The Thrill Is Gone

A wide grin broke across her face when she saw her mother emerge from the doorway. After months of longing to be with her family, she was finally going to spend time with some of them. Sure, she wished that her entire family could’ve flown out to England, but at that moment, she was more than thrilled to see her mother and brother’s faces. Despite their somewhat haggard appearance, they’d never looked more beautiful to her, and she’d honestly never been happier to see them.

“Mom!” she shouted gleefully, her dark brown eyes twinkling with delight. “Luis! Over here!”

Unable to control her excitement, she waved her arms wildly from her spot behind the barrier, earning looks from a few others who were awaiting the arrival of their own travelers, but she didn’t mind the looks. She was far to engrossed in her own felicity to notice that there was still a world outside herself and her family. So she called their names and waved her arms, and eventually – after doing quite a bit of looking around – her brother spotted her in the crowd. His sleep filled eyes immediately brightened at the sight of her, and after pointing out to their mother where Paulina was, they both picked up their pace, eager for their mini family reunion.

Paulina sprinted to the end of the barrier, her cheeks flushing with color as she ran, and when she reached the end of it, she stood in the middle with her grin still intact, impatiently waiting for her mother and brother to reach that point as well. When her mother stepped out from the pathway that was strictly for the arrivals, Paulina launched herself at her, wrapping her arms tightly around her midsection as she buried her face in her mother’s light blonde hair. She breathed in deeply, relishing in the distinct smell of home that her mother had carried with her all the way from California.

“Hey! Mom’s not the only one that’s here, chunky butt!” reminded her brother.

“You just had to ruin our moment, didn’t cha?” she joked as she pulled away from their mother. “I missed you so much Luis,” she said as she walked into his open arms.

They hugged each other tightly, and when they pulled away, the inquiries immediately began. She asked them about their flight, if it had been a smooth one or if there’d been turbulence. Once she finished asking questions about their trip, she asked about how everyone was doing back home. Her mother was more than glad to give her a detailed account about how everyone back home was doing. She told her about how Isabel and Ronaldo had gotten on the honor roll at school, and mentioned how Adrian had lost a tooth because he fell off his bicycle. Irmalinda talked all the way to the parking lot, and even after they climbed into the rental car, a Peugeot 308, she kept talking. She had a lot to say about Paulina’s cousins, her aunts, her uncles, a lot had happened since she left for England.

And although Paulina would’ve usually tired of hearing her mother go on and on about family in Mexico and family in the United States, she was surprisingly welcoming of all the talking. It was nice to just sit there and listen to her mother talk. She’d missed the sound of her voice more than she ever imagined she could. She’d missed hearing the language she’d grown up with, and being able to have full on conversations in Spanish was a real treat for her, because as she conversed with her mother and brother, she felt herself be transported to their living room in Azusa. The gloomy London skies became the sunny Southern Californian heavens, and for the first time since Harry left for Lesotho, she felt truly happy and at peace.

Since it was the first time Irmalinda visited London, her children decided that they would spend the entire day taking in the landmarks. Although Irmalinda and Luis were tired from the long flight, they were more than glad to explore what London had to offer. They walked along the streets, listening attentively as Paulina gave them nearly the same tour that Alfred had given her when he’d first invited her to stay at his flat. They visited the National Gallery, took a stroll along the Thames, and although Paulina wasn’t particularly happy to do so, they walked in front of Buckingham Palace.

In the evening, when it began to rain, they piled into the car and Paulina drove them home to her small apartment in Oxford. She’d gone to great lengths to ensure that her apartment would be ready for her relatives. She’d given her place a vigorous cleaning; washing all the linens, scrubbing and dusting every surface. She’d even given her alcohol to Alfred to hold for her during their stay, because the last thing she wanted was to have her mother scold her for drinking. Paulina may have been twenty-three years old, but her mom still called the shots, even her married older brother knew not to upset their mother. That was just how it was in their family.

The drive back to Oxford lasted well over the estimated travel time of one hour and three minutes. Had it not been raining, she probably would’ve gotten home sooner, but the rain poured heavily, the traffic slowed down, and all she could do was glare and curse inwardly. Of all the days for the damn rain to intrude on her fun, it just had to be the day her relatives arrived from America. The rain should’ve stayed away for two weeks. That wasn’t asking for much. It was summer. There shouldn’t have been any rain to begin with, but she wasn’t in California where that rang true, she was in England where the rain was never far off.

