Chapter Twenty Two
After Ophelia showered, she lay on the guest bed wrapped in her towel. She was still in awe that she had been treated. Now, if she could only repeat it. She couldn’t possibly go for a run each time before she treated someone.
The next hurdle was coming. In thirty minutes, Mawmaw’s Traiteur friends would arrive, and they would start the whole grueling process of transferring the gift. Ophelia wasn’t ready for it. Not for any of it, really. The pain. The gift.
She was beginning to feel anxious again.
She tried to slow her breath. With her inhale, her breasts rose and rubbed against the worn towel.
It felt nice. Distracting. Sex, like running, had a similar effect of pulling her focus out of her head and into her body.
She wanted that oxytocin hit from an orgasm.
Her body deserved some pleasure before all the pain that was headed her way. Plus, it was extremely relaxing.
Before she went for a shower, she had moved Mawmaw to the back porch rocker.
Her bedroom door stood open a crack, and she thought it was best to leave it that way.
Just in case Mawmaw needed her, she wanted to be able to hear.
Thirty minutes. Plenty of time to calm myself through some delightful touching.
Ophelia scooted to the middle of the bed and placed her head on the pillow.
She unwrapped herself like she was taking out a fancy cashmere sweater from a shopping bag, peeling off that little sticker that held the tissue paper together, and appreciating the soft texture of the fibers.
She caressed herself and palmed her breasts, feeling their delicious weight.
She tickled her nipples, and her core clenched.
Her mind was relaxing. Everything was feeling languid except for her sex, which throbbed and ached in the best way.
She didn’t fantasize about anyone or anything.
Her touch was enough of an arousal, and she centered herself, letting the feel of her skin bliss out her mind.
Ophelia glided her hands down her smooth torso and skimmed her fingers around the top of her pelvis, in between her thighs, and along her bikini line, teasing herself.
She began to lightly play with the lips of her labia, opening and closing them with her fingers.
She loved the way her lips felt when pulled apart, then slowly closed back together, like a midnight bloom.
She tested the feeling of her clit with light pressure that quickly turned firmer.
She began slowly rocking her hips, dipping her middle finger into herself, and dragging the liquid pooling there across her clit.
She hummed softly at the feeling. Again, her body said. She dipped her—
“Hello,” said an older male voice ringing throughout the house. “Hello?”
Ophelia froze mid-masturbation. Fuck, they’re here already.
Fuck. Fuck. She could hear more shuffling down the hall as two sets of feet walked into the house and closed the door.
Mawmaw was on the back porch with her third iced tea of the day and probably couldn’t hear them.
Their feet were moving, looking around the house to see if anyone was home.
“Just a minute!” yelled Ophelia as she covered herself with the towel and lunged to close her door. “I’ll be out in one minute. Mawmaw— I mean, Ophelia is on the back porch.”
She threw on her denim cutoffs and a T-shirt, pulled her hair into a wet bun, and rushed barefoot out into the hall. Her grandmother’s friends must have made it outside. She heard voices coming from the back, so she walked to the back porch to greet them.
“Hi, sorry about that! I just got done with a run and was showering,” she said in one breath, cheeks flushed. It took a moment for her brain to catch up with her eyes. “Etienne?”
There he was, leaning against her Mawmaw’s porch railing in jeans and a crisp navy T-shirt.
His sculpted arms were folded across his broad chest, and those rumpled brown curls were placed in haphazard perfection.
She could feel her cheeks burning as her eyes bounced from Etienne to the older man in a fedora and Mawmaw.
“Ophelia?” Etienne looked just as confused.
Ophelia regarded him, waiting for an explanation, and suddenly realization flickered across his face.
“Of course, you’re Ophelia’s granddaughter.
Of course.” Etienne shook his head as if he’d been ridiculous not to recognize it before.
He pushed off the porch ledge and walked toward her as if his presence wasn’t wrecking her. Both of his arms opened for a hug.
She was so flustered that she gave him a bizarre side hug where she leaned the right side of her body into his front, forcing him to awkwardly drop his right arm that would have wrapped inappropriately around the front of her chest. Instead, he went for a solid pat on the back.
“I should have put all of this together sooner,” said Etienne, stepping back from her. “Especially after Delphine’s funeral.”
