Chapter 20 of Princessa

Calm Before the Storm

Andy gets another coffee and goes back up to the room. Jori’s over at the window smoking a cigarette and looking out at the incredible morning view. “Here” says Andy “I brought you some coffee.” Maria comes out of the shower all bright and sunny, more so even than the brilliant stream of light pouring in through the windows. “Hey, what a morning, huh; I wanna go to the park… and the museums; okay?”

“Fine” says Andy “you two go get breakfast. I’ll get a shower and be ready in a little bit, alright.” The old man is still sleeping peacefully on the rollaway bed, muttering from time to time, blinking his eyes open and then drifting off again. Andy checks the bandage on his side and sees that one of the others, Jori probably, has already cleansed the wound and changed the dressing. It’s wet and oozing, but otherwise looks to be healing alright. He has another cigarette, then takes a nice hot shower.

Jori and Maria go up to the top floor dining room where breakfast is just getting started. The whole room is all glass windows looking out over the entire city, a fantastic sight. But the rising sun’s so blindingly bright you can barely look out. The cooks aren’t quite ready for serving, so the two kids decide to go down to the street and after a short walk in the brisk morning air, find a McDonald’s a short distance away.

Jori sits down to a wonderful omelet platter with sausage and hash browns, and a small carton of the watered-down milk. But Maria is uneasy, not ready to start eating breakfast yet. She picks up her tray and looks at the boy “you got a phone? A clean one, I mean.” “Yeah, sure” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat “I got this one. Here, it hasn’t been used yet.”

She goes outside and sits at a table in the sun, then dials a number on the phone “hello... Lucia?” “Where are you, you little brat!” says the voice on the other end. Lucia isn’t much older than the princess, but she’s a big, heavy woman and that makes her seem older, more mature. A round fat cook in a big white apron is how she looks to most people. But she’s the girl’s best friend among the household staff, and the one she always calls when she needs to get in touch with someone, to see how things are going.

“Lucia, listen, I’m okay… but I need to talk to Grandpa.” That’s different, thinks the cook, usually the girl wanted to make sure the king was as far away as possible from their secret phone calls. But this isn’t a usual time, what with the terrorist assault and all. “Okay” says the cook “I understand.” “I can’t call him, on his phone” says the girl “they could be listening.”

“Alright” says Lucia “I’ll go find him and give him my phone… but wait, here…” “Hello, Maria?” says a frightened little far off voice. “Mom? Is that you.” “Oh my God” says the woman “I thought… they told me you were gone… away, but I thought sure… that they were just saying that. Oh thank God, oh Maria, thank God... you’re alright, my darling.”

“Mom, are you okay?” “Okay?” says the woman “oh, you know me, I haven’t slept…I’ve been so… out of my mind with worry. Just… one pill after another, and drinking cognac… oh, and it just tastes so awful after...” “Mom, I’m fine; just take care of your self, okay.” “Of course” says the woman “sure, oh… uh, here’s your father; bye sweetie… come home to us; I love you.” “I love you too, Mom.”

“Hello” says Khail Salin “Maria, how are you?” “Hi Dad, we think they’re listening in; so… I can’t talk long. But… I’m fine, everything’s okay.” “Listen” he tells her “uh, Booski… won’t let… uh, your grampa talk on the phone. They got some kinda counter-surveillance stuff they’re doing. So… everything’s under control here. And contact us through… Efrin, okay. And for god’s sakes, be safe; okay?” “Okay… I love you Daddy… bye” says the princess, with that far off, drifting away to nowhere type feeling.

She closes the phone and looks at the meaningless people on the meaningless street. Then goes back inside and sits down by her friend. “What’s up” asks the boy. “Oh, I just called home.” “And?” “Well, my mom’s a wreck, but everything else seems to be okay, I guess; or as well as you could expect.” “What’s wrong with your mom?” “Oh, uh… she’s the nervous type, you know. Doesn’t… do very well, in these kinds of things.” “It must be tough on her” says the boy.