Irmalinda took notice of the weather, and when she grew tired of talking about their family, she began commenting on the weather. She was used to rainless summer days, so she found it odd that it was pouring so heavily in late June. She asked Paulina if that was normal, and as Paulina got off the highway and into the streets of Oxford, she answered that it was pretty common. It rained in England, usually not so heavily, but it had a habit of raining. Irmalinda went on to say that she hoped it wouldn’t rain during their entire stay. They were meant to walk around Oxford and to take a two day trip to Batch, since Irmalinda was a fellow lover of Jane Austen.

By the time they pulled up to the apartment, the heavy showers had died down to a light drizzle, which made it easier to wheel in the heavy luggage and the carry on bags that they’d brought with them. Eager to get them settled in, Paulina showed them to the apartment and gave them a brief tour, but she quickly excused herself, saying that she had to get the rental car back to its parking spot before it was eight. Her brother offered to go with her, but she insisted he stay and unwind. It was just a few blocks up the way, so she wouldn’t be long.

“Barely made it on time, Miss,” commented Dominic, a young man that looked to be in his early twenties.

“I know.” Paulina handed him the keys. “I was supposed to get here sooner, but it started pouring like crazy.”

“Traffic always gets bloody horrible when it pours. It’s a good thing it’s not so bad anymore, the rain that is.” He scanned the set of keys back into the system and printed out her statement. “Here you are, Miss. Just sign right there. There’s no outstanding balance so you’re set.”

“I had a quick question. I was wondering if I could get the same car for when I come back for my rental on Tuesday.”

“We don’t usually reserve cars. It’s just the model we put into the system, but let me make a note of it and if you’re lucky ya might have it.”

“Alright, thanks for that.”

The statement he’d handed to her was quickly folded and stuffed into her bag for safe keeping. She didn’t need it getting wet during her walk home since she was very particular about keeping her finances in order. That was something she’d picked up from her father, Ricardo. He was careful with his money, always quick to balance his checkbook and to make sure he always had money left at the end of the month to put into his savings and his retirement funds. That was something he’d worked hard to instill in his children.

The walk back to the apartment was a chilly one, the drizzle had all but subsided but there was a cold breeze that nipped at her face. Her cheeks were bright pink when she walked into the apartment and her nose was freezing. Had her mother not been in the shower, she would’ve started fussing over her immediately, but Irmalinda was busy scrubbing the day away, and Luis was lying on the couch, watching a rerun of The Office.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” he asked, craning his neck to get a better look of her.

“It’s windy outside.” Paulina took off her coat and hung it behind the door. “Fucking winds freezing.”

“Nah, don’t blame the wind. Blame your cheap ass skin.”

“My skin’s not cheap. It’s just a little sensitive.”

“A little?” he scoffed. “You have to walk around Azusa with an umbrella in the summer.”

“That only happens when I run out of sun block.”

“Sure.”

She shook her head disapprovingly. “You’re so annoying.”

“That’s no way to talk to a guest.” He smiled tauntingly. “And since we’re talking about guests, where we sleeping?” he asked. “I know mom’s getting the bed. But how about us?” he sat up.

“Well you’re gonna get the couch and I’ve got a sleeping bag that I’ll use. Don’t give me that look. It’s comfortable. Sometimes my friend’s crash here and I sleep there so I'm used to it.”

“You sure?” he was skeptical.

“You’re the guest remember? So shut up and just sleep where I tell you to.” She took a seat on the couch beside him. “Is mom gonna be in there much longer?”

“Probably, she barely went int.”

“Oh okay.”

There was a brief silence. Paulina stared ahead at the television and Luis contemplated how to bring up the topic of the faint bruising and the nearly healed lip.

“How’s your face doing?”

“It’s alright. I'm getting warm so it’ll be –”

“Not talking about that. Talking about the injuries,” he clarified.

“Those are fine. They’re almost completely healed.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but they don’t really look like they were ruby injuries to me. They seem more like boxing bruises.”

“You’re not gonna drop this are you?”

“Nope,” he replied.

“I got into a fist fight. Okay? Got a little drunk and someone said something stupid, you know how it is. I couldn’t help it. I had to defend myself and this ended up happening, but I got a few good punches in.”

“Did you win?”

“Got my ass kicked.”

