Ophelia Study No. 1

Chapter Fifteen

We didn't speak about the play for days. She had gone back as though nothing had happened between us, as though she hadn't lashed out at me at the mentioning of auditions. She played the ambivalent part so well that I nearly forgot about the play completely. It wasn't until a potential catastrophe that the thought of the school play even crossed my mind.

It was a Tuesday after school that Emily didn't return home. It was some two weeks after the play auditions, which I was nearly positive she hadn't gone to. She had been walking home randomly some days, starting a couple of Thursdays ago. I tried to keep the fact that she enjoyed walking home in mind as I fell into a state of total panic.

An hour and a half later, Emily still wasn't home, and I was worried almost to the point of delusion. I debated over whether or not to contact the authorities. I realize that most would see calling the police as an overreaction given the situation (especially because we lived in Chicago, where 911 calls were as regular as the sun rising), but I had this thing where if anything was atypical, I would assume the worst. Catastrophizing everything brought on an unwavering and unsettling paranoia and general sense of doom, and that was what made me tell my mom I loved her so often and double check that my window was locked every night.

My finger was hovering over the call button on my cellphone as Emily walked through the door. Glancing at the clock, I realized that she had been missing for nearly two hours. "Where were you; you gave me eight heart attacks!"

She smiled slightly, biting her bottom lip. She toed the carpet, hanging her head a bit as she mumbled, "I- I'm sorry... about how harsh I was the other day, I mean. About the whole play audition thing, I shouldn't have lashed out like that."

I stood there unsure of what to do. I hadn't been expecting that as a response, and my question still wasn't answered. "Hey, that's alright. But seriously, where were you?"

She grinned even more, daring to show her teeth. "Guess."

"I- I uh... geez," I muttered. I scratched my head, guessing, "A sports game? Detention? How should I know?"

"It's something you were very excited about," she hinted.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe her, not in that moment. Trust was all I'd given her over the past few months, and despite the tremendous amount of understanding we'd had in each other at that point, I could not fathom what she was getting at. "You're doing the play."

She nodded, smiling her widest yet. She hugged me, standing on her tip toes to kiss me on the cheek. We hadn't kissed in quite a while, in fact. We had become more platonic the more we were together. I can't even say for sure if we were still dating when I lost her. I suppose that during my speech a short couple of months later, I'd been announced as her boyfriend.

I held her close, resting my chin atop her head. She nuzzled into my chest, and I muttered into her hair, "I am so proud of you."

"Me too," she agreed. She gave me one more squeeze before parting up the steps, calling, "I'm doing homework, don't bug me!"

I smiled, because that was the first time in what felt like ages that she'd even attempted to do a school assignment. She was getting better, bit by bit.

This forward progression on her part continued as the play practice went on, and I did all that I could to nurture that growth. We started hanging out like we had when we first met; only this time, it was almost more pleasant to speak with her. When I'd first met her, although talking to her sent electric currents through my veins, I had done hardly anything to earn anything she said. Knowing that she was finally moving ahead, and that I was a small part of that, well, it helped me sleep for a while.

Things were going better than they had in months. Her grades steeped upwards, not as rapidly as they'd fallen of course, but they gradually hiked uphill. She was working to get that 3.8 GPA back, and I just stood out of her way. She was a girl on a mission, and if my mother taught me anything, it was that when a girl really wants something, she'll get it, and while it may take a while, you don't want to be her setback.

I think that for a time there, I was Emily's obstacle, a constant weight pulling her down. It felt so good to finally be a positive part in her life. It wasn't just because she was a girl, it wasn't even because she was Emily, but it was so unfamiliarly gratifying to not be someone's downfall, to not be a bad memory.

I started hanging around the auditorium whenever Emily had play practice. I could tell from her very first line that she was something special. She captivated me, toyed with my emotions as though they were merely putty in her hands, and then left me out to dry when she was interrupted by the director.

The director was our math teacher, an older woman that Emily obviously liked. Their chemistry was highly apparent, and I had a strong sense that the teacher knew what Emily had been going through. The important thing wasn't that the teacher knew, but that she listened, that she understood. Mrs. Payne was one of the few people in the world who cared what Emily had to say. I wish Emily had had more people like that in her life; she truly deserved it.

The director had called me up to her desk at the end of one of the final play practices. It was dress rehearsal, in fact. The actors, including Emily, were distributed across the school bathrooms, scrubbing off stage makeup with hand soap and sandpaper hand towels.

Mrs. Payne addressed me by name. This was odd, because I hadn't had a single class with her, not even a study hall. I'd been wary, asking, "Yes? You know my name?"

She'd laughed at my expression, explaining, "Emily talks about you all the time. It's not hard to put things together."

"Fair enough," I agreed. "What is it?"

She'd smiled, urging me to come closer. She'd lowered her voice, telling, "Emily is one of the most gifted students I've ever had."

I wasn't too surprised; Emily's performance was absolutely outstanding. I decided to thank Mrs. Payne, on Emily's behalf. "That's so kind of you."

Mrs. Payne had nodded, adding, "I just think... she seems so down sometimes. Just do me a favor, would you? Let her know every day how special she is. We all are, but not all of us know it."

"Of course," I'd replied, omitting the fact that this favor was already on my to-do list.

It was that moment that Emily had skipped in, swinging her arms around me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," I'd answered. I grinned at Mrs. Payne before following Emily out to the car, our fingers intertwined.

In the car, I decided to strike up conversation with Emily. "So, opening night is Friday."

"Yeah," she responded. "It's all gone so fast."

I nodded, then asking, "Are you excited?"

She shrugged, her smile still wide. "Yeah. Kind of nervous, sort of happy."

The fact that she was nervous made me scoff, scoff so hard that it sounded like a cough. "Nervous? You? You're amazing on stage; what do you have to be nervous about?"

"Well," she hesitated. "I just... I care so much, you know? This is all I have going for me. I can't imagine what would happen to me if something went wrong."

I leaned in toward her, my eyes still on the road. "Hey, you listen to me. Everything will be fine, okay? You're good at what you do and that's enough."

She hadn't replied, only gazed out her window for the rest of the ride home.