Page 84 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
Ophelia’s head tilts a bit and she grins. “What are you thinking? You have the most peculiar look on your face.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Nothing, nothing.”
“Tell me!” She wraps her arms around my neck and before I mutter anything in return, the curtains lift. A million lights blind us from every conceivable angle and thousands of faces in the crowd stare up at us.
For a moment, I think they can see us, their faces aghast with whimsy. But then a handful of performers take the stage, running, leaping, dancing.
Ophelia’s eyes brighten, and I can feel her joy inside my own chest. I knew then that the bucket list was a farce. Finding peace was never going to be about experiencing tangible things or seeing beautiful sights. It is the company in which it is spent, the meaning and love that is sewn into our fabric, the colors and images we keep of the most cherished ones, and experiencing together the dreams never pursued.
With her, I became the artist I always dreamed of being—she’s dancing on the stage she always yearned for.
My rose adds every shade of red to my soul.
Happiness such as this, what a pleasure it’s been.
She raises her hand, skin delicate and smooth. Our hands meet in the center of the stage and chills spread down my spine as the music starts up.
“Chem Trails” by Lana Del Rey.
My brow raises because I was expecting something old and orchestra-like, and Ophelia laughs, surprised but so delighted.
“Modern music finds its way into an old theater,” she says cunningly. Her smirk is a little too sly.
“Did you mess with the music?” I laugh as we start to slow dance, feet moving with the song in long, languid steps.
She nods. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted this to be perfect.” Her hands wrap around my neck and we glide across the stage amongst the confused performers. They dance alongside us, sticking to their routine even though the song has changed.
“How did you pull this off? I didn’t think we could alter things in the living world.” My smile is starting to hurt my cheeks, but I cannot stop. She enchants me in everything she does.
Ophelia proclaims, “If a phantom wishes hard enough, our pleas can be heard. I wanted this dance with you, with this song, and to kiss you. To tell you I love you over and over if you’ll hear it.”
I dip my head closer to hers, pressing our temples together.
“What else have you wished for, my rose?” I ask in a hushed voice, unwilling to disturb the music or this moment with her. One of my hands is clasped tightly with hers, the other lingering low on her back.
“I’ve wished for the plants I’ve stored in my opera house to find life again one day. For the weary darlings out in the world to find their hope.” She pauses and looks at me, her eyes flickering with the lights around us. I only see her. “I’ve wished most of all for you. To find your reasons, to find happiness and love. To find your missing pieces.”
Her purple hair glows beneath the lighting; her eyes have never been so colorful; they are easy to get lost in. Her skin is a beautiful olive, radiant,alive.
“I’ve wished for us,” I say finally. And it feels as though I’ve waited such a long time to say these words. “I’ve longed for a soul like yours. And here you’ve been all this time. Ophelia, even if we are stuck on this earth forever, I would find solace in knowing we are together.”
The song comes to an end. We stop dancing and stare at each other with endearment.
And then the darkness comes again.
The electricity sparks and shuts off; the crowd screams and panicked murmurs spread like smoke through the room. Ophelia’s head whirls toward me, and mine toward hers.
We say simultaneously, “Those Who Whisper.”
Our hands join and something wondrous happens. Light seeps from between us, and our breaths become one.
“Cast them away, Ophelia. Only you can do it,” I shout above the loud whispers that surround us as if they are the next ensemble. Dark and cryptic.
Her hair lashes around her, our light flickering. “I don’t know how! I thought they were gone. Lanston, I’m afraid.”
My eyes narrow through the dark that caves around us. “You know the truth now. You know what they tell you are lies. I’m never leaving your side again; set yourself free.”
Ophelia’s fingers tighten around mine and her jaw flexes with determination.
