Ophelia (16 page)

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Authors: Jude Ouvrard

BOOK: Ophelia
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“What time is it?”

“It’s a little after one in the morning,” she answered in a cold voice. “We were worried about you when you didn’t come back for dinner. Then Beverly called and told us you had seen Teo’s name on the gravestone. We knew something was probably up. We all tried to call you.”

Damn it, I did it again. I let them down. I was selfish and decided to shut down not to get disturbed by Teo’s call. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I had quite a rough day, what with everything I realized and understood for the first time. I’m better now, I mean mentally because physically I’m not well at all. I hurt everywhere.”

“Take this now, okay?” She handed me the medication. “You need to rest. Sleep in in the morning, wake up only when you’re ready. You have to take better care of yourself, now.” Misha added and it warmed my heart to feel her love.

“If you don’t feel good, we can go to the hospital. Just let us know.” Jarrod offered.

I didn’t want to go back to the hospital. A night of sleep had to be the best medication I could get. I turned on my side and closed my eyes. All I could see in my mind was Teo’s eyes and his charismatic smile. I missed him and loved him. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep without checking my phone and sending him a text.

Ophelia: I love you. I miss you. We need to talk when I get back home.

Teo: You scared the shit outta me, again. I miss and love you too. Yes, we’ll talk. Sleep now, hobo.

I laughed at his answer. He knew about my day. Beverly had probably told him already.

Ophelia: night, babe xxx

I put the phone on the nightstand and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

... O ...

The next morning when I woke up, my body was stiff, but a lot better than the previous night. I stretched every possible muscle and sat in the bed long enough to make sure the dizziness was gone. After rubbing my face and tying my hair in a ponytail, I took my phone to see what time it was. Two freaking pm! Oh my god! Was I tired or what? The text message sign was on telling me I had a new message.

Misha: We will be back by the end of the afternoon. We're running few errands
.

Since when did Misha start texting? That surprised me.

Ophelia: Okay. I just woke up.

Of course, they had thought of everything. On the nightstand, my medications were prepared, along with a glass of water.

I got up and went to shower. My body craved the hot water, and after spending the day outside yesterday, I didn't think it was needy of me. It never ceased to impress me how much it can improve a day to shower.

Outside, the sun shone and I could hear kids playing. Maybe I could sit on the porch and call Beverly. She probably had many questions to ask me and I had a lot to tell her as well.

As soon as I walked out the door, two remarkable blue eyes stared at me.

“Who are you?” The girl asked.

“I’m Ophelia, a friend of the Taylors.”

Her face blanched. “You... Humm... You used to live here, right?”

“Right.”

“In my house.” She pointed what used to be my home.

I nodded. I could see question after question passing through her eyes.

“I never thought I would see you here.”

I chuckled. “Why not? It only took me ten years.”

She smiled, uncertain of what to say.

“So, you heard?”

“About your parents,” she said almost in a whisper.

“It’s okay. Don't worry about it.”

“Do you think my house is haunted?”

What kind of question was that? “I don't know. Do you have a reason to believe it might be?”

“Not really.” She furrowed her brow. “Because they died tragically, I thought their spirits could have been imprisoned here.”

I laughed. “I don't think that’s how it works. The house has changed a lot since I was here the last time.”

“My dad did all the work, mostly.” She paused. “Would you like to come inside?”

The idea scared me. Of course I was curious, but at the same time frightened that the memories would return, again. “I’m not sure.”

“I have one of your music books. Devussy or Dessuvy.”

“You mean Debussy.” I chuckled. She was close, she almost had it. I knew exactly which book she was talking about. I used to play some of these pieces often. Debussy inspired me when it came to composing my own.

She laughed. “Yes, that’s the one. We found in on top of the shelf....”

“In my bedroom.”

We both laughed. I remembered piling my music books in my wardrobe. I had so many. A collection some might call it.

“I Googled you last Christmas.”

I was astounded. “Why did you Google me?” I didn’t think she could have found anything interesting about me.

She blushed. “Beverly was here with Clara and her parents, and she wanted to show us how well you played.” She seemed embarrassed.