“Yeah” says Maria, feeling the concern in his voice, and him maybe never even knowing his own mother, or anybody. She goes over and hugs him, kisses him on the cheek, with tears running down her face. “What is it?” he asks her. “You’re nice. You’re… a nice boy. It’s just… it’s tough for everybody, isn’t it?” “Yeah” he says “just think; the whole world’s falling apart… and I never had it so good.” The two kids laugh at that, and hug each other, feeling all the hurt and joy all jumbled up together inside of them.

They finish their breakfast and go back up to the room. Maria gives Andy a little white sack full of warm breakfast smells “I got you a McMoofin.” He opens it, hungrily bites into the hot egg and ham muffin, then the fried potato cake sprinkled with the little packet of salt, and the hot buttery biscuit with strawberry jam. “It’s delicious” he tells her “thanks, this is great.”

“So” she asks him when he’s done eating “can we go to the park now?” “We can go to the park now. But what about Smet.” The three of them look at the old man resting comfortably on his bed. No one says anything so finally Jori speaks up “I suppose I get to stay here with the old guy, huh.” “You’re sweet” says the princess and kisses him on the cheek. “Hey look” says Andy “we’ll go to the park, and then after that we’ll come back here, get lunch or whatever; then you and Jori can go to the museum, and I’ll stay here with Smet. So we’ll switch up, like that, take turns staying here with Smet, okay?” “Yeah, sure” says the boy, without much enthusiasm “have fun… and hurry back, okay.”

In the bright cold morning sun of his Washington bedroom, the veep can’t take it anymore. He’s getting the shakes and his chest is killing him. He takes a bunch of the usual meds and adds a couple of sleeping pills to the mix. Finally drops into bed, totally exhausted and with a pounding headache.

But he can’t shake the storm of thoughts from his mind. They’re so close… to wrapping things up, with the Arabs, with the Russians; just to get that deal pushed through; and with that little shithole place, Malvia. And then, a vacation; the Bahamas, maybe, just sleep, on the beach or by the pool for a week or two. Get some rest and recharge the batteries.

But… goddamnit, why was that little dirtbag country Malvia always coming up into the mix of things; to fuck up everything. Damnit, it just doesn’t add up. Then it hits him, all of a sudden. Yeah… that’s it, it must be. If it doesn’t add up, there has to be something there; just can’t put the pieces together yet, is all. He reaches for the bedside phone “Ronna, get Jack Croft on the phone.”

Andy and Maria go out into the chilly bright morning, wrapped up in winter jackets and scarves, and head out toward Central Park. There’s hardly any wind, but it starts to get cold. Andy puts his arm around the girl. They walk up Broadway and then cross over to Sixth Avenue and wind up in Rockefeller Center.

“Oh look Andy” says the girl pointing to the familiar landmarks “there’s the guy holding up the globe, like you see in the books; and the skating rink! Hey, let’s go skating; come on.” She rushes over to the skate rentals and picks out a tight-fitting pair of fancy skates. Andy follows her and gets a pair for himself, almost as happy as she is to go skating at this famous little rink in the middle of the big city. It’s a chance to relax and let go, to show off and just be himself.

Once he gets out on the ice, it’s like heaven, so peaceful, relaxing, like being home again with the sudden rush of feeling, tranquility, harmony, like this is the only place where he belongs, where he’s really comfortable and at home; with skates on gliding on the cold slick ice, freed from the bonds of gravity and everything else that’s slow and dull and common.

He skates with the girl around the outer perimeter, arm in arm. So familiar from the all the times back home of meeting the young girls at the local ice rinks or frozen over ponds, and sweeping them off their feet with his grace and skill and charm. The two of them pick up speed and he leads her away from the other skaters and toward the center of the rink, kicking a foot down onto the ice, then lifting it up, like a Russian dancer. Then he turns skating backward facing the girl, and smiles, bending his knee with the other leg stretched back and off the ice. He bows down and kisses her on the hand. Then spins around again, turns her back to face him, smiling and pushing her fast along the perimeter again.