“Fucking Paulin, you know you shouldn’t get into a fight if you can’t win.”

“It was a question of honor.”

“Honor? Seriously?”

“He grabbed my ass, so I had to stand up for myself.”

Luis let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t tell mom the truth.”

“She didn’t buy the rugby line either?”

“No. She thinks you got mugged and that you haven’t told us because you don’t want her to worry. When she asks you just say you got into a fight after a rugby match. Wait. Say it was an all out brawl with both teams. She’ll buy that.”

“Aye Dios Mio (Oh My God), mom’s always so overdramatic,” she said. “She always makes up these crazy scenarios for everything.”

“That’s just how parents are. They freak out and their minds go crazy . . . and since we’re talking about going crazy. When are we meeting your güerito?”

“Never . . .”

“But I thought you guys were all serious.”

“So did I, but it just . . . it didn’t work out. We’re two very different people and he wasn’t what I was looking for and I wasn’t what he was looking for her. He just wasn’t right.” She stared up at the ceiling, taking in deep breaths to keep herself calm.

“I know why it didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” she looked over at him, curious to hear what he’d say.

“You’re too much of a chingona (strong woman). Some guys can’t handle that, but fuck it, you were raised to be a chingona, and you shouldn’t settle until you find a chingon that’ll let you do you.”

A loud laugh rushed from her lips.

“I try to be serious and you laugh at me. That’s bullshit. Go get me a beer to make up for it.”

“Beer?” she raised her brow. “Hah! Like I'm gonna have any beer here while mom’s around. She’ll hit me with the chancla (flip flop).”

They joked around until their mom walked out, and after they’d all finished showering and had a light dinner, they went to sleep. Irmalinda and Luis were exhausted from their travels and jet lagged, while Paulina was just tired from having woken up so early.

She woke much earlier than they did on Sunday, and feeling like she’d slept enough, she decided to make them some breakfast. Her mom had brought her some chorizo from home, so they’d have some eggs and chorizo, and freshly made tortillas. It was going to be a true feast, and she planned on eating until her stomach cried that she’d had enough.

“What are you doing?” asked Luis, his voice low and hair an absolute mess.

“Making some breakfast,” she answered as she made a tortilla. “Is mom up yet?”

He shook his head, “Still sleeping. The ride over and all the walking around really got to her, so she’s knocked out,” he replied.

“Didn’t you guys get any sleep on the flight?”

“Not really.” He lifted himself onto the counter. “Mom hates flying so she was up the whole time, and I was up so I could keep her calm.”

“Didn’t she take an Ambien like the doctor said?”

“You know how mom is. She doesn’t like taking medicine unless it’s an emergency and she kept saying that she’d be alright so she left them at home.”

“That must’ve been a pain.”

“It was. I kept falling asleep and she’d keep waking me up with her talking, but I'm thinking of sneaking one into her water during the flight back, cuz it’s too much.”

“It is.” She placed the tortilla on the comal. “I had trouble falling asleep, but I bought some Tylenol PM that the flight attendants had and knocked out for –” She stopped talking when she heard a knock. “Is someone knocking?”

“Yeah, I think so. Want me to answer?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Luis ran a hand through his hair as he walked towards the door.

“Hello?” he greeted the man standing there.

“Morning Sir, I have a delivery for Miss Balcázar,” spoke Alistair politely, recognizing the young man’s face from the file he’d made on Paulina.

“She’s cooking, but if it’s alright, I can sign for it.” Luis offered.

“Sir, I think it best if I deliver these flowers directly to Miss Balcázar. Though I thank you for your offer,” he spoke.

“In that case let me go get her for you. Just hold on. Alright?” he closed the door and walked over to the kitchen. “Hey chunky butt,” he called to her.

“What?” Paulina glanced over her shoulder.

“There’s a guy here with a bunch of roses for you. I told him that I’d sign for ‘em but he said he’d rather hand them off to you, so go.”

“Flowers?” she asked him, unsure if she’d heard right.

“It looked like there were three dozen roses. So I'm guessing your güerito wants another chance.”

Paulina glared at him. “Shut up.”

“What? I was just saying the truth. And don’t even think about telling me that a friend sent you those flowers, because friends don’t send friends roses. They send cheap ass flowers.”

“You better shut up before I shut you up,” she threatened as she dried her hands off on her t-shirt.

