“Can my mom come?” he joked.
I swatted at him, and the elevator arrived. This time, it was empty.
The next morning, he was set to leave. I was getting ready for our official public good-bye when Hamlet surprised me by coming to my apartment. My father was still home when Hamlet walked in. They shook hands, and my father wished him well. I was just about to be relieved that they hadn’t irritated each other when my dad looked at his watch and said, “You two are expected downstairs in five minutes. People count the faults of those who keep them waiting.”
Hamlet rolled his eyes as my father took his coffee into his study and shut the door.
“I wanted a minute alone with you,” Hamlet said, taking a few strands of my hair and pushing them behind my shoulder.
As much as I wanted nothing more than to hang out with him on the couch all day, the choice wasn’t mine to make. “We should go.”
“I know, but I just wanted to say… God, there’s so much. This summer was…”
“What?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. I waited for him to finish, hoping it was going to be sweet and romantic and as perfect as he’d been for weeks, so I was disappointed when he smirked and asked, “So, do I look ready for my public?”
No one could pull off effortlessly devastating like him. Damp blond hair tucked behind his ears, slightly wrinkled linen shirt, board shorts just below his tan knees. I sighed despite myself even as he did a mock catwalk. He stuck his sunglasses on his head, took my hand, and led me to the elevator.
“Well… I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose. “Too bad you didn’t get the looks in your family.” He laughed. “You know I love this,” I said as I ran my palm down the length of his linen-covered chest, “but that can’t be the outfit your mom had the stylists pick for you.”
“I decided to take off the suit.”
“You should have come down earlier. I would have taken it off for you.”
He smiled and said, “You’re wicked.”
“Only because you made me that way.”
He put his arms around me. “What am I gonna do without you?”
“Not a whole lot, I hope,” I said, squeezing his cheeks between my hands.
When we got downstairs, my father’s secretary, Reynaldo, was waiting with his arms crossed and his lips pursed. As he hurried to Hamlet’s side, Reynaldo slicked back the few remaining wisps of hair on his shining head and said, “Stormy Somerville is waiting with her cameraman at the top of the steps. She’s going to ask a question or two, then you kiss chastely.”
Hamlet snickered. “Does that mean no tongue?”
I elbowed his ribs.
Reynaldo cleared his throat and wiped his head again. “Then Ophelia waves briefly and comes back inside. Is that clear?” We both nodded.
I smiled wryly and stood on my toes to whisper in Hamlet’s ear. “If you stick your tongue down my throat, I’ll kill you.” I pinched his butt and put on my public smile.
Laughing, he threw one arm around my shoulder and the other hand in the air. The crowd roared as we walked outside. Dozens of flashes went off. Spread across the steps were mostly teen girls with their mothers. Many held handmade signs with slogans like “Don’t go, Prince Charming” and “Elsinore’s a snore without you.” A few held
Courtier Magazine
’s Sexiest Bachelor of the Year issue with Hamlet’s photo emblazoned on the front. As often as I had posed for these photo ops, there was still a part of me that found them amusing and thrilling.
Stormy Somerville walked over, hot pink microphone in hand. I tried not to gawk at the fact that her skirt was so tight, you could tell she was wearing a thong. “Ophelia,” she said, leaning close to me, “your guy is going away. Any parting words?”
“Hamlet—” I began. I was supposed to say, “Study hard and make Denmark proud.” But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Hamlet’s eyes were blank as he waited for my scripted farewell, and a spark of rebelliousness flared in me. “Listen,” I said, and he cocked his head as he snapped out of his stupor. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, sweet prince.”
I heard Stormy and Reynaldo gasp, and Hamlet’s eyes now danced with glee. That was for us, so now I’d give the adults what they wanted. “And study hard. And make Denmark proooud.”
“Aw,” said Stormy as she turned to the crowd. I noticed tiny beads of sweat had popped up on her forehead, and I wondered if my actions could actually get her in trouble. A girl in the front screamed uncontrollably and then slumped into her mother’s arms. I forced myself not to laugh.
