William signed our marriage away. And I won’t. I had hoped I’d be allowed to use that pain to fuel my writings, but perhaps this isn’t the place. It might be better for me to keep these particular feelings in my journals, far away from where anyone might ever read of them.
And then there is this other problem…
I haven’t even glanced at the paperwork the doctor gave me a few days ago. I haven’t really even thought about the lives growing inside me. Just thinking about it now sends a wave of terror through me, and I’m not sure what is worse—knowing I’m carrying those lives or worrying about my father’s reaction when he learns the news.
Perhaps if I don’t allow myself to think about it too much, the problem will solve itself. I know I’ll have to confront it eventually—I mean, at some point, I’m not going to be able to conceal a twin pregnancy. But if I can hide it long enough…
I sigh as I enter the complex where my apartment is located. I should have been able to wash my hands of William, particularly since he was perfectly willing to wash his hands of me. And I’ve barely acknowledged the heaviness in my heart that still lies there, weighing on me even more if I give it any thought.
No one ever died of heartbreak. I know I need to be stoic—in this as much as I have been with everything that has ever happened in my life. I’m just not sure how to go about being stoic concerning this secret I’m now hiding. But I should have at least several weeks before anything comes of it. I can at least finish this intersession, gaining as much knowledge as I can before I have to leave this place.
And I will have to leave this place. I know I’m being paranoid, but it always seems like someone is watching me. I know there are many tabloid reporters in America—and even more amateur paparazzi—and it’s likely I’m overthinking things. But I will need to leave Yale. I might be able to conceal my pregnancy through the semester, but I don’t want the constant snapping of cell phone photographs wherever I go in case I can’t.
I suppose I can find somewhere to hide. Perhaps a small town somewhere—or maybe I’ll take one of those island vacations after all. It just has to be somewhere far enough away from the watchful eyes of my father and brother—far enough that I can at least have these children in some semblance of peace. I don’t know that I could keep them or care for them, but I do know that I can’t do the alternative. I can’t even consider it.
My head is throbbing by the time I reach my floor, and I need a nap. Probably something to eat, too, but the thought of actually preparing food makes me physically ill. I reach into my bag, rummaging for my key, when I hear a familiar voice.
“Hello, Princess.”
I suck in a sharp breath, looking up at William, who stands in front of my door. I blink a few times to be sure I’m not hallucinating.
He grins. “Fancy place you have here.”
I stare at him, unable to move.
“Could we speak?”
I shake my head slowly. “I have nothing to say to you.” And yet, I have too much to say to him, though I’ll never tell him that.
“Then let me talk. Please?”
I glance behind me before I turn to look behind him. Seeing no one else in the corridor, I edge around him and unlock my door.
He follows me in, closing the door behind him. “You won’t be sorry—”
“I’m already sorry.” I toss my bag onto the sofa and fold my arms over my chest. “What is it?”
“I…” His smile falls, and he stares at me for a long moment. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“I thought you said you wanted to talk.” I shake my head at him again. “I don’t have time for this, William.”
“I know you’re busy. I saw…I saw in a magazine you’d come here. I can’t tell you how happy it made me.”
“Really? It made you happy that I left Europe? Why am I not surprised?” I turn and walk into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water—really one of the only things I’ve been able to ingest in the past few weeks. I take a long drink. I know how this looks to him—I’ve been trained to be a proper hostess, and there is nothing ruder than not offering a guest something to drink in your home. And I hope he feels the insult as much as I want him to.
“It wasn’t that.” He looks at the glass as I set it down on the sink. “It was…it was more that I knew you’d come here to pursue your dreams. And I was happy for you.”
“Ah.” I nod. “Then why is it that you’re here now?”
“Because I made a mistake.”
“Well…we both made many mistakes. I think we can at least agree on that.” I let out a long breath. “It was nice of you to come all this way to say so, but you should probably be leaving now—”
“No.” He levels his gaze before he takes a step toward me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
William
I know I have no right to ask anything of her, but I refuse to walk away from her again. If I have to camp outside her door all night, I’ll do it.
And Justine must see that determination in my eyes, because she gives a shake of her head, sighing.
