12. Cain
CAIN
I pause outside Ophelia’s room, my fist raised, and hesitate. Should I just walk away? She’s the past, and I’m building my future.
The Cain I was when I knew this girl was weak, and I never want to be weak again. In some ways, her being here makes me ashamed. She’s a walking reminder of the fact I used to be so scared that I’d climb in a girl’s window and sleep on her floor, just to feel safe.
Then I grew up, got big, bigger than my fucking dad, and worked out, joined the school wrestling club.
Joined some underground fight clubs, and I always won.
I was physically strong, then I came here, to Verona Falls, and I met Roman and Malachi, and together we worked on getting mentally strong too. Emotionally as well.
Roman’s views of the world, and his faith, for want of a better word, were a great fit for me and Mal.
So over time, we forged a new way of looking at things.
I don’t always believe as strongly as the other two, truth be told, but I must admit their way of living has made me stronger than I’ve ever been.
Now, I might be about to throw that mental and emotional fortitude away by bringing up the past and all its painful secrets.
I could walk away, but the girl behind this door was there for me when no one else was, and it seems like she needs a friend now.
She’s tiny, too thin. Her eyes are haunted.
She wears clothes that look like she made them herself, yet I know her family has money.
The girl could be dressed head to toe in Gucci, if she wanted.
I know the reason behind it must have to do with where she’s been for the past six years.
I’ve always believed my life has been hard, and I’ve done my best not to feel sorry for myself but to use it to make me stronger instead.
But whatever has happened to Ophelia has done the opposite, and I need to know more.
Someone has hurt her, and it makes me want to kill them.
Mind made up, I rap on the door. At first there’s no answer, and I can’t hear any movement inside, but then there’s a quiet, “ Yes? ” from the other side of the door.
“Ophelia, it’s me.”
Then I shake my head at my own stupidity. I’m sure my voice has changed a lot since she knew me. “Cain. It’s Cain. I just … can we talk?”
There’s a long pause. Long enough that I turn to walk away, but then the door opens and she’s standing there. For a moment, the college walls around us disappear. Her features are a time machine taking me back to a past I prefer to forget.
I can almost taste the endless summer days, and the pain of the broken bones I got later that year.
“Cain.” Her expression is hard to read. Cautious, mostly.
“Ang…Ophelia.” I almost use the pet name I gave her years ago. I called her Angel then. Or Fee, which is just short for Ophelia.
Angel had been a joke at first. It hadn’t been because of how she looked, although now, she looks more angelic than ever, so it fits.
But it had been because of what she was doing.
Snow angels, but in long grass. Somehow it had become a name that stuck, and yet, it doesn’t feel right calling her it now.
She bites her lip, and I notice they look a little red, and wonder if it is a regular habit. I get the sudden and debilitatingly strong urge to taste those red lips of hers.
Instead, I swallow hard and force a smile to my face. “I thought we might be able to talk. It’s been a long time, Fee.”
That name doesn’t feel as loaded as Angel, and a ghost of a smile flits across her lips, as fast as the wind, and as pretty as the sunrise. But then it’s gone, and that haunted look is back.
“I don’t know, Cain. I’m not the same person I was when we knew each other. I’m not sure what there is to talk about, anyway. I can’t remember a lot of the past.”
She can’t? Did she have an accident that caused amnesia? Or did her trauma block it out?
I want to ask her, but I’m so scared of making her shut down on me completely. I’ve not felt this way in a long time. Unsure. I’ve spent years building up defense mechanisms to avoid this exact feeling.
“I only want to talk, just a little.” I shrug. “It’s been a long time, Fee, and we were close. Best friends.”
“Lots of people have childhood friends they never see again.” She scuffs her foot against the carpet and glances back over her shoulder, inside her room as though she’s longing to get back inside there and shut the door.
“But we did see one another, again, didn’t we?
” I push. “That’s the entire point. We’ve come back into each other’s lives.
” I’m starting to feel desperate, and I’m not used to feeling this way.
“Look, just five minutes. That’s all. I won’t stay long.
” Then a realization hits me that makes me sad for her, and angry at myself.
“Unless you’d prefer we stay in public. I’d understand.
We can go to the cafeteria, if you’d like? Grab a coffee?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not scared of having you in my room, Cain. It’s not that. It’s the talking that bothers me. I’m … I’m not good at it anymore.”
Those words hit me hard and make my chest ache for her.
But, despite her words, she steps back and lets me into her space.
I glance around as I enter her room, and the first thing that hits me is how bare it is.
Sure, it’s a college dorm and not her own room, but there’s nothing in here to make it her own.
No books, that I can see. No girly things.
There’s no perfume or makeup out on the small dresser.
A couple of small, delicate vases sit on the window ledge, and that’s it.
The only thing is a toy on the bed and, as I look at it, my heart squeezes.
Mr. Flopsy. He’d been her rabbit when she was young. A plush toy she’d had from being a baby. She’d joked that he was her best friend before I came along and that he was jealous of us.
I bend down and touch the rabbit’s foot, as though for luck.
“You still have him,” I say, my voice gruff.
“I didn’t. Not for a long while.” She picks him up and holds him to her chest, like a shield.
I want to ask the burning question. What happened? But, if I do, the twenty-ton elephant in the room will go on a rampage and smash up this very fragile beginning I am trying to build. I want more. I know as much acutely, but what, I’m not sure.
Either way, I don’t want to jeopardize this before it begins, and I’m terrified I will. I always do. I’m not good with people. I don’t have light conversations and easy small talk. My world was brutal, and I was forged in that. It’s made me blunt, hard.
Ophelia watches me as if I’m a big, dangerous beast in her territory. For the first time ever, my size feels like a bad thing instead of something I’m proud of and that I worked hard on.
I sigh, then she shocks me by taking hold of my hands in her small, pale ones.
“It’s okay, Cain. We can talk, but I’m not ready to talk about any of that yet.”
She doesn’t have to explain what ‘any of that’ means. I already understand. It’s a boundary. A firm one, and one I hate because I need to know, but for now, I’ll respect it.
I nod and start with something simple.
“So, what brings you to Verona Falls?”