He slapped it in my palm, but I shoved it in my pocket, deciding to deal with my dad later.
To be mean, but also because it needed to be discussed, I said, “I guess Claudius marrying your mom means you’re not going to be king for a while.”
“That’s not true. My mom said she would reign for now, but then after I graduated… Son of a—!” He leaped up and kicked the door.
There was a knock. “Everything okay in there?” a guard called out. Hamlet answered quickly, knowing that if he didn’t, they’d break down the door to be sure all was well.
Hamlet paced around muttering. “That jerk stole everything! I can’t believe my mother would promise me… unless she wanted Claudius to be king all along. Wait. No. She’s not like that. And she never lies.”
“Everyone lies, Hamlet.”
“Do you?”
I paused. “Not to you.”
He stood still, breathing hard. Then of all things, he asked, “Are you disappointed?”
“About?”
“Not being queen. If we, you know, stay together.”
“I don’t think about that,” I said, twisting my hair between my fingertips.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, I think about the glamorous part sometimes. The parties. Owning all that art. But seriously, you could walk away from Elsinore tomorrow with nothing—no title, no money—and I’d be happy as long as we were together.”
He curled his lips from a smile to a frown and then in between. “Really?”
I nodded.
He sat on the bed, leaning back on the headboard. “And what would you do if we had nothing? Or if we weren’t together? What else do you want in your life?” he asked.
I shrugged and laid my head on his chest.
“Still undecided?”
“Pretty much,” I admitted. It sounded so ridiculous that I came up with something on the spot. “Although… I’ve been thinking lately about being a museum curator.”
“Cool.”
The idea did sound cool. Being surrounded by art all day. Picking pieces for a collection. Deciding where to place them. “Yeah. I was thinking even of handling the collection at the palace.”
He cocked his head. “Don’t you want to get away?”
I shrugged. I really never let my mind wander far. I couldn’t separate visions of my future from a future that involved Hamlet. And I couldn’t imagine leaving my dad. My brother had chosen to go far away from our home, my father, and the empty hole left behind by our mother’s absence. But, as crazy as my dad made me, I couldn’t picture leaving him alone. Even if I moved out, which I would someday, I wanted to be close enough to check in on him. It was important to me, but I didn’t want Hamlet to comment, so I removed myself from his embrace.
I stood and crossed to the window. Horatio was sitting on the curb talking to the second security guard. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, and I knew I had to head home. I reluctantly said, “Sooo, back to the wedding.”
Hamlet snapped his tongue.
“Your mother wants you to come up—”
“I’m not going. I would rather eat glass than be a part of that.”
“Isn’t that a little overdramatic?”
“No, Ophelia, it’s not. Why don’t you try being a little more dramatic? Or critical of the things you see happening around you?”
I put my hands on my hips and said, “I am critical. I’m just smart enough to keep it to myself.”
Hamlet chuckled.
My irritation drained away. “So what should I tell your mother?” I asked.
“Tell her to go to hell.”
I whistled and smiled. “Yeah. I’ll get right on it.” And with that, I hugged him good-bye.
Horatio ran up to me as I came out the front door. “So?” he asked.
“He’s all yours. I wouldn’t bring up Mommie Dearest if I were you.”
He laughed and blew me a kiss as I was escorted to my car.
* * *
I didn’t hear from either of them until late that night. I tried to paint, but it was impossible for me to focus and I was really relieved when Horatio finally called to tell me that Hamlet had passed out in his own room. Horatio had taken him to a bar, where they drank excessively. As they stumbled home, Hamlet swore it would be the last time he had a drink. Incredibly, he stuck to his word and stayed sober through all but one night of the sordid events that were yet to come. Maybe if he had been drunk through the rest, it could have all been excused or dismissed. But how Hamlet changed was all