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On cue, Clara’s phone went off. It was a message from David.
David:‘The Boring Royal’ is now the latest center of gossip everywhere in the U.K. News has dropped here. Be prepared. I love you and will call you as soon as I can. I promise together we can weather any storm.
Clara:I love you so much. Thanks for the heads up. I’m at Amanda’s making sure nobody else knows where to find me just in case the media here is nutso.
“Turn up the TV!” Amanda yelled to Clara. “This is it.” Clara dropped her phone and reached for the remote with shaky hands.
“In pop culture news today, Buckingham Palace has issued a rare statement confirming one of the most eligible members of the British royal family is officially off the market. The announcement has stunned members of the British public to hear that an American could soon be a princess. No American has ever married into the royal family. That lucky lady is Southern California resident, Clara Little. Sources close to the royals say the two have been inseparable when spotted together. Tabloids first broke the story about a week ago. Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with some of Clara Little’s closest friends at the top of our next segment.”
Amanda pried the remote out of Clara’s hand and changed the channel.
“Clara Little is a member of the LA Ballet Theater where she first joined as a member of the Corps de Ballet. She has a tragic past where…”
Clara felt the color drain from her face. Her life was now out on public display. Amanda gently took Clara’s hand and guided to the red, squishy plush bean bag chair in the corner of the room. A carton of rocky road ice cream and spoon were foisted into her hands.
“Eat. You need sugar now. Then we can go online, print out all the best photos of you and David, and pin them to my vision board with Prince Edward. Did you ever mention I wanted to meet him? Oh, maybe we can go online and look at all the tacky articles and make fun of how ridiculous they can get.” Clara appreciated Amanda’s handling of the situation. This was exactly what she needed at a moment like this.
“Thanks, Amanda. What would I do without you?”
“Easy?… suffer. Now. Ice cream, coffee, and then we can get out of here and go to the beach. I think we’ll be safe at Huntington Beach if you wear a sunhat. When your hair is up, you can pass for a kid. I know David asked us to stay in, but on a day like today, you need out. Unless you’re interested in some retail therapy,” Amanda hopefully added.
Clara laughed. “No, thank you. The beach sounds great. I missed it when we were away.”
At times like these, I know who my real friends are.She was so thankful she had a good support team in place. She hoped her roomies would be alright. She hoped David wasn’t deprecating himself right then.
Over the next few days, Clara’s company headshot photo and other photos from her past sprung up in various magazines, newspapers, and all over the internet. Paparazzi popped up in front of her apartment with large cameras and powerful lenses, trying to get an exclusive photo from her usually mundane daily life. How had they found her in the first place? Her small complex was in the city of Costa Mesa not far from the John Wayne Orange County airport. The parking lot, usually reserved for residents, was blocked by motorcycles, cars,and now various media outlet vans.
A quick phone call to the police took care of clearing the parking lot but could do nothing to stop the waiting press from asking her questions, yelling her name out, and snapping photos left and right as she rushed from her front door to her small mini Cooper, returning from a quick trip to the grocery store. Clara was thankful her cast was due to come off any day now. She was tired at having to rely on others for rides. One of her roommates assisted her as they quickly carried her purchases inside as she followed, crutching behind them. Her roommates and fellow dancers had been nothing but understanding and had taken to saying “no comment” to anyone that asked about her.
It was difficult to have people Clara hadn’t spoken to in years coming out of the woods, wanting to get a piece of Clara. Clara attempted to put on a brave face and take whatever punches were thrown her way in stride. Emotionally, it was draining to hear the constant rumors about her and to not have the ability to go about unnoticed. As much as Amanda urged Clara to share her feelings with David, Clara held her ground and refused point blank to make him worry more than he already was.
Nightly video chats became a tradition between the two.
“Clara, are you doing alright?” David asked. Clara had her computer set up in her small apartment’s kitchen. It had the best lighting and was one of the few places she would be able to get a decent Wi-Fi signal. She prepared dinner for herself in a messy bun and one of her tank tops and leggings. Clara watched her soup warm up as she rolled her eyes at David.
“You ask me this every night. I’m fine. Remember, one of the reasons you love me is because I’m a big, tough girl.” Clara attempted and failed to hide her feelings from David.
“Clar-Bear, I’ve been doing this my entire life. It’s stressful times one million. Remember, there are no secrets between us.” David took his tablet and moved from lying down on his bed to sitting upright. Clara couldn’t imagine David looking cuter than when he was so casually dressed in his glasses, white t-shirt, and basketball shorts.He’s right. He knows better than anyone exactly what I’m going through. I have to release my emotions now before I’m all out of control.
Clara turned off her stove and pulled the saucepan off the burner, pouring its contents into a bowl. She set it to the side, looking into David’s icy blue eyes. Clara finally admitted, “I don’t know if I can handle the press digging up my past. I can handle them following me, but revealing to the world that my biological parents put me up for adoption and then going so far as to find my biological parents, is a new low.Istill don’t know who they are. It’s a part of my past I promised myself I would never look into.”
“Clar-Bear, I’ll do anything in my power on this end I can to put a stop to it. Thank you for trusting me. I don’t have any words to soothe you other than to say I love you.” David moved into the camera and offered a soft kiss. The result was a horrid smudge on the screen David tried and failed to clean off. He groaned. The more he tried to make it better, the worse it became.
They chatted a little while longer and wished each other goodnight. For Clara, it was just about time for bed. David was about ready to begin his day. With it being 9:00 p.m. in L.A., it was 5:00 a.m. there.He launches Whaleeds today. I should’ve wished him luck.
The dayof reckoning had arrived. Clara was anxious to see how her foot was doing after four weeks in a hard cast. She hoped she could start some ballet basics again. She’d been much more patient than normal.Clara sat inside the physical therapy room waiting to hear what the medical team would clear her for.
“Clara, welcome back. We’ve missed you at LABT, but I’ve heard glowing reviews about your performance in London,” the LA Ballet Theater’s head therapist exclaimed. “Dr. Brown reviewed the X-rays and MRI scan sent over by your doc in the U.K. He’ll swing by in a few minutes to look at the foot in person. Let’s get this nasty, old cast off. If it looks good, we’ll get you in a boot two weeks early.”
“I’m so ready to be able to shave my legs again and to take a shower,” Clara joked.
The physical therapist took her cast-cutting tool and, in less than a minute, cut her way through the fiberglass. Clara immediately felt her load lighten. Normalcy was returning. For the first time in weeks, she wouldn’t need to use crutches. The shock set in at seeing how much her leg had atrophied. It would take her weeks to build up her calf muscles again.
“Clara! Good to see you. How does the foot feel? I’m sure it’s disappointing to see your muscles so weak, but I assure you it is perfectly normal.” Dr. Brown, the company doctor, made his way into the room to check in on Clara’s foot. “The scans looked pretty clear. Any persistent pain?” Dr. Brown palpated a few points on her foot.
“It feels a little tender on the Achilles and on the big toe, but no pain where the fracture was,” Clara stated.
“Good. I’ll keep an eye on the Achilles but move you into a walking boot. You are cleared for slow, basic exercises. It’s going to take time to regain strength. You must listen to your body so there are no setbacks. You will need the boot for another two to three weeks.”