“Fuck. So violent,” he mumbled. “You’re lucky that mom’s sleeping or else she would’ve given you one of those pinches she gives.”

“I'm about to give you one of those pinches.” That time, instead of glaring, she flashed him a playful smile. “Go keep an eye on the tortillas while I see what’s going on with flowers.”

“What’s the magic word?” Luis said in a sing song voice.

“Go fuck yourself.” She grinned.

Luis smirked. “I’ve taught you well.”

“You’re horrible,” she laughed as she walked towards the door. “Hello? I’m Paulina Balcázar, I think those are – Alistair?”

“Good morning, Miss Balcázar, it’s lovely to see you again.” He lowered the flowers so his face was visible. “I trust I find you in good health.”

“You do.” She said, staring at him in confusion. “And you? Are you doing well?”

“Yes, very much so,” he replied, smiling slightly. “But enough of that, I'm certain you have more important manners to attend to than speaking to me. I’ll be direct, Miss, and speak plainly. These flowers are for you.” He held them out to her. “Henry sends his warmest regards and deepest apologies.”

“He sends his regards? His apologies?” she repeated, shaking her head in disapproval. “He makes an ass out of himself and he has the audacity to send you here with roses, instead of coming here himself.”

“He thought it’d be best not to upset you with his presence.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me why he could not bring these followers to you, but when the color drained from his face when we pulled up to this complex, I assumed that he did not wish to upset you.”

“Wait. Did you just say he’s out there?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Unbelievable! I can’t – ugh! He’s so frustrating. He’s out there and he doesn’t have the decency to come here to give me these flowers himself. Instead he sends you, and I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, Alistair, I really don’t. But I can’t accept these flowers.”

“Miss Balcázar, I must insist you accept these flowers on his behalf.”

“I don’t want them. And can you please tell him to leave me alone, because I don’t have the time or energy to put up with him.”

Alistair understood her rage, but after being with Harry for so many years, he couldn’t help but wish that she felt differently. For the first time since he’d started working as Harry’s security detail, he was seeing the young prince truly care deeply for someone outside his family. Alistair would even daresay that what Harry felt for Paulina was love.

“I understand that His Royal Highness has not acted in the manner befitting a woman such as yourself, but he does truly care for you. He’s not been out to those nightclubs and no one has shared his bed.”

“I don’t care.”

“I think you do.”

Her gaze softened. “I don’t have time for this Alistair.”

“But he cares for you. Surely you must know that.”

“He didn’t call me for a month and then . . . then, well you know what happened. You and everyone else in the world saw the picture.”

“It wasn’t what it looked like, not truly. If you just let him explain –”

“Alistair, please don’t get involved in this. I know it’s your job to help him out, but he’s a dick. And you shouldn’t waste your time trying to convince me to give him another chance, because I'm not. And that’s that.”

“He does care for you though.”

“Not enough,” she dropped her gaze. “I’ve mentioned countless times that I'm not very fond of roses. He knows what my favorite flowers are. I’ve told him so many times, but look, instead he chose to send me three dozen roses. If he really cared about me, he’d know which ones are my favorites.”

“He’s got a lot on his plate, he does.”

“So do I. I may not be like him, but I’ve got a lot to do. And my business isn’t any less important than his just because I don’t have a title before my name.”

“It wasn’t my intention to belittle you, Miss.”

“I know, Alistair. You just wanted to help him out, but there’s no helping it.”

He let out a defeated sigh. “Can I at least persuade you to accept his letter? He worked quite hard on it. Was up all night writing away, and I’d truly appreciate it if you would take it. You don’t even have to read it. You can toss it, but just accept it, please.” He carefully reached inside his coat pocket and held out the letter for her to take. “Please.”

Her right hand instinctively stretched out, but just as her finger tips grazed the folded parchment, she recoiled as if she’d just been struck. She didn’t know whether or not to take the letter. There was no way it would go unread if she agreed to take it. Of that much she was sure. At some point or another, she’d open it up and give it a read. Her curiosity would get the best of her, and whether or not that’d be a good thing, she wasn’t sure. She could avoid the temptation altogether, but then she’d be left wondering what he’d written.

“I’ll take it,” she whispered softly, her voice barely making any sound.

“Pardon?” he asked, not having caught what she’d said.

“I’ll keep the letter.” Paulina said in a firmer voice, her hand yet again reaching out for the parchment in Alistair’s hand.

