Ophelia Drowned

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Beep beep!" Dad said as he opened the car door. "Let's get a move on, Magpie. We're late."

"I don't want to go," I grumbled, as I bent down to get into his car.  "Can't we just go get ice cream, instead?"

"It's 27 degrees," he reminded me, briskly. As if I needed it. But after a moment he gave in, because he always gave in. All I needed to do was slouch in the seat and look pathetic- which wasn't difficult with an arm in a sling. It might have been below freezing but he melted like butter on the hottest day in July. "Fine.. ice cream. After your appointment."

Damn.

"It's not like he's gonna help," I insisted. "All he does is clear his throat and mutter a lot. It's a waste of money if you ask me."

Dad closed my door and I sat in temporary silence as he hobbled the slick ice around the car and got into the driver's side. He winced a little as he got in and buckled his seat belt. Aches and pains- just facts that reinforced what I already knew. Dad was getting old.

He closed his door shut with another grunt and started the car. The radio was humming out some static noise about weight loss supplements that really worked. I jabbed the power button and fell into a stewing sort of silence. Contrary to his chronically chipper attitude, Dad did not try to break the silence by telling a joke or asking about my day. He just watched the road and checked his mirrors and slammed the break a little too hard at a stop sign.

Something was eating at him. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with me and the big news he and Veronica had bludgeoned me with at dinner the other night.

I fidgeted with the heat settings until I could feel a whisper of warmth in the air that blasted from the vents. His car was probably as old as I was, though. Chances were good that I'd still be frozen when we got to the office of Dr. Felix. Eventually Dad seemed to find the words he was looking for and he took a deep breath.

"So." He kept his tone careful and slow, like he was trying to speak a new language. "Maybe we should talk."

I shoved my feet onto the dashboard and met this with the appropriate lack of enthusiasm. No discussion that started with 'maybe we should talk' was ever a good discussion. It was usually a serious monologue about certain adults from certain adults and how they were suddenly going to take certain actions about certain problems created by certain teenage daughters. As usual, my dad didn't disappoint.

"About the other night," he said, furrowing his brow into a compelling expression of consternation. "Veronica and I got the distinct impression that you might not be happy about our news. You know, about the baby-"

I snorted. Some part of me had hoped that the 'news' had been some sort of warped dream. It was incredibly unlikely that ignoring it could just make it go away, but I had kind of hoped that I could just avoid the follow up to our previous dinner drama.

"The thing is," he continued. "We would really like you and Ellie to be a part of the baby's life. We're a family, no matter what, and-"

"Does Mom know?" I interrupted, bluntly.

"Your mom?" he sucked in a deep breath. "Yeah, your mom knows. I talked to her. You haven't talked to her?"

"I think Ellie did," I mumbled. Since that little incident I hadn't done much besides stick my head in an oven and think about Hex. That last part wasn't something I was particularly proud of. I didn't like to think that I was the sort of girl who got wistful over, well, nothing. But nothing was exactly what Hex had given me. He had given me a word. Three syllables. Beautiful. It was completely baseless. There was nothing striking about me. In fact, I fell under the opinion that my eyes were a little too close together and that my chin was too sharp. Yet, even in this awkward conversation about an issue that seriously affected me, I couldn't seem to stop wondering about it.