Page 52 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
I nod. “This must be how the city folks feel when they come to the mountains of Montana.”
Ophelia laughs in agreement. “Yeah, no kidding. Just shows you how used to our surroundings we become.”
The awe doesn’t leave me as we make our way through the city, armed with hands clasped tightly together and a few stolen kisses.
We end up finding a nice hotel right on the coast. Fancy. One that we could never afford when we were alive. The penthouse is the size of a ballroom, with a full kitchen, four bedrooms, and a living room for entertaining a crowd. But she was right; even though we’re surrounded by the finest cotton sheets and luxury beds, we pile the blankets onto the floor of the living room and spread out all the things we’ve already accumulated along the way. Books, snacks we haven’t tried yet, clothing from gift shops, and an entire bouquet of roses Ophelia found at a flower store just down the street. The roses are dark red and still full of life.
Our plan is to set out first thing in the morning and go onto our next bucket list idea. I cross out,Ride a train somewherenew,and glance up at Ophelia. She’s lying on the ground on her stomach, feet crossed in the air behind her, writing in her notebook with a vintage pen.
Lanston & Ophelia’s Bucket List
Go to Paris
Sail a yacht
Ballroom dance
Drink on the beach at night/camp out
Ride a train somewhere new
Visit Ireland’s Trinity College Library
Save a stray plant
“Let’s sail a yacht to Europe. Then we can cross off Paris and Ireland while we’re there,” I say as I tuck the paper back into my pocket. I have a good feeling about this bucket list idea. My soul already feels more at ease. Though I’m not sure how much it has to do with the places we visit as much as it does who I’m spending it with.
Ophelia looks back at me from over her shoulder and smiles. “That’s a lovely plan.” Her eyes glimmer with the mere thought of it. “It’s been a dream of mine to dance on the stage of Palais Garnier. It’s one of the most famous opera houses in the world.”
“Thewhat?” I ask, feeling silly for not knowing of it, but then again she’s much more of a historical enthusiast than me.
She laughs and pushes herself up to face me. Her black dress, peasant-styled with long sleeves that ruffle at the ends, pools around her legs. “Palais Garnier. You’ll see when we get to France. I’d show you a picture, but it will be much more impressive in person.”
I try to imagine what a historic opera house looks like; all I can picture are white buildings with massive pillars, like the ones in Roman movies with gladiators.
“Are you going to perform alone?” I rest my head against my palm.
“I always do, but I wouldn’t mind a partner for this one if you’re up for it.” She stares at me, hopeful, and my stomach drops. I wasn’t expecting her to ask me.
“Um—”
“I’ll teach you!” She quickly cuts me off and stands, grabbing my hands and pulling me up off the recliner I was very much comfortable in.
“Ophelia,” I say her name slowly, heavily implying I don’t want to learn, but she ignores me and shows me the footing instead.
Reluctantly and with a smile that’s all too natural, I move in step with her. One, two, three. One, two, three. Dip, spin. She laughs at my clumsy feet as I struggle not to trip over myself.
“Okay, now take my hands.” Ophelia presents her hands to me.
My fingertips glide over her smooth palms. Her skin sends chills down my spine and nervousness threads through my stomach. I don’t want to embarrass myself; she’s fluid in her steps and motions, while I’m inept.
“Perfect, now this one goes around my waist,” she mutters as she sets my left hand on her side. I move closer, closing the gap between us and breathing in her sweet scent. My throat bobs as I swallow, sliding my hand to her lower back.
Ophelia leads, moving in the steps she taught me, and surprisingly, after a few tries we start to move effortlessly. Our feet are in rhythm with one another and when we come to a stop, our breaths heavy, I can’t look away from her eyes.
Dancing with Wynn was the only time I’d ever done so. It was nice and I loved every second of it. But with Ophelia, it feels like so much more. As if our hands were molded to fit into one another’s—like the stars demand our union and celebrate the ground we move on.
It’s intimate and soft.
