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I look at him – a hunk dressed in his birthday suit except for
the towel, and then, I look at the Queen still smiling, seemingly unperturbed
by the sudden appearance of my freshly showered husband. I do what any responsible citizen of the Commonwealth
would do if they had the Queen standing at their front door, staring at a nearly
naked man.
I slam the door shut right in her face.
What are you doing?!!! I yell in a half-whisper. You can’t
greet the Queen dressed like that!
Oh, really? I guess I didn’t get a memo that the formal
bathrobe attire is required, he retorts looking at my wardrobe ensemble for the occasion. Plus, it looks like somebody forgot to
send me a memo that the Queen of England was coming to our house.
I didn’t know she was coming either! I snap. And, here we are now,
arguing and bickering while the Queen of England is chillin’ her heels on our doormat,
waiting. I start vigorously biting my lower lip, as is my habit when I am stressing out.
What does she want anyway?
I have no clue.
Why don’t you ask her?
‘Why don’t you ask her’ – just like that, huh? As if it’s
the easiest thing on the planet, asking the Queen what the heck does she want,
knocking on our door at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning!
Have any better ideas?
I stab him with THE look, and slowly turn the doorknob,
cracking the door barely open this time.
The Queen is still there. I still can't believe my own eyes. I clear my throat before I begin:
Excuse us, Your Majesty, but, no offense intended by the
question, Your Majesty, but we would like to know what does Your Majesty want? Why ... why did you come here, Your Majesty? We think there might have been a small mistake... not to imply that Your Majesty makes any mistakes... Perhaps Your Majesty's driver took a wrong turn... or the GPS...
I shake my head in disbelief listening to myself talking nonsense. I start batting my eyelashes at the speed of hummingbird's wings, hoping it would make me look less stupid.
Oh, it is not a mistake, my dear. Not a mistake at all. The Queen laughs, gracefully ignoring the rapid blinking movement. This is the S' residence, is it not?
I nod silently, mystified that the Queen knows our last name and our home address.
Well, then... Very well. I was hoping that I could have a supper with your family today. It would give me a great pleasure.
She enunciates the last two words and punctuates the statement with a royal smile.
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