Chapter Twelve
Returning home from such a surreal and eye-opening weekend at her grandmother’s left Ophelia feeling disoriented.
The car nap didn’t help either. She felt like all that had transpired was a fever dream, and when she walked into her home, she dropped her bags and immediately began writing in her journal.
Journaling, list making, and running helped Ophelia organize her mind and focus on the task at hand—wrapping her mind around an unknown yet established magical world.
As she wrote, she imagined that her pen was a comb, detangling the mess in her hair leftover from a boat ride on Lake Pontchartrain.
With her thoughts fully on the page, she stood with a jittery feeling in her chest and pressed her hand over her heart, attempting to calm it. But it wouldn’t calm. Not now. The feeling was growing outward, straining to reach the tips of her toes. She needed a run.
It was close to nightfall, and Ophelia didn’t want to be out when the sun set, so she rushed through her warmup routine and made her way onto Carrollton Ave.
Her first couple of strides felt immaculate and right.
The sun’s descending rays tickled through the Spanish moss on the grand oaks.
The smell of potent jasmine and Mississippi mud hung heavy in the air, and Ophelia breathed it in and swallowed it down.
The world felt different. Alive with detail, with magic.
Instead of running to the levee, she turned onto St. Charles heading toward Audubon Park.
Once in the park, Ophelia slowed to a walk and noted children playing in a nearby playground.
And that’s when it clicked. Magic was the regaining of innocence.
It was reshaping her mind like a river carves the land.
Things weren’t as they seemed, but not in a bad way.
It was potential. She felt childlike. Her body twitched to run and dance and sing without care.
Instead, she cranked up her music and ran through the park with a goofy smile on her face and occasional laughter bubbling past her lips.
The rest of her week was filled with work and non-stop research on magic…To which she found very little online, and what she did find was likely written by a deranged person. She also busied herself with preparations for hosting the pre-game party for Red Dress Run.
Red Dress Run was a New Orleans tradition where the entire city parties in red dresses, even the men, straight or otherwise, on Bourbon Street at the sunshine-y hour of eight in the morning.
There was allegedly an actual race, but she’d never known anyone to attend it.
Most people opted to dance and drink instead.
She was looking forward to Saturday morning, where she would host all her friends in her home. She wasn’t quite ready to tell Jade or Jolie about what happened at Mawmaw’s yet. She needed to figure out how all of it fit into her life and wanted to hold it close to her chest, at least for now.
It was six in the morning, and Ophelia was already up.
She poured herself an iced coffee from the fridge, and as she sat on the countertop drinking, she savored her little wood-planked cottage that she purchased a year ago.
The front lawn was small but had just enough room for a stately magnolia tree and three white azalea bushes that lined the house.
The front porch fit two hand-carved rocking chairs that Ophelia’s mom found at a gas station off Interstate 10, and in true New Orleans fashion, the ceiling of the front porch was painted sky blue.
Owning her home made her feel grounded and accomplished after working so hard in New York. She never realized how special her birthplace was until she moved away. New York was exciting and energizing, but New Orleans had actual magic seeping through the cracked pavement, literally.
She set her coffee down and began prepping biscuits; dough stuck to her hands as she wrangled it into the shape of a fluffy pillow.
Once the biscuits were in the oven, she slipped on the red dress that sat in the back of her closet.
She’d worn the same dress every year for the past five years.
Jade had always convinced her to come home and attend Red Dress Run, even when she lived in New York.
The invites were veiled attempts to get Ophelia to move back. It worked.
She had just pulled her hair back into a French braid and lathered on two handfuls of sunscreen when the doorbell rang, signaling her friends’ arrival.
Ophelia walked to the door as Jade, followed by Luke, busted through the front door singing, “Good morning! Happy Red Dress Run Day!”
“Oh my God, you’re chipper,” Ophelia said as she gave Jade a hug.
“She’s a little too excited about day drinking. Her mom’s watching Theo at our house for the day,” said Luke.
To Ophelia’s surprise, Jack arrived next. She had invited him somewhat last-minute, sensing that he needed to get out more, away from his Prius and dogmatic ideas. Her friends were not like Jack at all, but he had met most of them before and seemed to tolerate them.
“Jack! So glad you came,” she said, pulling him into the house. Jade shot her a brief look of annoyance. Jade did not like Jack, but she’d be fine. There were plenty of people coming so that she could easily ignore him. “Y’all come to the kitchen and get some breakfast.”
More commotion came from the front door as Ophelia’s sister, Jolie, and a couple of her girlfriends arrived, followed by Ben, Etienne, and several others who seemed to travel in packs.
Ophelia locked eyes with Etienne for a breath, then quickly averted her eyes. She was soon approached by Ben, who cornered her in the kitchen while passing out mimosas.
“Hey, my girl,” said Ben in what was a clear attempt to be smooth.
The last time Ophelia was around Ben, a couple of months ago, she was in a weak, touch-starved state and made out with him at a bar.
She then proceeded to go back to his place for some very lackluster sex.
The spark just wasn’t there, no matter how hard she or Ben tried to make the encounter more enjoyable.
Not only was the spark not there, but Ben was also not great at taking some well-meaning direction in bed. Thankfully, he had been sweet and gentlemanly during the whole thing.
Ophelia had set very clear boundaries about it being a physical interaction only, with no expectations beyond the one night.
But when she left the next morning, she had the distinct feeling that Ben was going to keep trying for more, and he absolutely did.