“Wait, do y’all know each other?” Ophelia asked, looking between Etienne and her Mawmaw.
Etienne laughed. “No, we just met today, but those two have been friends forever,” he said, gesturing to her grandmother and the older man sitting on a rocker. “I never put together that y’all were related.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry, I’m still trying to catch up here. You’re a Traiteur?”
Etienne smiled with a nod.
“Right. Makes sense. You’re a doctor, so yeah…” Shut up, Ophelia. “Must be useful.” Ophelia caught her grandmother’s eyes, and the old broad was smiling like a maniac. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Oooh,” cooed Mawmaw. “I didn’t know you two knew each other!
How exciting and sexy.” Ophelia shot her grandmother with a scathing glare.
“Brutus, did you know?” Mawmaw turned to the old man, who kept a straight face that said he was not interested in where this was going.
Brutus looked like an old man who could still beat up a couple of guys at once.
He had thick knuckled fingers and tanned crepey skin that Ophelia was sure was once as smooth as leather.
“I didn’t. Nice to meet you, Ophelia.” Brutus started to stand from the rocking chair, and Etienne smoothly grabbed his arm to support him. She walked toward him to save him the trouble and shook his large hand.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she said sincerely.
Ophelia found his fedora adorable. His face sagged with age, but his features held onto a sense of pride and self-assuredness.
Brutus gave Ophelia a slight smile, and she wondered if Etienne would look like him when he was old and gray.
Stately and calm. She thought of him like that now.
“Wonderful,” said Mawmaw, clapping her hands. “Glad we are all so well acquainted. Now, let’s get the show on the road.”
The realization slammed into her. Etienne was going to witness her Passing. Ophelia prayed that she didn’t shit her pants or barf in front of him.
The group stood in the treating parlor. As usual, the lights were off, curtains drawn.
“Ophelia, please light the candles,” asked Mawmaw more politely now that they were in the presence of company.
The room slowly glowed brighter with each lit candle.
Mawmaw and Brutus moved through the room slowly, setting up some oil and cloths while Etienne followed them around to ensure no one fell.
After the candles were lit, Ophelia felt awkward and unsure of herself as she stood in the room watching the others complete their tasks.
She had asked Mawmaw several times about the details of the process, but she just blew her off and said not to worry.
But Ophelia craved details. She wanted to anticipate what would occur, and all she knew was that there would be pain and aftershocks.
Brutus shuffled to the altar, pulling out white linen hand towels and folding them into precise rectangles. Etienne stood observing with his arms crossed.
“Want me to bring in more chairs?” Etienne asked Brutus and Mawmaw.
“Oh yes, hon, that would be great,” said Mawmaw. Etienne motioned for Ophelia to follow him out of the parlor.
“Does she have any folding chairs? Or should I bring in the kitchen chairs?”
“Kitchen chairs are fine,” Ophelia responded and walked towards the kitchen with Etienne on her heels. She came to a stop in front of the kitchen table and chairs.
“So, you nervous?” asked Etienne.
She considered faking confidence for a minute, but she couldn’t muster such a falsehood in her state. “Very. How was your Passing?”
“I fainted and hit my nose on a table. There was a lot of blood.”
“Great. Great.” There was an awkward pause between the pair. “So how long have you been treating?”
“I started right after college, so I’ve been at it for a while.
” Etienne reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re going to be okay. I promise.” His warm brown eyes were sincere, and she wanted to believe that he was right.
“I’ve never helped with a Passing, but I treat regularly and will help take away as much pain as possible. ”
Ophelia breathed in deeply through her nose and let out a calming breath through her mouth. “Okay,” she said, and nodded at him.
Etienne grabbed two chairs, and Ophelia followed him back to the parlor. He set the chairs down in the treating parlor. Seconds ticked by. They were all acting so normal, and Ophelia couldn’t take it anymore.
“Y’all, shouldn’t we be doing this in the bathroom? Or shouldn’t we have a bucket at least for when I inevitably vomit? Also, how is this going to work?” Her voice was shaking, and she could hear the hysteria in it.
Etienne’s eyes rounded in a bit of surprise. Ophelia had never let him see her this way. She enjoyed playing the cool chick with an air of mystique.
