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Saint
I wake up the next morning with a pounding in my head that refuses to go away. Sip after sip of coffee and it doesn’t disappear. I feel hung over.
“Morning!” Ophelia bounces into the kitchen, far too chipper for my mood.
I wince. “Morning. Sorry about last night.”
She pours herself some coffee and falls down onto the seat beside me. “I figured you might need some space for tonight.” She takes a sip. “How are you feeling about that?”
I shrug, ru
“… you see him.” Her voice is hoarse. She rubs the top of my hand with her palm. “Hey, I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do to help, I would.”
“Know any memory removal spells?” I joke, shaking my head while sucking down another gulp of my java.
She chuckles. “Unfortunately, that kind of magik does not exist, though I could try to dig something up from the old grimoires of our ancestors? Who knows, right? Maybe… maybe they were real witches?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, a smirk on her lips.
“I’ve never asked about your family,” I say, shuffling toward her. “Tell me about them.” I know Ophelia comes from big money, but I don’t know much about her family dynamics and who they are, and besides, I need a lot of distractions today.
“Well.” Ophelia rests her hands around her mug, the trim of her lime green robe brushing over the marble counter. “My father is the headmaster of an uptight prestigious school in Seattle, and my mother has her own law firm. Aside from those two very” —she rolls her eyes— “impressive careers, my mom comes from money, too. I have two brothers, both older and with their own families now. Neither of them live in the US, so I don’t see my nieces often, and that’s about all, you know, aside from my mom being heavily into the witch belief system.” She cocks her head. “I would ask about your story, but I’m thinking it’s a lot heavier than mine.”
“Hmm.” I smile at her. “You could say that.”
“Morning, girls!” Veronica waltzes into the kitchen, holding a large black box with a matte black bow wrapped around it. She places it on the counter. “This came for you, Saint.” Veronica moves for the coffee and Ophelia reaches forward to grab the box, sliding it closer. She snatches the card that’s tucked beneath the bow and flips it open.
“Wear it.” She raises an eyebrow. “Really?” she asks, turning to face me. “That’s how they talk?”
My heart rate becomes thicker, and my palms turn sweaty. “Not they. Brantley.”
She flicks the card back onto the box. “Well, he sounds lovely.”
I reach for my phone on the counter, snickering. “He’s not.” Instantly, I feel a wave of guilt wash over me. He is. He definitely is. If he allows you to see it. I didn’t even scratch the surface of what he hid beneath that hard exterior, though I know no one else had come closer to him than me. That’s going to change now, no doubt. He’s going to find someone else eventually and everything he and I had, everything he made me feel, she will feel. I shut down my thought process when I feel a rare tingle snap down my spine. Pretty sure that was a rage I had never touched before.
I type out a text to our group chat named King Bitches. I don’t know who is going to tell Madison that the name can be read one or two different ways.
Me: What’s with the dress?
The speech bubbles pop up straight away before Tillie’s text comes through.
Tillie: Berta. Wear it. It matches ours but your own style.
Madison: What she said.
Me: You okay?
Tillie: She’s not. You’ll understand why soon.
Madison: You can’t relate because you’re you. And you have one.
Tillie: Chill. We’re not halfway. The dress looks amazing on you. With your bump and all.
Madison: Okay. Yeah. Sure.
Me: Madison, Tillie is right. It’s impossible for you to look anything other than beautiful, and even if by some miracle you’re not, who cares. You’re literally creating a human being. Let your body do its thing.
Tillie: Wise, my baby sister.
My heart cracks and I leave the chat. I know it’s probably habit for her to talk that way, but it still hurts to know it’s not true. Thinking I had Tillie for a sister filled me with a kind of femininity I felt I needed, what with being around Brantley and Lucan all of my life. Now I don’t even have that. I have nothing.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Veronica asks, blowing into her mug while looking at me over the rim.
“Yes.” I push up from my chair. “I think I need to lie down.” I tap Ophelia. “Can you wake me a couple hours before, so I don’t sleep through?”
Ophelia laughs. “Oh, I’ll wake you up four hours before because we have hair and makeup.” I grab the box and empty my coffee into the sink, ignoring the feel of Veronica’s eyes on the back of my skull. Once I’m back in the safety of my bedroom, almost breathless from how much ground I had to cover, I toss the box onto my bed until the duck-down-filled cover puffs around it. I chew on my thumbnail and then stop when I realize that’s a habit I don’t want to adopt. Rubbing my sweaty palms down my legs, I open the box and ruffle through the tissue paper until the embroidered rose gold and white material glistens beneath the light. I suck in a deep breath before carefully taking it out, careful not to touch it too much. I hook it onto a hanger and lay it out over my bed, before reaching for the shoes at the bottom. Rose gold Valentinos with white diamantes sewn over the heel.
I sigh, resting on top of my bed, my headache still lingering somewhere between the left and right of my cerebrum. I massage my temples and lie flat on my back. I should text him.
I lose myself in the art on the high ceiling. Pastel purple and pinks are glittered through clouds of ancient Greek gods. So far away. I feel so far away. “I should text him.”
I grab my phone and click on his name in my messages, ignoring our old ones. The last message he sent me before finding out—I pause, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I hold my breath as I type out the message, and I swear I almost pass out after I hit send.
Me: The dress…
Delivered.
And then read.
I’m going to faint.
Seconds turn into minutes. He doesn’t reply. I wait for five more minutes, staring at my phone like an idiot before I finally put it down and close my eyes. I need rest. My muscles ache from fatigue.
This time when I sat in front of her, I was in two minds about my delivery. Maybe using Brantley’s face wasn’t smart.
I should have known better.
Why didn’t I know better?
I knew she was going to see him again. Be around everyone again. I could feel that it was almost time. Almost but not quite. The darkness that had lived inside of me since I was a small boy throbbed to the surface. That urge possessed me. No! I yelled to myself. Not now! Not now! No, please no. Hmmm. Too late. The urges too strong. I needed it like humans needed air. The feeling of filth against my skin.