“Thank you.” Alistair bowed his head. “Farewell Miss Balcázar.”

“Goodbye Alistair.” She watched as he turned to leave, and just as he began to walk away, she shouted, “Wait!”

“Yes, Miss?” He stared at her with hope filled eyes.

“Take care of him. Will you?”

Alistair nodded, but said no words. Instead he walked away, leaving Paulina to watch as his figure faded from view. There was a part of her that wanted to accept the flowers and just have things go back to normal between her and Harry, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Her pride had almost stopped her from accepting the letter. It argued that he didn’t deserve to think that she’d given that letter the time of day to be read, but her heart . . . oh her heart had demanded it be taken and read. And as soon as she closed the door, she ran off to the bathroom to read it in privacy.

Her eyes twinkled in delight when she saw the wax seal on the parchment. He’d taken the time to write a proper letter, like in the days of old, even the paper on which he’d written seemed as if it were from another era. The mere look of it had her stomach in knots, and it was with that sensation that broke the seal. She’d expected to find several sheets of paper written on, but there was hardly a page. And to be honest, the words were not what caught her attention. Her eyes immediately darted to the small pouch that had fallen onto the floor when she opened the letter. As she picked it up off the ground she wondered what could be inside. All she had to do was untie the bit of string that kept it together, but her mind forced her to remember the letter. She couldn’t see what was in the bag without having read the note first.

My Dearest Paulina,

Though I am well aware I have no right to ask anything of you, I must implore that you give me leave to apologize for my reprehensible behavior. I was an absolute cad to you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I regret having accused you of being with another, I regret having disrespected you, I regret not having called you and most of all, I regret having been the cause of such anger. I’ve not been able to forget the glare you threw me. It has been engrained in my memory and I fear that it shall haunt me, even though that is precisely what I deserve for having been such an ass. If I could go back in time, I gladly would. I would make it so that I could properly show you how much you mean to me. I would make it so that there was never any doubt in your heart of my attachment to you. I adore you, Paulina. And it pains to know that I am to blame for all this. It pains me to know that if I had only comported differently, we could have still been together.

I hope that one day, you will forgive me and allow me to demonstrate my worthiness, but until that day, I shall mourn the loss of what was and what could’ve been. I also hope that you will be so kind as to accept the enclosed token as a sign of my most sincere attachment.

Yours Ever Faithfully,

Henry

She had to read it a second time to make sure she hadn’t imagined that beautiful language. Her eyes welled with tears as she read over each sentence. Harry didn’t speak like that. Harry mocked people that spoke like that. He said they were idiots and didn’t have a spine, but there was his writing, there was the language that was better suited for a Jane Austen novel. That asshole might not have sent the right flowers, but he sent the right words.

A few minutes passed before she was composed enough to open the little pouch. Her hands trembled nervously as she pulled the string aside, and reached in to retrieve its contents. Her eyes widened in shock when she pulled out the white diamond necklace. She felt herself go faint, and if it hadn’t been for her brother walking into the bathroom at that very moment, the necklace would’ve fallen onto the ground.

“These are diamonds . . .” he looked up at her, baffled by what his sister was doing with such a necklace. “Who’s sending you diamonds?”

She lost her voice.

He moved the necklace closer to his face. “It’s a locket.”

“Give it to me,” she croaked.

“What?”

“Give me my locket!” she ordered.

“Alright, alright, here,” he handed it to her.

It took several attempts before she was able to open it, but when she did, her breathing hitched. There was a lock of his ginger hair hidden within the locket, as well as a miniature portrait.

“What is it?” asked Luis.

With tear filled eyes she looked up at him. “It’s a lock of his hair. And a portrait . . . he put a portrait in. I can’t believe it.”

“Can I see?”

She handed it over without realizing that in the portrait, it was very easy to tell just who Harry was.

“This guy sort of looks like . . . fuck. It’s him. Isn’t it? I-it’s the Prince.”

She nodded.

“But you . . . I mean, he’s a . . . How’d that happen? How the fuck did that happen? You’re my sister. You’re not a – well you are a princess to us, but you know, you’re not one . . . not really. Fuck. I can’t believe you’re with a Prince.”

“I'm not with him.” She whispered, taking back the locket from Luis. She stared down at the portrait, her brow furrowing as she contemplated his features. “He sent me this because he wants to make me happy, and he is, but I'm not with him. I can’t be. Not just yet.”