The Prince and the Girl

Gillian woke to an empty bed that was still warm. The light of the morning was just coming over the horizon, and fog littered the grounds of her property as she looked out the window and slipped a bathrobe on.

She heard the floor creaking downstairs in the kitchen and she smiled at the fact that Harry was still here; he hadn’t left in the middle of the night as he used to. She wanted this morning to last because, despite her exhaustion at the time, she remembered what Harry had said to her the night before. She wanted this morning to be perfect.

Gillian checked her reflection in the mirror and saw that after one night of peaceful sleep, her skin had started to return to its normal peachy colour. As she turned, she could still see a blue shimmer beneath the warm tinges of health, but the change was reassuring.

She brushed her hair out with her fingers as she bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

It was empty.

“Harry?” Gillian called out uselessly.

Her voice rebounded off the walls of the seemingly vast front hall as she reentered it. She heard a sound coming from outside and ran to the front door. She opened it just in time to catch Harry’s gaze as he got in his car. He looked across the driveway at her, half in and half out of his car. Gillian realised that he had planned to leave without saying goodbye or being seen, and she felt fury swell in her chest. Their gazes remained interlocked a moment longer until she turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

She realised that even after what had happened last night, she had still not learned what was bothering Harry. He had still refused to tell her, and further, had left without obvious intentions to ever talk to her again. To him, it seemed, last night had never happened.

•••

Gillian’s anger with the situation exhausted her even further. It was as if she held an added weight with her each day, carrying it with her everywhere and trying to keep it restricted. She was more tired than ever, always feeling beat no matter how much sleep she got.

She became a stiff, work-driven woman, purposefully limiting her emotions. Months passed, and she became a bottle of herself, like painted glass, with every thought and movement trapped inside the bottle. To her friends and family, she became nearly unrecognisable.

Iris recognised the problem, and had often tried to talk to Gillian about it. It usually resulted in a shouting match, or in tears, or in silence.

“I’m worried about you, Jill.” She had said one morning as they sat down to breakfast in the kitchen.

“Iris, I’m fine.” Gillian replied testily as she opened the newspaper.

“You don’t look fine.” Iris said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You look so tired.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping well lately is all.” Gillian said over the newspaper.

“And you’ve been eating even less.” Iris continued.

“I haven’t been hungry!” Gillian cried. “Would you leave me alone?”

“You haven’t been the same since Harry left.” Iris went on.

Gillian threw the paper down. “Would you be the same after that?”

“And you’ve been getting worse the past few months.” Iris said, now pointing her finger at Gillian.

“Bugger off.”

“I’m not going to bugger off, I’m your friend.” Iris replied.

“If you were really my friend you would realise that I don’t want to talk about it.” Gillian said angrily.

“What if you need to talk about?” Iris stood at took a plate from the cupboard. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Iris narrowed her eyes at Gillian, to whose cheeks some foreign colour returned. Gillian picked up the paper and tried to hide behind it.

“What is it? What happened?” Iris demanded as she set the plate down on the counter.

Gillian’s cheeks reddened even further as she buried her face in the newspaper.

“How do you always read me so well?” Gillian asked quietly.

“I’m your best friend, it’s what I do.” Iris replied as she ripped the paper away from Gillian. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Gillian sighed. “You remember that night you went out, and I was here on my own?”

Iris nodded and soon the entire story came spilling out. A sly grin swelled on Iris’ face as Gillian told her the story.

“I knew he wasn’t done with you.” She said, waggling her eyebrows.

“He is now.” Gillian said dejectedly.

“How can you say that?” Iris asked.

“For starters, I haven’t seen him since the morning after.” Gillian admitted. “And I only saw him because I caught him sneaking off.”

“So why are you angry?” Iris asked.

Gillian looked at Iris in disbelief. “Because he just took off. And the worst part is that, even though he doesn’t seem to care, I still feel like he’s the only thing holding me together.”

“You think he was just in it so he could get with you?” Iris looked at Gillian sceptically. “You think he stuck around for a year, fought for you when you left, and then took you around the world just to get in your pants once?”

“Maybe?” Gillian said quietly.

“No.” Iris shook her head. “Why are you always so blind to these things? He had a reason for leaving. A good one.”

“Then explain to me why he couldn’t tell me.”

Iris sighed, as if frustrated. “Gillian, he’s a prince. He can’t just go around telling state secrets to commoners.”

“What ‘state secret’ could possibly make him split us up?” Gillian asked doubtingly.

“Didn’t he say you’d find out soon enough?”

•••

Another week passed after Iris had set Gillian thinking. Maybe Harry really had had a solid reason for shielding her from his thoughts; but then again, maybe he didn’t. She agreed the based on the circumstances of their relationship, Gillian’s original premise was unlikely.

