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We waste precious moments as he comforts me like he used to do when I was eight and had one of my famous fevers (they were super high and lasted for up to ten days at a time—I used to have them three or four times a year until I got seventeen, fun times).
Marco doesn’t rush me. He keeps the phone steady by my ear, and then, when he sees that I can’ draw breath for sobbing, he places a tentative hand on my shoulder. I lean into it slightly and he, as if it was the small sign he was waiting for, pulls me to him with such force, the phone is knocked out of his hand. He holds me to his chest so tightly I can’t breathe, I can’t cry, I can’t do anything but feel his arms like steel around me.
My panic subsides, and his hold relaxes a tiny bit. He picks up his phone.
“Livy,” dad says in my ear, “I am so sorry. You must think that I’m a horrible human being.”
“I don’t,” I reply, my voice thick with tears. “I love you, dad. I’m sorry I was mad.”
“You should be mad. I’m glad you were mad, baby,” dad says. “I made so many mistakes—” he can’t continue. He’s crying again.
“We’ll fix them together,” I say. I’m lying. I know I’m not getting out of this barn alive. “It will be ok, dad.”
“There is backup coming for you, Livy,” dad says. “Just hang tight, and they’ll be there any minute now. You’ll be safe, I vow it.”
I don’t tell him that they’re here already. I don’t tell him that they are dead. He’s there and I’m here and there is an entire ocean between us.
“Ok,” I tell him. “I’m ok, dad, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you alone, baby?” he asks.
“No,” I reply. “I’m with my bodyguard.” Marco shivers next to me as I say the word. “I’m with my bodyguard, Marco.”
“That’s good,” dad says, “I’m glad. Marco is a good guy, one of the best I’ve ever seen.” I shudder. Dad always interviews my bodyguards himself, he insists on vetting them personally, after they have been hired and approved by the palace team. Which means that he met Marco, and he… He thought he was a good guy. And my dad is never wrong about people. Never. “Tell Marco that I owe him a debt bigger than life. Give him my heartfelt thanks.” Marco can hear everything, of course; he shakes his head at this, his lips forming an ugly smile. “Liv, honey…” dad’s voice breaks. “I am asking for your forgiveness.”
Oh. So I’m not a good enough liar. Dad knows that this is the end, too.
“You’re forgiven,” I say quickly. Marco’s shirt is drenched with tears as my head lays on his chest. “You’re forgiven, dad. I forgave you the moment I heard about it. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“I know,” dad says. And then he says: “It’s Hector.”
“What?” I freeze.
I grab the phone from Marco’s hand, and he scoots away to give me some privacy. I don’t know if he heard that last part, because he had buried his head in his hands when dad said ‘my heartfelt thanks’.
“He is your brother,” dad says. “Hector, your guard. He is my son. I’m so sorry, Olivia.”
“What?”
I am all intelligent questions today. But really, what else is there to say, except, what?
What on earth?
Hector? My friend, my…? My Hector?
He is my brother?
“He’s known for a few years, no more than two,” dad explains hurriedly. “His mother is American, and she never told me he was born. He grew up over there, but he found out the truth last year, I think. When I learned who he was, he was already hired as your bodyguard. He apparently took that position on purpose, to be close to you. I can’t… I couldn’t let him be in such danger, I never would have approved him if I’d known, but he insisted on keeping his job. So I agreed to send him with you to Vermont for a few months, and then I was planning to fly him back here, to have him live with us. To continue his education, whatever he wants. His mother is no longer in the picture, I understand. I never thought… I never thought for a moment that the danger would be so great for both him and you. No one did…” He cries quietly. I have never heard or seen my dad cry like this, for so long. I didn’t think he could. “He wanted to be your bodyguard, since his parentage had to be kept a secret. There is one more person, who…”
“Who is it?” I ask quickly.
“I don’t know,” my dad says, and I don’t know if he’s lying or not, but right now I don’t really care all that much. Maybe he has his suspicions, but he’s not sure, so he really shouldn’t say, especially not now. I don’t want to waste any more time with him talking about this. “I love you,” he says again. “I’ll call you soon, ok?”
I tell him I love him too and hang up. Voices are yelling for him in the background, and I know I shouldn’t keep him; he needs to fight, to do everything he can to save me.
Marco and I just sit still in the silence for a few seconds.
I look down at the phone in my hand. Marco and I decided to not turn on the news in order to keep the battery going for a few more hours; besides, I’m in no mood to see all the media flooded with news of my own death. But now that the goodbyes have finally happened, I want to turn the phone off. I ask Marco and he nods. I do it.
