My conversation with Princess Hasmin had taken the better part of me, to the extent that I forgot everything I had in mind and all my anxiety. We spoke of the artistic things in this house, of the party, and how somehow it was draining her energy. She actually ended up telling me that during that day when we met, she was just looking for a way to pass time with me; it was always something she did when bored in apartheid, and no gentleman in the royalties bachelor courtsip programs interested her. She added that she came to know my name from Amir. He had told her the whole story—that I was his teenage friend while pursuing his education overseas. We quite spoke a lot when I remembered my conversation with Amir.
"When do you tend to marry?" I asked, inasmuch as I knew I did not make that statement as well as was expected of me.
"To marry?" She asked, looking at me with weird eyes, and I knew, yeah,
"To get married, I mean to accept a lad's hand in marriage." She still looked at me with some eyes when I stated this, and I quite did not understand why it was taking her some time to answer.
"Do you really... do you understand anything?" She asked, and I shook my head, for I guess there was something important she wanted to tell me.
"Women don't have a say about the man they will be married to." And that somehow killed my spirits. Of course, why would I ask such a stupid question? Here, it was different. The father of the house decided whom he wanted to give his daughter to. Ladies and girls were married off as young as the age of nine, and others seemed to be betrothed to a husband right from birth. All societies have never had justice for ladies; it is never a just world. Sometimes we men are just creatures who care less about the welfare of our counterpacts; the Bible states they are our ribs, but our actions never dictate that. I would kill my father if he married off my sister to someone who was far away from her consent. She needs love, but is there really love?
"Apologies princess,… I…"
As I tried to continue, she hushed me gently. "It's never a choice. You have nothing to apologize for. Soon, I shall be married off; I am just savoring the happiness of the moment before I face the fate that befalls so many other girls." I could hear the pain in her words, the pain of feeling that being born into her position was more of a curse than a blessing. It made me wonder if that's what my sister felt, that she was a burden because she couldn't attend school like her brothers, couldn't go outside without protecting her skin, all to conform to the ideal of blemish-free and submissive femininity that society expected. I knew I would never truly understand the challenges of being a woman unless I had a daughter of my own. My daughter would be educated and well-informed about men and life, and if men felt threatened by her, it would be their loss.
I had no response for the princess, as our conversation was interrupted by laughter at the entrance. We both looked up to see who was entering.
"You are not quitting…." Princess Diana's statement cut off when she saw me, and as if time were frozen, we stared at each other, as if we alone were in the house. Yes, it was the princess of England and her brother, and they seemed to be happy, walking through all the doors of this hotel. I removed my eyes from her and quickly looked back to Princess Hasmine, who seemed to have been caught in the moment, for she was staring at me like a married man caught cheating on his girlfriend.
"Should we leave?" I asked in the lowest of voices, and my mind knew the princess of England was still observing me. I feel she was contemplating, or maybe wondering if I was really the one or if she had confused herself, when, as we were about to leave, they approached.
"Hello, I am Prince Harry," Princess Diana's brother stated confidently as he extended his hand, which I accepted. I sensed he might not quite remember me; perhaps I had faded from his memory.
"Meet my sister, Princess Diana, from England. Greetings from the King of England; we're thoroughly enjoying our stay here," he added. In England, when a princess was introduced to you, it was customary to kiss her hand if you were an eligible bachelor, or if you were simply a bachelor, it was a sign of respect. I found myself unsure of what to do in this unfamiliar situation, so I nodded and offered a slight bow. Princess Diana remained silent, her eyes radiating, and it seemed that she, too, was taken aback by my presence, or perhaps it was just my imagination.
"I am Lock, and this is our beautiful princess, Princess Hasmin," I stated, attempting to alter my voice as much as possible in an effort to confuse Princess Diana. I hoped my English accent wouldn't give me away, but I couldn't help but wonder if she recognized me by my facial expressions after everything we had been through.
"Nice to meet you, Princess Hasmin; you look absolutely radiant," the prince remarked as he gently took Princess Hasmin's hand and gave it a small kiss. "May I steal the princess from you?" he added, adhering to the English tradition where princes often attempted to woo a lady away from a gentleman. Before I had the chance to respond, they both left, leaving me alone with someone I never expected to meet again, someone whose presence somehow resonated deeply within my mind, defying my expectations for the day.
"Hello, Lock," she greeted me with the same angelic voice. "Are you to be a prince?" she inquired, clearly trying to maintain the conversation. I simply nodded.
"Willock," I said, averting my eyes from hers as tears unexpectedly welled up. I already felt vulnerable and weak in her presence; she had a way of making me open up. Despite my desire to assert my masculinity in her company, I found it nearly impossible.
"I know," she stated, causing me to look at her with hope, and a small smile crept across my face.
"How?" I asked, suddenly captivated by her beautiful eyes, which had the power to ensnare any man. She hadn't changed much, but she radiated an unparalleled perfection.
"Your eyes, your hands, your height—how am I to forget?"
"You were to be betrothed." I stated.
"You ran." She stated
"They wanted me dead."
"Did you love? Did you feel anything? Was it all a maze, a time, a time in memory?"
"I did love, I did... I did princess."
"What stopped, what stopped you, you knew, you knew."
"I knew nothing; I did not know; I do not even know what you are in speech about, but whatever my sayings that day, everything, I meant. I may have shown little to no wants, but I was a confused lad; my label, my,... this is who I am now."
"Are you happy?" She asked. No one had ever asked about me in a long time. Happiness was never something I ever really thought of, but with her, I always was, and with family, I was, but since then, the word has become nothing but an English word.
"Does one really get to be happy? Well, are you?" I asked, and I hoped she would say maybe no, something like when you left, I was in despair, I did not eat and drink for a whole week, and I left all my suitors waiting, thinking for none but you, waiting for none but you.
"Am happy." She stated.
"I used to think of you a lot." I started, and she shook her head.
"Don't start. Is she now betrothed to you?" She asked.
"Princess Hasmine?"
"Yes, I see the way she looks at you, and the way you do to her, you have a liking." Princess Diana sometimes knew how to observe the room, but the question was, What was my looking at her, or maybe it was the pity I suddenly felt for her?
"I am not in a position to have a liking." I stated.
"Does position really matter when it comes to matters of the heart?"
"Do you want a drink?" I asked, attempting to change the topic, well aware that she knew I was trying to divert the conversation. I wasn't prepared to delve into such a subject, but her presence had an inexplicable effect on my heart. I secretly hoped for some music to start playing, so I could perhaps dance with her. Amir, the King, and all the others were around, but I wanted to savor this moment, recognizing that it might be my last happy one.
"I never thought I'd see you again," I said, my words filled with hope, as I was always honest with her.