Page 32 of Royal Pain

“Go into the kitchen and make something for yourself. We already ate. Mimi made some egg salad, it’s in the refrigerator,” my mother says pointedly.

Kwai looks like she just asked him to clean all twelve of the toilets. “What? I’m expected to feed myself?”

He says it with a straight face, but can’t hold it for long. When he bursts into laughter, we do too.

“Not even you can be that much of an asshole,” Tarik says, heading for the kitchen.

* * *

Sitting here with my father is a gift. Technically we’re in the formal garden, but it isn’t as advertised. It’s wild. Informal as hell. Late autumn is a good time to enjoy it when the scent of orchids and freesias mingle. I don’t remember it being so full-bodied or the fall flowers and trees looking better. The colors actually seem brighter.

Oh. My shoulders drop with the realization. Everythingisbrighter, more intense, because it’s putting on a final show. It’s telling me to remember how beautiful it was for us.

“What’s your favorite flower in the garden?” Father says while passing me a Rooibos iced tea.

This question isn’t unusual given his personality and deep connection with nature. I’m actually surprised he never asked me before.

“Let me think. Maybe the Queen Sugarbush. What about you?”

“I can’t choose. It’s like being asked to pick your favorite child. I could never do that.”

He reaches for my hand and I’m happy to oblige. It still dwarfs mine. I squeeze firmly, not wanting to let go. Now is the moment. I’ve got to tell him how I feel before it’s too late. He holds my gaze, and I see love.

“Papa. I want to thank you.”

“For what, ZaZa?” My childhood nickname strums my heartstrings.

“For saving my life. For giving a lost boy a family.” I shake my head in disbelief. “For loving me.”

He leans back and sighs. “It was your destiny and ours. You’ve been a good son, and Mozia is lucky to have your devotion.”

“It always will, Father.”

Turning his face to me, we lock eyes. “I need to talk to you, man to man,” he says.

“Yes.”

“I must make sure I’ve thought of everything.”

“What is it?”

“My dying is becoming boring. I think the king should be finished with it soon.”

The problem is I’m not sure how to respond. My face wears the weight of his words and tears fill my eyes.

“Father. My heart is breaking,” I whisper because it’s all I can voice.

“I need to know you’re going to be watching over your mother. She’s more delicate than she portrays.”

“Of course. All of us will. She’ll never want for anything. We will protect her.”

“Good. Also, there’s the matter of your brothers.”

“Yes.”

He sits up, swings his legs over the side of the chaise and makes sure he’s reaching me.

“This is important, Zan. All three of my sons play important roles in our country. Tarik will take the throne because he’s the face of our country. Our people need to see themselves in their king. They have trust in his intentions.”