He stared at me, and I could sense the uncertainty in his eyes. I knew what I wanted now. I wanted Horatio. I wanted to be able to hold him in my arms at night, and have him on my arm during the day. If that meant staying in the 1600's, then that was what I would do. If he would have me, that was. He was uncertain now, but who knew if I would be able to win him back in the end? I had hurt him a lot. But I would do anything to keep in my life now.
"Please, Horatio. I'm still the same girl. I love you, just like yesterday. And I've always wanted to save Hamlet's life from Claudius. The only thing that's changed is where I'm from."
He closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. "Corrine, I need time to think about this," he said quietly. I nodded quickly. Anything. He nodded once, and I knew that I needed to leave him alone for now, so I stood. I left him in the living area and went to the bedroom. We didn't talk for the rest of the day, and even though I barely slept that night, he seemed fresh and ready for his audience the next morning. He didn't even look at me as a servant came to get him, and then he was gone.
Maybe it was time for me to go home. Maybe this was a sign. I was most certainly a twenty first century feminist. Could I really have been cut out for staying in this century? Was I really considering giving up my life for a guy? Maybe he was right to distance himself, and maybe this was the time for me to really consider my options.
It seems like every popular teen fiction novel hinges on a girl changing her life for a guy, and I had always scoffed at them and said 'not me.' But that was before I had fallen in love. Now I felt like this man was a part of me, and if I left him, with no way to get back, I would never get that part back. But if he didn't choose me back, was it even a choice? I wasn't sure if I believed in fate, or if I believed in true love. But if it was possible, was it also possible that Horatio was my own true love? Was I meant for this?
I was so scared that I would make the wrong decision, but as I had been telling myself, things were coming to an end, one way or another. I had until we got back to Elsinore to do this. To figure out exactly what I wanted. To decide if I wanted to choose a man over my life, or sacrifice love for my life.
At this point, if I had been reading my story in a novel, I would have been calling the main character all kinds of idiot. Obviously she should never give up anything for a man, especially not one that she hadn't know all that long. But the character in the story would be lovesick, heartbroken, and she would know the options weren't really options at all. She would know she had to stay. She would know that nothing mattered more in the world than love, and anything else had to come second. And maybe she would be right, but that would be a story, and this was my life.
I sighed and sat hard. That WOULD be a story, and yes this was my life... but I was in a story too, trying to save it from its tragic ending. Why couldn't I do the same for myself? I was in my own tragic story. I had no mother to really speak of, and I had just lost an estranged father, and found myself in another world, where I could have been anyone. I had chosen a new person, for the queen, the king, Hamlet, Ophelia, and most of all to Claudius and his court. And that was just part of life. Everyone sees a different part of ourselves, the part we choose to show. It wasn't a crime, and I had just shown a part of myself that was an actor to almost everyone. But with Horatio, I had never felt like I had to be someone else.
Now I had to think back home. I was in school, and had a one tracked mind. There was nothing else for me, not until I graduated, and had my own veterinary practice. My mother had drilled it into me that I needed a career first. Something to keep me afloat, without help from any man. Even my friends weren't all that close, or important, not now. I liked animals, but it wasn't a passion, not like what my dad had. It had taken a real tragedy to bring me back to my father, and back to all that he had loved. It had taken his death to give me real purpose. Maybe he had known. Maybe he had known what kind of trouble I would get into here. Maybe he had known, but how could I know what choice he would have wanted me to make? We didn't even know each other, not really. It had been years, and now... Yes he had left me a note, but it didn't give me answers. I was on my own with this.
