My first personal encounter with the group that started any kind of emotional friendships happened one thursday night, right after I had finished dinner with my family.
I received a text message from Samson. It read as followed:
mate, long story short, Ophie's dog just died and we need u to get lemon cookies and run them to her house. harvey's going to send u her address
I arrived at Ophie's house only fifteen minutes after the sun had fully set. The trees in front of her house shaded the moonlight, but an outdoor lamp in the yard lit the pebble walkway perfectly.
Ophie lived in Sewickly, where there were lots of beautiful, old trees and perfect little streetlights. Her house, and all of the others, had a unique architectural design to it. Large, red wooden door and old, worn wooden floors. I walked into the unlocked door, a plastic grocery bag in my hands, wearing my favorite quarter sleeve, loose fitting, dark reddish pink shirt.
I was intimated. At this point, Ophie was always bitter towards me, often avoiding my presence. I didn't know what her reaction was going to be, or hell, I didn't even know what to expect with anything. Will she be shy and in need of a shoulder to cry on? Or will she be a hectic mess that I have to take care of until her best friends actually arrive? And is she still going to be pissed off at me?
I walked up a grand wooden staircase attached to the left wall. I lightly walked, and as I reached the top, I could see straight down the entire hall. ahead were two rooms, presumably a closet and a bed room. To my right was an open bathroom with it's lights turned out and another bedroom with a faint light glowing through a slim crack along it.
My footsteps creaked a bit on the wooden floor. I could hear faint music getting louder as I passed the bathroom. She was in the bedroom I was headed for. I braced myself.
When I walked in, she gave me a quick glance, and turned her back towards me. A stevie nicks song was playing as she sobbed, her face in hands.
"Hey Ophelia, Samson texted me and let me know what happened. I'm real sorry. This sucks."
She turned towards me again, wiping her tears quickly. Her entire portrait was glowing from the tears on her face.
Ophelia pulled me into a hug, putting my arms around her shoulders. With eyes wide open, my awkward self attempted to awkwardly comfort her.
"It just really sucks, you know? Death is so sad," she cried. I could feel her hiccups of sadness.
"Yeah, it sucks a lot. It'll get better," I said, slowly and non-smoothly rubbing her back.
"Have you ever lost a pet? Like, even a hamster?" She asked me.
"No. When I was 9 my year and a half old sister passed away, though."
Ophelia pulled away, still holding onto my shoulders as I continued to hold onto her own.
"That really sucks," she said, the pitch of her tone increasing as her lip quivered.
"I'm so sorry," she weeped into my shoulder.
I suddenly found myself crying a bit at the odd topic. I guess I had actually found comfort in another person's embrace for once.
Samson, Harvey, Griffin and Milo barged into Ophelia's room mid-cry session between us two. Any noise in the room dropped straight onto the wooden floor. I swear I heard it bounce.
"Glad you two have made up," Doc said, making his way with the boys to Ophie's bed. The six of us just sat on the large bed, nothing to say.
"How're you doing, Oph?" Harvey asked, putting his hand over Ophelia's. She placed her own on top of his. "I'm doing fine. Thanks for coming, you guys."
Two of the guys, both Milo and Samson, stood up and paced the room.
"Who's arranging the funeral?" Milo asked, his arms crossed.
"Well, who's turn is it?" Ophelia asked, enveloped in a comforter.
"I think Harvey's?" Samson said, darting his eyes towards Harvey.
"Yeah, sure, I'll have it all figured out. How about tomorrow at noon? We can do it on one of Theo's fields. I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. Yeah, Theo's sunflower patch at noon. That's a set plan," he said, speaking with his hands. He took a quick seat on a wooden desk in Ophelia's room.
"Sounds good. He was a really great doggy," she sniffled. I stood up and threw my hands into my pockets.
"I'm real sorry, Ophelia, really," I said, "Hey, I've got to go."
"Alright man, no problem. You need a ride for tomorrow?" Sam asked me.
"What's tomorrow?" I asked, fiddling with the keys in my pocket.
"The funeral, dumb ass. And since Cherry's closed tomorrow we're hanging out at my house, i'm having a few people over," Sam explained, taking my seat on the bed. The boys and Ophie had started to indulged into the cookies.
"Oh, no, I have a car. Thanks though," I said.
We passed a few more goodbyes before I found myself in front of my car, feeling no desire to go back home.
Sewickley was beautiful at the specific time of night. When I rolled my windows down and found a well-enough radio station, I planned that I would drive around and house-look in the neighborhood until I felt the need to go back home. The thought of confronting my father in the living room dragged me way down.
Before I knew it, the digital clock on my dashboard read 11;38, nearly 40 minutes after I had embarked on my adventure. And I was completely lost.
I pulled out my phone to get my GPS up. Sadly, though, my phone was being a sack of shit, and failed to let me type in my home address. Ophelia's was still left from before, though, therefore I let Siri navigate me back to her house. I figured I could find my way back from there.
I hadn't really travelled far, only about 3 miles away from her home. I arrived in under five minutes.
As I passed Ophelia's house, I saw a figure sitting atop of the front deck roof. I rolled down my window and shouted.
"Ophelia, is that you?" I asked, slowing down.
I couldn't see any facial expression, but the figure quickly climbed down from the roof and paced across the yard towards my car.
Ophelia laid her arms on the car door, speaking to me through the open window.
"Who the fuck is that?" She asked, making eye contact with me, "what're you doing here? Do you live near here?"
"No, I was just driving around admiring the homes. Are you alright?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, just smoking a bowl. Could you not shout my name at midnight? This neighborhood is very white, they'll lynch me if I'm the reason someone's shouting at this hour." Ophelia's aloofness had returned quite suddenly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll get going now," I said, reaching for my gear shift to return to Drive.
"Wait, do you want to smoke some of this with me?" She asked. Her voice was a bit nasally from her crying and I could see the swelling in her eyes.
"I don't smoke weed, sorry," I said, sounding more pretentious than I'd intended.
"Well, come sit with me anyways. I'm in need of some company," she said seriously, backing away from the car. I shrugged my shoulders, figuring that the more time I spent out the higher chance everyone would be asleep when I returned home.
