The Thrill Is Gone

“How are the applications going?” asked Harry as he lay sprawled across the bed. “Any luck?”

“Not really,” she spoke into her mobile. “I’ve finished putting in all the basic personal and academic info, but now there’s a bunch of short essay questions that I have to answer and I just . . . ugh, fucking hell, I'm not in the mood to do any of that. I'm still in vacation mode. All I wanna do is go back to the cottage or Botswana of Lesotho, and just relax. But instead I'm trying to come up with admission worthy responses that’ll blow away the people that review applications. And I'm failing miserably. At this rate, my personal statement is just gonna be something along the lines of, I'm a fucking Rhodes Scholar, if I was up to Rhodes standards, then you best know I exceed yours.” She massaged the bridge of her nose. “And the most annoying thing is that every university has their own set of questions they want answered. It’s like they purposely want to drive applicants away! Why can’t they just make one generic application for everyone? That would be so much easier, but no, they’re a bunch of elitist pricks that want people to stress out over applications and I . . . ugh, I'm rambling again. Sorry. Sorry. I know how boring this must sound. I'm driving myself crazy over this, but I just . . . I’d forgotten how fucking tedious applications are. You go two years without filling one out and when you try to get back in the swing of things, it’s just so exhausting.”

Harry knew better than to try to make light of the situation. He could hear it in her voice that she truly was exhausted of filling out applications, and if he were to make a joke out of it, make a wisecrack, then there’d be a very good chance that he’d get himself told off by her.

“Maybe ya should take a break from it,” he proposed. “You’ve been at it since we got back from Lesotho. I think you’ve earned the right to a drink, maybe a bike ride. On second thought, forget the biking. The press is outside and they’ll be a right pain. But a drink would be brilliant, maybe you could watch a program and have a drink and a snack.”

“That does sound like a good idea, but I really want to finish the short essay questions so I can print them and hand them over to Sir John to critique.”

“What do ya mean, critique? Isn’t that . . . not to sound rude or anything, but isn’t that a bit much?”

“It sounds a little absurd, but it’s actually really normal to have a professor or teacher proofread responses. I had two teachers from my high school check my applications before I sent them out. And then in college, one of my professors went over my Rhodes Trust answers with me. So I have to do my best to finish up the questions and then take them over to Sir John on Monday, since he said he’d help me out.”

“Why don’t you ask my uncle? I'm sure he’d love to. I can call him and ask if you –”

“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Sir John’s my go to for this sort of thing. He’s actually the one that interviewed me for the Rhodes trust so I feel like him and I are on the same wavelength in regards to academia and how to present myself in relation to that. I mean, your uncle’s great. He’s very accomplished, but he’ll try to change everything to suit his own taste, while Sir John sees the wider picture, and will help make my responses palatable to a larger audience. I hope that makes sense, because I’ve been staring at the computer for the last five hours so I don’t know if I'm making sense anymore or if I'm just spouting out bullshit.”

He couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “Ya make sense. Sound a bit mad, mind you, but you make sense.” He closed his eyes, imagining what she must’ve looked like that at that moment. He knew for a fact her hair would be a wild mess of curls, she’d be wearing a massively oversized shirt, probably one of the ones she’d stolen from her dad, and pants – hmm, well she preferred to go without them if she had the chance. “Where are you applying again?”

“I'm doing UCLA, USC, Stanford, and Harvard. Though, to be honest, I'm rooting for Harvard, since that’s where all the Kennedy boys went. Well, they didn’t actually go to the law school there, but they did go to Harvard College. And three of my favorite presidents have gone there, so I feel like it’d be a great fit, because I could say I walked the halls where Theodore Roosevelt, and FDR, and John F. Kennedy walked.”

“You are such a nerd,” teased Harry, laughing lightly as he did so.

