Page 88 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
Footsteps against the gravel path grow closer and a warm hand gently spreads over my back.
“Did he make amends?” she asks hesitantly. I look up at her and wipe the tears from my eyes.
“In his own way.”
39
Ophelia
Lanston smiles brighter tonight.I don’t tell him about the secret letter I left behind at Never Haven while he spoke with his father. It isn’t meant for him, but I hope the person I did write it for finds it one day.
The very energy in the air has shifted. The universe pushes us toward the after. Tonight is the night.
I feel it in my marrow.
A small band plays a happy tune on the corner of where the bridge meets my street. We stop and listen for a while, smiling and clapping along with the music. After they grow tired, they take their instruments and leave.
“Do you feel it?” Lanston asks, a wondrous grin making him more handsome than I’ve ever seen him. His high cheek bones are rosy, and weariness doesn’t ache in his soul any longer.
I slip my fingers between his and press my cheek to his shoulder. “It’s like a soft wind, beckoning for me. You’ll comewith me, won’t you?” I ask, even though I already know he is. Yet I still get a wave of nerves.
Lanston opens the door to my opera house and bends at the knee, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand and looking up at me like prince charming.
“I’ll love you until the stars die. I’d follow you into the darkest night,” he says with a lovely lift of his lips. My cheeks warm.
“Such a poet,” I say cheekily.
“And you, the inspiration.”
I laugh as he scoops me up in his arms and carries me across the veil of my opera house. He chuckles; the sound reverberates through me.
“Do you think we’ll laugh like this forever?” I ask.
He raises a brow as if seriously considering it. “I don’t see how we wouldn’t. I’m far too funny and you’re much too easy to please.”
We chuckle until he reaches the stage and sets me down.
Everything is as it was when we left. The rafters are still dusty, moonlight dripping through like beaded silk strings. Plants keep the space filled and green. Sadness invades me; I wish they could’ve found new life. I know they appear to me as alive, but on the living side they must be dead and weeping.
Lanston hops up beside me on the stage handing me a dancing ribbon. It’s long and mauve, the same color as my hair. A smile curls at the end of my lips as I hand him a baseball hat I picked up for him at our last train stop.
“You’re too thoughtful for your own good,” Lanston says as his brows knit with endearment. He puts it on, letting the tips of his fingers glide at the rim.
“And you’re too charming,” I shoot back.
Lanston’s smile breaks my heart. No one looks at me like he does.
He offers me his hand, warm and glowing with life beneath a dappling of moonlight. The universe has chosen to illuminate us in pale blue light, a farewell too bright and dreary even for us phantoms.
Our hands meet, and our breaths jump in unison as we feel the rush of the wind, of the earth, of everything that ever existed and took up space beneath the stars.
Lanston starts chuckling first, tears streaming down his face. Then I burst into laughter, because… well, because I’ve never felt so fucking happy. I never thought I’d have peace.
Our laughter ceases as we begin to fade.
Lanston pulls me in close, tilting my chin up and pressing our lips together as we slowly dance as if suspended in time. In space. In death.
Then a small whisper.
