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pascal_curious) wrote2011-03-16 08:30 pm
Chapter 36 : My Family : Part Two
Ophelia gave a little wave as Pascal turned toward the door. She wished he hadn’t insisted on her calling him by his first name. There was a time when her Auntie Olive would have been appalled to hear Ophelia call an adult by their first name. Not anymore though, the drugs saw to that,
Ophelia hoped her Aunt was okay. It was a mixture of relief and guilt that she felt when she had dropped Olive off at the senior center that morning. She was glad to be free of her Aunt for a short while, but couldn’t help wondering if, on some level, Olive knew what was happening. Ophelia couldn’t bear the thought that Olive might think she had been abandoned. Ophelia had known that this time would come, when she would have to get some kind of help to care for her Aunt. She had had plenty of time to think about it, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with the decision.
Ophelia turned on the television to keep her company while she finished with the dishes. She tuned it to the classic movies channel and was pleased to find they were playing one of her favorites, “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”. She finished filling the dishwasher and set it to run on the extra dirty cycle. She wiped down the counters and the sink and then surveyed the remainder of the mess. She could probably finish the dishes in one more washer load, and then she could settle in and get some studying done. Hopefully Andromeda was not a high maintenance baby; Spring Break was almost over and Ophelia had a lot of studying to catch up on.
She plopped down in front of the TV to watch the end of the movie while Andy napped. She was grateful that “Baby Jane” was on, even though she had probably seen it a dozen times. It was familiar to her, and comfortable like an old, raggedy, but much loved sweater. He remembered watching the movie for the first time. It had been on a dark and stormy Sunday evening when she was about ten. She had cuddled up on the sofa with her parents while the storm raged outside.
A short while later Ophelia heard the rumble of a car pilling up in front of the house. She peeped out the front window to see a monstrously ugly silver car pull onto the verge in front of the house. She watched as the gull wing door lifted and her cousin stepped out of the car. She suddenly felt that she should look like she was doing something. She knew it was silly, but she went into the kitchen to check on the dishwasher anyway.
Without knocking, Nervous Subject entered the bunker and strode in to the living room.
“Hey cuz!” greeted Ophelia as she opened the door to the dishwasher. A wave of steam billowed up and hit her in the face. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”
Nervous was startled by the greeting; he had been lost in his own thoughts since he left the house in Tesla Court.
“Huh?” he mumbled. He looked up and saw Ophelia standing, with her hands on her hips, in the kitchen. He was irritated that Ophelia was there instead of Amber. If he had known that Ophelia was going to be here, he would have waited until evening to come pick up the papers that Pascal had left for him.
“Hey Ophelia,” he said with little enthusiasm.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like his cousin. She was a nice girl and they had always gotten along well. She was only a couple of years younger than him and they had spent a lot of time together as children. They had lot of fun together before his life went to hell in a hand basket.
“Where’s Amber?” He asked
“It’s good to see you too, cuz.” Ophelia said tartly. “I don’t know where she is. That’s kind of why I am here…because she’s not.”
Nervous sighed heavily and walked to the kitchen. He had spotted a pizza box on the counter. He walked past Ophelia without a second glance and went straight for the pizza. He flipped open the box lid and took out a limp piece of cold pizza.
“You aren’t going to eat that, are you?” Ophelia asked. “I don’t know how long it has been sitting there” she told him as she crinkled up her nose in disgust.
Nervous shoved the pizza into his mouth and chewed. Ophelia almost threw up in her mouth.
“Ugh, that is so gross.” She groaned.
“It’s still good,” he told her with a mouthful of pizza. Crumbs fell out of his mouth into the pizza box. “You wanna piece?”
“NO.THANK.YOU.” Ophelia grabbed the box away from him before he could shovel another piece in his mouth.
“Hey!” he objected.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick, and I sure don’t want to be the one to tell Aunt Ollie that you died from food poisoning because I let you eat some furry green pizza!” She took the box and ran it outside to the garbage bin. She wouldn’t put it past her cousin to take the box out of the kitchen garbage just so he could finish it off. She rushed back into the house to find him in front of the refrigerator drinking milk straight from the carton. Ophelia made a mental note not to drink any milk while she was there and to tell Lazlo he needed to buy a new carton.
She knew she should try to engage her cousin in conversation, but it had been so long since they had spent any appreciable amount of time together that she didn’t know what to say. She felt like she didn’t know anything about him.
“That’s a nice car you have. When did you get it?” she asked.
“Couple a weeks ago,” he said as he wiped the milk from his face with his bare forearm.
“You must be doing really well, then. You’ve got a new car, and you’re getting a job. You must be pretty happy.”
“I guess so,” he answered noncommittally.
“I can’t wait until I pick Aunt Ollie up tonight. She will be so happy to hear how you have been doing.”
Nervous didn’t say anything. He knew that Ophelia would eventually bring up the subject of Olive. He really wished she hadn’t. Maybe, if he didn’t say anything, she would drop the subject.
“You know,” she said, “Aunt Ollie asks about you every day, Na…” Ophelia stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look on her cousin’s face. If looks could kill, she would have made a very lovely corpse.
“Don’t call me that.” He said coldly.
“Why not?” she asked, shocked by the change in his demeanor.
“It’s not my name.”
“What do you mean it’s not your name? Aunt Olive gave you that name.”
“I don’t care,” he insisted. “Just don’t call me that.”
“What am I supposed to call you, then? That retarded name that the Beakers gave you?”
Nervous shot her another dirty look. He didn’t really like the name that he acquired since he came to live with Loki and Circe, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to go by any name that Olive Spectre had given him.
“Yes.”
