Chapter 38
Ophelia tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her spine, sucking down a steadying breath.
There had been so many things to take care of in such a short period of time. It had been days since she’d last seen Sam. She’d broken her lease, found a moving company to clear the apartment, and spent a long time at the bank sorting out her strange new finances.
This meeting was far less daunting than the one with her father had been, but she still found herself oddly dreading it. She rang the doorbell and stepped back.
The door opened, spilling the smell of hibiscus air freshener and the soothing chords of a classical song into the hall.
Her mother frowned, blinking hard at her. “Ophelia? What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
Her mother huffed, but she stepped back, opening the door wide in invitation.
Ophelia stepped over the threshold, taking in the eclectic, cluttered decor of her mother’s luxury apartment.
It was nearly bursting with antiques and the latest trends from her favorite designer stores, as though it was more important for every room to be a testament to wealth than for them to be functional.
“You’re dressed up,” her mother said, easing the door shut behind her. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m going to an event,” Ophelia said distractedly, doubting herself as she looked around the place.
If her mother sold even half of this superfluous furniture, she’d have enough to keep herself afloat for the next two years—longer, if she could be convinced to give up the overpriced and over-sized apartment in the nicest part of town.
Ophelia rubbed her thumb over the envelope pressed against her stomach.
Was she making a mistake by enabling her further?
“What kind of event?”
She didn’t miss the familiar note in her mother’s voice, the one that said she might be about to ask for a favor.
“Nothing you’d be interested in attending,” she said.
Her mother would have been all too interested in attending an event with the richest and most influential people in the city—even one as salacious as Automata After Dark.
That would be the kiss of death for her plan.
Having sex in front of a bunch of strangers was bad enough.
If her mother was in the audience? She thought she might finally agree to let Sam start killing everyone who got in their way.
“Well, what are you doing here, then?” her mother asked, her voice once again flat with boredom.
“I came to give you something,” she answered, turning the envelope over in her hands.
Her mother’s eyes lit with avarice. “Is that from your father?”
“No.” Sort of. “It’s from me.”
“Well, hand it over.” She held out a hand expectantly, wiggling her manicured fingers.
Ophelia did as requested, and her mother didn’t wait half a breath before ripping into it to get at its contents. When she unfolded the documents within, she frowned.
“What is this?” she asked, looking up at Ophelia.
“It’s an educational trust fund. There’s a hundred thousand dollars in it, to be used at any university of your choice.”
Shock rippled over her mother’s face, quickly chased by anger.
“Why would you give me this?” She waved it in Ophelia’s face. “What the hell am I supposed to do with it? Why on earth wouldn’t you give me the cash?”
“Because you would waste it,” Ophelia said sharply, in no mood to kowtow. “Just like you wasted your own money on all of this.” She gestured vaguely around the apartment.
“How dare you talk to me like that? Do you think you’re above me, now? Is that it? Daddy pays you a little crumb of attention, and now you’re his girl? He doesn’t care about us, Effie. He never did!”
“You’re wrong,” she said around the lump in her throat.
“He might not care for you anymore, but he’s still my father.
He cares. I think he always did, as hard as you’ve worked to convince me otherwise.
You knew it, too, or you wouldn’t have bothered sending me to him with my hands out every time you wanted something from him. ”
“You spoiled brat,” her mother spat, tears brimming in her bright blue eyes. “You really are his daughter. Not an ounce of hesitation to cut me down! You’re just like him.”
Ophelia sighed, suddenly weary. “I don’t have time for this,” she said, rubbing the dull ache between her brows. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Well, good! Then you can take this rubbish with you and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!” She half-crumpled the trust documents and threw them at Ophelia. They caught ineffectually in a draft of air and separated as they fluttered to the ground, littering the entryway.
Ophelia stoically turned away from her mother, reaching for the door.
“Wait,” her mother called, voice cracking in a way that splintered her heart just as effectively as it had when she was a child. “Don’t go. What am I supposed to do?”
She turned back, taking in her mother’s bloodshot, watery eyes and the way she was hugging her arms around her chest. Ophelia crossed the room in two steps and threw her arms around her, notching her chin against her shoulder and hugging her close as she began to fall apart.
“Live,” Ophelia whispered, rubbing circles into her mother’s back as she sobbed. “Like a normal person, Mom. Sell some of this junk, get a place you can afford. Use the money to go back to school and learn a skill you can use to get a job. Just live, like everyone else.”
“I can’t. I’m too old. It’s too hard!”
“You’re not,” Ophelia said, drawing back to hold her mother at arm’s length. “And you’re not helpless.”
“You’re being mean,” her mother said, sniffling. “You really are just like him.”
“Then maybe you should have chosen someone else to father your child,” Ophelia said heatedly. The anger fizzled as quickly as it had come on, and she sighed. Her hands dropped from her mother’s shoulders as she took a step back, hugging her elbows. “I’m leaving the city.”
