Someday My Prince Will Come

by Jerramy Fine

  She might as well have said, “And these are my servants.”

  The girl simply couldn’t get any more condescending, and I instantly felt sorry for the servants. Their perfect English complexions were still red from the cold and they looked so happy to be out of university, so eager to please. It wasn’t their fault that they landed their first banking job under Rebecca’s crazy command. How on earth did they cope?

  Rebecca continued to beam at her boss, reveling in his attention. Strangely, he seemed to enjoy her company, or maybe he was just keeping her on his good side so she would continue doing most of his work for him. What ever the reason, the point is that I was no longer talking to her. Instead, I was talking to…

  “I’m Alex. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Gin and tonic, please,” I said.

  This was more like it! Broad shoulders, rosy cheeks, twinkly eyes. And he was wearing a tweed hunting jacket. (Why couldn’t all those hunters in Colorado wear tweed instead of day-glow orange? And why couldn’t they have accents like Alex’s?)

  He smiled at me and right away, I felt I had always known him.

  “So, Jerramy. How did a sweet girl like you end up living with Rebecca?” His manner was so kind and confident and calming, I knew I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge me.

  I glanced behind me to make sure she wasn’t listening. “To be honest, Alex, I’m looking for a new flatmate. Rebecca and I…are…very different.”

  He laughed. A deep, gorgeous laugh. “Do you think I would buy a drink for a girl that was anything like Rebecca?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. This guy was not one of Rebecca’s brainwashed disciples! He was totally on my wavelength.

  Alex lowered his voice and continued, “Not only is she a horrendous boss, she drives me absolutely mad! She begs me to have a drink with her every day after work. Every single day! I finally ran out of excuses. So did everyone else. Why do you think we’re all here?”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” I giggled. “I ran out of excuses too!” We clinked glasses to our newfound kinship and slowly eased away from the crowd.

  “But I’m glad I came to night,” Alex said quietly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.” He looked straight into my eyes and my insides melted. Not just because of his accent. It was something else. Something much more powerful.

  Alex was intelligent, compassionate, and funny. He was also irresistibly English and as we talked, Rebecca was the furthest thing from my mind. With beguiling nineteenth-century finesse, Alex told me about his boarding school, his love of fox hunting, and his passion for the Scottish countryside. Within minutes, a scene from our future flashed before my eyes: Alex sitting at the head of our antique dining table, the perfect father to our two adorable children, and winking across at me, his adoring wife.

  “Last call!” the barman shouted.

  Damn London and its 11 P.M. closing time!70 As the bell of last orders clanged loudly, my fantasy vanished and I realized Rebecca was standing in front of me.

  “My boss wants to continue drinking in Soho!” she said in her fake happy voice. “Do you want to come?”

  If it meant more time with Alex, I’d follow Rebecca anywhere.

  The two of us hopped in a cab and said we’d meet the boys at Mezzo. Once in the cab, Rebecca turned to me and smiled mischievously, “Do you fancy Alex?”

  I smiled giddily and nodded. I couldn’t help myself. And oddly, Rebecca genuinely seemed happy for me.

  Mezzo was the place to be in 1985—the décor makes that perfectly clear. But because of its unusually late hours and central location, it’s still amazingly popular with London’s partying professionals. If you’re looking for a drunken banker to buy you a drink after midnight, Mezzo is the place to go.

  Once inside, Alex and I picked up right where we left off. The gin-and-tonics flowed and so did our conversation. He laughed at all of my Rebecca stories and I laughed at all of his Rebecca stories. I couldn’t remember ever having such a good time. Simply being near him made me happy.

  Less than an hour later, Rebecca already had her coat and gloves on when she interrupted us. “Jerramy. It’s midnight. Let’s go home.” She barked her orders at me like bullet points on one of her banking memos.

  “I’m going to stay,” I told her. “But have a good night. Make sure your boss gets you into a cab safely.”

  I turned back to Alex and then realized she was still standing there. And glaring at me as if I had murdered someone. What was the big deal? Aren’t people allowed to go home at different times?