“Gillian!” She heard Iris call one warm mid-morning from the living room. “Gillian, come here, now!”

Gillian scrambled to her feet, sensing the urgency in Iris’ call.

“What’s wrong?” Gillian asked as she scuttled into the living room to find Iris sitting forward on the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the television.

“Have you seen this?” Iris asked, tearing her gaze away from the screen for a moment before her eyes flickered back.

“What?” She walked to stand beside the couch.

Images of Harry flashed across the screen, accompanied by the words of the narrator. Gillian’s mind began to race and sounds began to blur together.

“Londoners have discovered … for the second time … Gatwick airport today…”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.” Iris replied.

“I’ve got to call a taxi.”

•••

Gillian’s taxi was stuck in a bog of traffic, having not moved an inch in ten minutes.

“Why is everyone going to Gatwick today?!” Gillian cried out in frustration.

“To wish the prince well.” The taxi driver replied from the front seat. “Or ‘aven’t you ‘eard?”

“I’ve heard, all right.” Gillian grumbled in reply as she sat back in her seat, aggravated.

Another minute passed before Gillian slapped the seat again in dissatisfaction.

“How far are we from the airport?” Gillian asked quickly.

“Well, I don’t know, in miles?” The taxi driver asked, flustered.

“Could I run there?” Gillian asked, even quicker this time.

“I don’t know – “

“Guess!” Gillian shouted.

“Yes, probably, you look like – “ He answered before being cut off again.

“Here’s twenty pounds. Thanks very much!” Gillian said, getting out the car and slamming the door shut.

She sprinted through the cars, ignoring the honks and the shouts from coppers. Tendrils of her hair whipped about her face as they came loose from her bun. Gatwick was not far, she could see it ahead of her, as well as the crowd that had come to see Harry.

She reached the parking lot of the airport and stopped, panting and breaking for air. She bent over, a stitch taking shape in her side. She was so close now, she couldn’t stop. She forced her legs to move again.

The crowd began to roar, and she knew that Harry must be on the tarmac, shaking hands and taking flowers. She was still so far away; she might not reach him in time.

But, she got the outskirts of the crowd and attempted to push her way through. She was thrown back by other spectators, shouting at her to find her own spot and that she should have gotten here earlier if she wanted a front row seat.

“Hey!” One girl shouted over the noise of the others. “You’re his girlfriend!”

“I won’t be if I don’t get through.” Gillian replied dejectedly.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Suddenly, Gillian was moving through the crowds, propelled by the movement of the people. She was pushed and shoved until she hit the metal gate that contained the crowds. She was here, and now all she needed to do was get Harry’s attention.

“Harry!” She called desperately. “Harry!”

Harry’s spine straightened and he turned his head in her direction, as if it was possible to hear Gillian over all this noise. She jumped and waved her arms, but it did no good. Harry continued to walk towards the stairs that led up to the awaiting plane.

Gillian jumped the fence. She ran towards him, her arms pumping her forward. She didn’t get far; she was soon stopped by two security guards who held her back as she fought them to get closer to him. Just as the two guards began pushing her back, Harry saw her and their gazes met; Gillian with tears streaming over her cheeks.

The two men pushed her back forcefully, eventually throwing her back over the gate. Harry had dropped his bag and was running to her, the way she had run to him. He ran to the gate, the crowd cheering powerfully.

“Gillian.” His hands stretched out for her as he reached the fence.

“Harry.” She buried herself in his embrace and then looked up to him, grasping his face in her hands.

“Gillian, I’m sorry.” He panted. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I thought it would be easier-”

“This is something you have to do. I understand that. And I know that you thought it would be easier for me if we weren’t together when you had to go, but you were wrong.”

She paused as his hands covered hers.

“We told each other that we would love each other until the day we die. Please,” Gillian felt the warmth of Harry’s tears on her hands now. “Please don’t make that day any sooner for you than it is for me. Come home safe to me.”

He hugged her over the gate, stroking her hair.

“I’ll be waiting.” She finished.

Harry put his hands on her waist and lifted her up and over the metal gate, placing her feet firmly on the ground. He kissed her firmly, their mouths moving together. His hands were in her hair, and then around her waist. The crowd’s cheers were overpowering.

“I love you.” He said, holding her to his chest.

“I love you too.” Gillian returned as she placed her head on his chest and let the noise of the crowd overwhelm her.

•••

Iris slapped the newspaper down on the counter the next morning with a cheerful grin on her face. Gillian craned her neck to see the front page. Beneath a picture of her and Harry holding each other over the gate read the headline:

PRINCE’S AFGHANISTAN GOODBYE