Chapter 33
Lanston
There’sno corner of Ireland I leave unscathed. No castle or city I do not scour. Ophelia, where are you? You cannot leave me behind, not like this.
I shout into the cosmos until my voice dies. I return to the art park in Dublin, trying to stop people and ask if they’ve seen her, but nobody hears me.
Not a single head turns.
Not like this.
I can’t bear it.
At first, the days pass quickly, with little sleep and urgent searching. Then the weeks drag, hope slipping through my fingers like water.
The weariness tugs at my soul, begging for rest, for peace. Yet I push on, brushing the tip of my finger across our bucket list for small glimpses of light. But the illumination has faded, the paper now worn and unreadable.
I fall into ruin, searching for my rose.
Even more so when I find her final letter, slipped between the pages of my artbook. She must’ve stuck it there before I woke up after our night at the pub. My chest aches at the thought of this being the last of her I’ll ever know.
“I can’t read it without you.” I choke back on tears. The knot in my throat is too thick to swallow. I fist her letter in my palm, willing myself to open it with trembling hands.
Lanston,
Hey, you. This is the last letter I’ll give you. Well, maybe not the last, but you’ve shown me that we can talk about the things that happened to us. And I want to share those things with you as easily as you do with me. I want to watch you continue to draw, letting the beauty of your mind infect the pages. But I’ll leave you with this until then.
The last part of my tragic story.
My depression grew after high school. The people in my life weren’t kind of my illness. They urged it on even. Do you want to know how I died? I’ll tell you.
It was me.
My murderer was my illness; it took me young, naive. I jumped from the bridge and fell to the depths of the world. Where the darkness finally came for me.
I hope you don’t hate me… I know what I did was wrong, but what if I told you I fought it really fucking hard and for a long time? What if I told you that I searched for the light but couldn’t find it? Would I still be painted as a bad person? The one who only wanted attention?
I’ll tell you another secret. I didn’t want attention. I just wanted to be gone. I wanted to be away from all the cruel things that made me hate myself. The words that made me hate myself.
The bridge we met on, the bench I stood on and pulled roses from, was the memorial bench the local church placed for me. They didn’t put my name on the plaque. My family didn’t want their last name muddied with my sin, so roses it was.
Ophelia roses.
I’m stuck on earth because I was taught people who die by suicide are damned to go to hell, for it is the ultimate sin. I run from the darkness in death more than I did in life. I’m not even sure if it’s true. I hope it isn’t—because, well—it’s not fair, is it?
But I still fear it with all my heart.
Do you want to know what they say? Who they are?
It’s the voices of my parents and extended family. Each time they utter my name, it’s followed by “She killed herself, you know.” “That wicked girl.” “She’s going to hell.”
That’s what the whispers are, and I’m terrified that they’ll catch me one day.
Well? Are you looking at me weirdly now? I hope not. I hope you’ll just kiss me and make me laugh like you always do. Like I’m sure you are right now.
I wish I found the cure to my illness.
I wish I had a light like you.
I love you, Lanston. Until the stars die.
Ophelia
The letter falls to my lap as tears crash on the pages. Why didn’t I see it before? Her trace—the wet hair.
Footsteps trail up the path leading to the graveyard I’m lingering in. Morbid, I know, but I wanted to be somewhere depressing to sulk.
“There he is,” a whisper, followed by another hushed voice and the footsteps get closer.
I needn’t turn. I know it’s Jericho and Yelina. The text I sent them two weeks ago when we were supposed to meet in Paris was probably enough to make them worried sick about me.
Jericho wraps around my front and kneels slowly in front of me. I keep my head hung low, unwilling to carry the weight of the world any longer.
The emotions that swell inside me when I think of Ophelia are unbearable. She was a part of me that I will never find in another. My very marrow churns in grief for her.
Jericho sets his hand on my knee and Yelina crouches beside him.