“Okay.” She had me speechless, I felt like a star even if I wasn’t one.

“Can you still play?” Her curiosity wasn't stopping her. She pointed at my wrist.

“I’m not sure how well I can play right now. I have this thing here that’s stopping me from moving my wrist.”

“Can you try?”

“Insistent, aren’t you?” I teased her and her cheeks turned one shade darker.

“Maybe a little. Misha and Jarrod have a piano.”

I sighed. I hadn’t played in a while. I missed it, but I was afraid to see how much it would hurt and how badly I would play. I nodded, agreeing to her demand. I’d met her a couple of minutes ago and already she was bossing me around. I felt owned by a ten-year-old. What was it going to be like when I became a parent? I laughed as we walked inside the house.

Their piano was probably not in a good shape. I didn't think they used it much anymore. I pulled the bench from underneath and sat nervously.

“What’s your name, Little Miss Stranger?”

“I’m Kennedy.”

“Well Kennedy, I'll try to show you who Debussy was, but I might stop if it hurts too much.”

She smiled with enthusiasm as I placed my fingers against the cold keys. That simple movement made my wrist hurt. I tried to loosen my fingers to release the tension in my wrist and it helped. I pressed on the first key and the second followed naturally.

“It’s called Danseuses de Delphes.” One of my favorites, and the ideal piece to test and warm up my fingers. God, I missed playing but damn, it hurt. My hand remained very sensitive. I endured only to see if the ache would subside.

“Wow, you really are good.”

I had played before thousands of people around the world, but here I was sitting with a young girl, and her simple words made me the happiest girl in Brooklyn. She didn’t know much about me. She did a search on Google, but I didn’t think she knew what I had achieved in my pianist career. Her innocence made it all better. She was enjoying Debussy probably for the first time in her life. Her eyes were big and round and her smile reached them. As soon as I was done with Debussy, I switched to a song by Lady Gaga, as I was certain I would catch her interest. She recognized the song soon enough.

“Do you mind if I sing?”

“Absolutely not.”

She picked up where I was at and started to sing. She had a powerful voice, one that gave me the chills. When she hit a high note, I almost stopped playing just to listen to her sing, but I knew she would have stopped as well.

Every key I touched made my smile bigger. It wasn’t that hurtful anymore.

“Can you do Bad Romance?” Nothing was stopping me. I hadn’t played that one in a long time, but I was glad I had a good excuse to do it again. I didn’t get it right the first time, but I adjusted quickly and once more I was overwhelmed by the sound of her voice. Strong and mature for someone her age. She intimidated me.

I played and chuckled. This girl came into my life the first day I had decided to let go of the past and face the future. A day when I didn’t expect anything to happen. She was a pearl hiding in a shell, waiting to be discovered.

After a couple of songs, my wrist was getting tired and her voice too. She sat next to me with a glass of water and I played some on my own. She placed her arm around my neck and her head leaned on my shoulder. She simply watched me play. I thought that maybe we’d connected deeper than only on a musical level. The day at turned into something unforgettable and special.

When I finally stopped playing, I was lost in my own personal bubble until I heard people applauding from behind us. I turned around, surprised. Jarrod and Misha were joined by who I suspected to be Kennedy’s parents. I blushed ten shades of red. I hadn’t known we had an audience.

“Hi.” I waved.

“You must be Ophelia Stewart.” I nodded. “Thank you for the private concert,” the man said, making me blush even more. “I’m Clint O’Neil and this is my wife, Kerra.  I can see you’ve met our daughter.”

I was going to say something, but Kennedy cut me off. “She is great, isn't she? Did you guys hear the song from Lady Gaga? We are a terrific duo.” She could have gone on and on all day. Normally, I would have had too, but I was getting tired easily because of the concussion.

“We did. Very impressive, Kennedy.” Jarrod walked closer to us. “Would you mind playing one last song for me?” He asked.

My hand might have opposed, but my heart wanted to keep playing. “Which one?”

“Beethoven. The Moonlight Sonata, please.”

