Page 66 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
Even at a young age, I thought to myself how unfair it was of them to say. She was a kind person, that is all I remembered of her, but I knew that she wasn’t bad. She was the most generous and caring human I’d known.
But I also remembered the things they said about her. I kept it locked away in a compartment in my brain for the day my brain started to turn on me too.
Patrick was the first boy I fell in love with. He wasn’t very nice, but we dated for a few years until I turned seventeen. That’s when I learned how much a person could wound you without a weapon. He cheated on me with some tall blonde and that was the end of it. A betrayal that I’d carry with me for the rest of my life.
“You aren’t a good person. You know that. It was bound to happen,” my stepmother told me.
Little did I know that someone else had their eye on me, on my suffering, like a reaper drawn to rot, waiting patiently for me to ripen. Someone watched me until I fell into ruin.
My murderer was always close. Always near.
I wish I’d known.
The pages fold as I loosen my grip around them. Ophelia doesn’t lift her head from my chest. She breathes evenly, surely hearing the falter of my heartbeats.
“How did you die?”
My question is raw and her body tenses. When she doesn’t reply, I take it as her answer that she’s not ready to talk about it. But then she slowly lifts her head and sits back on her haunches to look at me.
“I’ll tell you, I promise I will. But you need to hear the full story first. Otherwise, I’m worried you won’t understand,” she says meekly, keeping her eyes lowered on her hands.
I give her a small nod. “When you’re ready.”
We sleep with our hearts pressed together. My arms wrapped around her shoulders and her face buried in my chest.
I dream of her drowning, her hair swaying in the waves. I’m startled awake, breathing heavily, but she’s here, sleeping soundly in my arms.
Lowering my head back down to hers, I lie awake and stare into the dark. Too afraid to close my eyes and dream of her demise.
Ophelia holds down her beige sun hat as a gust of wind threatens to lift it from her head.
“Which pub were we meeting them at?” I shout over the howl of the Cliffs of Moher. My eyes are narrowed at the smartphone we brought along with us in case we needed to contact the two of them.
“It’s called Old Stones, in Galway.” She hangs over my shoulder and points to it. Her lips brush against my cheek before she pulls away, and I grin.
“I can’t wait to see Jericho and Yelina. I hope they’ve made more progress than we have,” I say. It’s been a little under a month since we’ve last seen each other. Time has never moved as fast as it does when I’m with her.
Ophelia laughs. “I hope they haven’t. That would mean they won’t show up and we’ll be left waiting all night.” Her genuine smile lifts my spirits.
The cliffs are wet and cold like much of Ireland is. The clouds bear low in the sky, meeting the earth and rocks. The greenery of the world here is bright and loud. Much more breathtaking than the photos, but it’s fucking cold.
We explore the castles along the roads to Galway, taking giftshop knick-knacks and finding new books and notepads to bring with us. Funny, the things we cherish most on our journey aren’t at all expensive. They are things of the heart.
Galway has those cottagecore streets you love looking at on Pinterest. They have tightly packed townhomes, two-story shops, and music. Everything closes early so people can flock to the pubs.
Ophelia’s excitement is uncontainable, and honestly, so is mine. We walk up and down each street, taking in everything we see, going into each shop and trying pastries or sweets. By the time the sun begins to set, we head to Old Stones. The pub is packed to the brim. Anywhere else, my anxiety and stress would be through the roof, but here, the people are cheerful and loud. Boisterous energy with laughter and dancing fills the air, quickly bringing smiles to both our faces.
“I should’ve dressed more casually,” Ophelia says loudly through all the hollering and singing. Her dress isn’t fancy by any means, but I see what she’s saying: jeans and a T-shirt would’ve been more appropriate. Though, no one can see us, so it doesn’t really matter. But it doesn’t hurt to feel more like we fit in.
“You look fucking amazing,” I blurt out without really thinking and her eyes widen. Her cheeks redden and I decide to just roll with it. “You already know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” My smile hurts.
Ophelia opens her mouth to reply, but we’re interrupted by a woman clamping down on her. Ophelia shrieks before registering that it’s Yelina, and the two burst into laughter.
I look up and find Jericho coming in for a bear hug. “Are you guys ready to have the night of your lives?” he shouts. I accept his ridiculous hug and chuckle.
I say back, “As long as we aren’t going to end up wasted and stupid.”
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