The girl is impressed and looks up at his smiling face and laughs. He’s quite the skater boy, she thinks, musta melted a lot of hearts back there in the countryside. She skates with him for awhile, trying to keep up with his turns and dancing steps. But she isn’t much comfortable with pairs skating, and when they speed up really fast, passing all the others, she spins away and goes off to center ice to skate by herself.

It’s so sunny, bright and fun with all the people here in colorful jackets, caps and scarves. Some of the young girls are doing slow spins and jumps, like you’d do in warm-up or practice; and they’re pretty good at it too. Without even thinking, Maria watches them and starts to do the same, like she used to do as a kid. She puts her hands over her head in a oval and spins in a circle then comes out of that and skates quickly out to the edge of the ice. Andy reaches out his hand but she ducks under and turns backwards watching him smile at her as she leaves him in the distance.

She picks up more speed glancing around to see where the other skaters are, and dodging around them like a racer dangerously passing those who are just standing still. The young girls look at her with interest, waiting to see what she’s gonna do. Most of the other people are slowing down now and just watching Maria as she dances from skate to skate, making a quick stop and pivot to the left and skating backwards on one foot, bowing with her arms outspread like a ballerina swan sliding back to center rink.

Then skipping along on her toes, kicking up ice, and shadowing the movements with her hands and arms, smiling and laughing at the people, including Andy, who have now stopped to watch her. She races quickly to the empty perimeter, spins forward and touches her hand to the ice with one leg extended behind her and high up into the air. Then backward again skating really fast and heading to the center, kicking a foot down and jumping into a double spin, landing that and jumping again and then spinning in place with arms folded and then extended she comes to a sudden stop and looks around at all the people staring at her. They start to applaud with smiling happy faces and pleased at the impromptu show. Maria bows and quickly skates back over to Andy and lands in his arms, kissing him on the lips.

“Wow” he says “you’re really good. Amazing... really.”  “I almost fell” she says, smiling and laughing all out of breath. “You coulda been… in the olympics.”  “Oh no” she says “those girls… it’s really hard, you know; I could never…” And then looking at his smiling face, she adds “hey, you’re pretty good too, you know.” “Yeah, I was gonna show off for you… but damn, I’m not that good. Not like you.”

They go over and turn in their skates and start to walk up to the park. Maria looks back at the happy carefree skaters on the rink, some of the young girls are doing what she was doing, slower maybe, but so graceful and so serious about all of it. She looks down at the grounds and hugs against the young man beside her. “What is it?” he asks her. “This is… the last time, I’ll… we’ll, ever be able to do any of that kinda stuff.”

“What” he says “whadda you mean.” “The war…” she says sadly, far off, lost in the meaningless sunshine “we can’t win it. They’re… too big, too strong... too rich; for us. We can’t fight them… and we will anyway, you know. And, all we’ll be able to do, is what every little backward country does… just terrorist stuff, blowing up stuff, and…” she pauses and looks up at him and puts her arms around his waist. “We’ll all be like war criminals” she says, almost whispering “there’ll be… a price on our heads, or mine anyway; like Bin Laden, and like that deck of cards with Saddam and pictures of all his gang on them.”

Andy holds the girl tightly, thinking how small and soft she is, and so young. And all the things she’s saying, and all of that at once. He’d seen the playing cards in Iraq, even kept a deck as a souvenir; something funny to laugh at. It was stupid and boorish, demeaning, even the American soldiers thought so, for the most part. But it was also fairly effective, to a degree anyway (the cards were actually Culver Hayden’s idea).

