Birds? That's what she's gone bonkers over? I must be misunderstanding her. It must be a language barrier or something akin to a cultural divide. "Um, right. We run a rescue operation for birds of prey. We do get mostly owls and hawks, but we've had the occasional falcon, and even a golden eagle once. I'm sure I've mentioned it."
Ophelia sits up ramrod straight. "No, no you have not. I would have remembered such an atrocity. Birds are … evil and I'm confident one will kill me someday."
This explains why she chased that pigeon. "Ah, you have ornithophobia."
"It's not only a fear. It's a true hatred. Every time one is near me, I justknowit's out to get me."
While I've certainly encountered people with this fear before, I've never seen it to quite this extent. After a few moments of silence, I say, "Perhaps it's a good thing that this isn't a real marriage. Now you won't have to deal with my family and their love of birds."
She nods silently.
I continue. "Seriously though, virtually every bit of decor in the house is some form of bird or another. It's all people seem to give my parents as gifts. There are bird pictures and bird pillows and bird blankets. Even the bin and the bog roll holder are birds. The whole thing is like one giant Alfred Hitchcock movie set."
"That sounds terrible. Perhaps I can get a divorce on those grounds alone. By the way, we can't officially dissolve our marriage in Massachusetts for one year."
Right. It's not surprising Ophelia looked into it. The whole point of this charade was to help me get traded. That seems like such a fantasy now, it might as well have some Fantastic Beasts in it. "I'm sure we'll figure it out. We have time. Frankly, it's the only thing I have."
Ophelia looks at me. "Birds? You really love birds?"
I laugh. "I do. I don't suppose you want to hear how at times you remind me of a kestrel, flapping and hovering, moving yet still all at the same time."
She shudders. "I know you mean that as a compliment, but please don't ever say that out loud to me again."
"I won't. I suppose you don't want to be called 'chickadee' either?"
Ophelia tips her head so it's leaning on my shoulder. "Not really." She lets out a sigh. "What are you going to do now?"
I'd shrug, but I don't want to disrupt her or break our contact. I like it when she touches me, even though I've no right to. "Not sure. I'm basically homeless, so I'll kick about for a bit, I suppose."
"You're nothomelesshomeless. You do have our apartment. Why don't you move in there? You know you're not going back to Baltimore, so you might as well be here. I mean, in Boston. Then, maybe if you wanted to hang out every now and again, we could. As long as you don't talk about birds, that is."
"It would be nice to have a friend. My best mate, Alastair, went back home."
There's silence, as neither of us knows what to say next. I'm absolutely pitiful.
Finally, she says, "I didn't text you today. What about 'When a Man Loves a Woman' by Percy Sledge? That's a good love song."
I shake my head. "Oh darling, he berates himself and totally gives everything for someone who doesn't love him back."
She laughs. "I don't think I'm ever going to find a song for us. Not one that's really about love. Maybe it's a sign because we're not really anything. Or perhaps I don't know what it is." Her voice drops low and thick.
Her words tug at my heart. I want to tell her I'll show her, but it seems too soon. Or too out of place. Or too … something. Instead, I say, "And if you even say, 'I Will Always Love You' by Whitney Houston, I'm going to disown you right now."
This time, Ophelia laughs, and it's music to my ears. "Even I know that's about loving someone who's better off without you and you can't be together." Ophelia straightens before standing up. She extends a hand down to me and pulls me to my feet. "We're going to figure this out. We're going to get you a new agent, and make this trade happen, come hell or high water. Now, let's go talk to Owen. He's got to have some lawyer-y contacts who can help. Somehow."
I smile down at her, still holding her hands in mine. "You're right. It may not be ideal, but some of the best things in life don't start as you planned them to be. So maybe I don't get traded until March. If I put my work in and show Janssen I'm worth it, then perhaps it'll work out."
"That's the spirit."
I nod, feeling a surge of energy I haven't felt in a while. "All I need to do is train my arse off and keep my nose out of trouble."
"The Buzzards would be fools not to put you on their roster." Ophelia shudders. "Buzzards. More birds. I'm never going to escape them with you, am I?"
Chapter 39: Ophelia
I've never actually walked into a firing squad, but I feel as if I'm doing that now, returning to face my family following my post-bird revelation meltdown.
You laugh, but you have no idea the anxiety that runs through me when I think about birds. And the thing is, they'reeverywhere. Unless they're cooked and on my plate with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy, I want nothing to do with them.
