Page 19 of The Fixer

I closed my eyes to remember what I was like when I was 22.It’s more difficult than I’d like to admit to myself.Nothing was certain back then; my parents were getting a divorce, but I was already at the University. I had less money than I would’ve liked to get by. Sometimes, I’d get stuck with insta-soup or one of my friends’ leftovers. My younger brother was in the States to be a doctor.

There was no way to say ‘everything turns out okay’ without sounding condescending, though. Ophelia didn’t have 20 Rubles hanging over her head with nothing but a childish dare between her and it. She had her very life at stake and it was entirely optional. If one eye turned away, so could she…

But that would never happen. Aleksander Makovich enjoyed his power. Pawns may be replaceable, but it was still a hassle. This was her only saving grace right now.

“… When I was 7, I went outside during a rainstorm because I wanted to play in the rain.”

Tearing me from my thoughts, Ophelia sniffled a little as my brows twitched in interest. She downright refused to tell me about her childhood, so I could only assume it was traumatic in some way.

She went on in a quiet voice, “My dad locked me out. He stood right there in the doorway, and I thought he was waiting for me, watching me. But when I tried to go back in, he shook his head. He didn’t let me in until my toes hurt from the cold. Finally, he told me, he said… ‘We’re Cherinivsky’s, Ophelia, and Cherinivsky’s don’t run around in the rain like poor brats with no homes to keep them dry’.”

The coldness in Ophelia’s tone sent shivers down my chest, ruffling the hairs before she took her hand from mine to smooth them. Pulling up the blanket, she smoothed that too, while my mind churned over her confession.

“Another time, Martin decided to flood the bathroom and pin it on me. I had to clean it all up by myself. The maids didn’t want to risk their jobs for me. Martin stood over me the whole time, making comments and telling me it’swhat you deserve.” If it was possible, her tone got chillier.

I tightened my arm around her back in an effort to keep her warm.

“When I was done, my parents told me that they hoped it was a good lesson… that I learned something. And I did. Martin was the only boy, so he was the favorite. Nothing I did would ever convince anyone otherwise, and my only comfort was knowing that he’d fuck it up somehow, someday, so bad that he couldn’t blame it on me. And my mom…”

The venom with which Ophelia spat those three, short words gripped my whole body in anticipation. Her mother had always hated me so passionately because she wanted to control Ophelia so badly. Honestly, I’d never found out the root of why and the time had passed to ask. Not that I’d get a straight answer, anyway.

“My mom despised me more as Martin and I got older. I was better than him at everything. I learned to swim faster. I had better grades than him. I topped him on Sports Day, and I made better friends easier than him. When I decided not to go to Uni, my mom was so relieved. And then… Martin flunked out. But hey, he’s still better than me because he tried, right?”

“… You’re alive, Oppie, and they’re not.” God, she felt frigid in my arms. Rolling over to hold her to my chest, I buried my nose in her hair. Even then, I couldn’t feel my damn teeth chattering.

“Love and live are one letter off,” she stated quietly.

“You’re making me feel really bad right now, so just stop talking, please.” My lips quirked up, and I squeezed her a little tighter. Pulling the comforter over us completely, I simply went back to stroking Ophelia’s hair. She didn’t warm up, but at least she wasn’t getting any colder.

I had enough information to keep my mind busy and my mouth shut. Ophelia’s home life was bad; I knew this already. If these were the stories she was sharingnow, I couldn’t imagine the worst of them. There were always going to be things she wanted to keep secret. I respected this.

But this… whateverthiswas… kept wreaking havoc on her, and that wasn’t very easy. Maybe, Ophelia wasn’t as rock solid as she pretended to be. She was only 22 for fuck’s sake.A 22 year old with 22 years of experience in this. That’s about as long as I’ve had my degrees.

When things got broken down like that, it seemed overly simple. Ophelia had just as much experience in her field as mine. If only she were 15 years older, or I was 15 years younger…

13

Ophelia

Straddling Sascha’s thighs, I rubbed down either side of his spine with my palms. He was so warm, sosturdy. A tiny smile fixed between my cheeks. Sinewy muscles eased under my hands, his skin twitching when I leaned down. Conforming to his back, I soaked up his comfort; he wasn’t even holding me. I was just holding him, and it felt sowonderful.“I love you, Sascha.” Kissing the nape of his neck, I hummed softly. “I’m thinking… maybe I should open the second drawer of your nightstand for the first time since closing it…”

Regret…

“I would love if you did that, Oppie.” Craning his neck to look at me, Sascha smiled lazily. “I love you, too.”

Guilt…

My phone chirped insistently and a groan of foreboding tumbled out of my mouth. Reaching over to the heap of my clothes, I squinted at the brightness. A gasp of surprise escaped me, my brows rising.

Sascha propped on his elbows to twist, his face painted in curiosity.

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. Uncertainty flooded my veins, making my thumb tingle as I swiped the ‘Answer’ button. “Hello?” I held my breath as I scrambled to my feet, my phone burning the soft cartilage of my ear. “This is Ophelia.”

“Did you really find all this like this, or are you messing with me, Ophelia?” Aleksander Makovich chuckled.

I tensed as prickles raced down my spine.

He kept chucking. “You know…it’s been far too long since I thought something was justfunny. Maybe, I’ll commission this into a play, so I can see it in action.”