And like everyone else there, Andy had hoped to collect that bounty on Hussein; or even Bin Laden, if that was possible. But that was always like being on the other side, being the good guys, more or less, with the terrorists or insurgents or genocide-killers or whoever, as the bad guys. Kinda weird to think of yourself as…one of them, all of a sudden.

He doesn’t say anyhing, feeling the young girl’s sadness; like life being over or changed or never gonna be the same anymore. And such a happy young kid with everything to look forward to, now all of that gone; like the boys coming home in the boxes; just all quiet nothing... death; over with. Maria stops to take a deep breath and look up at all the skyscrapers gleaming in the sunshine. “So” she asks him “did they send you here to die.”

Andy tries to think of something to say, following her gaze up to the tall magnificent buildings, then shakes his head “nah, I don’t think so. I mean… they sent Smet too, wouldn’t want to lose him, y’know.” “Smet’s old” says the girl “he wants to die in battle; go down fighting.” “Well, we all do” says Andy, and then trying to be more exact, he adds “or actually… we’d kinda like the other guys to do that.” They continue walking to the park, saying nothing, just looking around at the shiny snowy scenery.

It’s nicer in the park, like an escape, being in the wide open snowy grass fields and shady trees along the little drive-throughs and walking paths. They watch a horse-drawn carriage go by and decide to get in one and ride around, looking out at the park. It’s lovely romantic peaceful under the quilts with the horse clomping along on the cobblestone, like back home, the two of them think… home.

“How do you go on” asks Andy. “Huh?” says the girl, lost in her own thoughts. “How do you… be so happy and, carefree, and everything all the time… when all the time, you’re thinking about all these sad things.” “Oh God” she says “it’s like…everyday, every fucking day, every minute, is like your last. The last time you’re gonna do this; the last time you’re ever gonna be here, or see this, or do that; you know. It’s like you’re running full speed all the time, trying to… live your whole life in, just a few days or something, or weeks. And always running out of time, no matter… how hard you try to keep up with it.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean… like, when you’re in a battle zone, in the war. And most of the time it’s so all slow and dull and boring, tires you out just from doing nothing. All the… energy that’s pent up and nothing to do with it, to use it on. Then when it starts and there’s that tremendous intensity, of, overwhelming everything happening at once; bullets flying, rattling gunfire, mortars; maybe the Yanks dropping some crushing thundering bombs, or their deafening tank shells whooshing by and exploding, and all that. Then afterwards, later, at night, if it’s all over, and nothing going on, you think… the coffee’s good. And that guy over there, laughing at the card table, maybe somebody like that isn’t around tonight, was here yesterday, now missing, gone, you know. Or one of those guys here, isn’t gonna be here tomorrow; or if there’s even gonna be a tomorrow. And y’try t’find something, that’ll somehow… take your mind off alla that. And that’s as hard as anything, trying to find… something to make you quit thinking about it.”

The girl reaches her arms up around him and kisses him deeply, squeezing her little self against him, while he holds her, his arms almost doubled around her; then finally she let’s go. “Just don’t think about it” she says. “Pretend… that the moment is all that exists, all that matters. Don’t think about the rest of it.” He smiles at her “we better go back, see… how Jori and Smet are doing.” They catch a cab back to the hotel, then go back up to the room that seems almost like home now to them.

Jori looks up as they walk in “good God, took you long enough… what were you doing, having sex in the park, or what?” “In the park, on the grass” says the girl “in the elevator on the way up… and you?” “Playing chess with… Smet here.” The old man looks up from his chair. “Yeah, I’m alive. Don’t feel so hot though… with the little bastard cheating me all the time.” “How do you cheat at chess” asks Jori. Though it really wasn’t that hard, with the old man only half there, like his mind’s on something else most of the time anyway.

“Okay” says Andy smiling at him “so… why don’t you two (Maria and the boy) go and get lunch; I’ll stay here, talk with Oskar, for a bit.” “Good idea” says the boy, all eager to trade Smet for the company of the princess. The two of them go up to the big glass skyview dining room.