“I can’t help it!” she chuckled. “They were all just so . . . so rad! Theodore was such a badass. Like one time, he was gonna give a speech and he got shot right before he even started, and instead of going to the hospital right away like anyone else would’ve done, he gave the entire speech, a ninety minute speech, and then after that he went to the hospital. How bad ass is that?”

“You’re shitting me, right? There’s no way a bloke would’ve been able to do that.”

“I'm not even kidding. That honestly happened to him. The other two weren’t as manly badass as him, but you know, in their own way, they were absolutely amazing. FDR and his New Deal programs were just great policy. And while JFK didn’t get to do everything he wanted, he did make some good policy choices and his legacy was really crucial to some legislation, because bills that would’ve otherwise been ignored were labeled as a way to honor his memory and then garnered the necessary votes to pass.” She started chuckling to herself, realize that she’d yet again let her rambling get to her. “There I am, rambling again.”

“S’alright, I think you’re adorable when ya go on your rambles.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, her cheeks bright pink.

“So . . . I see you’ve not applied to any universities in England.” He said, trying to seem nonchalant about it, but in truth, he truly did want her to go to law school at Oxford or Cambridge, anywhere in England, even up in Scotland so he’d be able to keep seeing her as frequently as he did.

“I thought about applying to Oxford,” she answered, honestly. “Your uncle said there were scholarships available for international students, and that I could get a work visa to do something other than tutoring for extra income, but I . . . I don’t know. I feel that my law degree has to come from an American university.”

“Why?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be the same thing? A law degree’s a law degree.”

“It would. I mean, as long as the degrees from Oxford or Cambridge or another really respectable school here it would count, but since I want to get into politics, I feel that if I did two universities over here, that someone might accuse me of being un-American.”

“Oh come off it, no one would do that. They’d have to be completely mental.”

“Have you not seen the Republicans and Tea Party idiots on Fox News? They just make up these ridiculous lies and Fox just keeps talking about them. Right now, they’re saying that Senator Obama’s from Kenya, even though he was born in Hawaii. It’s because of those assholes that I had to stop volunteering, because they were making my dating you into a –” she stopped before she could finish the statement, she hadn’t told Harry that she’d had to stop working at the embassy because of him, she’d told him the lie that the embassy had told the press.

“Wait. I thought . . . Paulina; you said that you stopped volunteering because they only wanted you there for a little while. That’s what you told me, I thought –”

“That was technically one of the reasons,” she lied quickly. “It was a combination of a few things, but it was mostly what I told you. You know, the whole them, wanting to give a lot of people the opportunity to work at the embassy, so yeah, that was it.”

“It wasn’t though. Was it?” he questioned, sitting up on his bed. “It was because of me.”

She let out a soft sigh. “It wasn’t because of you. Okay?”

“It was though, I know it.”

“Henry, amorsito, it was because of Fox News. They’re the reason. Not you.”

“What’d the news say?” this was the first time he was hearing her speak of that news channel in relationship to what happened in the embassy.

“They’ve accused Senator Obama of being an elitist because he thinks everyone should have the opportunity to go to college, and because he’s got support from a lot of people in Hollywood. And since I was volunteering on behalf of his campaign, and since I am your girlfriend, the people from Fox were trying to say that my being with you somehow made him into an even bigger elitist. And because the campaign didn’t want to have to deal with Fox making another scandal, I was told that my services would no longer be necessary, but that’s alright. I'm over it. So it’s a nonissue.”

“How’s that a nonissue though? You were denied something you deserved because of me. I swear I’ll have a word with those bastards and they’ll know to mess about with –”

“You’re not having a word with anyone,” she declared. “I think it’s sweet that you want to intercede on my behalf, I really do, but things worked out alright. Yes. I wasn’t allowed to keep working at the embassy, but what matters is that for a little while, I had that experience, and that I get to write that down on a resume, and that I impressed people and started building up my own work reputation in American government.”

“That’s not enough though. You could’ve done more had they given you the opportunity!” he protested.

