THE JOURNEY HOME

CHAPTER 16: FLIGHT

Ophelia sat before the piano in her burnt-down house, one of the few things the fire hadn't completely devoured. It was a miracle it had survived. It was a miracle she had survived.

Whenever she thought back to the night she lost her family, a hazy fog clouded her mind. She could barely remember anything, not so much as who had rescued her. All she remembered was crying, engulfed in smoke one moment and waking up the next on Pearl's bed.

Dissociative amnesia would best describe her memories of that day. After the incident, Ophelia had trouble coming back here for a very long time. She hadn't seen the ruins of her house in years but one day, Mrs. Rose asked Ophelia to follow her here and she couldn't refuse.

She wanted to tell her that this was her house, that seeing it brought her pain, but there was something about Mrs. Rose that Ophelia just couldn't say no to. She couldn't put out the light in her eyes and turn the moment into a sad and awkward one. She couldn't watch as Mrs. Rose tried to change the subject to make her feel comfortable again, so instead, she smiled through the pain and said yes.

Once she was back in her old house again, Ophelia understood why she avoided it. It was too painful, everywhere had a memory embedded in it. The rooms where she had shared beautiful moments with her father, her mother and her little brother. The living room reminded her of the days she would wait to ambush her father when he came home. She always hid in the same spot, yet he was always surprised to see her, only when she grew older did she realize with renewed pain that he was acting shocked for her benefit. The dining room where she had fed her brother, proving to her mother that she too could take care of a baby, and here, the music room where she played to her mother, a music lover who never got the chance to learn to play the piano and would always promise herself she would start learning next year.

There was a different pain she hadn't expected when she saw the house in ruins. In her mind, it was still complete, the way it was the last time she saw it, before the fire. The house stood there, a shell of its former self and a reminder of her life and the change that a singular incident had caused for her. It stung but there was a moment of respite when she saw the piano in one piece.

'Do you play?' Mrs. Rose turned and asked her, noticing Ophelia's smile on seeing the piano.

Ophelia couldn't resist, she walked round the relic, touching its keys to make sure it still worked, overcome with joy that it did, she sat before it and played for her.

That day she played the first piece she perfected for her mother. At first, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to play, it had been so long since she had last touched the instrument but when she sat to play, she played the first note, then continued on autopilot. Her fingers moved over the keys with pinpoint accuracy, denying the years she stayed without playing.

Today, she was set to play the same piece, this time, for herself. Her hand hovered hesitantly over the first key, then she started. As she played, her mind wandered, she remembered Mrs. Rose, standing beside the piano, watching her play, a light smile on her face. Ophelia missed a key and frowned, then started again. That day, she made it to the end of the piece without missing a single key and after playing for Mrs. Rose, she had looked at Ophelia so intently as though she had something very important to say to her. Ophelia missed another key, and then banged at the piano in frustration.

Memories of the day came flashing back so clearly, Mrs. Rose clapping softly after she was done,

'Beautiful' she had breathed emotionally.

'I'm in shock myself, it's been so long since I last played' Ophelia confessed bashfully.

'Why? You have a gift', Mrs. Rose almost seemed sad that Ophelia didn't play anymore.

'It's because I used to play for my family and they're no more. It's just too painful to play now.' Ophelia said sadly, wondering how Mrs. Rose would react if she told her that this was the very piano she had played for them.

'They're no more? What about Pearl? Isn't she a member of your family?' Mrs. Rose asked in shock.

'Oh, yes but we're cousins. I lost my parents and my brother' Ophelia continued painfully.

'Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that' Mrs. Rose genuinely looked sorry.

'It's alright; it's been so long ago. I'm glad I came here; at least I can regain this part of me.' Ophelia was grateful to Mrs. Rose. She loved music but hadn't played in years, chaining her gift to the past.

Ophelia stood up from the piano and turned to look at other parts of the house, she felt liberated from the shackles of her past and was finally free to move on.

'Ophelia, there's something I need to tell you' Mrs. Rose's eyes suddenly turned serious. Ophelia turned back to listen to her, holding her breath without realizing it, her heart almost bursting from anticipation.

A flicker of recognition flashed over Ophelia's face. 'Could it be?' she thought, hoping, wishing. Ophelia desperately wanted to believe the impossible, although a nagging voice in her head kept telling her that the woman before her looked too young. If Ophelia's hopes were true, her life might change forever.

'Mommy!' the voice of a child called. Ophelia's heart fell, and she was quickly disillusioned. 'Oh, it's her child' she thought.

'Did you hear that?' Mrs. Rose immediately ran in the direction of the voice, she searched frantically for the child but couldn't see it.

'Ophelia, I'm afraid this is the last time we will meet. I would love to walk you home but I'm a bit busy right now' Mrs. Rose suddenly bid her farewell distractedly. Ophelia was stunned. Just like that their time together came to an abrupt end.

'Alright,' she answered, disoriented. She walked away slowly, looking back to see if Mrs. Rose would come with her but she was too busy, searching for the source of that voice.

Ophelia sighed sadly at the thought of the memory.

'What am I thinking? Why am I upset about that memory? Of course, Mrs. Rose isn't my mother. She reminds me of my mother, but so did Mrs. Julia and every other older female figure in my life. It's time to accept reality. She's gone and no one can replace her'.

Ophelia remembered the sound of the child's voice, an audible rift between herself and Mrs. Rose. A tangible reminder that she was an orphan.

Ophelia sighed and stared at the piano, she positioned herself to play the piece again but stopped because she heard approaching footsteps and voices. She suddenly felt like a trespasser in her own home. Without thinking, she quickly found a place to hide.