Chapter 26. Ophelia #2
It takes a minute to send, but when it does, a reply comes straight away. It’s past five in the morning there.
Alex
I miss you. Proud to be yours.
The picture attached is the little highland cow I got him for his birthday, resting on the pillow beside him, right where I should be.
Mabel appears, giving me a warm smile.
Why am I emotional? Is it sad that I’m so much better at befriending older people?
“Funny how you get attached to people after a only few hours,” she says, echoing my thoughts aloud.
I wrap her in a hug, squeezing tight as the whir of people goes on around us.
“Things have been ever so lonely since my daughter passed,” she says, voice wobbling. “Maybe we could be phone friends.”
“I was too scared to ask you,” I say, on a laugh.
“In case I thought you were trying to get into my will?”
“Mabel! No!”
She laughs, pulling away and handing me her phone, open on her contacts. I smile at the name she’s already put in. Ophelia Scared of Flying.
I put her in mine, too. Mabel Not Scared of Flying.
“You’ll have to come for tea next time you’re in Yorkshire.”
“I promise I will.”
She takes my hand in hers, the skin tanned and mottled with age, giving me a sincere look. “If he’s the right fella for you, you’ll get through the long distance.”
I squeeze her one last time, setting her off in the direction of the luggage claim. I head to Arrivals, trying to talk myself into spending the last of my emergency savings on a series of train tickets, even though it was supposed to be for driving lessons.
I wander aimlessly through to the airport foyer. It’s people-watching heaven. Men in sharp suits and earpieces hold iPads with people’s names in unhelpfully small text. That surely cannot be the most effective way to do it. Mabel would agree with me.
A girl with a giant backpack runs past me, leaping into the waiting arms of her parents. A couple kiss under the harsh airport lights, his hand lifting the tote bag off his husband’s shoulder. A woman and three toddlers whoop with excitement as a man jogs over, a big grin on his face.
A year ago, a month ago, it probably would’ve made me cry. A year ago, I found grief in the joy of others, self-doubt in the beauty of my friends.
I wait for the misery and the envy to hit me, but it doesn’t. All it does is warm my heart, restore my faith in the world a little more.
Or maybe I’m so happy to not be forty thousand feet in the air that I’ve gone delirious.
A flash of orange catches my eye, a ridiculous bundle of gold, orange, and yellow balloons, and another foil balloon shaped like a star. Each balloon has a letter on it.
YOU SURVIED.
I’m so distracted by the message, I almost miss the hands beneath them, waving frantically. Hardly notice Colette, Magda, and Divya bouncing around to get my attention, holding a flattened cardboard box that says Welcome Back Ophelia in big pink letters.
I gape at them like a goldfish, feet seeming to grow roots into the vinyl flooring of the airport.
I … what?
And then I’m just like that girl with the big hiking backpack, rushing past people to get to them. We collide in a group hug so enthusiastic that it momentarily knocks the air from my lungs, makes me realize how right I was to come home. Colette’s Chanel perfume invades my lungs. “You did it!”
“I did it!”
“Do you like the balloons?” They rearrange them again.
“I survied.”
Colette sticks out her glossy bottom lip. “They only had one V balloon in stock at the party store we went to on the way down.”
Divya sighs, thrusting a take-away cup of tea into my hand. “Apparently some bitch Vivian is having a birthday party.”
“Slag,” mumbles Magda, in her trademark black lipstick.
Colette claps her hands, leading us to the exit. Her satin minidress has some sort of neck scarf built in, the cream fabric the same shade as her heels. How does she not get cold? “Let’s go!”
Eike is stood outside a bigger car than usual in the pickup area, on what looks to be a bit of a tense phone call.
“How’s Eike?” I ask Colette, as we head toward him.
“I’m surprised he’s climbed out of my stepfather’s ass long enough to drive us home, let’s just put it that way.”
“Are you going to ask for a new driver?”
“They’re all shit, Ophelia. The next one will be, too. They’re not really drivers. They’re just spies who report back on my every move.”
I glance over at Eike, who is pacing the drop-off zone with his phone pressed to his ear. I can’t help but feel some sympathy for him—I’m sure Colette’s tweed-wearing, old-money stepdad is a nightmare client.
“I’m sorry. We can catch up at Sorrowsong.”
“I would love that. Apparently, Hemlock is opening up a cozy café in their common room to the other houses.”
“You know it’s been a slow month at Sorrowsong when this is what we’re excited about,” says Divya, as Eike comes over and takes my bag off my shoulder.
Magda takes the front seat, sliding her purple headphones over her braids, and I think she’s asleep before we’ve even paid the charge at the airport barrier.
Colette presses a button to put a screen up between us and Eike and then turns to face me like she’s been holding a piece of information in for days. “I caught Belladonna making out with a groundskeeper.”
“What?”
Divya nods, looking like she might burst with excitement at the fact we’re all back together. “And I caught my lecturer making out with Carmichael’s new PA!” She waves her hand like she’s trying to dismiss her own conversation topic. “What am I even talking about? You first! Tell us everything.”
I lean back in the plush leather seat, taking a sip of my tea. Alex’s mom, the fight with his father, the fact that things between Alex and me couldn’t be any better, the flights, Mabel, Fleur. Christ. Suddenly I’m glad the drive is two days long. “We have so much to talk about.”