  Apparently not.

  “Jerramy! We came together, we leave together!” She was practically shaking with rage. I think she was close to throwing a tantrum.

  Somehow, I managed to stay calm. I wasn’t going to let her and her little fits ruin this perfect night.

  Very steadily, I said, “Actually, I’m going to stay a little bit longer if that’s alright.” Behind my back, I squeezed Alex’s hand for support. And he didn’t fail me.

  “Listen!” he shouted. “George Michael is playing! Let’s go dance!” He was pretending to be far drunker than he was and I watched in awe as he pulled the whole group of us, including Rebecca and her boss, onto the dance floor. Instantly, everyone was happy again and distracted by the music. He defused the Rebecca situation so quickly and with such skill, I could have kissed him. But I didn’t.

  A few eighties songs later, Alex and I took a break from dancing and went to the bar. Rebecca was fast on our heels, her boss standing helplessly at her side.

  “Jerramy,” she commanded, “it’s time to go home!”

  I took a deep breath. “Rebecca,” I said calmly, “I really think I am going to stay.”

  Rebecca stepped closer to Alex and pointed her gloved finger at him. “You are a member of my staff!” she shouted. Then she whirled around and pointed at me, “And you are my flatmate!” Then she looked at both of us and in the most spine-chilling tone I have ever heard she said, “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”

  And then, as an evil afterthought, she said coldly, “Alex, your annual review is next week. Don’t forget that.”

  I reeled in horror. It was one thing for her to treat me terribly, but to blackmail Alex just because he was talking to me??? The eight gin-and-tonics circling through my bloodstream suddenly kicked in all at once. My vision blurred. I bolted to the ladies room before anyone could see my drunken tears.

  The bathroom was swarming with girls slaving away under the fluorescent lights, trying to salvage what was left of their 1 A.M. makeup. The fat Jamaican bathroom attendant stared at me blankly as I ran past her. I threw myself into a cubicle and sobbed uncontrollably against the wall. How could this be happening? How could Rebecca be so mean to me? How could she be so mean to Alex? What if Alex’s job suffers because of me? As the cubicle walls spun faster and faster around me, my tears streamed harder until I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “Jerramy, are you in here?” I heard Rebecca’s condescending voice shouting across the massive bathroom. I could hear her heels clicking toward me. Oh my God. She was in the cubicle with me! She slammed the metal door behind her and locked it. I was trapped! And she looked like she was about to punch me. I wouldn’t put it past her. As far as I was concerned, the girl was capable of anything.

  “Jerramy! What is the matter with you?” she screamed.

  I was crying too hard into my handful of toilet paper to answer her coherently. Even though she was shorter than me, she was so scary. Like a tiny Cruella de Vil.

  “Jerramy! Why are you crying? Is this about Fergus? Answer me!”

  “Stop…try…ing…to…control me,” I said between hiccups. My head was spinning and I could barely breathe. Let me tell you, cocktails and nervous breakdowns don’t mix.

  “How dare you say that!” She was inches away from my face. I thought surely she was going to hit me. “How dare you! You are the one that is putting my career on the line! When I go back to the
office on Monday morning, everyone will be whispering about how I have a slapper71 for a flatmate!”

  Slapper for a flatmate? Visions of all those Oxford parties began to whirl through my brain. All those boys. All that kissing. All those tours. Oh God. She was right! I was a slapper!

  I put my forehead against the wall and sobbed. Rebecca continued to scream at me. “How dare you risk my career? How dare you! Jerramy, answer me!”

  “But I only just met him,” I whispered.

  I felt certain that my life was going to end in that cubicle. I was going to die of alcohol poisoning and a broken heart and Rebecca’s punches all at once. Right there in the Mezzo bathroom.

  Just then, there was a loud knock on the cubicle door and we both jumped.

  “Is there a Jerramy in there?” asked the bathroom attendant in her Jamaican accent. “There’s a man out here askin’ for you.”

