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Ophelia woke, breathed deeply in. Something nestled cold in her hand and she unfurled her fingers. “A new action figure.” In fact, it looked rather old, like he’d treasured it for a long time.
Every nerve ending in her body quickened and she sat up, examining the little plastic replica of Counselor Deanna Troi from her parents’ favorite show, The Next Generation. Of course, they owned all seven seasons on Blu-Ray.
Ophelia set Counselor Troi among her other Star Trek action figures: Original Series Uhura in a red mini-dress and Commander Dax from Deep Space Nine. There was a little space reserved for Captain Janeway. Ensign Hoshi Sato stood between the new movies’ Uhura and Michael Burnham from Discovery. She tapped a finger on Captain Janeway’s place. “I wonder if he’ll remember her?”
She slid her finger back to Deanna Troi, the empathic ship’s counselor. Her father was human, her mother a telepathic alien.
Something flickered in Ophelia’s mind, way back deep inside it, something cold and curious. Her memory failed at that point and so she reached back further.
She’d gone to the Christmas party with Martin hoping to find her true love. And I did. And I kissed him.
Ophelia lay back in her pillow, all manner of good feelings wrapping her up. She stretched her arms above her head and her hand brushed the headboard. A twinge of pain jerked her from her euphoric state. Her finger hurt.
Ophelia lifted her forefinger and found it bruised. What...again? She remembered pricking that finger to test her blood sugar. She’d done it so many times, it was all automatic. It was such a tiny prick; it wasn’t supposed to cause bruising.
She saw Martin’s face, hungry, in her mind’s eye. The memory blurred into feelings, some pale blue and good, some red and orange and inexplicable, and some black.
“Playing with your dolls again?” Bianca mumbled as she passed on her way to the bathroom.
“They’re action figures.”
“Whatever, geek. But it means you’re feeling better. I hate it when you get sick.” Bianca went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Ophelia pressed a fist to lips. “I think Martin did something or tried to do something to me while I was out.”
“What?” Bianca flushed the toilet and opened the door a crack.
“And my ‘Sweet Wesley’ stopped him.”
“You think Martin was tryin’ to rape you or something?” Bianca washed her hands fast and shoved the door wide open.
“He didn’t get to do it, whatever it was.” Ophelia shrugged and exhaled.
“Maybe we should tell Mom.” Bianca trudged back to her side of the room.
Ophelia thought of her father lying in bed, his skin yellowish because his kidneys were just about shot. “Maybe I should go to Grandma’s for the rest of the school year. Martin’ll graduate and leave for UCLA, and then I’ll come back.”
“Leave all our friends and right before our senior year? Dog, I hate Martin.”
“You don’t need to come.”
Bianca fell into her bed. “Yeah, I do. Oh, I know I act like I’m a badass chick, but the truth is I freak out when you’re not around or you’re not all right. I couldn’t stand it if you left without me. I think I’d just roll over and die.”
“Do you think it’s really possible that I’ve fallen in love, even though I don’t know his name or what he looks like?”
“Like Dolly Parton sings, ‘Love is Strange.’” Bianca laughed and pulled an old beach towel over her head.
“You don’t listen to Dolly Parton.”
“No, but Grandma does, and where have we spent every summer since we were born?”
“You love Grandma’s house. She has horses.”
“I’m not complaining.” Bianca caught a yawn in her hand. “I realize this flies in the face of the Scientific Method, sister, but sometimes love just is and there’s nothing you can figure out about it. And, yes, you’re in love. You’ve been falling a little bit in love with him every day since you found the first drawing in your locker.” She chuckled.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about how all this time Martin’s been strutting around totally stupid about your ‘Sweet Wesley’ secretly wooing you. Dog, I hope I’m there to see his face when he figures out what’s really going down.”
Ophelia shoved off her quilt, sat up, and slid her legs over the side of the bed. “I just want this crap to be over with, so I can be free to live.” She got up and settled her hand on the bathroom doorknob. “Do you remember when we were little, and Dad went down to help out after that hurricane in...Louisiana, I think it was?”
“Yeah, you bawled every night he was gone.” Bianca chuckled once.
