Her Royal Highness, Leonor: The Years Later

Inevitable Walls, Growing

Seville, Spain

Phillipa


After the discussion in the director's office, Cecil and I has remained civil, only talking about the script and only the script—and nothing more. Josie still keeps a wary eye over us everytime we had to interact during rehearsals, and I usually just shrug her wary look over us and tried to remain professional. It seems that Lucas has bought over the patched up "understanding" and everything returned to somehow normal state, at least, that's what I'm grateful for.

The days passes over quickly, and I didn't realize it has been already two months since Leonor left Spain to go over her international visits. It was hard to catch her availability at times, it was morning when it was evening in Seville, there are times that she was able to call me but I was already fast asleep, and only the remainders of her presence was the notifications in my phone stating that I've missed a few calls from the Princess herself, ones I only read and can only mourn over when I wake up in the morning. I usually responds via messages, ones that at times takes too long to send, and she was able to reply hours later—and how rare it must be, she only replies again when I'm already down after yet another long day and already asleep.

I couldn't complain—I shouldn't complain. It was in every part of my senses to keep and maintain a thorough understanding of how busy Leonor would be, and how restricted her time would be when it comes to exchanging some time on the phone, given that she's out of the country—but as days turns to weeks and weeks turns into month, I can't help but feel the insatiable longing I have for those blue eyes.

Those blue eyes I remember as I once visited over the weekend the El Buen Retiro Park, where we had been the last time we were together—a place where Cecil's act has taken place. As I longingly stroll across the familiar path and watching the El Crystal Palace shines at twilight, I tried to relive the memory of the first time Leonor has laid her head down to my shoulders years ago. I could still hear the song that was playing during that moment—and above all, the warmth of the Princess' presence beside me.

And when I open my eyes, I hope, with a searing heart filled with undeniable longing—that Leonor was here beside me.

A few weeks passed. The theater office director has asked an update about my decision on going on the Europe tour as planned by the management, and even though it breaks my heart to leave my spot as a part time English teacher in the University of Andaluz—Mrs. Agaffeta has approved of my resignation the day after I've submitted the paper in her office. I could remember the way her eyes glisten with sadness and proudness—as she hands me back the signed resignation paper the next morning.

"Pues, mira, Phillipa, este es un adios, por supuesto." (TL: Well, look, Phillipa, this is not a goodbye, of course) Mrs. Agaffeta said as I reach for her hand in consolation. We smile at each other across the table. I sigh. In such almost a year I've stayed with the university, she had become a warm presence that always makes me feel appreciated within the role.

"Yo se que tu pasion de escribir va a venir entre su pasion de ensenar, y yo estoy lista a afrontarlo—pero me sorprendes que lo será un poco tiempo como así." (TL: I know that your passion for writing will come between your passion for teaching, and I'm ready to face it—but I'm surprised that it will be in such a short time like this.) Mrs. Agaffeta said, sighing.

"Tu eres un buen profesora a parte de los demás que he tenido en mis años que he quedado aquí, sin duda." (TL: You are one of the good professors I've had in years I've stayed here, without a doubt) She added. "I will be sad, but of course—I can't have you miss such an opportunity to write on tour, sounds like a dream." She said.

I nodded. "Y usted agradezco muchísimo por entenderme, Senora."
(TL: I thank you so much for understanding, Ma'am)

"Of course—no hay de que." Mrs. Agaffeta grips my hands tenderly in a gesture of affection. "But I will miss your Andalusian accent, for sure."