Suddenly Hamlet grabbed my arm and dragged me a few steps away from Stormy, who looked impatiently at Reynaldo.
“I’m so glad you did that,” Hamlet said quietly. “I should have said this upstairs, but this was the best summer of my life, and all we did was hang out. I wish you were coming with me. It’s a whole week before your classes start.”
“But you know I can’t.” Stormy was glaring at us, so I said, “We’d better go back.”
“This is so lame,” he muttered.
I shrugged, hoping he meant the staged good-bye and not my decision to go back to Stormy. “It’s part of your job.”
He nodded slightly then whispered, “I love you, Ophelia.”
I got the chills. “I love you, too, Hamlet.” I wished he’d been able to say that and more when we were alone. We kissed simply, he returned to the scheduled interview, and I went inside.
I hurried upstairs and flipped on the TV, knowing that his departure would be televised, replayed, and dissected on the morning talk shows. Hamlet posed for some pictures with the scream queens, and then he actually kissed a baby.
My friend Lauren called and asked if I was watching. I said yes as Hamlet wished a happy birthday to an elderly woman in a purple housedress who was turning one hundred.
“He’s quite the charmer,” narrated Stormy.
“No kidding,” Lauren said into the phone. “So,” she asked, “now that he’s gone, you wanna hang out? Sebastian, Keren, and all those guys are grabbing coffee. Sebastian really wants you to come.”
I hesitated but knew I should. The first days after Hamlet left were always the hardest for me, so I tried to keep busy. “Yeah. See you in ten.”
I grabbed my bag, and while I waited for the elevator I texted Hamlet.
Barnardo:
You sent this message to Hamlet: “u bin gn 2 long. im w/ sm1 new. sry.”
Ophelia:
When did I… ? Oh. I sent that about five minutes after he left. Check the records.
(pause)
It was a joke.
Francisco:
Did Hamlet find it funny?
Ophelia:
Do you have his reply?
(shuffling of papers)
See? He wrote back “me 2.” And for the record, I laughed.
Barnardo:
Interesting relationship.
Ophelia:
You had to be there.
Zara tilts her head. “So Hamlet left for college not knowing that his life would change forever.”
Ophelia looks at her lap. “None of us did.”
My friends and I met for iced coffee but decided it was too hot to be anywhere but the river. We piled into Justine’s car, and because there were so many of us, I ended up squished between Lauren and Sebastian. Lauren grabbed the sunglasses off my head and put them on.
“Gertrude buy you these?” she asked.
I tried to take them back, completely annoyed by the memory of the shopping trip during which Gertrude had chosen these glasses for me. She had spent the outing asking why Hamlet was refusing to declare a major, and she wouldn’t take “indecision” as enough of an answer.
“What’s it to you who buys me what?” I asked Lauren, brimming with irritation.
“Why do you go out with her?” Lauren checked her reflection in the window before Sebastian grabbed the glasses off her face and handed them back to me.
“You are a true gentleman, sir,” I said to Sebastian. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Lauren leaned into me. “Careful not to compliment him too much. He might take it the wrong way with Hamlet out of town.”
Sebastian whacked the back of her head, and she smoothed down her short dark hair.
“Be nice to Sebastian,” I said, putting my hand on his thigh. “He’s sensitive.”
Sebastian shifted in his seat and pushed my hand away. Guilt overwhelmed me when I saw him blush.
“Uh,” I said, leaning toward the front seat to break the tension, “we going to our usual spot?”
Everyone agreed, and soon we were by the river setting up towels and kicking off our shoes.
“Dan and Greg coming?” I asked.
Keren shook her head. “They have to work. Dan wants to have a barbecue tomorrow, though. You in?”
I nodded as I stripped down to my bathing suit, pretending I didn’t notice Sebastian staring. We all walked to the water’s edge, and Lauren suggested a race. She and I plunged in and stroked hard against the current. She won, and when we emerged on the other bank, we found we’d been carried downstream a fair way. I wasn’t surprised by either fact, since she was a stronger swimmer, and the current, though slower than in the spring, was still powerful. We swam back across and then walked together along the shore.
