When William marries his Kate, Shauna is in the bathroom, holding the hair back from the face of a vomiting child. Her child. Her own shivering, weeping daughter, chubby and covered in sick.
Imagine this: on one side of the world, a man marries his beloved. He marries a woman so beautiful it’s as though the stories have been put into place just for her – a dark rose plucked to stardom from the side of the road. And on the other side – of the world, or the road – another woman kneels on her floor and feels a toddler’s fever rise slow beneath her hand. She is also dark-haired, also clad in white. The tile is cold beneath her knees. She’s missed the dress, the entrance, the vows. She can hear the faint sound of cheering through Chelsea’s retches into the bowl.
Her daughter has the flu. She’s had the flu for two days, and this means an unkempt house. It means days off work, less income, and exhaustion that burns inside of Shauna like some kind of brittle star. Her own hair is lank and her nightdress needs changing. This is her life now. This is what she’s become.
The cheering must mean that Will and Kate have left the church. She sneaks one quick glance out into the bedroom to see – yes, there they are, climbing into the carriage. The dress is white lace, and there’s a veil. They are both so lovely that it hurts to look at the TV. She turns back to her daughter, and wipes another strand of hair out of her eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” she says. “It’ll be okay.” She hears the front door open and close.
A moment later, Jake pops his head in the room.
“I thought you’d be in there,” he says, jerking his head back to the TV. “How long has she been up?”
“Since five.”
“Still sick?”
She sighs. “Yep.”
“What about the antibiotics from the doctor?”
“I thought they were helping. Now I don’t know.”
“I’ll sit with her,” he says. He bends down and joins her on the tile. “You wanted to watch the wedding.”
“It’s over,” and suddenly there are tears in her eyes. “I didn’t even get to see how it ended.”
“It’s a wedding!” Jake leans forward and kisses her cheek. “It ends happily ever after. They always do.”
This makes her laugh. But she passes the sleeping child over to him anyway, and pushes to her feet. He stretches out against the wall and winks at her. He hasn’t taken off his work shoes, and there’s a thin film of mud tracking in through the door. He smells of gas and oil.
“They’ll have it on again,” he says. “Don’t worry. It’s the biggest news in the world today.”
So she goes back into the bedroom, and eventually there they are, this new prince and princess, on the balcony of the palace. They smile. They wave. The world, it seems, is cheering.
On this side of the world, the house is quiet. Shauna looks back into the bathroom and watches Jake stroke Chelsea’s brow. He hums. He is blonde, like the prince. The bathroom light is kind to his crooked nose. He has given his green eyes to the baby.
More cheers. Will and Kate are kissing. Then they go back inside. The scene flashes back to William, in the church. He can’t keep the smile from his face. They are standing at the front of Westminster Abbey, in front of the entire world. A world that might even hold long nights of the flu for them, and stolen moments on cold bathroom tile. And so many weeping, chubby children that are terrifying in their beauty.
You look beautiful, he says. You look beautiful.
