have dinner with them. His mother tried to keep the mood light. She put on piano music and cooked pasta, chattering constantly as she did. I leaned on Horatio, hypnotized by her uninterrupted motion and speech. Finally his father took the spoon out of her hand and told her to give the sauce and herself a rest. She nudged him playfully as they came to sit with us.
Horatio’s father offered to have me live with them, which was sweet, but I declined. I wanted to be alone. The irony wasn’t lost on me, given how much I had detested being by myself in prior weeks. Even so, his parents would practically adopt me in the coming weeks, and we would spend many evenings eating and talking. My new makeshift family.
I couldn’t live with them, but I also couldn’t live in my apartment. The home where I’d had a life with my father. The home where I’d had a life with my mother. The home where I’d had a life with my brother. The home where I’d had a life with Hamlet. Remaining was not an option. Everyone understood.
So the following day, the secretary of relocation came to me with photos of furnished apartments used to house dignitaries and officials needing long-term living quarters. I preferred the small brownstones in a tree-lined neighborhood nearby, but we reconsidered when it became clear how easily photographers could climb the fire escapes and how hard it would be for me to come and go safely and in obscurity. We settled on a sleek one-bedroom condo in a high-rise down the block from the castle. The loft would suit me fine, and the tall windows, covered in filmy curtains, reminded me of a sculpture gallery I had once visited with Hamlet. It was a bittersweet memory that fit my mood perfectly. The secretary explained that I could stay there as long as I chose and that the staff would pack and move my things.
I brought some personal items over myself, and when I was done, I charged through the glass doors and headed for my car. As I did so, I noticed a figure stop dead in his tracks in front of me. Since my return, more strangers than ever wanted to chat, so I checked to make sure Marcellus was within a few paces, kept walking, and unzipped my bag, pretending to be looking for something.
“Ophelia?” a familiar voice asked. I stopped and looked up reluctantly. It was Sebastian.
I sucked in my breath and stared dumbly at him.
“God, it is you,” he continued. “What are you doing here?”
Marcellus stepped forward, but I signaled that I was okay. I explained to Sebastian, “I, uh, I’m gonna live here for now.”
“I live around the corner.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I squeaked through a clenched throat.
“I, well, wow, look at you. You’re here. Alive.”
All I could do was nod.
“When we saw the reports—man, all those divers looking for you… We didn’t leave the TV. We kept waiting and hoping.”
“We?”
“Dan, Lauren, Greg, Keren, Justine… all of us.”
I flinched at the mention of their names.
Sebastian continued, “After the reporters said you were gone, we all sat around and”—he blushed a little and looked away as he finished—“had a kind of service for you in the courtyard with the bear sculpture.”
He had been genuinely concerned and had grieved for me. God. I looked down and asked, “Really? After what I did to you, I would have thought—” Instinctively, I reached out and touched his arm in apology. He looked at my hand on his arm and then into my eyes. His shame began to be replaced by splinters of hope. His gaze drew me in, but then guilt kicked me in the stomach. I snatched my hand back.
He pulled at his leather necklace as he looked away. When he did, I caught sight of the bruise on his cheekbone. The one Hamlet had put there when he punched Sebastian at the end of the lacrosse game.
“Does that hurt?” I asked, starting to reach for his face but then changing my mind.
“Not anymore. And hey, I got in a shot of my own,” he said, pride filling him before he remembered what came right after.
We stood in awkward silence for a moment.
“Sebastian,” I finally said, “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and chewed on my lip. I was so sick of regret, but at least this was one person I could still apologize