“You bawled too.” Ophelia stepped into the bathroom. “Remember when he came home and he had to carry me everywhere or I’d cling to his leg and scream?”
“Oh, dog, you were pathetic.”
“That’s how I felt when my Sweet Wesley left me on the dance floor last night. I just wanted to grab him and never let go.”
Bianca sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Dad’s gonna die. Isn’t he?”
Ophelia pressed forehead to doorframe. “Mom says he’s not getting better. He won’t stop driving and he won’t go to the specialist in Anchorage.”
Bianca covered her face with the towel. “It’s not fair. Daddy used to be the toughest guy on the planet and now he’s a walking yellow skeleton.”
A few minutes later, Ophelia came out of the bathroom to her sister’s chainsaw-like snores. At least, I won’t need to explain myself. She pulled a shoebox out from under her bed.
The previous morning, when Ophelia had called Martin’s landline to leave the break-up message, Bianca had suggested, rather forcefully, that she toss all mementos of their relationship into the fireplace. Maybe she should have.
Ophelia sat cross-legged and slid the lid off. Their last photograph together, taken at the Homecoming Dance, lay on top of the collection.
Martin held her from behind with arms that had once made her feel safe. He smiled, hazel eyes big, like his father, and boyish. He’d inherited his curly hair from his father too and wore it short back then, making him look even younger, like a thirteen-year-old.
She set the glass-framed picture aside. Next, there was a small jester doll, smile painted on porcelain, gold bells on its satin hat. Martin’s first gift. He used to be such a goofball and I loved him for it. She’d tried so many times to figure out what changed him, but in the end all she knew was her love had died.
Ophelia crammed the mementos back in the box and shoved it under her bed.
After her shower, she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a coffee cup. She paused in the archway and a little smile warmed her lips, remembering her father giving the cup on their anniversary. It had the original Star Trek emblem on the side, along with the words, ‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a Doctor.’ “Good morning.”
Mom liked to joke that being a Trekkie was the only gene she’d managed to pass on.
“Oh, good morning, baby. Have a nice time last night?” Mom didn’t look up from under brown, feathery bangs. Her style wasn’t quite in temporal synch with the rest of America, or even Alaska. But Dad loved the black mascara and big hair. Her old burgundy sweater was coming apart at the shoulder seam.
Bianca would sew it back together when she woke up.
Ophelia pushed the memory of Martin aside in favor of her ‘Sweet Wesley.’ “I danced with a new boy.”
Mom lifted her big brown eyes. “A real dreamboat?”
Ophelia smiled, and her ears warmed. “Yeah, a real dreamboat.”
Mom was too polite to say it aloud, but she hated all the Brynners. If she wasn’t so preoccupied with Dad’s health, she’d be in a celebratory mood.
Ophelia dug her old green parka out from under her nice school coat. “Can we go to Grandma’s for Christmas?” If that got a positive answer, she’d ask about staying for the rest of the year.
Mom studied her cup. “Grandma wants to come here now, baby, as matter of fact. She...she has something very important to discuss with you and Bianca.”
Ophelia lowered her butt into a chair. “What?”
“You’re so young.” Mom’s eyes glistened in the dim light and she cupped a hand to Ophelia’s face. “Yet, it seems only yesterday...” A tear spilled. “Time races by, you know, even for the...” She shook her head. “Seems like only yesterday, I was working in the college coffeeshop and your father walked up to me and said.”
Ophelia had heard the story millions of times growing up, but, somehow, this time felt frighteningly different.
“Your father gazed, unblinking, right into my soul.” Mom’s lips curled, and she watched new snowflakes tumbling down outside their window. “He said, ‘You have the most beautiful mind I have ever encountered.’ He was dazzling.”
Ophelia sure didn’t remember the story like that, Dad only said she was beautiful, not her mind in particular. And she, sure as heck, had never heard the word ‘dazzling’ in it before.
“What a pick-up line, huh?” Mom lifted her cup to her lips and then set it down and walked off like she didn’t know where she was going. “An avalanche covered the airstrip last night. It’ll take at least a month to dig out.”
The only road out of Togo was buried during the first snow in October and would stay that way to the end of April.
“There’s always the Lifeflight helicopter from Anchorage.” Ophelia knew her mother worried about getting her father to the hospital.