“You look like shit,” he murmurs in that consoling way of his.
I don’t respond. I only stare at the ground and the gravestones before me. All the forgotten people who lie here, sleeping and no longer traversing the world.
Why does everyone leave me behind?
A tingle spreads across my cheek and my head is jerked to the right. I finally look up, startled. Yelina has a fury I’ve never seen blooming across her cheeks and eyes, tears welling and her breathing uneven.
She slapped me. Delayed, my hand unconsciously drifts to where my skin felt discomfort for only a moment.
“What’s wrong with you?! I’ve never seen you give up like this. Don’t you care about her? Don’t you care about yourself?!” Yelina screams at me. It triggers me; yelling has always done that. My blood thickens and my heart clammers inside me.
I’m on my feet before I even know what I’m doing. Anger has a hold on me.
“Of course, I care, Yelina!” The raspiness of my voice and sheer volume strikes her, making her shrink back and I instantly see myself in that frightened pose.
I take a deep breath. I won’t be him.
Calmer, I say, “I care. More than you could ever understand. I’ve searched everywhere and she’s nowhere. I’m tired.” My voice cracks. “I’m so, so fucking tired. But she chose to leave. What am I supposed to do?”
Jericho and Yelina share a concerned look. “Yelina, why don’t you grab us all some hot drinks?” Jericho says with a hint that he’d like to talk to me privately. She stares at me with sorrowful eyes before nodding and leaving us alone in the graveyard.
We’re silent until her footsteps can no longer be heard.
“I’m leaving tonight,” Jericho finally says.
I look at him and raise a brow. “Heading back to Harlow?”
Jericho shakes his head. A sad smile pulls at the corner of his lips.
“We’re going together.”
My heart sinks. “You… you found what’s keeping you here?” Jericho smiles and nods slowly. He lifts his hand and rubs the back of his head.
“Yeah, it’s so stupid how obvious it was.”
I stare at him expectantly.
He leans in close and I mirror him. Jericho whispers, “There’s something inside you that still festers. You’re going to have to face it. You know what it is, Nevers, I know you do.”
My throat tightens.
“You’ll figure it out, but do you think you can do it without Miss Rosin?” His tone is knowing.
I lower my head and stare at the ground. “I’ve searched for her; she cannot be found.” An uncomfortable weight settles in my chest. “You know, Wynn and Liam didn’t show up last year.”
Jericho’s brows arch with emotion. He knows I’m talking about my grave, the anniversary of all of our deaths.
I curl my fists against my knees.
“Everyone I care about… everyone I love. They don’t stay. Ophelia chose to leave me behind. Even if it was to keep me safe… she’s gone.” The words come out as a whisper.
Jericho stands and offers me his hand to help me up. I look at him for a moment before clapping my palm to his. He lifts me from the gravestone and turns me to look down upon it.
“Tell me, Nevers, what do you see when you look at this gravestone? Do you see the person? Their phantom?” Jericho says nostalgically. I’ve watched him many times stare down at his own grave in Bakersville. Though, now it feels like a lifetime ago.
“They aren’t here,” I murmur.
Jericho nods. “They are not.” He bends down and wipes the moss from over the name on the headstone, which reads Gregory Briggs.
My eyes widen as his name sparks my memory. The phantom in the cathedral was looking for a Gregory Briggs. I kneel and wipe the bottom portion of the stone. An image of him is still barely visible along with words that make my heart ache.
Architect of the Landertis Cathedral — made in memory of his sweet Elanor.
“I’d bet my money this guy has either already passed on or is waiting for his lost love at the cathedral he built for her.” Jericho grins and I snap my eyes at him. He doesn’t even know the faceless phantom that Ophelia and I found weeks ago, dancing to a soundless song, thinking of only this man. Only, she’s in a different cathedral, waiting.
“What’s your point?” I ask.
Jericho laughs and slaps his hand across my back. “My point is that he’s not dwelling around his stone. His mortal bonds. Neither are you. Or Yelina. Even me.”
