But to my family, as with so many other things I do, it's just Ophelia being ridiculous.
You know, I did tell them about wanting to write once. I put it in my fifth-grade “All About Me” Essay. I believe my dad's comment was, "Why would you waste your time on something so trivial when you're so good at math? You need to do something that really matters."
I remember that moment. It felt like a heavy steel door slammed around my heart. I'm sure he doesn't even remember making the comment, but it was a core memory for me.
Before we get to the bottom of the stairs, I stop, tugging on Xavier's hand. And yes, I know we're breaking rule number one. "Just so you're prepared, I think you should know if you couldn't tell already, that my family thinks I'm ridiculous, and they're going to give me nothing but endless shit about my fear of birds."
Xavier tilts his head slightly. There isn't much room between us, and my body is responding to being so close to him. It really shouldn't, but he doesn't know that. "You can be a tad rash, and your energy has a bit of chaos to it due to your enthusiasm. But if they can't tell the difference between exuberance and ridiculousness, then that'stheirfault, not yours. I appreciate your energy. It's breathed some much-needed life into my stingy, rigid soul."
His words turn my inside to mush. Dammit, he just broke rule number three.
I squeeze his hand and then let go. If I maintain physical contact with him for one-second longer, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
Also, because I'm definitely afraid I've broken rule number five.
There's a very good chance I'm in love with Xavier.
We manage to slip back into the room. Thanks to the open concept of the kitchen-dining-family room, the entirety of the dinner party, regardless of location, turns to look at us. Most of them have migrated to the family room portion by now.
My dad, true to form, laughs from his place in the armchair. "Leave it to Ophelia to make a scene about something so silly. I mean, one goose chased and bit her once, and you'd think all birds are ax murderers."
"What?" I ask. "When did this happen?"
My mom laughs from the kitchen, where she's working at the island, scooping leftovers into storage containers. "Oh, you couldn't have been more than one and a half or two. I know we've told you this. We'd taken the three of you to feed the ducks on the pond. The Canadian geese were about as tall as you, and one was definitely as fast as you."
I don't have any recollection of this event, but even as she says it, I can feel my blood grow cold in fright. Well, damn. It's not an irrational fear. I was literally attacked. I'm about to say as much in defense of my behavior when a loud laugh arises from the couch.
"Ahhhh, Iknewit! I knew you looked familiar!" It's Dude Number Two. "You're romantic surprise girl."
Makayla looks up from her phone, squinting at me through her oversized clear glasses. "Oh my God, that is you. You're a disaster."
Carolina marches across the room toward her niece, demanding to see the phone. Owen's client and his wife come trailing after. Awesome. A larger audience. "What exactly have you been up to, Ophelia?" my sister-in-law demands.
I look at Xavier and then back to her. The whole crowd of them are gathered around Makayla's phone—Carolina and Owen, the client and wife, Georgia and Thomas, Madyson, and Dude Number Two, and of course, my mom.
God forbid she be left out of my complete and total mortification.
Aiden's disappeared. Most likely he's on the phone about an animal or something. It's fine. I don't need one more person to witness my complete and utter humiliation.
Makayla's date—Dude Number One—is scrolling through his phone at the opposite end of the couch as if there's nothing amiss.
Xavier and I stand in the middle of the room until my dad tells us to move because the Lions are driving and might actually score for once. It's good to know football—the American kind—keeps Dad's attention.
What do I do? Do I storm out—again? Do I see what they're looking at? Do I try to explain?
I can't stop thinking about the bird thing. "Wait, so my whole life, as I've panicked about birds, you knew there was a logical reason? That I wasn't just acting out or doing it for attention?" I don't know who I'm speaking to, but someone has to take ownership. "I can't believe you've all made me feel like I was crazy. That’s gaslighting!"
My mom looks up. "Oh, Ophelia, I thought you knew. We've told the story before. It wasn't a big secret. It was just another thing …"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Xavier asks.
The football game is at halftime, enabling my dad to join the conversation. "Oh, you know, typical Ophelia. She was a ball of energy from day one, and it usually got her into trouble. She never sat still, was never quiet, and never did what we expected her to."
I know what's coming next. Aiden walks into the room, and he knows too. I see him standing behind Mom, mouthing and mimicking her as she says, "Everything about Ophelia is spontaneous and unplanned, right down to her conception."
Aiden rolls his eyes, which makes me smile. It's not the first time I've heard these things, and I doubt it will be the last.
It's not like I don't understand these things about myself. It wasn't like I didn't try to sit still or be quiet or not do stupid things. Sometimes—a lot of the time—the action part of my brain fires before the rational part does. Trust me, I'd like it if they worked together more often. My life would be a lot easier.
