TWO
50 Ways to Hide a Rehab Stint
Arthur - 6 Weeks 1 Day
It’s not even eightin the morning, yet I’m already dressed in a suit, sipping coffee and trying to stay awake whilst our media consultant, Dylan, leads us through a “Vomitgate Brainstorming Session.” Tessa has agreed to skip the meeting, but only because as soon as she got up and tried to dress this morning, she ended up talking into the big white telephone.
So far, Tessa hasn’t missed anything I’d want her to hear. Dylan’s spent the last ten minutes reading out a thread of #vomitgate tweets, as well as giving a brief overview of what the newspapers had to say about last night (and let’s just say, none of it is particularly flattering to my wife). For a woman in her early forties, Dylan is a ball of energy who simply won’t stop talking. Ever. I’m pretty sure if we required a urine test, we’d find her so full of coke that her piss would come out as a white paste. It’s either that or she mainlines Red Bull before coming to work every day.
I wish I were still snuggled into bed with my nauseous wife (well, sort of; to be honest, it’s a little bit frightening to sleep with a woman who vomits repeatedly, uncontrollably, and without warning). I’ve taken to sleeping on the edge of our king-sized bed, on my side, just in case I need to make a run for it. It’s actually really uncomfortable, and my right shoulder aches by the time I get up in the morning for my daily workout (which I had to skip so I could be here). So, maybe it’s more accurate to say that I wish I were asleep on a bed in the same room as my wife, rather than in the same bed. I wonder if she’d go for that? Hmm...
“Prince Arthur? Your turn...” Dylan gives me an expectant smile.
“What’s that?”
“It’s mind-map time! Your turn.” She holds a bright green marker out to me and gestures with her head for me to stand up. I look at the whiteboard behind her and see phrases like ‘stomach bug,’ ‘food poisoning,’ and ‘possible overseas vacation to hide stint in rehab’ sprawled randomly around at various angles.
I stand and take the marker from her, then I pick up the eraser and start to work.
“Oh no, Your Highness, you can’t erase!” Dylan chirps. “We’re in the creativity phase. The evaluating phase comes later!”
I continue erasing, in spite of her chipper protests and explanations about how the process works. When the board is clean, I take the lid off the green marker and write two words, “Morning Sickness,” then hand the pen back to her with a little nod.
Dylan’s mouth hangs open. “She’s...she’s...”
“Yes, if all goes well, we’ll have a baby very early in the new year.” I look over at my father, who gets up and – what is he...? Huh, he’s hugging me.
Well, I wasn’t expecting this. I think the last time he initiated a show of affection was...well...maybe when I was a small child? I’d have to ask Gran if she can remember. I pat him on the back stiffly, feeling rather awkward, yet strangely close to him at the same time. When he pulls back, he gives me a hearty handshake.
“Well done, Arthur.”
“Thank you.”
It seems wildly inappropriate to be praised for ejaculating in the proper orifice, doesn’t it? And yet, I’m now being surrounded by the rest of our team, who are lining up to shake my hand. My senior assistant, Vincent, who saves my arse on a regular basis but also brings with him the pungent aroma of blue cheese everywhere he goes, is first in line.
“Congratulations, Prince Arthur. I’ll be at the ready for whatever you and Princess Tessa should require during this delicate time.”
“Thank you, Vincent. I know I can count on you.”
Next is my father’s new senior adviser, Phillip Crawford, the one who replaced Damien, A.K.A. Twitter.com/WeHateTessa. Phillip’s a surly sort, all business and formalities, but the news of a possible heir causes his lips to curve just a hint. The various other assistants to the assistants are next, smiling and expressing their excitement. Yes, yes, everyone, I had unprotected sex. By all means, pat me on the back.
Dylan slaps the table with one hand, causing everyone in the room to jump. “Love it. LOVE the baby angle. That plays incredibly well internationally. This baby is exactly what we needed to put Avonia on the map!”
“Avonia already is on the map, exactly where it’s been for over eight hundred years, in fact.” I take my seat again, and the others follow suit. “We’d like to keep things quiet for now. So, until further notice, this happy news stays within these walls. We can just issue a statement that the princess had some bad seafood at lunch yesterday but that she’s almost fully recovered from her sudden bout of nausea and will resume her regular activities shortly.”
Dylan shakes her head. “With all due respect, Your Highness, the people will be very upset if they find out we lied.”
“Which they won’t unless someone in this room tells them.” There’s an edge to my voice that I fully intend.
“They’ll do the math,” Dylan counters with a tight smile.
One of the assistants to Phillip pipes up. “Isn’t it possible that she could have been pregnant and had food poisoning at the same time?”
“Yes, thank you, er...”
“Randall.”
“Thank you, Randall. That’s our angle. So, if someone can draft up a quick statement, I’d like to go check on my wife.” And by check on my wife, I mean pass out for an hour because I am exhausted from being up in the night with her. I stand and nod to my father before turning to leave.