“My simply being there was already opportunity enough.” And she really did mean that. “Senator Kennedy offered me that position and Senator Kennedy set me up with two highly accomplished lawyers to take on News of the World and their reporter. And according to the e-mail he sent me the other day, he’ll be glad to have his personal assistant write me a letter of recommendation, so I'm good. I honestly am.”

“I reckon you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Well, you can reckon whatever you want, but I'm telling the truth. And you know for a fact that if it was your fault, I would’ve been pissed off about it, and when I'm pissed off, you know that I don’t hold my tongue.”

“That is true,” he conceded.

She smiled victoriously. “So, mi güerito, how are you?”

“Doin’ alright,” he replied, “Just waiting for Wills to get here so we can go out for dinner. The wanker better not take long in getting here. We’re meant to have drinks with Tom later on, so I don’t want to be later for that.”

“I bet you don’t,” she smiled. “You and Tom are gonna go crazy out there.”

“Just a little bit,” he said.

Paulina laughed. “Yeah, right!” she exclaimed. “I’ve only been out with you and him once, but you guys got drunk off your asses. And if I remember correctly, he ended up taking off his shirt and dancing on a table, and then he threw the shirt around your neck and started dancing for you.”

“Hah. I’d forgotten about that!” Harry chuckled. “Bloody hell, he’s a laugh. Isn’t he? Doesn’t give a flying fuck about what anyone says, just goes out there to have fun. And he’s always one to clear people off if they start annoying me.”

“He is,” she agreed. “Near the end, when you went to the bathroom, there were some guys that were like whistling at me, and Tom set them straight.”

“I never heard about that.”

“Really?” she brushed some hair out of her face. “I thought he’d mentioned it.”

“He never brought it up.”

“Oh. Well I guess I just did,” she said. “But yeah, he’s a really fun person. And I know you two are gonna have a great time tonight.”

“And you better finish up your applications. October 5th is nearly here.”

“That’s not the actual deadline. That’s just my deadline.”

“Wait. What?”

“I put a deadline for myself,” she explained. “Since classes are going to be starting up, and I’ll be accompanying you to some events, I figured that I should have all my applications submitted before lectures started up again, that’s why I put down on my calendar that everything had to be done by the 5th.”

“So when’s the real deadline then?”

He was going to tease her when he heard the actual deadline. “February 1st,” she told him.

“February 1st?” he bellowed. “That’s . . . bloody hell! How can you be freaking out over it right now if that’s so far away?”

“Because the sooner you get the application in, the better,” she said very matter-of-factly. “And this way I won’t have to worry about getting my application done while I worry about finishing papers and studying for exams. I know it sounds a little crazy of me, but I just want to get this out of the way and sorted out.”

“I reckon that makes sense, but with the way you’ve been talking, I thought the deadline was literally in October.” He lay back down on the bed. “But since its not, and since there’s still nearly a week to your deadline. I reckon you ought to take the rest of the evening off.”

“That does sound like a good idea.”

“It is. There’s no point forcing yourself to write when you’re not in the mood. That might make you write rubbish.” Harry’s eyes flickered to the door when he heard William ask if he was ready to go. “Just a minute!” he shouted to William.

“Huh?” Paulina was confused as to why he’d randomly said that.

“Sorry, Wills just knocked at the door, and I was telling him to hold on a bit.” Harry explained. “Seems I’ve got to get going . . .”

“That’s fine. Have a great time, and try not to get into too much trouble. On second thought, just have a great time,” she smiled.

“See, that’s why I love you,” he teased. “I’ll get going now, but remember to rest. You’re not doing yourself any favors by forcing your mind to cooperate; you’ve finished half of the applications, now turn off that mind of yours and watch some films. Alright?” he stood from the bed. “And have yourself a meal, because I know you’ve not eaten. You’ve been too caught up with those applications, to remember to.” Harry knew her habits well enough. “Well, I’ll be going now. I love you and all that.”

“Love you too, bye.”