She had received several invitations to go out or come over to his house, and for each invitation, she’d had a well-timed excuse.
“Hey, Ben. Get yourself some breakfast,” she said as she grabbed a butter dish and jelly jar. With the objects in her hands, his attempt at a full embrace turned into an awkward side hug.
“Oh, for sure. Hey, can you give me access to your Bluetooth speaker? I wanna pump some jams and get this party going.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ophelia had the Bluetooth hooked up to her phone, and the speaker was running through some nineties rap and rock. He handed her his phone, and she quickly connected it to the speaker. Thankfully, Jade appeared and broke up the conversation by drooling over the biscuits.
“These biscuits, girl,” Jade moaned. “I may shove some in my purse for later.”
“No judgment here,” Ophelia said with a chuckle. “I’d rather you eat a bunch than not. Do I need to remind you of the Great Vom of 2015?”
“No, oh God. Stop,” Jade said, wincing. “Trust me when I say I’ll never do that again. I have learned my lesson.” She leaned closer to Ophelia. “Why’d you invite weirdo cousin Jack?”
“Shhh,” hissed Ophelia. “He’s family. I know you don’t like him. Just avoid him.” Ophelia gave Jade a stern look, and Jade rolled her eyes.
“He’s not even wearing a red dress.”
“At least his T-shirt is red,” Ophelia reasoned.
“He just gives me the creeps.”
Ophelia laughed at Jade and slapped her on the bottom, effectively making her scurry away to Luke.
Ophelia smiled as she took in the group of friends crammed into her cottage, making the kitchen and living room look like some type of fun house.
The people looked too oversized for the space, which added to the boisterousness of the party.
Luke, Etienne, and Ben stood by the couch talking.
They seemed as if they were trying to help Ben select a song now that he had control of the speaker.
Ophelia quickly flicked her gaze away when Etienne noticed her staring; she focused her attention back to refilling the carafe of orange juice.
Ophelia had been interested in Etienne from the moment they met, but he was always dating someone, typically a beautiful blonde.
Plus, he always seemed very indifferent and uninterested.
He would talk to her like he did at Delphine’s funeral—kind, but surface-level.
Then he would usually disappear or ignore her after initial greetings and pleasantries.
Thus, she mentally placed him in the friend zone and moved on.
It didn’t mean she was blind, though. She still thought he was gorgeous, but she tried to keep the flirting and longing stares to a minimum.
As she placed the orange juice on the counter, her skin on the back of her neck tingled in awareness.
She turned, and to her surprise, she was met with Etienne’s broad build, accentuated by a deep-V, red halter dress that showed off his pecs and chest hair.
The skirt of the dress was laughably short and laden with gaudy sequins barely covering his thick thighs. Fuuckkkkk.
“Whoa, E. Showing a lot of skin there,” Ophelia joked to mask the heat in her face, but her voice came out a tad too deep, too sultry. She mentally admonished herself.
Etienne quirked a mischievous smile. “Honestly, these dresses are very freeing. Everything is nice and breezy.” He swished his hips slightly, making the skirt flare out.
The man was even confident and stately in a slutty, discarded prom dress. Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Did you eat yet?”
Etienne admired the spread with wide eyes.
“My God, Ophelia, you outdid yourself!”
Ophelia shrugged, knowing full well she went overboard.
“Plates and forks are by the sink. Need a drink?”
“I’m good, I’ll get it. Go enjoy yourself.”
“Nuh uh. I’m the host, I’ll get you a drink.” Ophelia handed him a Miller Lite out of the fridge. His favorite. He smiled wide, only for a second, then murmured a quick thank-you and turned quickly back to the spread of food.
“How’s Sarah? Is she coming today?” Ophelia prodded.
“Ah…yeah, well. No. We’re not together anymore.” Ettienne shrugged as he filled his plate. He didn’t seem too bothered by the breakup.
“Shit. Sorry. Jade didn’t tell me.”
“No worries. It’s a new development.” Etienne topped his plate off with two pieces of bacon and went silent again.
The music suddenly changed to Ben’s favorite song, which happened to be Ophelia’s least favorite— “Who Let the Dogs Out?” She groaned, looking desperately at Etienne. “Whyyyy? Why does he insist on playing this song at every party?”
Etienne’s wide chest shook from his laugh.
“I don’t know, but he can’t be stopped.” He gave Ophelia a sympathetic smile and quickly walked away.
Ben was really trying to get everyone into the song, pumping his fists into the air and bobbing his head.
Ophelia winced in disbelief that she had actually had sex with this man.
After everyone was properly tipsy and full of biscuits, they piled into Ubers and rode through the city, observing various groups of people in red dresses hopping onto streetcars and catching rides.
The early morning energy of the city was electric.
The sky was vibrant, and the oak trees appeared grander than ever before, leaves twitching to the rhythm of a saxophone player on St. Charles Avenue.
Ophelia rolled down the window of the car and leaned out, listening to the music drift by.
Ophelia felt electric, too. It wasn’t an abnormal feeling for her to have before going out, but this time she was humming on a different plane.
It was like her magic was building and ready to burst, and everywhere she looked out of her window appeared brimming with mysticism.
The arch of the oak tree, the crack in the sidewalk, the rust of a wrought iron fence.
The smallest details captivated her so deeply that she felt the atoms of her body transform.
She took a sip of her to-go drink and let her untapped magic guide her through the revelry.