by Karina Halle
“I know. I just…look, you know what Zoya is like and I made the promise to her first.”
“Sometimes you have to break a promise.”
“I know. I have broken a promise. To Stella. It was one or the other. I didn’t want to have to choose but I had no choice.”
She twists in her seat to face me and puts her hand briefly over mine. “Listen to me, okay? As your sister. I’m going to tell you something.”
She clears her throat and gives me an authoritative look. “I know Zoya and I like Zoya. I know where she’s coming from. I work with a lot of humanitarian groups, I know what it’s like in Russia. I mean, Pussy Riot went to jail just for playing a concert in a church in protest to Putin’s regime, a regime that punishes people for being different. They’ve been physically attacked for standing up for LGBTQ rights. Zoya’s sexuality, whatever it may be, will not be tolerated and that’s a fact. Is she going to get, like, physically harmed because of it? Maybe but probably not. Is she going to lose the respect of her parents? Sounds like yes but maybe in time they’ll come around. Will she lose her standing in the Russian Tennis Federation? Probably but she doesn’t need them. I mean, she’s Zoya the Destroya, and unless she’s that set on the Olympics, that won’t affect her much. She plays as an individual around the world, her nationality doesn’t come into play.”
“And her sportsline?”
“It’s getting picked up by Moet Hennessy Louis Vuitton. She’s fine. I mean, you know what a big deal that is. Technically, she doesn’t have to play tennis ever again.” She has a sip of her beer while I mull that over.
She goes on. “Zoya is scared and she has every right to be. But I think that if you explain to her, maybe see if you can get Emily involved because it does affect her too, if you try and make her see your point of view, she’ll understand. It’s scary all this change and I know she doesn’t want the backlash but we all get backlash at some point in our lives. It’s inevitable. We all make choices and sometimes those choices upset other people. Sometimes those choices also make us happy. You’re a noble man for doing this for Zoya, you really are, but now it’s time to be noble as the father of your child. I hate to say it but that’s the promise that you really can’t break.”
She’s right. I know she’s right, I feel it in my heart, it’s the only thing that has really sat well with me. Zoya is an adult. But the baby is just a baby.
I know where I’m wanted and where I’m needed. And as much as it’s going to be tough for Zoya, those are the choices she made when she wanted to be with me. It’s not just on me, it’s a part of her too. We both were playing roles and now it’s time for us to sever those ties and become the people we’re really meant to be.
Even if it’s tough, even if it hurts.
We owe it to ourselves.
“I’ll talk to her as soon as I get back,” I tell her, feeling determined. “It’s not going to be pretty.”
“Well now you know what to expect.”
But after we’re done in the bar and we’re walking back to our camp, I know that’s not completely true.
I have no idea what to expect when it comes to Stella.
Will she have me back or will she keep me at arm’s length?
Will she trust me again or will I be on the sidelines looking in?
Will I ever get the chance to even tell her I love her and what are the odds of her feeling the same?
I don’t have the answers to any of those questions. I don’t have the answers to anything. All I know is that I’ve made up my mind with what I’m going to do and I can only hope and pray that Stella will let me in her life again.
She’s become a missing part of me.
That night, as I’m falling asleep, I text her:
Tu me manques.
But I don’t get a reply.
Chapter 16
Stella
I wake up in the middle of the night with an aching back.
This isn't new for me.
I'm twenty-five weeks pregnant and during the last few weeks, as my baby grows and my belly grows with it, my back feels like it's taking the brunt of it.
But for some reason, this pain feels a little different.
More of a bruise, less like my muscles learning how to cope with my changing body.
I grab my phone to take a look at the time and I'm surprised to see a text from Orlando.
Just a few words.
Tu me manques.
Tears spring to my eyes, my throat choked, like I've suddenly been assaulted by sorrow.
By longing.
By loss.
Orlando.
Orlando.
He misses me.
But no, that’s not just what he’s saying.
It's that I am missing from him.
I put the phone back down and close my eyes, letting the tears spill down my cheeks in rivers, letting the pain in. I've been trying so hard to keep the agony away, ignoring the hollowness in my heart, trying to stay focused on the baby, to stay focused on Anya, to keep moving forward and being strong. I have to be stronger than I've ever been before, I have to be the best mother possible to care for my babies in the way that they deserve and need.
I can't be weak. I can't let what I feel for Orlando undermine what I need to do.
This role I need to play.
This role that feels harder and harder each and every day.
It's March now and even though I'm getting into the swing of things in some ways and the pregnancy has been fairly easy (aside from getting diagnosed with high blood pressure last month, which Aksel attributes to stress caused by Orlando, which makes him want to kill him some more), it's also gotten harder.
Or, I should say, it's not getting easier.
Emotionally.
My heart, my poor heart that is battered and bruised and confused, aching for Orlando and yet growing for the baby, still feels lost. I thought that in time, concentrating on the pregnancy would bring my heart back to the right place, that there would be no time to think about Orlando at all, let alone feel anything.
But that's not how the heart works. At least, that's not how I work.
