Has there ever BEEN a more romantic note than this? He really misses me and all of that! And you know what all of that means. Love. Right? Isn’t that what all of that means?
Made mistake of asking René. He said a man who isn’t willing to put his true feelings for a woman down on paper isn’t a true man at all.
I told him it wasn’t paper, just e-mail, which is different.
Isn’t it?
Spent all day visiting patients at Genovian General Hospital. V. depressing, not because of patients, but because of the clown that the hospital hired to cheer up the sick children. HATE CLOWNS!!!! Clowns v. scary to me ever since I read that Stephen King book It, which was made into a TV movie starring that guy from The Waltons. It is awful the way writers can take a perfectly innocent thing like a clown and turn it into vessel of evil! Had to spend entire time in hospital dodging clown, just in case he was spawn of Satan.
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And now here I am, on January 2, just sitting in on a session of the Royal Genovian Parliament, pretending to be paying attention while these really old guys in wigs go on and on about parking.
Which I realize is fully my own fault. I mean, if I had never opened my mouth about the whole parking-meter thing in the first place, none of this would be happening.
But how could they not know that if we don’t charge for parking, it will just encourage more people to drive over the French and Italian borders instead of taking the train, clogging up Genovia’s already very busy streets and causing yet more strain on our already deteriorating infrastructure?
And I guess I should be flattered that they are taking my suggestion so seriously. I mean, yeah, I’m the Princess of Genovia, but what doI know? Just because I am of royal birth and happen to be in the Gifted and Talented program at Albert Einstein High School does not mean that I am actually gifted OR talented. In fact, the opposite is true. I am clearly not gifted, being average in just about every category you could name, with the possible exception of foot size, in which I am somewhat over-endowed. And I have no talents to speak of. In fact, I was put into Gifted and Talented class only because I was flunking Algebra and everyone decided I needed an extra period in which to study.
So really, if you think about it, it is very kind of the members of the Genovian Parliament to listen to anything I have to say.
But I can’t really feel very grateful to them considering that every moment I spend here is another moment I am forced to spend away from my one true love. I mean, it has been thirteen days and eighteen hours since I last saw Michael. That is nearly two weeks. And during that entire time, I have only spoken to him once by phone, due to the time difference between here and the U.S. and my UNFAIR, entirely UNREALISTIC schedule of duties. I mean, where in my grueling schedule am I supposed to find time to call my boyfriend? Where?
I am telling you, it is enough to make even a nearly fifteen-year-old girl weep, the way the fates are working against Michael and me. I have not even had time to shop for his birthday, which is in three days.
I have only been his girlfriend for thirteen days, and already I am letting him down.
Well, he will just have to get in line. According to Grandmère, who should know, I am letting everyone down: Michael, the Genovian people, my dad, her, you name it.
I really don’t get it. I mean, they’re only parking meters, for crying out loud.
Thirteen days, nineteen hours since I last saw Michael.
Saturday, January 3 Royal Daily Schedule
8 a.m.–9 a.m.
Breakfast with Genovian Olympic Equestrian Team
I really have nothing against horsey people, because horses are totally cool. But what does the palace kitchen staff have against ketchup? Seriously, ever since I gave up on the no dairy/egg thing, on account of I can’t live without cheese and McDonald’s has started treating the hens that lay the eggs for their Egg McMuffins humanely, I like nothing better than an egg-and-cheese omelet for breakfast. BUT HOW CAN I ENJOY IT WITHOUT KETCHUP???? When I come back to Genovia next time, I am fully bringing a bottle of Heinz with me.
9:30 a.m.–Noon
Dedicate new modern wing of Royal Genovian Museum of Art
Hello, I paint better than some of these dudes, and I am completely talentless. At least they put one of my mom’s paintings in there (Portrait of the Artist’s Daughter at Age Five Refusing to Eat Hot Dogs) so that’s okay.
12:30 p.m.–2 p.m.
Lunch with Genovian ambassador to Japan
Domo arigato.
2:30 p.m.–4:30 p.m.
Sit in on meeting of Genovian Parliament
Again???? Spent entire session thinking about Michael. When Michael smiles, sometimes one corner of his mouth goes up higher than the other. Also, he has extremely nice lips. And very nice, dark eyes. Eyes that can see to the depths of my soul. I miss him so much!!!!!! This sucks. I should call Amnesty International—IT IS CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT TO KEEP ME FROM THE MAN I LOVE FOR SO LONG!!!
5 p.m.–6 p.m.
Tea with Genovian Historical Society
They actually had a lot of very interesting things to say about some of my relatives. It was too bad Prince René was in Monte Carlo buying a new polo pony. He might have learned a thing or two.
7 p.m.–10 p.m.
Formal dinner with members of Genovian Trade Association
Okay, René was lucky to miss this.
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I don’t think I’ll be able to stand this much longer.
Poem for M. M.
Across the deep blue shining sea, is Michael,
far away from me.
But he doesn’t seem so far away—
though I haven’t seen him for fourteen days—
because in my heart Michael stays
and there he’ll beat forever always.
