Chapter 14 #2
“Thank you, Sir.” My voice came out slurred, like I was drunk.
Between his compliments and the strength in his hands, I felt myself dropping into some warm, cozy space.
The darkness was a cool relief. It flooded the heat in my temples and evacuated my thoughts.
I felt myself sinking as though I was falling out of my body—through the floor, through the deep, dark earth below.
Through the history of this city and the cold Hudson river water.
“That’s it, Ophelia…” His voice got quieter and further away as I felt my consciousness slip. “Drop.”
The tea kettle was plump and silver. Even with the grease smears, I could see my reflection in it, tired and unkempt.
I found myself in Aleena’s old apartment in Queens, the one she lived in with Cisco before she moved in with me. I’d spent the night sleeping on their couch; Aleena’s due date was quickly approaching and I wanted to be there when my nephew came.
Aleena craved tea, so I stood in the kitchen, half-asleep, waiting for the kettle to start screaming.
A body moved in beside me. Their kitchen was so small that it was impossible to fit two people without them practically being on top of each other.
“You’re never going to get a husband if you keep dressing like that,” Cisco said. He pushed his hand around the cabinet, hunting for a mug.
I glanced down at myself. I’d slept in an oversized shirt and boy shorts. Didn’t realize this was the look. But Aleena’s husband, Cisco, was always full of wrong opinions and unasked-for advice, and I was too exhausted to be polite about it.
I shrugged. “Well, I tried walking around naked, but it turns out the NYPD frowns at that.”
Cisco found his mug. He pulled it down but didn’t leave. I could feel him staring at me. “It sounds harsh, but I’m trying to help you. You know, men look at you and they only think of one thing.”
My jaw clenched. I stared at the tea kettle. Scream, damn you.
Cisco’s hand touched the small of my back. It slid underneath my shirt. I could feel the cool band of his wedding ring against my skin and it sent ugly chills up my arms.
His breath was hot on my ear. “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?”
No. No.
I jolted, sitting upright suddenly, and gasped like a woman pulled from the ocean.
Phantom knelt beside me, looking concerned. “Ophelia, are you okay?”
“No,” I groaned. “No, no, no.”
I couldn’t sit still. I needed to move. I pushed up to my feet, scrambling out of Phantom’s touch, and start pacing the room. My heart pounding, my blood rushing, I dug my hands into my hair and growled like a caged animal.
“Fuck,” I heard myself say. “Fuck.”
The memory was chasing me. I couldn’t shake it. I squeezed my eyes shut. I pulled at my hair until the roots hurt my scalp. I needed to feel something. Anything besides this panic roaring through my veins.
“Ophelia.” Calm. Gentle. “You’re safe here. You’re okay.”
His voice was a lighthouse, pulling me back to safe harbor. I found my body steering towards it. Choking on panic, I fell to my knees. I crawled to him, curled up, and rested my head back in his lap. Where it belonged.
His hand slipped through my hair. My heart was still kicking, but the adrenaline rush was fading. Here, with Phantom, I felt protected from the things that hunted me.
His fingertips slid to my face. My jaw had clenched up again. I was fighting the desire to run. To hit something. To—
“Scream,” Phantom said.
I cried out. But it wasn’t enough. A pained, wounded animal sound.
He circled his hand over my throat. His thumb pressed underneath my jaw, unlocking it.
“Louder,” he instructed. “I want to feel it against my palm.”
I really screamed this time. A howl. Carnal, animal, angry and hurt at the same time. I didn’t care about his neighbors. I didn’t care if Princess thought he was killing me. I screamed, and something cracked open inside my chest.
Wonderful, sweet release.
My face was wet. Was I crying?
“Good girl.” He pet my hair back. “That was perfect.”
I sniffled. The buzzing, the humming, angry, tense feeling inside of me—all of it was leaving my body. For a moment, I felt nothing but sweet peace as his strong hands swept through my hair, drawing me deeper into a rest state.
I looked up and stared into those eyes. Those soft, intense browns. I picked out the spots of gold and green in them. A beautiful kaleidoscope of color.
For a long time, we just sat together in comfortable silence.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
My throat felt sore. I croaked, “I could eat.”
My nervous system had gone through a hard reset.
I was starving like I hadn’t eaten in days.
Phantom took me out to the café around the block.
It was bustling, but we found a private table.
He’d bought us both coffees and bagels. Mine was an everything bagel packed with cream cheese.
It was the best bagel I’d ever had in my life, toasted to a crisp on the outside with soft, warm bread on the inside.
The salt on the top tickled my tongue. I moaned as I ate, like a heathen.
He didn’t touch his bagel with as much ferocity. He sipped on his coffee instead.
“This bagel,” I said between bites, “deserves a medal of honor.” I eyed Phantom. He was quiet, watching me warily. “You good?” I asked.
He ran his hand from his jawline to the back of his neck, a quiet, grounding gesture. “Did I push you too far?”
I slowed my chewing and set my bagel down.
Phantom shifted forward. “Wherever you went…I promise, I won’t send you back there again.”
I pressed my lips together. “It was triggering, but…in a good way, I think. It felt bad in the moment, but I feel free now. Like I finally have permission to let go.”
“Play can be therapeutic,” he said after a moment. “It is for me. It’s the one place I can turn off my brain. The problem with that is that, sometimes, when you shut off your brain, things you spent your whole life trying to avoid suddenly rise to the surface.”
Even with the clatter of the café sounds around us, I felt safe here with Phantom. Like we were on our own, personal island.
My phone lit up—a notification from my theatre group chat. I ignored it, determined to keep the real world out a little longer. Phantom’s eyes fell to my phone, however, and he asked, “Who are those people?”
I glanced at my lock screen. I turned the phone around so he could see it better. “That’s my sister.” I pointed to the people in the image. “And my niece and nephew, Kira and Squeaky.”
“They look like you,” he said.