Page 35 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
We wish to go.
I can see it in Lanston’s slouched shoulders. He wants to fade into whatever lies after. A cold and weary thought braces me.We can never be together. I want to stay.If there’s one thing I know without a shadow of a doubt, it is that I cannot go. Those Who Whisper have told me where people like me go. I won’t.
Dreariness thickens inside me and hollows out my heart. Why did I come here… why do I find him so inebriating that I can’t step away?No. I must return home.
It’s better this way. No matter how much I desire to be near him.
I lie back on my bed and let my head fall to the right side. His nightstand is bare, but seeing it reminds me that he slipped his drawing pad inside. I glance his way quickly to make sure he’s not going to come out of his drifting anytime soon. His drawer opens without a sound and I pull out the bundle of papers quietly.
The binding is old, the kind that makes you feel like you’re in another place in time, scribbling away by candlelight.
I eagerly flip it open and raise my brows at the black, chalky smears across the pages. They are drawings of creatures, forlorn and morbid. The first one looks like an elk with long, entangled horns that curl high above the creature’s head. The body is lithe, as if the skin is merely draped over the bones like a thin sheet, with no muscles or flesh to mediate the spaces in between.
A fleshless creature with hollowed, sleepless eyes.
As terrifying as it is, I find a wealth of beauty in it—a sad story left untold.
I hear you.I smooth my fingertips gently over the surface of the page, careful not to smear the black charcoal.
A shadow moves over the pages and I glance up to meet Lanston’s weary eyes. There’s not a flicker of anger, just understanding of my curiosity and perhaps some vulnerability too.
“What do you see?” he asks, his voice sounding broken and weary.
Our eyes don’t break the connection as I say, “I see a tired man. He’s barely holding onto himself and he’s wearing false skin to hide what’s beneath. A facade.”
He doesn’t respond, but his eyes weaken and he blinks as his jaw clenches.
“But he doesn’t need to hide anymore. His feet are already visible; he only needs to take a step out into the world he fears most,” I say softly, and something shifts inside me as I watch hope return to his eyes.
Maybe if I’d met him sooner, Those Who Whisper wouldn’t have found me.
MaybeI would’ve asked to make a bucket list with him.
“Ophelia,” he says in a deep, smooth voice.
He holds his hand out to me and I stare at his beautiful fingers, calloused like an artist’s should be.
“Come with me to explore the world.”
Everything stops and my heart breaks. I can’t go with him. I’m scared of what awaits me. My eyes lift to his and I find a million wishes in them—my hand moves of its own accord, tracing over his cheek.
“Why me?” I ask breathlessly.
Lanston laughs. “What do you mean why? I like you… and we have fun together. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed as much as I do with you,” he admits.
I shake my head. “I don’t know… I’m not much the traveling type.” The corner of his lip kicks up and he pulls my hand, making me stand.
“Well, what if we write out a bucket list? Maybe if you see it on paper, you’ll have a change of heart?” His voice is filled with hope, and the dread of letting him down sinks further into me. Like steel bars piercing through organs. He lets go of my hand and reaches for his notebook, flipping to the next blank page before sitting on his bed. He pats the center of the mattress for me to join him. I smile weakly and concede.
We sit in the darkness, with moonlight streaming in and lowered lamps lighting the page. We sip coffee as we make a shitty list of things we wanted to do in life:
Lanston & Ophelia’s Bucket List
Go to Paris
Sail a yacht
Ballroom dance