“You joining the swim team again this year?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m definitely doing lacrosse in the spring.”
“I love how they call it a spring sport but practices start in January.”
I shrugged. “Nothing logical about sports or school.”
“I’ll miss you if you don’t swim.”
“You’ll miss giving me a hard time.”
“True,” she said. “Who will I mock if not you?”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone. You shouldn’t let that talent go to waste.”
When we reached the others and sat back down, Justine asked, “So how was Florence? Your pictures were gorgeous.”
“Oh my God, it was fantastic.”
Sebastian pulled out his sketchbook and rolled onto his side so we couldn’t see his face.
I hesitated, but Lauren waved for me to continue. “Well, uh, you should go there someday. The galleries are amazing and the buildings are—”
“I meant Hamlet. How was it being there with
him
?” Justine asked, leaning back to get more sun on her face.
My eyes flicked again to Sebastian’s back. “Good.”
“That’s it?” asked Justine, sitting up on her elbows. “You’re with the girls. Dish.”
“Not all girls,” I reminded her, “and I don’t want my business to end up in your blog.”
“I would never—” she began, but then lay back down and laughed. “It was one mistake, Ophelia. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to tell about—”
“Anyone hungry?” asked Sebastian, reaching for the food bag.
“No. And no details. That memory’s all mine.” I put on my sunglasses and lay on my towel thinking about Hamlet and Florence and how much I wished we were there at that moment.
* * *
After school started, it was ridiculously boring around the castle. Horatio, Hamlet, Laertes, and I all e-mailed and called, but it wasn’t the same. Gertrude invited me every so often to have lunch or shop or sit through a fitting, but I was certainly not welcome at her table on Sunday nights without the boys. And with my dad working all the time, I was alone night after night.
School was unchallenging, and every time I sat staring out the window or dressing reluctantly for swim practice, I thought about what Hamlet had said and knew the boredom was my own doing. I considered changing my schedule to take something enriching, but it sounded like a lot of trouble. Besides, being in shape and having time to paint were more appealing than learning about politics, a subject that seemed to be all too much a part of my life as it was.
Late one afternoon, I went to the conservatory to get some reading done. I liked working in there because it made me feel close to Hamlet, and few people in the castle had the time or the inclination to go in there, especially midweek. I stepped out of the elevator and hesitated when I saw Hamlet’s uncle, Claudius, outside the glass entryway. He was shoving a bottle into his coat pocket as he walked. He stopped short and I thought he spotted me, but he was looking over his shoulder at the cameras pointed at the door to the conservatory. He furrowed his brow and hurried down the hall in the other direction, so I proceeded.
Inside, the thick, moist air was fragrant with blooming sweet peas and I considered picking some for my room. I looked up at the surveillance camera that Claudius had been checking out and thought better of it, having previously been caught and reprimanded for filching flowers. Only after I had tucked myself into the coziest corner by the fountain did I realize that I had brought the wrong book, and so I unenthusiastically headed back to my apartment.
Just as I grabbed the correct book from my nightstand, I heard sirens. I looked out the window and saw an ambulance and a fleet of police and security cars screaming to a stop in front of our building. Racing onto the balcony, I leaned over as far as I could. Royal guards fanned out and blocked the street in either direction while police set up barricades. I started breathing really fast, and everything looked all wobbly. Ever since my mom died, sirens had triggered panic attacks. And when I saw a stretcher being rushed into the lobby, I had to hold the railing really hard because I was terrified they were coming for my father. With hundreds of people working in the castle, it was pretty unlikely, but I was so scared of losing him, too, that I had to make sure it wasn’t him.
Moments later, a stretcher raced past. I couldn’t make out who it was under the oxygen mask and buckled sheet, but once Gertrude shrieked out after it, I froze. I knew it was the king. I shouldn’t have been relieved, but for a second I was, because it meant my dad was okay. And then I realized it was a man I loved almost as much as my dad. My chin began to tremble, and I clutched the railing, watching with horror as the stretcher was pushed into the ambulance.