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And that’s when he did ask Boris to keep an eye on me (not spy on me. Just keep him informed).
Michael thought (because of what Boris reported back to him) that J.P. and I were madly in love. And I guess for a time, we might have looked that way. To an outsider (especially to Boris, who doesn’t understand actual live human beings, including—and perhaps especially—his girlfriend).
But still, Michael wouldn’t give up hope. That’s why he kept the necklace—just in case.
It wasn’t until Michael saw me at the Columbia event that day and I acted so shy that he says he began to dare to dream that maybe Boris was wrong.
But then when J.P. gave me the ring for my birthday, he knew drastic measures were called for. That’s why he’d left my party—to get busy making arrangements to send my dad the CardioArm (and also, as he put it, “Because I knew I had to leave before I wiped the floor with that guy’s face”).
It’s all just so romantic! I can’t wait to tell Tina.
Someday. Not now, though. For now, I’m keeping it a secret, just for Michael and me to share—at least for a little while.
He told me if I want, he’ll get me a diamond snowflake necklace as a replacement for the old silver one I have on now. But I said no way.
I love this one, just the way it is.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I don’t want to go into too much detail about what happened between us here in his loft last night, because it’s private—too private even for this journal. Because what if it were to fall into the wrong hands?
But I do
want to say something important, and that is this:
If Dad thinks I’m spending this summer in Genovia, he’s totally nuts.
Oh my God, DAD! I forgot to check and see how the election is going!
Sunday, May 7, 1:30 p.m., limo on the way to
Central Park
Okay, so Dad WON THE ELECTION!
Yeah, I’m still not sure how that happened. I accused Michael, on top of all the many other wonderful things he’s done for me lately, of rigging the Genovian voting machines.
But he swears that, although he is a computer genius, he is not capable of rigging voting machines in a small European country many thousands of miles from where he lives.
Besides, in Genovia they use Scantron.
It actually turned out Dad won by a significant majority. The problem was that they’re unaccustomed to voting there, so it took them a long time to count them all. Voter turnout was quite a bit higher than expected.
And then René couldn’t believe he didn’t win, and demanded a recount.
Poor René. It’s okay, though. Dad’s promised a place for him on the cabinet. Probably something to do with tourism. Which I think is very decent of Dad.
I found all this out from Dad on the phone. It wasn’t a transatlantic call, though. He was phoning from Grandmère’s. Dad’s back here for my graduation ceremony. Which is in half an hour.
It’s too bad he doesn’t fly commercially because he could really rack up the frequent flyer miles with all the time he’s put in, jetting between New York City and Genovia this past week. I’ve already spoken to him about his carbon footprint.
Anyway, everyone acted totally cool when I showed up at the loft wearing my prom clothes with Michael in tow. Like, nobody said anything to embarrass me, like, “Oh, hey, Mia, how was it at the all-night bowling alley?” or “Mia, didn’t you leave the house last night with a different guy?”
Mom seemed pretty pleased to see Michael, actually. She knows how much I’ve always loved him, and she can tell how happy Michael makes me, which, in turn, makes her happy.
And she never made it much of a secret that she couldn’t stand J.P. At least she doesn’t have to worry about Michael being a chameleon. He has an opinion about everything.
And he’s not shy about expressing it, either, especially when it’s opposite of my own, since that gets us arguing, which gets us…well, in the mood for kissing. That’s major histocompatibility complex for you.
