“What do I have to do with the overhaul? He didn’t even know I existed until I became a secondary player when Ophelia called me because she thought she was going to die.” My lip twitched up under furrowed brows.
The humor danced off Malda’s face. “The question becomes… how did Kiri know about you? Aleksander didn’t take any interest in you. Kiri hasn’t talked to Vyachaslav since her obligatory ‘Happy Birthday’ weeks ago, and you happen to be in a relationship with someone exactly the same age as her. Either, she’s scoping out her options on marrying the elderly, or she approached you for a reason only she knows.”
Rubbing my face in frustration, I shook my head at all those damned unknowns.
Rounding the chair to sit in it, Malda crossed her knees and pursed her lips thinly. “Do you have any prevailing theories, Professor?”
“Okay, number one…don’t call me ‘elderly’ until after I turn 40 alright? Secondly, Vyachaslav can’t figure out what the hell his own kid is up to?” Glancing at my watch, I shook my head with a frustrated sigh. “I’m sure you’ll have an epiphany by the end of my next lecture.”
“Don’t put this all on me…you’re the one Kiri’s after, Sascha. It’s only fair that we both try to figure this out. I’m sure I can think of something while sitting through your incredibly boring lecture. Now, text your girlfriend back before she thinks you’re not just gullible for an old man.” Malda settled into the chair.
I flopped my head back to inhale a deep breath. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, the device felt heavy in my palm. Just as Malda said, all of Ophelia’s incoming texts were ‘Oh my god’ in some way.
Whatever she found, I’ll have to make sure we’re not in earshot of my phone. Thinking of the consequences of everything on my phone no longer being private made me hesitate. Anything I texted, said, looked up— it was all there for Malda to sneer at.
‘Sascha: They bugged my phone. Or your phone. Or both. We’ll talk when we get home.’
Malda stood up, adjusting her skirt as I made my way out of my office. “Write a list. Ophelia knows the Makovich’s better than me, but not as good as you. Obviously, she’d have better ideas, being a little more objective.”
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I nodded curtly. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I glanced back through narrowed eyes. “Did you have any other revelations about my conversation with Kiri that you think I should know about?”
“Aside from the fact that you didn’t tell Oppie you got a hookup offer because you didn’t realize it? Nah, I think you need to have the next revelation on your own.”
Lingering frustration flared as I pushed open the door rather than let her see it. What the Hell else am I missing because I’m ignorant?
Malda laughed, said it was so obvious… in a way, she was right.
I loved Ophelia, so other women’s flirting just went over my head.
Even before I loved her, I was bad at recognizing that kind of thing. Ophelia just made it a weak skill I no longer needed.
9
Ophelia
“Hold it like this.”
My eyelids fluttered closed as I held a kid sized fishing pole, complete with magnetic end. Smiling faintly, I sat on my old bed, in my old room, where nothing had changed since long before I’d moved out. The only reason I had this fishing pole was because I lied…partially, at least. It had been a souvenir from Vladivostok. The festival was amazing, and I’d wanted to remember those 12 days.
True… those things were true. I’d go back if I could. That week and a half had been one of the best times of my life.
But not because of my friends. Not because of the experience. Not the coverup I’d created when I broke up with all those friends for threatening to tell my parents about what I was really doing. They were worried, thinking Sascha was a predator or something.
They were right to be worried, but wrong about what to be worried over. I never thought things would get as serious as they were now. I never wanted things to get this serious…me, telling Sascha everything concerning something he should know nothing about. Me, asking his opinion on those forbidden things. Me, only making silly science sex puns because I didn’t know jack shit about nuclear science.
It seemed like such a one-sided, intellectual, relationship sometimes. The 18 years between us were telling.
“You need another minute to process the fact that you’re going to die?”
Lyov’s rasp forced me out of my contemplating, much to my annoyance. I’d rather do almost anything than listen to him. Cracking my eyes open, I frowned as he stepped into the room to glance around.
“Was this your room? The maids didn’t get to it?”
“No…they did. They just didn’t make a mess because they liked me.” Throwing my thumb over my shoulder, a small smirk crested my lips. “The closet’s empty. So are my jewelry boxes. I’m not a liar like my sisters…I had real gems.”
“What’s with the pole? You go fishing on your first date or something?”
Lyov had avoided me as I made discovery after gruesome, stupid discovery. Curiosity flooded my veins as he sauntered into the room.
Taking his hands out of his pockets, he sat next to me, clenching his hands into tight fists between his knees. “I feel bad for people like you, you know.”
“Are you just not gonna say why or leave me wondering?” Was Lyov just incapable of finishing attempting to get a thought out of his mouth? Shooting him a bland look, I set my little fishing pole on my other side to sigh. “Look Lyov, I don’t care what you think about people like me. You can screw off with your faux superiority, okay? I get it…you killed your mom by being born. You’re the baby of the family. You aren’t Aleksander, so obviously you’re no one at all. Boo-fucking-hoo. You’re not the only one that came squawking out and your mom left…in fact, you should consider yourself lucky it wasn’t her choice.” I hate myself. Okay…I hated myself for being able to say these things so coldly, not because I was saying them to Lyov in particular. He was a little boy with a golden spoon up his ass and fabricated reasons to jam it deeper.
The more I spoke, the more tense he became next to me. The hotter the heat roiling off him.
Rubbing my palms against my jeans, I stood up to turn to him fully.
Lyov was pissed, his face pinched and the vein in his forehead bulging. His nicely styled hair bristled.
Frowning in disdain, my eyelid twitched at how his face reflected my own feelings at myself. “You do this shit on purpose and want people to feel bad for you, but everyone, eventually, will see you as the piece of shit you are. You shouldn’t feel bad for me, you should feel bad for yourself. I certainly do. If you’re so miserable, follow the precious object of your misgivings into the afterlife or change. Those are you only two options.” Reaching to grab my fishing pole, I left my childhood bedroom to head back to my father’s office.
Lyov didn’t storm after me. I made it a few steps into the hall before heaving a massive but quiet sigh. In my hands, my fishing pole seemed so small, a light green color that distracted me from the darkness around me. “Today needs to be over.”