Chapter Two: Marco

Marco

Prince Marco strolled across the floor of his hotel suite. It was a nice room, there was no doubt about it. It had the best amenities of any hotel in Memphis, at least that's what Valetta assured him. It was filled with big leather furniture, stainless steel kitchen appliances in the over-sized attached kitchen, and floor to ceiling windows alone the outside wall. It also included a hot tub in the bathroom and a massive balcony that overlooked downtown Memphis.

Despite its grandiose appearance, the place was significantly smaller than his own bedroom at his palace on Orsino Island. He didn’t mind, though. It made the trip feel more real. He didn't care if it was the biggest or the best because he was on his own. This was the last time his life would be his own and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

He unbuttoned his white dress shirt and slipped it off of his shoulders, tossing it onto the bed. It was still early in the day, but he already felt accomplished. He had just found the woman that would take care of him during his vacation in the States.

He shook his head and let out a sigh of relief. Valetta had almost insisted on canceling the trip when his original trip assistant had fallen ill, but Marco had managed to talk her out of it. He had assured her that an American girl could do the job.

He thanked his lucky stars that he'd found Sabrina. He had thought it would be easy at first, to find the perfect girl with all of the right qualities, the most important of them being that she couldn’t know who Marco was. But that was a quality that was harder to find than he had imagined, being that he was the Prince of Orsino Island. They'd interviewed what felt like hundreds of girls and he was about to cancel the trip, but, luckily he had found her.

Sabrina, what a beautiful name for a beautiful girl, he thought as he plopped down onto the bed and put his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling and let out a relaxed sigh. His new assistant, Sabrina, whom he had only quickly greeted after hiring her for the job, was still fresh on his mind.

He couldn’t shake the image of her sweet smile, her smooth and silky auburn hair, or the way her blue eyes lit up the room. He knew the moment he laid eyes on her from behind that two-way mirror that she was the perfect candidate. There was something innocent and magical about her, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, though, he liked it.

He found himself looking forward to traveling with her. Every one of her job referrals had raved about her and how wonderful and easy to work with she was. He always wondered how truthful people were when they were picked by the applicant, so before this interview, he had sent Valetta to her waitress job to ask the other waitresses when Sabrina wasn't working. The only negative thing said about her was that she was too eager to pick up extra hours and she made the other waitresses look bad because of it.

He checked his watch and did the mental math to figure out the time change. His father, King Carlo of Orsino, should be back from the doctor by now. He reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out his cell, punching in the digits to his father's personal line. His stomach twisted slightly as he waited.

“Hello?” King Carlo answered, his voice gruff and scratchy.

“Hello, Papa,” Marco replied happily, then changed the tone of his voice. “Father. How are you feeling?”

“I’m well, son,” he said. “Or at least, I feel well.”

“How did the doctor's appointment go?” Marco said. The tightness in his stomach spread to his chest. “Is it cancer?”

“They’ve run three kinds of tests so far, including an MRI and blood test,” the father told his son. He paused before delivering the bad news. “They’re certain that the tumor is cancerous.”

Marco sat down hard on the bed as his legs gave out. They had both known for several weeks that the diagnosis would likely be cancer, but Marco had stayed hopeful the entire time. It seemed he had been hopeful for no reason.

“What now?” Marco asked. He was glad his voice didn't falter. He would be strong for his father.

King Carlo let out a slow, difficult breath. “I have another doctor appointment soon to discuss the options.”

“Options?” Hope flickered in Marco's chest. Perhaps this cancer wasn't as bad as they had feared.

“Yes.” He coughed for a moment before continuing to answer. “There are a few different things they can try. From what I’ve learned, surgery is the first thing they like to attempt, but surgery is not always possible.”

“What do you mean it's not always possible?” Marco asked.

“It depends on the size of the tumor and its exact location, as to whether or not they can remove it surgically,” King Carlo explained patiently.

“What if they can’t?” Marco's voice almost cracked with the question.

“Then they’ll probably start talking about chemo and radiation. And even if I do qualify for the surgery, I may have to face those things anyway. Surgery often isn’t the only thing that needs done. It’s likely just the first step of a long journey of recovery.”

A ball of anxiety crept into Marco’s gut. His father had always been so strong and vital. He had always been a giant in Marco's eyes. There was nothing the king of a country couldn't do, couldn't conquer. He was Carlo the Great. The very idea that his own body was destroying him from the inside out terrified Marco.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Marco said. He wished he were a small child again so King Carlo could pick him up and spin him around to make him laugh. That used to make everything better.

“For what?” he said with a raspy chuckle. “You certainly didn’t give me cancer. I mean sure, you were a difficult teenager, but that isn't what did this to me.”

Marco managed a half smile, happy to see that his dad hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

“When do you see the doctor again?” Marco asked.

“They haven’t made an appointment yet.” His father sighed, sounding more tired than Marco remembered. “It will be soon, though. They tell me that the earlier they do the surgery, the better the prognosis.”

“I will come home, Papa,” Marco said. “I don’t need to stay in the States for this vacation. I should be there for you. I should speak to the doctors.”

“Nonsense,” King Carlo said. “I’m excited for you to get away from the island for a while. It’ll be good for you to do some traveling and have some fun before you take the crown. I don’t want you to worry about me or my meeting with the doctors to discuss surgery. I will be fine. You needn't worry.”

“I am worried, though. I can’t help it,” Marco said. “You are my father.”

“I appreciate the concern, my son,” he said gently. “But even if you came home, there’s nothing you can do. You are not a doctor, Marco. I don’t want this disease to end up a burden for both of us. Let’s not give the cancer that kind of power over our lives. You’ve been wanting to take this trip for a long time and there’s no way that I’m letting my illness effect your plans.”

“Are you sure?” Marco said. He stood from the bed and began to pace across the plush carpet. “I feel like I should be there, even if there’s nothing that I can do.”

“Marco, you’d be doing both of us a disservice for coming home early. You’d ruin your trip and I’d be angry at you for doing so,” King Carlo replied. “Just stay in the states and enjoy yourself.”

Marco sighed. He knew that there was nothing he could do, but he hated being an ocean away from his father during this. He knew being in the room with the doctors wouldn't change the outcome, but he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

“I know you are thinking of coming home,” Carlo said, as if reading Marco's mind. “If you do, I will be quite angry. You must go on this trip. That's a royal command, Marco.” For a moment, Marco felt the old strength that his father once had creep into his voice.

Marco sighed. His father only ever said that if he was serious. “I want you to know that I’m only a phone call away. If you need me back at the palace, I’ll drop everything and get on a plane immediately.”

“You are a good son,” Marco's father told him. Marco's chest swelled with pride at his father's compliment.

“Thank you, Father,” Marco said. He stopped pacing and instead gazed out the large window at the city below..