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” she says.
“I’m not planning on it.” I take another step, closing the last of the distance between us. “Not until we have a chance to talk.”
She glances over her shoulder, and I’m not sure whether she’s afraid of being
overhead or whether she’s looking for an escape route.
“Please, Justine,” I say, reaching out and curling my hand around her cheek. “I just want to talk.”
She frowns, but the uncertainty is plain on her face. I raise my other hand, cupping both sides of her face and lifting her gaze up to mine. I want her to see how serious I am. That this isn’t some sort of trick or game.
Finally, she gives a single nod. “Just a talk.”
She pulls out of my grip, turning away from me. I can tell by the stiffness of her stance that she’s aware of my gaze on her.
She looks more beautiful than ever, I find myself thinking. My memories of her didn’t do her enough justice. Even though it’s been six weeks or so since the last time I saw her, I feel like I’m seeing her again for the first time. She’s traded the formal clothes she wore back home for something more casual and American, and it suits her. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, but that only serves to emphasize her round cheekbones and the long column of her neck. I resist the urge to lean forward and kiss her beneath the ear, even though I know how sensitive she is there.
I continue to hold my tongue as I look around her dormitory. I’d have thought she’d opt to find larger, more comfortable lodgings while she was here, but apparently she decided to stay in the normal student housing. Her entire dormitory is far smaller than the sitting room we’d shared in our suite in her palace, and the furniture is far less luxurious, but it has a certain homey feel to it. And I suppose I can’t blame her for wanting to escape anything that reminded her of her life back home.
She’s still refusing to turn and look at me. I suppose I should just start, then.
“I made a mistake,” I tell her again. “I thought I was doing the right thing, annulling our marriage, but…” I take another look around the room. “Justine, are you happy here?”
She doesn’t turn. “You lost the right to ask me that question when you signed those papers. I might have forgiven you for the first time you signed a contract concerning me without consulting me about it, but to do it twice…”
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I understand that. But I did it for the right reasons, Justine. You have to believe me. I thought… I thought it was the only way you could be free of all of this, free of your father and family and everything that entailed.”
She gives a short, wry laugh. “That’s what you said the first time this happened—that you signed my father’s contract for the right reasons. For the good our both of our countries. To allow your brother to marry the love of his life. Very noble reasons.” She pauses. “And maybe I’m an idiot, but I think you honestly did believe you were making the right choice, in the grand scheme of things. But that doesn’t change things between us. You were the one who kept saying that love was a choice, William. You were the one who said we could choose to be together and trust each other or not. And yet at the first sign of true adversity, you chose to set those considerations aside.”
“I did.”
My honest admission must startle her, because she spins, and her eyes find mine, searching. “So which is it? Did you make a mistake or did you make the right decision? Because you’re contradicting yourself, you know.”
I step toward her slowly. “It’s possible I made the right decision for our countries. But I didn’t make the right one for me. And I’m still trying to decide if I made the right one for you.” I glace around her room again. “This is what you always wanted, isn’t it? To continue your studies? To forget about Rosvalia and your family and make a new life for yourself?” I spread my arms. “You’re free to do whatever you like here. To pursue your passion. To live free of the petty politics that run our lives back home. To choose who you marry for yourself, and not because someone else decided it was politically advantageous.” I allow myself a half-smile. “They say if you love something you should let it go, and that’s exactly what I tried to do, except…well, it turns out I’m more selfish than I thought. I’ve had enough of making decisions for other people. I love you, Justine. I love you more today than I did when we parted. And I’m not sure that feeling will ever go away. I know we only had a short time together, but I find it harder and harder to imagine a life without you by my side. I don’t care what our fathers say—I want to spend my life with you.” My gaze locks on hers again. “If you want that, too.”
She’s silent for a long time—so long that my stomach starts to sink. I’ve laid my heart out on the line, banking on the fact that she might feel the same way as I do, but now I’m suddenly unsure.
After a moment, she shakes her head again. “It’s not that simple. We can’t just pick up where we left off as if none of this ever happened.”
“Why not? Who’s to stop us?”