And these three words that he just texted me, not I love you but tu me manques, well...
The pain won't be denied anymore.
So I lie here and I let the tears come because deep down they've been begging for release and it actually feels good to let it out, it feels good to recognize it and acknowledge it.
I miss Orlando and I love Orlando and it gives me hope, stupid, foolish hope, to know he might feel the same.
Though we don't talk often, and honestly that's more on my part, not his, I know he's been in Africa for the last month doing charity work with Matilde. I'm happy for him, glad that he's doing something more with his life. But as proud as I am, the feeling doesn't compete with that constant pang in my chest.
I sigh and think about taking an acetaminophen for my back. I've been taking them lately for the aches and pains, with Doctor Bonakov's blessing of course. So I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, fill a glass with it and take a pill. The pain really is unusual and the more I concentrate on it, the more it feels like it's spreading.
Not just my back but in my stomach.
Indigestion or baby? I think quickly to myself. Indigestion or baby?
It's a game I play after a heavy meal, always freaking myself out. While Anya's pregnancy was more or less smooth, there were some minor complications and I ended up having a caesarean in the end. I'm aiming for a vaginal birth with this baby, but I don't really care too much as long as the baby is healthy.
We still don't know the sex of it. I wanted it to be a surprise. I know that's kind of odd when it's a potential future heir and it's not just your family that will be kept in the dark but a whole country. I just figured it would keep something that's mine, mine. I don't want to know and I don't think I should just because the whole country thinks it's owed to them. Let me have something private,
let me have a surprise.
Anya still thinks it's a girl, of course.
And secretly, I've started calling the baby my little star.
I know that's what Orlando used to call me but I've managed to make it about the baby instead.
My little star who will show up in a few months and make their mark on this world.
I can't wait.
I smile to myself until my smile fades into a grimace.
The pain is spreading.
I take in a deep breath, trying to ignore the fear that's slowly crawling through me. I need to stop freaking out over every single thing. I've got this.
I sit on the toilet and pee.
Color catches my eye.
I glance down and see blood.
Not a lot of blood, but it's enough and it's bright red, so bright that it's shocking against the white toilet bowl.
Oh my god.
My heart starts to beat fast, my brain goes into overdrive.
The baby is coming early. Too early. I'm dying. We're going to die.
I try to take in a deep breath but the panic is starting to grip my lungs, making me feel lightheaded.
Calm down. It's not a lot of blood and you've had contractions before and this isn't it. Blood doesn't mean the baby is coming, it doesn't mean anything major is wrong. Just calm down. Call Dr. Bonakov.
But it might take him a while to get to me and I'm not going to chance it, not now. I'm not as young as I was when I had Anya, I have high blood pressure, I need to do this right.
I grab my robe, wrapping it loosely around my belly that's growing increasingly sore, and then I'm out the door and walking as fast as I can down to Aksel and Aurora's room.
I open their door and flick on the lights, hoping that I'm not interrupting some middle of the night antics.
"Stella?" Aksel asks through a sleepy groan, wincing at the glare of the lights.
But Aurora is already throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed, hurrying on over to me. "What is it? What's happening?"
She reaches out and puts her hand on my stomach, as if the baby will tell her.
"I'm bleeding.”
Her eyes widen in horror. "No. What? Just now?"
"I'm getting the car ready," Aksel says, getting out of bed and pulling on pants. I look away before I catch him naked.
"I've been having back pain and now abdominal pain," I tell her, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I went to the bathroom and I saw blood. It's not a lot. I don't think. Bright red though. I don't know what that means."
"It means we're going to get you to the hospital!" she says, practically shouting. "Don't panic!"
"I'm not panicking, you're panicking."
"Ladies, come on," I hear Aksel yell from the hallway.
"Come on, come on," Aurora says, trying to steer me out of the bedroom but then she starts to flap her hands like a bird that can't quite take off. "Oh god, do I need to bring an overnight bag? Do you? Should I pack for you? You can't be having the baby already, it's too premature!"
"Aurora," I tell her. "Let's just go. We’ll deal with that later. Okay? Deep breaths."
But I have to remind myself to breathe as well.
We hurry down the hall and I don't bother getting changed. I shove furry boots on my feet, grab a winter coat and go straight into the car out back with Aksel and Aurora.
Johan is driving and he's fast, probably faster than an ambulance would have been and much more discreet.
Everyone knows I'm pregnant. And by everyone, I mean the world. I couldn't stay a hermit forever, locked up in the palace as my stomach grew bigger. I had to go out. Rumors were spreading, said that I ran away with a young lover or I'd joined a cult up in Lapland. People were concerned. So I went out with my big stomach and made the news and now everyone knows I'm pregnant and won't say who the father is.
This has been the subject of a lot of debates. I've heard every royal monarch mentioned (except Prince Orlando, which, honestly, is starting to feel a little insulting) as well as a bunch of celebrities. There's a random rumor that my baby is Jack Nicholson's and I'm rather fond of that one.