She hung up first, and then Harry tucked his mobile into his pant pocket and walked towards the door.

“About time ya showed up, Wills.” Harry greeted him when he opened the door. “Was honestly thinking you’d forgotten me,” he complained overdramatically.

“It’s difficult to forget someone when they’ve sent five texts saying, hurry up ya wanker.”

“Five? It wasn’t five. It was . . .” he grabbed his mobile and checked. “Fuck. It was five. Could’ve sworn it was less,” he mumbled. “No matter let me get my jacket and we’ll be on our way. Did ya remember to make the reservations?”

The color drained from William’s face. “Thought you were in charge of that,” he said.

“Don’t even try to pull that on me. I told your arse that you were in charge of dinner.” Harry slipped on his jacket. “Ya even said we’d go to that new Japanese restaurant that opened up. That you and Kate had just gone to.”

“Bullocks,” he cursed. “Wait.” He paused. “Why we even arguing about this? It’s us. We’ll just show up and get in.”

“That’s not right. We’ll put someone out of their table.”

William shot his brother a questioning look. “You’ve never cared about that before. In fact, you’re the one that’s made a habit of showing up without reservations.”

“Well, that was before I realized how rude I was being.”

“Ah. This has to do with dearest Paulina, doesn’t it?”

“Shut it, Wills.” Harry muttered.

“It does!” William laughed. “Look at you, acting like a proper gentleman now.”

“For your information, I’ve always been a proper bloody gentleman. I’ve just never felt the need to be that often.” Harry replied smugly. “Now come on, we’ll go somewhere else that’s less busy.”

“Steaks?” asked Wills.

Harry nodded. “Steaks sound brilliant. Are we taking your security or mine?”

“Both.”

“Both?”

“Well, yeah. You know I'm not one to stay out late drinking. So I’ll be turning in early, and then your security details can look after you while I'm gone.”

“Awe, come on Wills. Don’t be like that. It’s my birthday celebration. And I’ve just got back from Africa so you –”

“We’ve already celebrated your birthday at a club.” William reminded. “And I ended up getting scolded by Kate for throwing up in the backseat of the car.”

“Did you do that?” Harry’s features were brightened in amusement. “That’s rad! Brilliant, I mean brilliant.” The smile on William’s face made it clear that his brother intended to tease him on his word choice. “Know what? Never mind, ya don’t have to stay out late with us, you old sod. Let’s just go have some dinner. I’m starving.”

William followed Harry out to their awaiting vehicle, and when they situated themselves in their respective seats, decided to ask about his birthday retreat.

“How was your holiday?” he asked, casually.

A dreamy look swept across Harry’s face. “It was fantastic. Everything was just . . . not to sound like a ninny, but everything was perfect.” Harry didn’t wait for William to ask him why it was so perfect, he went right into it. “Our week in Botswana was amazing. Just being on that riverboat with her and lying out on the deck and laughing, and drinking, was brilliant. It was an escape. And then we didn’t end up just staying in Botswana, we actually went over to Lesotho. And, you better not laugh at me for this, but I fucking swear I fell more in love with her in Lesotho. Ya should’ve seen her with the kids. She was a natural with them, running around, playing soccer, going over lessons with them, and then we went to an orphanage, and she picked up this little girl and . . . fuck . . . I’ve lost it.”

“It’s brilliant to lose it though.” William spoke. “There’s nothing better than a person whom you can lose yourself in, that makes you feel like you’ve only just started living.”

“Does that mean ya don’t think I'm a ninny?”

“Oh, I think you’re a ninny.” William chuckled. “That’s s’alright though. I'm one as well, when it comes to Kate at least. So Botswana and Lesotho were brilliant. And I take it that means she loved the charity?”

Harry nodded in confirmation.

“Right,” William cleared his throat. “So how was Torquay?”

“Torquay was the best part of the entire trip.”

“Better than her in Lesotho?” asked William, skeptically.