His eyes are calm and patient.
“We are trudging on. Through the pain, through the despair. But we are not forgotten, Nevers. We will never be forgotten. You don’t think Wynn and Liam keep you with them every day? They probably see you in the clouds, in the breeze and stars. You are everywhere.”
My stomach sinks with guilt. How could I even think for a moment that they’d forgotten me? I lift my head and find reassurance and guidance in Jericho’s.
“You know what?”
He smirks. “What?”
“You’re a really good fucking counselor.”
Jericho throws his head back and laughs. The sound is rich and circles me. “You’re just now realizing it?”
I shake my head. “No, but I thought I ought to tell you at least once.” That earns me a slight grin.
We share the silence that follows, taking deep breaths and enjoying the crisp, foggy morning, our last together.
Yelina appears a few minutes later with three coffee cups. When she sees our relaxed shoulders and calm expressions, she smiles.
We sit amongst the gravestones as we sip our drinks, sharing stories of our time at Harlow and all the times after. Yelina leans into Jericho and presses a kiss to his lips. Warmth spreads between them and I can’t help but miss Ophelia.
Our love was made for this life and the next.
“What will you do now, Lan?” Yelina has her arms wrapped around Jericho’s chest, cheek resting on his shoulder.
The two of them wait for me to respond.
I let my gaze find a murder of crows, watching us quietly from the next row of gravestones over. Crows always fall silent when phantoms are near. It’s a subtle sign for anyone who dares to seek us.
“I’ve decided to find her. No matter how long it takes,” I say and as I do, hope soars in my heart. I won’t let her become like the phantom at the cathedral. Faceless and somber. Left to haunt her opera house alone.
Not my rose.
“Good. And then what will you do?” Jericho pushes.
“Then I’m going to take her with me to the other side.”
Yelina stands and runs to me, knocking me off the gravestone and hugging me tightly. “It”s about time, you idiot,” she whispers, her voice sounding strained. “I can’t bear the thought of you being here alone.”
I hug her just as tight. “You don’t need to worry about me. I promise I’ll be okay.” She leans back and wipes her tears. Jericho helps us back up and we walk to the pier as rain begins pelting down on us.
We stay until the sun reaches mid-sky, and then we say our goodbyes. It makes me nervous to think about what’s on the other side. Will I see them again? What if we don’t cross paths like we’re hoping? What if nothing awaits us?
I bury those thoughts, trying to look happy for my friends as they turn to leave.
I reach out and grab Jericho’s wrist. He stops and turns his head back at me lazily; kindness beams softly in his gaze. His soul feels tired, ready for the embarkment.
“Jericho,” I say with emotion rising in my throat.
He only smiles more endearingly and says, “Do not be afraid.”
“But I am.”
“That’s a good sign. You’re ready to move on.”
“What if we don’t get to meet again?”
Jericho chuckles and turns to hug me, pulling me in close one final time. I shut my eyes and embrace the care that rolls off him so easily. He’s been like a father to me for so much longer than before I died. He’s always shown me kindness and warmth, wisdom and advice. I know he was my counselor, but he’s always been more.
He whispers, “I know in my heart that we’ll meet again.”
We separate and I stare at him, biting my lower lip to quell the heartache. “See you soon then?” My smile is broken.
Jericho takes my baseball hat and puts it on his own head; I feel entirely vulnerable without it.
“After a while, crocodile. I’m going to borrow this hat—I’ll give it back to you when we meet again, kay?” Those are the last words he says to me before turning and taking Yelina’s hand. Together, they walk slowly out across the docks. A trail of embers follows in their wake; I’d not noticed them before. I think of my rose’s wet hair from the river in which she perished.
I watch in silence until the two of them disperse into the mist; their soft voices and laughter fade until I’m alone again, but this time I’m smiling and hope reignites inside my soul.