  I slowly unlocked the door and poked my head out. An entire crowd had gathered around the cubicle door listening to Rebecca yell at me and they gasped when they saw me. I don’t blame them. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I looked like I had been beaten up in an alleyway. My eyes were red and swollen, my face was flushed and wet, and my mascara was smudged in black, cakey streaks all over my face. I looked hideous.

  And then I saw him. Standing there in the doorway to the ladies bathroom was Alex. My tears stopped and my heart soared. He had come to rescue me!

  Seeing me in such a state, Alex’s smile instantly changed to concern.

  “Are you okay?” he mouthed.

  “Wait one second,” I mouthed back.

  I quickly ducked back inside the cubicle. With confidence and strength I never knew I had, I said, “Rebecca, Alex is outside and I’m going with him. You are twenty-seven years old. You have lived in London for five years. It’s about time you try taking a cab by yourself.”

  Rebecca was taken aback by my sudden poise and began to panic.

  “You can’t go out there looking like this!” She began rummaging furiously through her handbag. “Here! Quick! Take some of my lipstick!”

  Clearly worried that Alex might see what she had done to me, she began offering me every cosmetic she had. And between her makeup and mine, we rushed to put my face back together. The finished result was by no means perfect, but at least I no longer looked like a used-up crack whore, merely a very drunk girl who had cried her eyes out. But still Rebecca refused to let me out of the cubicle.

  “Jerramy, you look miserable,” Rebecca said. “What can I do to make you laugh?”

  I stared at her in disbelief. This girl was crazier than I ever imagined. One minute she’s yelling abuse at me and on the verge of beating me up, the next she’s lending me mascara and offering to tell me jokes?

  Leaving Rebecca behind, I dashed out of the ladies room. Alex was waiting outside the door and I ran straight into his arms. He hugged me so tightly and with such tenderness and concern that I began to cry again. Drinking makes me so emotional! I pulled away and looked into his eyes. I didn’t even care that my makeup was washing away again; I didn’t even care that I looked terrible. In Alex’s presence, everything was okay.

  “Another gin-and-tonic?” he joked.

  I smiled through my tears and shook my head.

  “Okay,” he whispered in my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

  And he took my hand and led me into the bustling insanity and amazing beauty that is London at night.

  We walked through the dark debauchery of Soho into the bright lights of Chinatown and emerged into the buzzing madness of Leicester Square. It was nearly 3 A.M. and crowds were still gathering around street performers and lining up for nightclubs. Alex and I shared a hot dog in front of a neon advertisement for Les Miserables and he surprised me by singing some of the lyrics.

  “I love that show!” I squealed. I’d seen it four times and had every word memorized.

  “So do I,” he said, then he lowered his voice. “But don’t tell anyone or they might think I’m gay. And I promise you, I am not gay!”

  Our eyes locked. And for the hundredth time that evening, I felt like I was home.

  Hand in hand, we wandered out of Leicester Square and past the National Portrait Gallery. A homeless man was shivering on the sidewalk, hopelessly holding a cardboard sign asking for help. It was not an uncommon sight in London and I assumed we’d just keep walking. But Alex stopped and said hello and gave the man a few pounds, and then linked arms with me again and continued walking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was all I could do not to break into tears again.

  I don’t think I’d ever felt so many strong emotions in such quick succession as I had in those few hours. I had sipped cocktails and danced without a care in the world, I had been yelled at and threatened, I had cried until I couldn’t breathe, and now I was holding hands with the most kind and compassionate English guy I had ever met—a guy who had already seen me at my smeared-mascara crack-whore worst and didn’t care.

  Eventually, we reached Trafalgar Square. The splashing fountains glowed in the moonlight and Nelson’s column towered above the four gigantic bronze lions. It was one of my favorite spots in the whole city. Especially at night.

  You need to understand that the Trafalgar lions are huge. (The top of Alex’s head barely reached the tips of their paws.) But their commanding presence has always brought me a certain comfort—they remind me of a dream I used to have when I was a little girl, a dream about two lions that loyally guarded the entrance to my house. Later, during my self-imposed studies on heraldry, the dream made perfect sense, for I discovered that the lion symbolizes the English Throne.

