I wasn’t planning on ever seeing Ophelia again. Her presence reminded me of Hagar, a girl that I really just wanted to forget again. A girl that was long dead because she took a bullet for me. She didn’t know that the bullet wouldn’t have done anything more than ruin a shirt.
After the kiss, all of the memories came back, and I had the choice to forget them again, or let my eyes stay green. And then Rory Langley died.
Logically speaking, I barely knew her. Our lives were only connected by a common place of living, and she had been out of town regularly over the past few months. That, combined with the fact that I wanted nothing to do with her, meant that I had never even spoken to her. But her death still hurt. I was never again going to have the chance to get to know her. She would ever be no more than a part of the opportunity cost of my life. And what had I really gotten instead?
So I called Ophelia. Thank God she picked up the phone. I asked for her forgiveness for the night of the fair, and then I asked for her help. She came over to my apartment wearing a gorgeous white dress. I wonder if she noticed whether our eyes were suddenly the same color.
I haven’t told her that I’m going to outlive her, but I will eventually. And I’ve accepted the fact myself as well. I’ve decided to stop letting my past decisions hinder my future; it’s not worth it. In other words, my cane is going to spend a bit more time in the closet. I always liked green eyes better anyway.
Oh, and by the way,
I’ve stopped drinking
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