Page 19 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
Ophelia smiles easily at the counselor, completely dismissing his efforts to embarrass me, and offers her hand cordially. “You must be Jericho. I recognize you; you’ve been coming to my performances for a few years now, haven’t you?” Her voice is light, and her shoulders relax as she seems to find him familiar.
Jericho nods and shakes her hand professionally. “I love your performances. Do you come up with them yourself?” Ophelia’s cheeks redden and she nods meekly. “Such talent at a young age. I’m envious.”
She shrugs. “Well, I was twenty-eight when I died. That was ten years ago now, so I’m actually much older than I look.” She laughs and turns her head just enough to peek over at me.
I smile and say, “Souls don’t age. You’re forever young; even if you were three hundred years old, I’d imagine you’d still be dancing and throwing men into ditches.”
Her face drops and she hurriedly shoots a glance at Jericho, who’s already laughing and bringing his heavy hand down on my shoulder to shake me. “Throwing men into pits? What did you do to the poor girl?” he roars, drawing eyes from other phantoms around the foyer.
“Come on, really?” I say under my breath.
Ophelia covers her mouth to hide her smile. “I may have thrown a few sorry ghosts into ditches. Worry not, they deserved it.” She lifts her chin and I marvel at her pride. A short silence follows and I’m keenly aware of Jericho studying us together.
“Aren’t you two just adorable?” The counselor keeps a brow raised and his smirk only grows with interest.
“Anyway,I was hoping you could see Ophelia for a session,” I mutter. His smirk fades and Jericho shifts his weight to one leg.
He looks troubled but has a hint of light in his eyes as he murmurs, “Unfortunately, I’m booked for private sessions until next week, but she’s more than welcome to join the group counseling this evening. I presume you’ll be there anyway, Lanston, yeah?”
Ophelia shrinks, dropping her shoulders and looking a bit disappointed. “I suppose I have all the time in the world, don’t I?” she says hesitantly.
Jericho nods thoughtfully, his eyes shifting to me as he claps his hands together, with an idea lighting up his expression. “You should stay here in the meantime. Harlow Sanctum is always welcoming lost souls. Our rooms are full at the moment, but Lanston has a spare bed in his.”
I know what he’s doing… My fists clench at my sides and my gaze darts in her direction. He doesn’t know about her mind yet—she’s not like Wynn. I’m worried she very well might throwmeinto a pit if we’re forced into such close quarters.
“Lovely. Show me the way,” she chirps and looks up at me from beneath long lashes. The soft brown-green hue of her eyes makes my stomach feel light.
I’m taken aback, staring at her as if she’s joking, but she and Jericho start across the foyer and I’m left to follow behind them.
She keeps her eyes ahead, not drawn to or distracted by any of the rooms around us. Jericho stops at my door and pushes it open. It’s dark, a cave practically; I tend to keep the curtains pulled closed to help with my wallowing. If I knew I was having my newfound crush over, I would’ve picked up and left the curtains open.
Shit. She’s going to see how empty my death is. Where she keeps her space filled with plants and oddities full of her personality, I keep nothing. I’m a mere shell. In a way, I thinkI always have been. I don’t have many things to define me. Not physical things, anyway.
“I’ll see you two later in the group sesh tonight.” Jericho winks at me as he passes. I swallow the dread that’s building inside my throat.
Ophelia steps into the darkness of my room and walks straight to the curtains, throwing them open effortlessly and cracking the window to air out the space. I stand awkwardly in the doorway and rub the back of my head as I look around my room with new eyes—my baseball cap shifts on top of my head as I disturb it.
Nothing brings a conscience bias to your own living conditions like someone you’re romantically interested in setting foot into your haven. I don’t know why I care what she thinks about me, but it’s undeniable. I very much care.
My cheeks warm and I pull my baseball cap down further so I don’t have to see her expression.
“The bed on the far left is mine… I can give you a tour of the grounds if you’d like?”
She hums with a delightful smile and I can’t help but look, peeking from beneath the edge of my cap. Her eyes scour my room, studying each book left piled up on my circular coffee table. Light spills into the room through the slivers in the drapes and illuminates the dust particles as they slowly drift. Drawings torn from my sketchbook are stitched together with hemp string I found in the library. Ophelia seems particularly captivated by them.
I quickly step over and grab the makeshift book of my drawings bound inside. To say I would have an aneurysm if she saw the darkness in my head is an understatement. I never,everlet other people see my drawings—not since the art show disaster my father ruined. Not since I completely stoppedspeaking to him. I never even showed Liam or Wynn this part of me.
It makes me sad—the secrets we keep to protect our hearts. Even against those we love most.
“Just some dumb scribbles,” I say, as unenthused as I can in hopes that she won’t ask about them.
She peeks over my arm and watches as I place them in my bedside table drawer. “What do you draw, Lanston?” Her voice is void of judgment and only holds a warm curiosity. I think I like that most about her. She’s abrasive but so kind about the things that seem to be the most sensitive for others.
As if she understands the grueling eyes of the world.
I was never allowed to draw in my house. Never to dally in things that were artistic or silly.Be a fucking man.My father would say.You’ll be homeless and poor if you follow such ridiculous dreams.My dreams were of art and beauty, of morbidity and lost souls. He could never understand why I wanted to draw such sad creatures on pages, why I wanted to show the world what lived inside my veins.
Let your dreams die. Undoubtedly, if you don’t, you’ll be miserable.