Ophelia huffed in frustration. “Like it or not, NERVOUS, Aunt Ollie gave you that name and she is your mother. It would kill her to know that you won’t go by the name she gave you and you would rather be called some stupid moniker that asshole Loki Beaker gave you.”
“She is not my mother,” growled Nervous as her glowered at her.
“Yes, she IS your mother, Na…”
Nervous interrupted her before she was able to get his name out. “Don’t fucking call me that!” he shouted as he slammed the refrigerator door.
Ophelia was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to react so violently to the simple truth that Olive Spectre was, indeed, his mother. The more she thought about it, though, she didn’t think she could blame him for being so angry. She had still been a little girl when Nervous had been taken away from his mother and really didn’t remember the circumstances. She only knew what she had been told by others, that Olive had not been taking care of her son. Supposedly, when the authorities came to Olive’s house to investigate, they found the place a mess, and poor little Nervous hade been filthy and starving. She suddenly felt awful for having taken the pizza away from him. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he had been doing. Maybe, like a neglected puppy, he took advantage of any opportunity to eat, even if it was garbage. Maybe, subconsciously, he was afraid of being hungry again
Ophelia walked across the room to her cousin, who had turned his back on her. She wondered if he was crying. She gently put her hand on his ar
“Listen, Nervous,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Nervous turned to face her. He didn’t look to Ophelia like he had been crying. His cheeks were still flushed pink with anger.
“I won’t call you that any more. I promise.”
“I don’t blame you for hating her, Nervous.” She explained. “I know you can’t possibly understand why I chose to take care of her. Everyone tried to talk me out of it, but they didn’t see in her what I saw. Every time I visited her in the hospital she would be off somewhere, alone. She was nothing but a tiny, broken and weak woman, looking through her photo albums, or sitting in front of an easel, painting out the scenes that haunted her memories. She wouldn’t speak to anyone other than me, and even then, the only thing she would do was ask if Na…,” having learned her lesson, Ophelia hesitated and rephrased her sentence, “…if you were okay.” Ophelia shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. She had never talked to her cousin about any of this.
“Nervous, she doesn’t have any memory of the awful things that she did. She only remembers you, and her love for you. . I know there was a time when the whole world thought she was some kind of monster, but she’s not like that any more. She is just a very sad, lonely old woman who has to be reminded to brush her teeth and take her meds every morning.” Ophelia squeezed his hand. His hand was slender and his fingers cold.
Nervous found he was unable to say anything. There was a tiny part of him that felt guilty for not having stepped in to take care of Olive. When he first heard that Olive would be released from the hospital he felt no compunction for leaving Olive to fend for herself. After several years, though, seeing Ophelia give up her loving home with the Smiths and her struggles balancing school work and caring for her aunt, the guilt began to eat at him. His home with the Beakers was far from ideal, but at least he was cared for, and he had no real struggles…at least not in the beginning.
Nervous had seen his mother only once since he had been removed from the house on Dead End Drive. When he was about fourteen years old Nervous had gone to see Olive. His life with the Beakers had become so unbearable that he had built up a fantasy in his mind where Olive would tell Nervous who his father was, and Nervous would run away to be with his father and live happily ever after. All it ever ended up being was a fantasy.
“I did what I had to do,” Ophelia told him. “When I heard they were going to release her from the hospital they said it would have to be into the care of a family member, or to a nursing home. I couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her to a loveless place like a nursing home. You can hate her, Nervous, and I will never think less of you for it, but please don’t hate me, “she pleaded. “Aside from Aunt Ollie, you are the only real family I have…and I need you.”
Nervous didn’t feel the need to tell Ophelia that he did not hate his mother. To him it was irrelevant. He may not hate Olive, but there was no room for her in his life, and no room for her in his heart. Ophelia though, he had plenty of room in his heart for Ophelia. After all, she was right. They were the only family that either of them had.
Nervous knew he had to say something to Ophelia. He bothered him that she thought that he hated her. He took a small step toward her and opened his mouth to speak.
At that very moment Andromeda chose to wail. The sound of the baby’s cries filled the hallway and the living room, thanks to the unnecessarily loud baby monitor.
“Oh damn,” muttered Ophelia. “She’s probably starving.” She rushed off to the baby’s room.
Nervous, half relieved and half annoyed, sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and waited. He watched as Ophelia, baby Andromeda balanced on her hip, went about the business of preparing a bottle. He wondered what it would be like to be helpless and weak, to rely on someone else for everything. How awful must it be, to be trapped in the body of an adult, but not to be able to function as one? He wondered if that was what it was like for Olive. Olive was very lucky to have Ophelia to love her, but who was there to love Ophelia? Nervous knew Ophelia had Johnny, but who did she have to love her like a family?
Nervous got up from his chair and went to Ophelia’s side.
“Here,” he said as he reached out to take Andy in his arms. “I’ll hold her.”
“Thanks,” Ophelia said with a grateful smile.
Nervous held the baby close to him and pressed his lips to her downy head. He drank in her new baby smell and his heart swelled with love for her. She wasn’t his, she wasn’t even related, but he loved her like she was his own. He wondered how long it had been since someone had felt that for Ophelia.
Nervous held Andromeda up, her blue eyes level with his brown. He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her tummy until she squealed with delight. He smiled and held her close, her head resting on his shoulder.
“Hey Ophelia?” He asked as he cuddled Andy, “How do you feel about getting some Chinese? I think they are showing Scarface on AMC tonight.”
“That sounds great,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
Going to the job center can wait another day, thought Nervous. Family is more important.
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Not many people pay much attention to the fact that Nervous and Ophelia are cousins.
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