  Alex must have noticed the faraway sparkle in my eyes as I gazed up at the lions, or maybe he read my mind. “Let’s climb onto his back,” he whispered in my ear.

  It was absolutely freezing outside and our gloves kept slipping against the smooth metal. And as ever, my heels certainly weren’t helping matters. But after several false starts, Alex hoisted me onto the lion’s graceful back, and then pulled himself up next to me.

  I know I say it constantly, but I don’t think I have ever seen London look more beautiful. Or the full moon more radiant. With the regal lion below me, the gleaming moon above me, and Alex at my side, my heart was ready to overflow.

  I tore my glistening eyes away from the moon to find Alex looking at me. “You have the longest eyelashes I have ever seen,” he said. I turned to him slowly, afraid to let myself believe that he was actually here with me on this lion, afraid to ruin such a dreamlike moment.

  “Where is that dazzling smile I first saw in the bar?” he asked.

  I tried to smile, but my mind had suddenly switched to Rebecca, and I couldn’t manage it. Instead I quietly gazed into Alex’s eyes, wanting to climb into them and envelop myself in their kindness.

  “Jerramy, I know you want to tell me all the awful things Rebecca must have said to you to night. But please don’t. I can’t bear to hear how she hurt you. As is, I can barely trust myself to be civil with her at work on Monday. And she is my boss, so I have to be civil.”

  “It’s okay,” I said softly. “I understand.”

  I knew Rebecca would already be less than civil to him on Monday, and I felt physically sick knowing it was all my fault. A tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid slowly down my cheek. I might as well face it. I was going to be crying all night.

  “Jerramy, you will get through this.” Alex continued, “Your eyelashes and smile are only the beginning of your qualities.”

  My God. Was he really saying this to me? I was used to togas and windmills and bathroom windows. This was…What was this?

  He was still talking. “Your cheerfulness is contagious. To night I saw how you made everyone around you feel comfortable and welcome. Even the people you secretly didn’t like! I have never seen such a happy person deflated so quickly.”

  I just stared at him. Maybe I was still crying. I couldn’t tell anymore
. It was so cold. And I was so exhausted. And so overwhelmed by the beauty around me. And still in total shock that this perfect boy was saying such nice things about me.

  I looked down Whitehall toward Big Ben. Sure enough, there it was—golden and gorgeous against the night sky. “I don’t understand how something as silly as a clock can move me,” I whispered to myself.

  Alex heard me. “She speaks! If the lady needs to see the silly clock, by George, she shall see it!”

  He helped me off the lion and we headed toward Big Ben. He sang show tunes and we danced down the abandoned streets. He twirled me around and around to keep me warm until we were on Lambeth Bridge and the Houses of Parliament sparkled in the distance. His arms were around me as we stared across the river at my silly clock tower.

  It was the exact same scene that had stared back at me so many years ago from the poster on my bedroom wall. But it was real. And right as I turned my head toward Alex to tell him, he kissed me.

  My head spun. My surroundings vanished. There was only Alex and me inside an untouchable bubble. As our lips parted, I looked at him, and realized those few seconds were the closest to heaven my soul had ever been.

  Alex and I wandered around London until sunrise. Finally, we could take the numbing cold no longer, and he hailed me a cab.

  “If I come home with you, I’m sacked for sure!” he laughed. Then he took my hand, carefully helped me into the taxi, and kissed me good-bye.

  “I will call you tomorrow,” he said. “I promise.”

  The door closed and I waved at him as the cab drove off into the misty London morning.

  I never heard from Alex again.

  Eighteen

  “Don’t assume that because obstacles have arisen in your path, that your path is flawed.”

  —RICK JAROW

  See what I mean about drama and heartache?

  And I haven’t even mentioned the fact that when I got home the morning after meeting Alex, part of my building was on fire and they wouldn’t let me in—so I had to sit outside on the curb in the bitter cold for another four hours, still wearing my smeared crack-whore makeup, while Rebecca chatted inanely beside me as if the whole cubicle incident had never happened.