“Loads better.” Harry smiled at the memories. “We stayed at a cottage, I'm sure you saw the pictures, we had paparazzi all over the place, but they didn’t even matter. She made everything so perfect that the cameras weren’t even a factor. She . . . well, let me show you, I’ve a few pictures on my own.”

“Don’t reckon I want a look at your phone,” declared William. “The last time ya showed me something, I saw a picture of you and Chels having a go.”

“I don’t have those pictures anymore.” Harry said. “Deleted them all awhile back,” he said, proudly.

“Well I’d hope so or else Paulina would’ve been right pissed. But I wasn’t afraid of seeing you and Chels, more afraid of you and Paulina.”

“Don’t be daft. I’ve no pictures of her, not like that at least.”

William cocked his brow.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t care for pictures like that. I would, but she says that photos like that always have a way of being leaked, and that she’s not about to risk public embarrassment just so I’ll have something to wank over when she’s not around. She says there are porn films to help with that, and even bought me a few.”

William couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

“What ya laughing about? I'm being serious over here.”

“I know you are,” William said in between his laughter. “It’s just . . . she’s hilarious.”

“She wasn’t trying to be funny when she said that.”

“That’s what makes it even funnier.” William composed himself. “So what about these photos?” he said. “Now that I know there won’t be anything graphic, I’d like to see them.”

Harry grabbed his mobile out from his pant pocket, and scrolled towards the gallery. He moved through the pictures from Lesotho, the ones from Botswana, and when he reached the beginning of the album for Torquay, he held the screen up in front of William.

“This is the garden area,” spoke Harry. “She decorated the entire thing, there were balloons and banners and these colorful lights that we turned on at night. It was brilliant, but the part, and I'm not even joking about, she got me a bounce house sent over to the cottage.”

“A bounce house?” repeated William, knowing his brother’s affinity for them.

Harry eagerly nodded his head. “I told her once that I always wanted a bounce house growing up, but that mum and dad never got me one for a birthday. Honestly, I didn’t think she’d remember that, I was half asleep when I said it, but she remembered and . . .” he let out a dreamy sigh, an even brighter smile forming at the memory. “. . . And she got it for me. Can you believe that? And then, while she was planning all that, she even made time to fix me up a piñata.”

“She made one? How do you even make one?”

“Don’t know. She said it’s not hard, but I reckon it is. Especially with how intricately she made it for me. Here, let me scroll a bit and I’ll show you. Ah. There it is.” Harry showed William a picture that Alistair had taken of him and Paulina holding the piñata before they broke it. “She even brought a baseball bat along so we could break it and get to the sweets.”

“My God, she really spoiled you this weekend.”

“Yeah, she did.” Harry grinned. “It was strange. You know? We’ve always had people running about doing their best to keep us pleased, but when they do it, I’ve always they’ve had an ulterior motive. They want to secure the connection, want to be seen with us, you know, stuff like that. But with her, I could see it in her eyes that she really just wanted to make me happy, and even if she hadn’t done all that, I would’ve been so bloody happy, but the fact that went out of her way to give me what I . . .” he got choked up, the emotion temporarily overwhelming him. “She’s brilliant,” he said, trying and failing to discreetly clear his throat. “She’s just brilliant.”

“She is,” agreed William. “And you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I reckon mum would’ve loved her.”

“Really?” asked Harry.

“Yeah,” smiled William. “I think her and mum would’ve got on well.”

Harry smiled at that. He knew his mum would’ve loved Paulina. Diana would’ve opened her heart to the young woman and made her feel welcomed, that was just the type of person she was. She would’ve had her reservations of course, all mums do, but after she really got to know Paulina, those reservations would’ve been done away with and it would’ve been brilliant. Bloody hell, he wished his mum would’ve been around to meet her, but it was just another one of those things that she wouldn’t be around for. That was alright, because Harry knew in his heart, that wherever his mum was, she approved of whom he’d chosen to give his heart.