But as I'm being driven to the hospital, Aurora and Aksel holding my hands the entire way, and then ushered into the emergency room, none of the rumors matter. I don't care what people think. I just want Orlando here.
The doctors do a quick pelvic examination and an ultrasound and then I get the news.
"You have a placental abruption," the doctor explains to me. He has a kind voice and dark eyes and I immediately like him. "This can be very serious but in your case we have hope that it might right itself."
"What does that mean?" I ask. I look up at Aurora and Aksel who have stayed by my side. Aurora holds my hand tightly.
"Yes doctor, tell us what it means," Aurora pleads. I'm not sure if she means to sound so dramatic or if it's just her accent.
"The placenta has come away from the wall of the womb. As you know, the placenta is what gives your baby life, it’s the support system for giving the baby everything it needs."
My heart rate starts to increase and that's picked up by the monitors, the beeps filling the room.
The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. "Yours is minor. You're bleeding but we are hoping in time that will stop. We'll need to keep you in the hospital for a while to monitor you. With any luck, the bleeding will stop and we'll be able to ensure that the rest of the placenta is giving your baby all the nutrients it needs to survive."
"And if the baby doesn't get better?" Aksel asks, his voice rough and grave.
"She could be here until she gives birth. The baby will be given medicine to help the lungs grow stronger until then. Or we may have to do an emergency C-section."
I swallow hard. It feels like I have cotton balls in my throat. "Why did this happen?"
"Listen, I won't judge, but you haven't been using cocaine, have you?" the doctor asks.
"What?" I cry out.
Aurora laughs. "Did you seriously just ask the princess of your country that question?"
He gives me a sheepish smile. "I had to ask. We don't really know what causes this. Usually it's cocaine use or cigarettes. Street drugs." I give him a steady look to keep going. "But I can see on your chart you're being treated for high blood pressure, so that could be it. It could be that you're older and that you had a C-section before. But you're healthy and from the looks of it, your baby is healthy ,too."
"So she's going to be fine, right?" Aurora says. “They both are?”
"I think so," he says. "But for now we need to monitor you here and see. I've called your personal physician in, he should be here soon." He faces Aksel and Aurora and straightens his posture. "I just wanted to say that it's an honor to have met you both. It's not often you're working your shift and the King and Queen of your country walk in."
I clear my throat.
He glances down at me. "And of course you too, Princess."
Of course.
Soon I'm moved into a private room, hooked up to monitors with an IV drip through my arm.
I'm sleepy, which is good, even though I can see the sun rising from my window.
"We should let you sleep," Aurora says to me. She and Aksel have been sitting with me for the last hour, going over everything that Dr. Bonakov had told us. Mainly that everything looks good but it will be a while until we know the details of how this is going to progress and when and if I can go home.
"But we can stay if you want," Aksel says.
"No, no." I yawn. "I'm tired. This way you can go and grab my stuff."
"We can have your stuff delivered. I don't feel right leaving you alone."
"I'm not alone. There are nurses here."
"You're scared."
"I'm going to be okay," I say, giving him a pointed look, even though I don't feel okay and I'm scared shitless. I just figure if I fall asleep, I can't be scared.
He gives me one of his patented stern looks. "You ne
ed to call Orlando.”
I straighten up. "I am not calling him."
"Stella," Aurora says.
"No. No, this is my choice. And he's in Africa anyway. All you would do is make him worry."
They exchange a glance. "Besides," I add. "You hate his guts, Aksel."
"I know I do," he says. "But I can put my own feelings aside to do the right thing. That's what a good king does."
I have to wonder if that's what Orlando thought, too.
I close my eyes and they take that as the hint to leave.
I'm asleep before the sun comes up.
“So while you’ve been in the hospital, I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Anya says matter-of-factly. She’s sitting on the chair beside the hospital bed, flipping through a book she’s supposed to be reading for school.
I raise my brow. “I’ve only been here for two days, Anya.”
“And that’s enough time to think,” she says, closing the book. She sucks in her lower lip and drums along the cover. “I’ve decided that I think Sir Mokey needs a friend.”
Why am I not surprised? She hasn’t been thinking about the baby or the fact that I’m in the hospital, but instead she’s been thinking about getting another cat. Though, I guess it’s proof of a child’s optimism. They assume everything will be okay in the end.
So far, it looks like she might be right. I’ve stopped bleeding and the baby seems to be getting all the nutrients it needs from the placenta. It hasn’t detached in total, so I guess what’s attached is enough. The doctor still wants me here for another week just to make sure, which is annoying but I’ve already made peace with it. Honestly, I’ll stay here until the baby is born so as long as it means the baby is healthy.
“So, what do you think?” she asks. “Can I get a cat?”
I groan, shutting my eyes. “Why am I getting déjà vu?”
“That would be a good name for a cat. Sir Mokey and Déjà Vu.”
I shake my head and give her the stinkeye.
A knock at the door saves me from having to lecture Anya about how, technically, I never got her a cat to begin with. That cat was a rogue kitty.