“Yes, there’s Lifeflight.” Mom turned the corner down the hall to the small bedroom she shared with Dad.
“I’m gonna take out the garbage.” She dug her big, old Sorel boots out from under her nice school boots and shoved her feet into them. Bianca would go nuts if Ophelia took out the garbage in her school boots. Ophelia didn’t want to risk icing her ankles anyway. It was always best to wear her deep snow boots at home. She removed the garbage lid to bind up the bag.
Stepping off the back porch, Ophelia made her way around her car to the dumpster. A sharp pain cut through her arm and she dropped the garbage and cradled her arm. “Muscle spasm.” She rubbed the spot and grabbed the bag cramming it into the can.
A thrashing in the branches drew her attention behind the garbage.
Bears were known to snoop around houses searching for garbage and dog food, but not this late in the season. They’re all hibernating.
Maybe a starved wolf. Ophelia peeked around the corner of the garage to see a large raven flapping about, half tangled in a fallen branch. “Oh, you poor thing. Did you hurt your wing?”
She ran into the house, glad her mother was no longer in the kitchen. She went without taking off her boots, grabbed a large towel out of her parents’ bathroom, and ran back outside. She slowed down as she neared the place where the poor creature struggled. “It’s all right, I won’t hurt you.”
Raven stopped thrashing and looked up at her, eyes blue.
“You’re my raven.” Ophelia managed to keep her voice down to almost a whisper. “I’m sorry. Of course, you’re not my raven. You’re a wild creature, and free.” She unfolded the towel. “I’m going to take care of you. My mom’s a doctor, so I know a little bit about what to do.”
Raven only looked at her, beak wide open, sharp tongue sticking out in his exertions.
Ophelia wrapped the towel around the black bird and gathered him up. “Whoa, you’re heavy, the biggest raven I’ve ever seen.”
Raven didn’t resist at all.
“That’s strange.” Wild creatures were especially terrified of humans when they were injured. “Maybe you’ve been around people before and know I’m trying to help.” Ophelia took care not to touch his wing and it flopped over, injured somehow. Touching it might make it worse. “I know what you need, good food and a place of rest. If that doesn’t work, my mom doctors animals sometimes too.”
Raven squawked and struggled a little, but not to get away. It was almost like he was embarrassed. Thank you, Princess.
I’m anthropomorphizing. But Ophelia couldn’t help talking to the raven like he was human. “Shh, it’s all right. I’m going to take care of you.” She rocked him in her arms a little, stood, and carried him to the stairs which led up to her mother’s clinic. “This is Alaska. We love ravens here. You’ll be strong again in no time. I promise.”
Climbing up the woodpile, Ophelia set Raven on the roof over the little porch at the stairs’ bottom. “You’ll be safe from the wolves here. I’ll fetch you some moose meat. The Wilkowskys gave it to us.” She shrugged. “They don’t know we’re vegan. Be right back.”
She crept back indoors to snatch the moose meat. She didn’t want to explain herself. Mom has enough to worry about. She dug a three-pound package of ground moose meat taped up in white paper out of the back of the freezer. After a few minutes in the microwave, it was thawed and ready.
Back out in the cold, she stepped off the back porch with it. “Here you go.”
Raven lifted his head up out of the towel and stretched his neck, smelling the blood.
Ophelia climbed back up the wood pile and stuck the meat right in front of him. “That’ll keep you warm for a while. I’ll check in later and if your wing’s still bothering you, I’ll ask Mom to examine it.”
Raven thrust his big, black beak into the meat, not minding he was within her reach.
“Huh, I’ve never seen a raven suck it down like that.” Ophelia had seen ravens rip off roadkill chunks and throw back their heads to get it down their throats. “Oh, well, whatever works for you.” She dared reach out a hand and smoothed a finger over the back of his feathery head. “I hope you feel better soon.”
Ophelia climbed down and went back into the house to resume her Sunday routine, laundry, ironing her sheets, dusting her computer desk. She was dreading school the next day but knowing her ‘Sweet Wesley’ would be there made it bearable.
Tomorrow, I’m going to find out who he is. I need to find out who he is. I need to kiss him and hug him. She grinned and crammed her whites into the washing machine.