Princess & the Player

twenty-two: everybody hurts, sometimes

Maggie's POV:

I waited until we were almost back to Albany to tell my grandmother what was going on. 

Maybe out of consideration for me, she drove almost normally and we made good time. When we got back to her fairy tale house, I went straight up to my dad's old room and took a quick shower to rinse off the sand. Then I put on my old sweats and t-shirt. 

As I was padding back down the stairs when I heard Mary Margaret talking to Linda and Julie. 

"She can't take on those children," my grandmother was saying. "She's just a child, herself."

"Well you can't, either, Mom! None of us can!"

"Someone may have to step in."

"Then let them, but not us. That woman has blackmailed you for money for 18 years," Linda argued. 

"It's suspicious, is all, this sob story. What if it's a scam to get money out of you, too?" Julie added. 

"And that boyfriend! Who knows what his deal is?" 

"That boyfriend is the son of a respected Yale professor," my grandmother answered sternly.

 As though who your parents were was evidence? Then what did that make me? Wait. YALE? Isn't that famous???

"Explain this girl's 'instant emergency', Mom," Linda;s strident voice cut into my thoughts. 

"I know the timing seems suspicious," I heard her sigh. "But if it is authentic, dears, then we have a responsibility to help the child. She's Peter's daughter, after all."

"I'm just saying wait. Throwing money at her just enables a bad situation. If this woman is a violent alcoholic then family services should step in. That's the point; they are the professionals and if we're really concerned then we should tell them everything we know about how that woman raises her children and let them find suitable placements."

"Right! Mom, you know Maggie is in no position to be a parent. We should get her away from all that. I know you said she graduated high school but what about a boarding school as a gap year? Boost her transcripts? There are so many options and she could pick wherever she wanted to make a fresh start. Peter would have wanted that."

I quietly padded back up the stairs and back into my dad's old bedroom. I sat on the bed and tried really, really hard not to scream in frustration. 

I cried, instead.

I was so sick of crying.

It took a good 20 minutes to get myself under control. Then I began to plan. 

Marco's POV:

My dad grilled the seafood and served it with paella. It reminded me of Maggie - she'd had no idea she'd been basically making paella for years. She just had tried to replicate a dish Jacob once loved at a restaurant. 

Listening to Maggie talk about building recipes out of stuff she could get from Aldi's and dollar stores and on sale at markets had been like hearing an adventure story. I could imagine Chris Pratt, sneaking along the aisle, hunting bargain saffron...

"What's THAT expression?" Mom asked. 

"I don't have an expression," I denied, reaching for another helping.

"Like when he saw the Guggenheim for the first time," Papi teased. "Hay más? That's all you would ask, for months."

"We ended up taking that trip to Pennsylvania for that house...what was the name? Linnea got poison ivy."