Page 41 of Roaming Holiday

Mom was supposed to be here. She was meant to guide me through this decision.

“Maldanina,” Wesley blurts.

I jump, so lost in my own world that I forget he’s here. “What?”

“Before we gained independence from the Greeks, we were called Maldanina.”

“Why was it changed?”

He shrugs. “Wanted to create our own name I guess.”

Maldanina—Nina.

A wave of grief and love slams into me. I grip my mother’s stone hand tighter. Everywhere I look in this country, I discover more pieces of myself, of who I want to be. I have to try. I have to see if I can do it—and I can start by going to the introductory dinner.

In the morning, I’m woken by Maia jumping on top of me.

“Buenimara!” she sings.

I groan and cover my head with the pillow. My temples throb in pain as all memories of last night still burn my mind. Every agonizing moment of thinking Wesley was teasing me. If only I drank enough to forget.

“How are you not hungover?” I muffle into the pillow.

“I didn’t even drink that much. And you’re the lightweight, not me. What do you wanna do today?”

I pull the pillow away and stare at the golden-toned ceiling. “I saw a statue of Mom last night.”

She perks. “Really?”

“It was like… she was real.” I exhale. “I got to hold her hand.” I sound like I saw her ghost. It’s almost as if I had.

“Are you okay?” Maia asks, her voice suddenly soft.

I turn toward her. “She was supposed to be here. She would’ve—” I cut myself off. There are dozens of ways to finish that sentence. “Everything would be different… but I think we should go to that dinner Aunt Beverly told us about.”

“Really?” she repeats, lifting her brows. “The one to meet the Court? What makes you say that?”

“This was a big part of Mom’s world whether we like it or not. I think we owe it to her memory to try.”

She pulls her lips aside in consideration, but agrees, which makes Aunt Beverly ecstatic when we tell her. The dinner can’t be scheduled until next Friday because Helen, head of the human resources department, is recovering from an operation.

I stay in limbo with Dad over the week. It teeters on normal every so often—as normal as we can be while ignoring the elephant in the room.

I FaceTime Raven for hours one night and while I trust her wholeheartedly, I keep the princess news to myself. I hardly have a grasp on it—perhaps it’s best to tell her after the introductory dinner. Once I meet the Higher Court, I feel like I’ll have my answer.

I opt for minimal details about my family and highlight the culture here. Raven, like me, loves to learn about the different traditions around the world. The only difference is that her parents are rich and she’s actually seen the world, whereas I’ve just read about it.

I tell her that a lot of people know at least a little English, but largely act like they don’t. I suppose it’s from their love of tradition and culture. They want tourists to absorb as much of their culture as possible. According to Raven, plenty of Europeans want to practice their English with Americans, but it appears Maldanians don’t. They are strong, stubborn people with open hearts.

I like the thought of never leaving Maldana, yet I couldn’t ignore the ache from leaving my home. I don’t hate America; its founding principles of diversity and freedom are revolutionary. Except those haven’t been upheld, and I haven’t felt proud of my country in a long time. Maybe it’s a sign to share my pride.

I avoid everyone during these relatively empty days and create a self-care routine of morning yoga, journaling, and reading. I’ll then walk to the farmer’s market, inhaling the damp morning air and avoiding the already-roasting sun, and order a crepe or croissant.

Every so often, I’ll go with a slice of tora di pomke. Some street vendors sell rings they craft themselves, and one morning, I turn to the forever-silent Wesley behind me and ask for the credit card. He always hands it over without a word.

Given, the palace is paying for everything, but still.

My memories often drift back to that night—of his fingers trailing down my spine, leaving shivers in their wake. I’m more than fresh out of a relationship; I hadn’t been touched or held in that way even months before I broke up with James.

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