Princess Disaster

Chapter 5

It's been about a week that I've spent in the Castle of Tartaria. While I've been thinking through all of its thought mazes trying to figure out how the hell I ended up making it into the lap of luxury while also never having been told anything about my former past. With a mother who was completely absent all the while as I was educated through my princess lessons and a bunch of relatives who were also not taking my calls. Including friends who thought I had fallen off the deep end of the world.

Well, screw it. If I had missed another rent payment, or a hospital bill, I would have been in the jails by now. Here I was, given my own country, and I had no idea what to do with it.

The first ball had arrived. After having been prepped on basics of the customs of manners and social interactions - for example, a lady never comes out and introduces herself to anyone. She is not the one to initiate conversation but listens with intent and empathy. A Royal, in addition, is one who is the passive receptacle upon which these wishes of morality, purity, and goodness are made. She / He is the one upon which wishes are made: A kind of aspiration among the lower class of being lauded and rewarded by society, a reason for social order, and a kind of ideal upon which to aspire to.

Perhaps it's my nature to say the wrong thing however, because I found myself going into detail about a lot of things that people probably shouldn't have known about me. Especially when their suspicions were growing about my identity as the new Princess Apparent. Queen Cleodora was not ready to make rhetorical announcement, but there would come a time when she would announce it for everyone. This was supposed to be my practice.

"She literally projected her anxieties on me about having anxiety," I said, half tipsy and in between bites of shrimp. "She told me that I was not using my coping mechanisms to deal with my anxiety and that I needed to get it together or leave. It doesn't help however that the teaching profession is highly political. I mean, think about it. I was a failed reporter and a failed teacher. Now I was failing as an associate in a paint studio."

"She's going to fail running her own country," said a voice of a noble behind me, listening into my conversation. "I mean, the girl can't stop eating and she can't stop saying the wrong things."

In another group, I found myself talking among a group of noble women who were all single like me, drinking my second glass of wine and feeling like a meditating Buddhist monk. I was knee-deep into another one of my rants.

"These men!" I moan. "These men don't want anything but an idea of a woman, not the reality. We pretend that we don't care and we act like we are mysterious. For what? For what I ask you! These men will leave us when our emotions come out and then we will be wondering why we weren't 'good enough.'"

The girls agreed at this, but again I heard another side comment, this time a male that was listening in.

"With a mouth like that and those curves, it's no wonder that she's scaring off any man in a 10 mile radius."

Finally, exhausted, I sit down at the end of the night feeling as if I've possibly made enemies of the entire court.

Alexei, who had miraculously been let into the party, sat down next to me. His brown hair tousled, his dark olive skin, and his bright green eyes made him look really attractive. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's the advertisement of an olive oil container.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I feel like I got hit by a bus."

"It can't be that bad," he says, patting my leg. Goodness. Must be quite unbecoming for someone who has only ever been the help of the people in the palace. Does he want the crown?

"No. I'm telling you!" I exclaim. "I am on my third glass of wine. Or is it the fourth? I cannot remember."

"Have you always had an alcohol problem?" he asks, eyeing me as I take a bite of my lamb kabob.