I can see I am going to have to work harder if I am to come up with a fitting tribute to my love.
Sunday, January 4 Royal Daily Schedule
9 a.m.–10 a.m.
Mass in Royal Genovian Chapel
I thought going to church was supposed to fill you with a sense of spiritual well-being and succor. But all I feel is sleepy.
10:30 a.m.–4 p.m.
Outing with Monaco’s Royal Family, Royal Genovian Yacht
Why am I the least-tan person in Genovia? And what is up with René and the Speedos? I mean, you can totally tell he thinks he’s all that. And all those girls screaming his name on the dock just encourage him. I wonder if they’d still be so crazy about him if someone told them that I caught René singing an Enrique Iglesias song in front of the mirrored wall in the Reception Room, using my scepter as a pretend microphone?
4:30 p.m.–7 p.m.
Princess lessons with Grandmère
Even in Genovia, it doesn’t end. As if I don’t totally get why everybody is so mad about the whole speech thing. I mean, I have already sworn I will never again veer from the prepared script while addressing the Genovian populace. Why does she have to keep HARPING?
7 p.m.–10 p.m.
Formal dinner with prime minister of France and his family
René disappeared for four hours with the prime minister’s twenty-year-old daughter. They said they just went to play roulette, but if that’s true, why were they smirking so much when they got back? If René doesn’t watch it, he is going to have a Little Prince to look out for, sooner than he thinks.
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Tried to call him twice today. Michael’s grandmother answered the first time and said Michael had gone to the computer store to buy a new toner cartridge. Then his dad answered and said Michael and Lilly had gone with their grandparents to go see the latest James Bond at the dollar cinema. Lucky ducks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, January 5
Royal Daily Schedule
8 a.m.–9 a.m.
Breakfast with Royal Genovian Ballet Company
This is the first time I have ever seen René up before 10 a.m.
9:
30 a.m.–Noon
Attend ballet workshops, private performance of Sleeping Beauty
I don’t know if Lilly is right about ballet being totally sexist. I mean, the guys have to wear tights, too. Which is actually too much information, if you know what I mean.
12:30 p.m.–2 p.m.
Lunch with Genovian minister of tourism
Will no one acknowledge that my parking-meter idea has merit? Furthermore, all the foot traffic from the day-trippers coming off the cruise ships that dock out in the Genovian harbor is destroying some of our most historically important bridges, such as the Pont des Vierges (Bridge of the Virgins), so named after my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Agnes, who threw herself off it rather than become a nun like her father wanted her to be (she was all right: the royal navy fished her out and she ended up eloping with the ship’s captain, much to the consternation of the house of Renaldo). I don’t care how much of Genovia’s gross national product is dependent on cruise ship daytrippers. They are ruining EVERYTHING!
2:30 p.m.–4:30 p.m.
Attend father’s address to local media on importance of Genovia as a global player in today’s international economy
Whatever. Could I be more bored? Michael! Oh, Michael! Where art thou, Michael?
5 p.m.–6 p.m.
Tea with Grandmère and fellow members of Genovian Ladies Aid Society
Spilled tea on new satin shoes that had been dyed to match tea gown.
Now they match tea.
7 p.m.–11 p.m.
Formal dinner with very famous former Soviet leader and his wife
René AWOL through most of dinner. Was found after dessert cavorting in palace garden fountain with prima ballerina from Royal Genovian ballet. Dad v. upset. Tried to soothe his frazzled nerves by making small talk with his date, Miss Czech Republic, so she would feel welcome to the family, should the occasion arise.
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If this goes on much longer, I will probably develop aphasia like that girl in Firestarter , and start thinking my dad is a hat.
Tuesday, January 6,
Royal Quarters of the Dowager Princess
HE CALLED ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Except that I wasn’t here (as usual). I was at the Royal Genovian Opera House, watching stupidLa Boheme , which I was enjoying until all the characters I liked DIED.
He left a message with the palace operators. The message said,Hi.
Hi! Michael said HI!
I tried to call him back, of course, the minute I got to a phone, but the Moscovitzes were all at Le Crabbe Shacque enjoying the Senior Citizen early bird discount… all except Dr. Moscovitz (Mrs.) who had to stay back at the condo due to one of her patient’s needing emergency counseling (a shopaholic who was having a relapse due to all the post-holiday sales).
Dr. Moscovitz said she would be sure to give Michael the message that I’d called him back. The message was: Hi.
Well, I wanted to say something more romantic, but it is really hard to say the word love to your boyfriend’s mother, it turns out.
Oh, my God, Grandmère is yelling at me again. She has been lecturing me all day about this stupid ball that’s coming up—my farewell-for-now ball, the one they’re holding the night before I leave to go back to America… and to my love.
The thing is, Prince William is going to be at the ball, because he’s going to be in Genovia anyway for the charity polo match my dad and René are playing in, and Grandmère is all worried I am going to make the same kind of social gaffe in front of Prince Wills that I made during my televised introduction to the Genovian people.
Like I am really going to stand there and talk about parking meters with Prince William. But whatever.
