“How could you?” he asked as he slammed his hands on the oversize pane.
I was on the verge of tears, but I forced out, “Right and wrong don’t matter in my position. I had to put on this stupid dress and walk her down the stupid aisle because she asked me to. You can get away with saying no to her, with not even showing up!” I caught my breath and went toward the railing, then leaned over it, wondering how far a fall it would be. Three grand flights of red-carpeted stairs swirling downward. It would work if one were inclined to do such a thing. I shook my head at Hamlet, sick of dramatic scenes like this, sickened by my own bad decision and by the knowledge that, if pressed, I would probably do it again. Gertrude was the queen of drama as well as Denmark, and I suddenly couldn’t wait until I was able to leave the castle and not be drawn into these moments so often.
Still pressed against the railing, I called out, “Your mom’s mad, but she’ll forgive you. She always does. She wanted you here, and you hurt her by not showing. Fine. You made your statement. Go in to her party or don’t. Horatio and I have to go back in because we’re expected to. You… I can’t imagine the next time she’ll ask anything of you.”
I started walking toward the ballroom when I heard Hamlet say, “She asked me to wear one of those dresses, too, but I was afraid it would make me look fat.”
I turned back, and Hamlet was smirking. All three of us began to laugh and came together in the middle of the lobby once again.
“I’m sorry I grabbed you,” he said, stroking my arm.
“Don’t do it again.” On the outside, I shrugged off his apology. Inside I was still a little shaken and hoped he really did feel bad.
We walked in as Claudius and Gertrude began their first dance. I knew the song from the first notes. It was one of my parents’ favorite songs, and my father used to sing it to my mother with some regularity. “What a difference a day makes,” crooned the lead singer, the white flower pinned behind her ear shimmering in the spotlight. “Twenty-four little hours.” Claudius dipped Gertrude to applause from the guests. Hamlet made a gagging motion, which cracked me up. “Would that have been twenty-four hours after her husband’s funeral?” Hamlet asked in a stage whisper. “That’s a picture, isn’t it?” he asked those around him.
Horatio, smiling slightly, put his hand over Hamlet’s mouth while some very serious woman in front of us shushed him. When she realized who had spoken, she turned back around red-faced. Her helmet of hair did not move, though her hands shook slightly.
The song played on, and the newlyweds danced, pretending not to hear the murmur from our direction. The next time the singer reached the chorus, “Twenty-four little hours,” Hamlet interrupted with, “Is there much difference between twenty-four hours and two months, when it comes to remarriage?”
He was loud enough that Gertrude faltered in her steps and Claudius made a move toward us, but Gertrude composed herself and pulled him back.
The dancing, I’m sure, was meant to continue, but when the song ended, Claudius took the stage. The singer grabbed her silver train in her hands and moved swiftly toward the drummer, making way for Claudius to use the microphone stand.
“My guests,” Claudius began, holding up a champagne glass.
Cameramen crowded in front of the festooned stage.
“For Hamlet, my brother’s death is still a fresh memory…”
I turned and saw Hamlet wince at his own name.
“… and I am aware that the kingdom is still in mourning. Because of this, I attempted to act with discretion, to push aside my feelings. Yet I couldn’t fight nature. It was in my heart to love this wonderful woman, and my heart won the fight. And so my sister-in-law has become my queen.”
“Bloody hell,” Hamlet muttered.
Claudius carried on with his formal, overly practiced speech. “It is with tempered happiness that Gertrude and I stand before you today. We have reluctantly felt joy in the midst of our mourning, and to this happy event, our wedding, we bring sadness. While we know not all have embraced our joy,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly and scanning the crowd as if to root out the traitors, “we thank those of you that have come here today to celebrate with