“What?” Her mother wiped at her eyes, smearing her mascara in dark streaks across her cheeks. “You’re not serious.”
She offered a sad smile as she shook her head.
“I’m really leaving. I think…” She looked past her mother toward the windows, where night was falling over the city in earnest. Neon lights flickered on as far as the eye could see.
“I think it’s held me back, staying here.
I don’t want to live like that anymore, clinging to what’s familiar because it makes me feel safe.
Safe is also stagnant, and I… I want more. ”
“You think you’re better than me,” her mother said in a defeated tone.
“No. I don’t. I think we’re both struggling in the same ways, actually.”
Her mother looked taken aback by that, so startled that she didn’t take offense to Ophelia’s words as she normally did whenever she suggested that her mental health might not be ideal.
“I think we can both be better,” she continued. “I want that for you, Mom. That’s why I opened the trust.” She gestured toward the legal documents scattered over the floor. “If you don’t want to use it, then don’t. But I think it would be good for you if you can find it in yourself to be brave.”
“I’m not a coward,” her mother said heatedly.
Ophelia shrugged. “I want you to be happy. I always have. I just can’t be responsible for keeping you there anymore.”
Her mother’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“I love you, Mom,” she said softly.
She left her mother standing open-mouthed and speechless amid the strewn papers and headed out into the night to claim her own happiness for once.
Her next stop before the auction was the lab. She hadn’t been back since the day Sam had ambushed her, and the familiar sounds and smells washed over her as she unlocked the door: cleansers and the scent of fresh-cut flowers.
Brenda was standing around the bench with a few of the other scientists, laughing and clinking together beakers that they were using as glasses. Her gaze cut toward Ophelia as she approached, and her eyes widened.
“Ophelia!” she cried, throwing up both arms. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another week! What are you doing here? Oh, never mind, you’re just in time!”
She hustled over and grabbed Ophelia by the wrist, dragging her to the table they’d gathered around. There was a vase of cut lilies at the center, the buds open and wilting as though they’d been sitting out for a few days.
“Tom, the lights!” she called, pointing at the switch.
Tom hit the lights, and the lilies glowed softly, illuminating Brenda’s face.
“We did it,” Brenda exclaimed. “Look, Effie!”
She shook Ophelia’s arm so hard her teeth rattled, bouncing up and down at her side.
“It’s been a week! A week! And they’re still glowing!”
She blinked, realizing she recognized the label taped to the side of the glass vase. “Are these…”
“Your sample!” Brenda confirmed, shaking her again. “You did it.” She threw back her head and laughed, swinging Ophelia around the room. “We’ve been approved for more funding and cleared to move on to the next stage of testing.”
“And we all got a raise,” Tom interjected, raising his own beaker full of bubbly liquid.
Brenda filled another for her from a bottle of champagne, pressing it insistently into her hand. Ophelia threw it back like a shot, her mind still reeling.
I did it? Me?
All those years she’d spent studying had amounted to something after all.
And sure, it wasn’t the cure for cancer she’d hoped to make when she worked for the pharma company, but it had saved a dozen jobs and would bring joy to many people.
Glowing flowers. It was such a silly accomplishment, one her parents would doubtless roll their eyes at, but…
she was proud. She laughed, cradling the beaker against her chest, admiring the faint glow of her wilted lilies.
“You’re all dressed up,” Brenda said, nudging her shoulder. “Someone tipped you off, didn’t they?”
“No.” Ophelia tore her gaze from the proof of her success. “I was just stopping by on my way somewhere.”
Brenda’s brows furrowed. “Oh? What for?”
She pulled out the envelope that had been tucked under her arm, staring at it for a long moment before handing it off. Brenda took it with a frown.
“I’m resigning.”
Cries of protest rippled through the room. She held up her hands in a placating gesture, smiling regretfully at her disappointed coworkers.
“You can’t! Oh, Ophelia. They want you to take the lead on this project. I don’t understand. Why now?”
“I’m leaving the city.”
“The city? When?”
“Tonight.” She set her beaker down, glancing up at the clock.
It was nearly ten.
“I have to go,” Ophelia said apologetically. After a moment’s hesitation, she darted in to give Brenda a hug. “Thank you for everything. You were the best boss I’ve ever had.”
Brenda patted her back awkwardly, and her expression was stunned when Ophelia pulled away. Her face softened. “You break up with that guy of yours?”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “How did you…”
“I never did like him.” She crossed her arms over her chest, resting her hip against the workbench. “Something squirrelly about him.”
Ophelia barked a stunned laugh. Brenda had only seen him twice—at holiday parties. In that brief time, she’d managed to pick up what Ophelia hadn’t noticed over the endless hours they spent together.
“Good!” Brenda declared, clapping her on the shoulder hard enough to make her sway on her feet. “Good for you. You do what you have to do, Eff.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Brenda offered a sad smile.
“Good luck out there, kiddo.”