“I swear I do not know what is wrong with you,” Grandmère is saying. “Your head has been in the clouds ever since we left New York. Even more so than usual.” She is narrowing her eyes at me—always a very scary thing, because Grandmère had black kohl tattooed all around her lids so that she could spend her mornings shaving off her eyebrows and drawing new ones on rather than messing around with mascara and eyeliner. “You are not thinking about that boy , are you?”
That boy is what Grandmère has started calling Michael, ever since I announced that he was my reason for living. Well, except for my cat, Fat Louie, of course.
“If you are speaking of Michael Moscovitz,” I just replied to her, in my most regal voice, “I most certainly am. He is never far from my thoughts, because he is my heart’s breath.”
Grandmère’s response to this is a snort.
“Puppy love,” she says. “You’ll get over it soon enough.”
Um, I beg your pardon, Grandmère, but I so fully will not. I have loved Michael for approximately eight years, except perhaps for a brief two-week period of time when I thought I was in love with Josh Richter. Eight years is more than half my life. A deep and abiding passion such as this cannot be dismissed as easily as that, nor can it be defined by your pedestrian grasp of human emotion.
I didn’t say any of that out loud, though, on account of how Grandmère has those really sharp nails that she tends to “accidentally” poke people with.
Except that even though Michael really is my reason for living and my heart’s breath, I don’t think I’ll be decorating my Algebra notebook with hearts and flowers and curlicue Mrs. Michael Moscovitzes, the way Lana Weinberger decorated hers (only with Mrs. Josh Richter s, of course). Not only because doing stuff like that is completely lame and because I do not care to have my identity subjugated by taking my husband’s name, but also because as consort to the regent of Genovia, Michael will of course have to take my name. Not Thermopolis. Renaldo. Michael Renaldo. That looks kind of nice, now that I think about it.
Thirteen more days until I see the lights of New York and Michael’s dark brown eyes again. Please God, let me live that long.
HRH Michael Renaldo
M. Renaldo, prince consort
Michael Moscovitz Renaldo of Genovia
Seventeen days since I last saw Michael.
Wednesday, January 7
Royal Daily Schedule
All I have to say about today is that if these people WANT their infrastructure to be destroyed by gasguzzling sports utility vehicles driven by German tourists, that is entirely their prerogative. Who am I to try to stand in their way?
Oh, I’m sorry, just their PRINCESS.
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Thursday, January 8
Royal Daily Schedule
8 a.m.–9 a.m.
Breakfast with ambassador to Spain
Still no ketchup!!!
9:30 a.m.–Noon
Final touch-ups to royal portrait
I am not allowed to see finished product until unveiling at Farewell Ball. Hope artist did not include large zit I have begun sprouting on chin. That could be kind of embarrassing.
12:30 p.m.–2 p.m.
Lunch with Genovian minister of finance
FINALLY! Someone who agrees with me on fiscal importance of parking meters. Minister of finance is the man !
Sadly, Grandmère still not convinced. And she, far more than Dad or Parliament, is the one with the most influence over public opinion.
2:30 p.m.–4:30 p.m.
More coaching on what is okay versus not okay to say to Prince William when I meet him
Example:
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” —Okay
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Heath Ledger?” —Not okay
René strolled by in the middle of my coaching session on his way to the palace weight room and suggested that I ask Wills what really happened between him and Britney Spears. Grandmère says that if I do, she will leave Rommel in my care next time she goes to Baden-Baden to get a face peel. Ew! to both taking care of Rommel and the face peel. And to René, too, for that matter.
7 p.m.–11 p.m.
Formal dinner with largest import/exporter of Genovian olive oil
&
nbsp; Whatever.
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Friday, January 9, 3 a.m.,
Royal Genovian bedchamber
This just occurred to me:
When Michael said he loved me that night during the Nondenominational Winter Dance, he might have meant love in the platonic sense. Not love in the tides of flaming passion sense. You know, like, maybe he loves me like a friend.
Only you don’t generally stick your tongue in your friend’s mouth, do you?
Well, maybe here in Europe you might. But not in America, for God’s sake.
Except Josh Richter used tongue that time he kissed me in front of the school, and he was certainly never in love with me!!!!!!!!!
This is very upsetting. Seriously. I realize it is the middle of the night and I should be at least trying to sleep since tomorrow I have to cut the ribbon at the new Royal Genovian Foundling Home.
But how can I sleep when my boyfriend could be in Florida loving me as a friend and possibly at this very minute actually falling in love with Kate Bosworth? I mean, unlike me, Kate is actually good at something (surfing). Kate belongs in Gifted and Talented, not me .
Why am I so stupid? Why didn’t I demand that Michael specify when he said he loved me? Why didn’t I go, “Love me how? Like a friend? Or like a life partner?”
I am such an idiot.
I am never going to be able to sleep now. I mean, how can I, knowing that the man I love could conceivably think of me only as a friend he likes to French kiss?
There is just one thing I can do: I have to call the only person I know who might be able to help me. And it is okay to call her because