Forever Princess

Michael: Mia…of course.

Mia: Okay, so first question: What inspired you to invent the CardioArm?

Michael: Well, I saw a need in the medical community and felt I had the technical knowledge to fill it. There’ve been other attempts in the past to create similar products, but mine is the first to incorporate advanced imaging technology. Which I can explain to you if you want, but I don’t think you’re going to have room for it in your article, if I remember how long the stories are in the Atom.

Mia (laughing): Uh, no, that’s okay—

Michael: And, of course, you.

Mia: What?

Michael: You asked what my inspiration was for inventing the CardioArm. Part of it was you. You remember, I told you before I left for Japan, I wanted to do something to show the world I was worthy of dating a princess. I know it sounds dumb now, but…that was a big part of it. Back then.

Mia: R-right. Back then.

Michael: You don’t have to put that in the article if it embarrasses you, though. I can’t imagine you’d want your boyfriend reading that.

Mia: J.P.? No…no, he’d be fine with that. Are you kidding? I mean, he knows about all that. We tell each other everything.

Michael: Right. So he knows you’re here with me?

Mia: Um. Of course! So where was I? Oh, right. What was it like to live in Japan for so long?

Michael: Great! Japan’s great. Highly recommend it.

Mia: Really? So are you planning on…Oh, wait, that question’s later…Sorry, my grandmother woke me up really early this morning and I’m all disorganized.

Michael: How is the Dowager Princess Clarisse?

Mia: Oh, not her. The other one. Mamaw. She’s in town for my birthday party.

Michael: Oh, right. I wanted to thank you for the invitations to your party.

Mia:…the invitations to my party?

Michael: Right. Mine arrived this morning. And my mom said hers and Dad’s and Lilly’s came last night. That was really nice of you, to let bygones be bygones with Lilly. I know she and Kenny are planning on going tomorrow night. My parents, too. I’m going to try to make it, as well.

Mia (under breath): Grandmère!

Michael: What was that?

Mia: Nothing. Okay…so what did you miss most about America while you were gone?

Michael: Uh…you?

Mia: Oh, ha ha. Be serious.

Michael: Sorry. Okay. My dog.

Mia: What did you like best about Japan?

Michael: Probably the people. I met a lot of really great people there. I’m going to miss some of them—the ones I haven’t brought over here with the rest of my team—a lot.

Mia: Oh. Really? I mean…so you’re moving permanently back to America now?

Michael: Yeah, I have a place here in Manhattan. Pavlov Surgical will have its corporate offices here, though the bulk of the manufacturing will be done out of Palo Alto in California.

Mia: Oh. So—

Michael: Can I ask you a question now?

Mia: Um…sure.

Michael: When am I going to get to read your senior project?

Mia: See, I knew you were going to ask me that—

Michael: So, if you knew, where is it?

Mia: I have to tell you something.

Michael: Uh-oh. I know that look.

Mia: Yeah. My project’s not about the history of Genovian olive oil presses, circa 1254–1650.

Michael: It’s not?

Mia: No. It’s actually a four-hundred-page medieval historical romance novel.

Michael: Sweet. Hand it over.

Mia: Seriously. Michael—you’re just being nice. You don’t have to read it.

Michael: Have to? If you don’t think I want to read it now, you’re high. Have you been smoking some of Clarisse’s Gitanes? Because I’m pretty sure I got high once on the secondhand smoke from those.

Mia: She had to quit smoking. Look, if I e-mail you a copy, will you just promise to not start reading it until I’ve left? Michael: What, now? You mean this minute? To my phone? I completely and totally swear.

Mia: Okay. Fine. Here it is.

Michael: Outstanding. Wait. Who’s Daphne Delacroix?

Mia: You said you wouldn’t read it!

Michael: Oh my God, you should see your face. It’s the same color red as my Converse.

Mia: Thanks for pointing that out. Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want you to have a copy anymore. Give me your phone, I’m deleting it.

Michael: What? No way. I’m reading this thing tonight. Hey—cut it out! Lars, help, she’s attacking me!

Lars: I’m only supposed to intervene if someone is attacking her, not if the princess is attacking someone else.

Mia: Give it to me!

Michael: No—

Waiter: Is there a problem here?

Michael: No.

Mia: No.

Lars: No. Please excuse them. Too much caffeine.

Mia: Sorry, Michael. I’ll pay for dry cleaning….

Michael: Don’t be stupid…are you still recording this?

End recording.

Sunday, April 30, 2:30 p.m., a bench in

Washington Square Park

Yeah, so, that didn’t work out so well.

And it got even worse when I was saying good-bye to Michael—after I’d tried, then failed, to wrestle his iPhone away from him so I could delete that copy of my book I’d so stupidly sent him—and we got up to leave, and I stuck out my hand to shake his hand good-bye, and he looked at it and said, “I think we can do a little better than that, can’t we?”

And held out his arms to give me a hug—an obviously friendly hug, I mean, it was nothing more than that.