47. Ophelia
OPHELIA
The next week passes in a flurry of happiness, interspersed with a lot of sex. A lot. I’ve started to wonder what on Earth I did with all my time when I wasn’t having this much sex.
I can feel the change in myself. I smile more, I hold my shoulders back and my chin up.
I chat with complete strangers while in line at the cafeteria and find myself speaking up in class.
I haven’t changed how I dress, but instead of being ashamed, I’m owning it.
This is who I am, and if someone doesn’t like it, that’s their problem, not mine.
I’ve even discovered there’s a name for dressing like this—boho.
I’m tempted to get myself some boots to wear with my long dresses and might ask the men if we can go to town one day to go shopping, though perhaps Camile might be a better choice for that particular activity.
I’m in my calculus class when a knock comes at the door, and one of the other students—a girl I’ve never spoken to before—pops her head in. Her gaze scans across the desks, and lands on me.
She clears her throat and addresses my tutor. “I’m sorry, but the dean needs to see Ophelia Sinclair in his office right away.”
The tutor gives me a nod to say it’s okay, and I shakily get to my feet. My stomach churns. This can’t be good. Why would the dean need to see me?
It occurs to me that he might have heard about the relationship between me and the Preachers, but surely, he wouldn’t get involved with that?
We’re all adults, and who we choose to have relationships with is none of his business.
Unless there are some kind of rules against it that I’m unaware of, but it’s not as though I haven’t seen other similar things happening in the college already.
I pick up my books, and, clutching them to my chest, leave the classroom.
I hurry down the corridor, simultaneously not wanting to go, while also wanting to get this over with.
I reach his office door, and his secretary is sitting at the desk outside.
I open my mouth to tell her why I’m there, but she nods toward the door.
“He’s expecting you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
My palms are damp with sweat, and I’m all jittery inside. I lightly rap my knuckles on the door then open it.
I stop short.
Sitting on the opposite side of his desk are my parents.
“Mom? Dad?” I say in surprise. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
My first thought is that something has happened to them. Is one of them sick, and they’ve come here to break the news to me? Has something happened to the business? Are they in trouble with the law?
“Ophelia, sweetheart.” My mom stands and gives me a hug.
My dad doesn’t stand, and his expression is stern.
My stomach flips with fresh nerves. “What’s going on?”
From his inside jacket pocket, my dad pulls out a letter.
“We received something,” he says. “It was addressed to you, so you’ll have to forgive us for opening your mail, but we knew something about it wasn’t right.”
I stare at the letter in his hand. “What do you mean, something wasn’t right?”
He presses his lips together and hands it to me without saying another word. I open it, staring down at the handwriting.
Dearest Ophelia,
At first, I didn’t understand why you left without saying a word.
I missed you, but I also hated you a little for leaving me.
For turning your back on our community when we treated you like family.
But now my turn has come, and I understand why you left.
The Prophet has announced that we are to be married.
I turn eighteen in a couple of weeks, and I’m to become his next bride.
He is almost thirty years older than me, and the thought has me crying myself to sleep every night.
I feel like I’ve betrayed my community and my God by not being happy about this, but I can’t do it.
I can’t lay with that man and allow him to put a baby inside me, which I know he will do. I feel sick at the thought.
Please, Ophelia. You’re the only person I know who can help me. You got away, and I hope you’re living your life now, and still think of me.
Your friend and sister, Daisy.
My eyes fill with tears upon reading her words. It’s exactly what I feared would happen, but I didn’t know it would happen to her. She’s so young, I thought perhaps the Prophet would have given up on taking new wives by the time she came of age.
I blink back tears. “Poor Daisy.”
Instead of being sad, my father seems angry. “How did she know where you live, Ophelia? How could you have given someone in that place our address?”
A wave of heat washes over me. “I-I didn’t think.”
“How do you know that girl hasn’t given your address to the man who took you?”
My face burns. “She wouldn’t. I trust her.”
“You can’t trust anyone there!” he roars. “They’re crazy! Brainwashed! They’ll do whatever they’re told.”
I feel sick at his words, because I know he’s not wrong. “I’m sorry.”
“You need to pack up your belongings, Ophelia,” my mother says. “You need to come with us.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“We have to move. Move states, if we must. We need to protect you.”
“I’m safer here.” They are being irrational. No one knows I’m here. Taking me home is more dangerous. “If she betrayed me, and she hasn’t, but hypothetically, they know where you guys live, but they don’t know about the college.”
“I have my own security,” Father says. “I have hired extra, and I need you under my roof at all times, with a guard on you.”
My heart starts to crack, and panic overwhelms me. “No.” I shake my head. “Here is where I’m safe.”
Mom folds her lips into a thin line. “Not anymore, you’re not.”
“No, please.” My mind reels. “You can’t take me away.” Not from them, I think but don’t say. You can’t take me away from the Preachers.
My father shakes his head. “We don’t have any choice. You should never have given someone at that place your home address.”
He’s right, I shouldn’t have, but I hadn’t done it with malicious intent. I’d just wanted to give Daisy some way of getting in touch with me. I hadn’t wanted to vanish from her life completely in case she needed me. And she does need me. Her letter makes that much clear.
I bark out a sob and clamp my hand to my mouth. “No, I don’t want to leave. You can’t make me.”
My father’s face furrows. “Yes, we can. We pay your tuition fees here. If we refuse to pay them, you’ll no longer be welcome here.”
I shoot a desperate glance in the dean’s direction, hoping he’ll stand up for me, but he turns his face and doesn’t meet my eye.
“Go and pack your stuff,” Father says. “We have the car waiting outside.”
I look desperately to my mother for support, but she shakes her head. “Do as your father says, Ophelia. No arguments. You’re coming with us.”
What will they do if I refuse? Will they physically haul me out of here, kicking and protesting?
Yes, I’m sure they will. I want to find the Preachers, to tell them what is happening, but I doubt my parents knowing about our relationship will help my case.
Even so, I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.
“Go straight to your room, Ophelia.” My father seems to have read my thoughts. “No dawdling.” He holds his hand out. “And give me your phone. I will get you a new one. One your mother and I have access to check.”
What? My face burns at the way they’re treating me, but I can see the fear under their anger. I’m their only child, and they lost me once. They must be terrified of the same thing happening.
I pass my phone over, hands shaking.
This is my own fault. I should never have written my address on that goodbye note I left for Daisy. But at the same time, I’m torn. Because Daisy is asking for my help, and if I hadn’t left my address, I never would have known.
With tears streaming down my face, I run from the office, heading back to my room.
“Ophelia?” a female voice calls, breaking me from my thoughts.
It’s Camile.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me in alarm.
I can’t stop crying. “My parents are making me leave, right now. I can’t explain the whole story. Can you find the Preachers and tell them I’m leaving?”
She pulls me into a hug. “Is there nothing you can do to stay?”
I shake my head. “This is my fault. I did something stupid. But will you tell them, please? Tell them I didn’t want to go.”
“Yes, of course. Oh, my God, I’m going to miss you.”
Her kind words only make me cry harder. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
And them, I think. I’ll miss them most of all.
I untangle myself from her arms. I need to get my belongings and meet my parents outside.