I accepted and positioned my fingers back on the black and white keys. This was the last piece I heard my father play. It brought back many memories. My dad loved this one more than any other, so I played it for him often. I thought I might be sad, but no, it felt good to hear this sonata again. One of the first pieces I had learned.

The exhaustion started to spread in my body, not my injured wrist. I had been up for only a couple of hours, but yesterday had been a rough day physically and emotionally. I’d pushed myself too far on every level, and today I was paying the price for my behavior.

“Thank you, Ophelia. This was great. So much talent,” Jarrod said as he squeezed my shoulder gently.

“Is it okay if the O’Neils stay over for dinner?” Misha didn’t need to ask my permission, but I appreciated it regardless.

“Absolutely, but I would like to take a short nap, if you don’t mind.” Immediately, I saw the concern in her eyes. “I’m okay, feeling fine. I’m just tired from playing so much.”

“Go to your room. I want to talk to you for a couple of minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Lying in bed, my eyes felt heavy and I knew I didn’t have much time left before passing out.

“Ophelia.” A sweet voice entered the bedroom. “I won’t be long.” She smiled in apology. “We didn’t really talk about what you discovered at the cemetery. Let’s say it’s part two of the secrets.” She sat on the bed, her eyes locked on mine. “The night before your release from the center, Teo showed up here. I could tell he'd been crying. His eyes were swollen and his face was pained. He asked us if he could hide at our place for the night. Something had happened at his father’s club, and he was terrified. That night, we spent hours filling out applications on the internet so he could request a name change.”

“A name change?”  This news took my breath away. “Why have I never heard about this before?”

“We went over all the possibilities, but he didn’t want anything to do with this life and he needed a chance at a better one. When we met him, we saw a bright young man and we believed in him. Jarrod and I did everything we could to help him out. I helped him fill out the papers. Jarrod drove him back to his house the next morning where he took a few things he thought he might need. He had to leave most of his possessions behind because he didn’t want his father to suspect that he had escaped. By leaving his clothes, books, etc... he was letting him believe that he hadn’t planned this. We lent him some money so he could get new clothes. To be honest, I don’t know how he managed to keep all this from you. I suppose you had other things on your mind, since you were preoccupied with your own survival.”

“It’s hard to believe. I never suspected anything. Of course I know about his family but he doesn’t elaborate on the subject and I never pushed him for more information.”

“He thought it was the best way to protect you and himself. Something went down with his father’s friends and it scared him enough to seek a permanent escape.”

“He didn't change his first name, though.”

“He did. His first name was Calvino, like his father, but he grew up using his middle name, Teodore. He kept Teodore as you know and he took his maternal grandmother's family name.”

“This is crazy,” I shouted louder than necessary. I tried to find words to describe how fucked up I thought this was, but I couldn’t. “Do I even know him?” I asked myself out loud.

“You know the real version of him. He never had to pretend anything with you, Lia.” She took my good hand in hers. “He had to do this in order to start over. He was an eighteen-year-old teenager, but his devotion to have a better life is what made me help him. Teo wanted to be better for his mother’s sake. He had been raised with good values. It’s not really my story to tell, but I had to tell you why you saw what you saw yesterday. I’m guessing that his father had his name engraved when he disappeared on the west coast.”

“Isn’t it a bit drastic? How can someone leave everything behind like this?”

She sighed. “Disappearing saved him from future criminal charges, jail maybe. His father’s business meant illegal activities, nothing but trouble. And danger.”

“Do you have any more secrets now? Because I’m about to run for the hills.”

“No, that’s all.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, I really am. I talked to Beverly and Teo this afternoon while we were out, and they said I could talk to you about it.” She hesitated. “Teo cracked this afternoon. His emotions got the best of him. He told me everything that happened before the accident, and how you two were acting after the accident. I think you both have some talking to do. His love for you...” She blushed lightly. “Well it’s very powerful. Don’t let it go.” For the first time, Misha was giving me love advice. She smiled timidly. She didn’t look very comfortable. “What you two share is quite impossible to ignore. He’s been following, protecting, and loving you for so long. It’s the type of love we see in books only. It sounds like a story Nicholas Sparks would write.” She chuckled before walking out of the bedroom.

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