“Calm yaself, girl. It’s not something I can really explain. We’ll hold each other’s hands like always and clear our minds as I push the gift from me to you. Remember, I’ve never done this either. And this handsome young man will treat your aftershocks.”
“At your service.” Etienne made a gallant nod with his head to Mawmaw.
“Right, right. Okay.” Ophelia wiped her palms on her leggings.
“Now, come sit.” Mawmaw moved with her walker to sit in the wingback chair as Ophelia took the kitchen chair opposite her and adjusted her grandmother’s walker to the side.
“Scoot in a bit,” said Mawmaw. Ophelia moved her chair closer to Mawmaw so their knees were touching, the closeness making it easier to hold each other’s hands and rest them on their legs.
“Just like before, calm your mind.” Mawmaw closed her eyes, and Ophelia quickly glanced at Etienne, who stood behind her right shoulder, and Brutus, who stood to the left of Mawmaw. They seemed unworried.
This will be fine. Clear your mind.
Ophelia took in a deep breath and exhaled for four beats. In again, out again.
What if I throw up on Etienne? What if something horrible happens to me, and he can’t heal me? Will they take me to a doctor? Wait…He is a doctor.
SMACK.
Mawmaw slapped Ophelia’s wrist and gave her a menacing stare. “Clear. Your. Mind.”
“I need a minute. Just give me one minute.” Ophelia stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Ophelia hurried to her guest room and closed the door.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still damp in her bun.
Her eyes were wide with panic, and she could feel anxious sweat pooling under her armpits.
She lifted an arm. Great. A stain was starting to show.
Ophelia grabbed a towel from the dirty hamper and wiped under her arms. She had no idea how she was going to do this with Etienne here.
She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of other people.
On instinct, Ophelia walked to the hall bathroom and gently closed the door shut. She splashed water on her face and fed handfuls of water into her mouth. She began to recite the line from Rilke again.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Ophelia straightened and confidently walked back to the treating parlor. She sat down, held out her hands for her Mawmaw, and closed her eyes.
No feeling is final.
No feeling is final.
Her mind was clear. The repetitiveness of the line was carrying her as her breath fell into a smooth, gentle rhythm. And just as her Mawmaw’s hands tightened around hers, Ophelia thought, Yes. Let it all happen to you. Beauty and terror.
A wave of intense energy suddenly surged through her body. She felt a crack inside like her rib cage was being splayed open.
And there it was. The terror. Full and unending.
Let it happen. Let it happen. Let it happen.
The Passing was a second broken into painful milliseconds, and she felt every single one.
The crack she heard inside of her served as the catalyst to sweat breaking out across her body, followed by tremors and then an onslaught of deep, twisting organ and bone pain, like a giant was wringing out all of her internal organs and squeezing her bones in his fist. She was sure her bones would compress to dust in the next millisecond.
But instead, what followed was sharp pain rippling across her flesh.
Knives stabbed, and razors raked across her skin.
She was being flayed. The agony. Bring back the deep pain, she pleaded internally.
She could handle that, not this. The sharpness was unbearable.
And suddenly it tore through her head, her mind.
A migraine exploded through her, and that same giant was now squeezing her brain.
He was so close to crushing it. Goo would be everywhere.
The final millisecond wasn’t physical pain.
No. Much, much, much worse. It was emotional pain.
Hopelessness. Sorrow. Fury. Her body and mind were overwhelmed. It was too much.
Help. Please help. Help me. Make it end.
The pain kept going. The second had to be up. It was going on for too long.
HELP. STOP. STOP. Can they hear me? I can’t see them. I can’t see. My eyes!
Then everything went dark. She had retreated inward into a space she thought her nerve endings and feelings couldn’t reach her. She still felt the pain, but it was a distant echo.
Her tiger. Her protector. Her own strength embodied. For the first time ever, she lunged for her protector.
Hold me. Help me, Ophelia pleaded. The tiger lay down on its side in a relaxed position, and she wept over its body. She dug her hands in its fur and breathed in its musk. Help me. Please. The tiger purred deeply in response.
As she nestled against her tiger, her body gave in to sleep, exhausted from the pain.