“Our fathers, for one. But—”
“Screw our fathers. This concerns us and us alone.” I close the last of the distance between us until I’m right in front of her again. Grabbing her hand, I drop down to my knees. “I’ll beg you if I have to, Justine. Give me another chance. Give us another chance. I fucked up, I admit that, but I intend to do everything in my power to make up for it. I won’t spend another day pretending I’m all right with things the way they are, or that I don’t regret every moment of every day that I agreed to end our marriage.”
She tries to pull her hand out of mine, but the effort is feeble and unconvincing. Still, her uncertainty is plain. In her eyes I see all the pain I caused her—the sting of betrayal. I’m not sure I can ever come back from that.
“I beg you,” I say again, lowering my face over her hand. “I know I have no right to do so, but I’m not being honest with myself if I refuse to try. You’re everything I ever wanted, Justine. And maybe, once, I thought that was a choice, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one now. It feels like an irrevocable truth, something that’s part of me. Something that will never change no matter how many lonely nights pass. There will always be you, and only you, in my heart.”
I brush my lips across the back of her knuckles, and when I lift my head again, I see tears in her eyes.
“It’s not that simple,” she says again. “So much has changed—”
“And much will continue to change. But I want to face those changes by your side.”
She gives a jerk of her head. “You broke my heart, William. I… How can I trust you after that? How can I trust anyone after the way everything ended? If there’s one thing this life has taught me, it’s that I can’t trust anyone in this world not to hurt me. I can’t trust anyone but myself.”
Her criticism is fair, but it still stings. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to restore your trust in me, Justine.”
“It might not be enough, not now.” She tugs at her fingers again, and this time she manages to pull them away. “Things have changed. You have no idea how much.”
“Then tell me,” I say.
She opens her mouth, then pauses and closes it again. “I know how this ends, William, and it’s only in heartache.”
I stand up again. “I refuse to let it.”
She gives another sigh, and I know this conversation isn’t going well for me. “William—”
“Let’s go out,” I say abruptly. “You don’t have to decide anything now. Just go out with me. Tell me about your life here. Even if you decide you never want to see me again, then at least I’ll know you’re safe and happy here.” It won’t be enough, not by a long shot, but it will be something, at least.
She looks as if she means to refuse, but then she surprises me by saying, “If it would make you feel better—”
“It would. It would mean the world to me.” I capture her fingers again and bring them to my lips.
By the end of tonight, I intend to put all of her objections to rest. One way or another, I’m not returning to Europe again without her by my side.
Justine
I’m exhausted and for good reason. I neither wish nor want to participate in William’s games today. What I mostly wish is that I c
ould curl up into a ball somewhere and die. The fear of what my father is going to do to me when he finds out about my pregnancy is still weighing heavily upon me. Not knowing what I’m going to do about these children also nags at me. And the thought of having to return to class with a new poem in only a few more days is also daunting, though I feel I have plenty to say at the moment.
See how one-note that is…
William pulls my hand into his as soon as we leave my room, and I yank it away. “What are you doing?”
“Holding my wife’s—”
“I am no longer your wife.”
Color rushes to his cheeks. “Your hand. I apologize.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns to begin walking down the corridor.
I stop just in front of my room.
It takes him a few moments to realize I’m not beside him, and he turns and walks back to me in a few strides. “I realize I have to earn your trust again. And I do intend to do just that—”
“It isn’t that.” Of course, that is part of it, but there is something else nagging at me at the moment. “I don’t think…” I shake my head. “People will see us.”
He shrugs. “Let them see us. I highly doubt that—”
“People are watching me, William. I know it sounds paranoid—”
“It does sound paranoid.” He grins. “Look at us, agreeing on something.”
I glance over at him, slowly shaking my head. “You are just as hilarious as I remember.”
“I knew you missed me, too.”
“We can’t…we can’t just go waltzing around the campus—”
“We can waltz later. I’d love nothing more than to twirl you around a ballroom if you know of one nearby.”
My shoulders sag—there is no winning of arguments with him. Everything turns into a joke. I can only imagine the jokes he’ll make when he learns of my secret. Something about how I’m no lingerie model—not like the women he’s been seeing since our breakup.