Opal (The Raven Cycle #4.5)(5)
Opal felt quite out of breath as her anxiety washed out, slowly replaced with victory. She had done it. She had really done it.
But then, terribly, the lady looked up from behind the wheel of her car.
This was not a dream day. It was an animal day. That meant that no one woke up when victory was achieved. The dream didn’t vanish, the scenery didn’t change, the curtain didn’t go down. The lady was still there, and the creatures were still there, and Opal was still there, and so when the lady looked up, she was just in time to lock eyes with Opal where she stood among the milling herd. It had begun to rain a little, the sort of rain that made one happy and sad at the same time, all fast misty drops and silver moving light. Opal had lost one of her boots in the running, and even though her furry legs were mostly hidden by grass and the remaining boot, she was nonetheless prickled by the sense that this lady was looking at her and seeing the dreamstuff inside her, too. This was so against the rule, the rule of being secret, that she found she could not move, only bare her teeth nastily at the lady.
The lady drove away.
Opal never told Ronan or Adam about her. She was too humiliated to admit that she had been seen. It had been quite a lot of days since she’d gotten punished.
Opal superstitiously began to roam the days when Ronan and Adam were gone. If she was not home to see it, she thought, no strange ladies would come back, and she would not have to decide whether or not to intervene. As soon as the car doors closed and the sound of the engine died, she would take off exploring. Sometimes she would go roaming even if Ronan was home, if he was locked up in the long barn where she could not see him.
She roamed at first to the gasoline-scented place, but after awhile, she discovered that the appeal wore off as she learned the rules of it. All of the sameness became boring and so she explored farther along the edge of the woods. There she found a new favorite thing to watch, which was a bench by a creek. It was a good creek, sharp-edged and black-watered and busy-flowing, with grass and moss growing right up to the lip of it and sometimes a fish or a plastic bag picturesquely floating in it, and the bench had been placed at a turn in it where the water sometimes turned over white and frothy. The bench was occupied by different people at different times and they were all right. But really her favorite was a person who returned again and again, always at the same time of day, except if it was raining. She was a fluffy, cloud-shaped lady with fluffy, cloud-colored hair, and she always came to the bench with a book and a food. The books were never the same book. They were fat and brick-shaped and the fronts always bore images of men who didn’t seem to have any shirts or other possessions. Sometimes all they seemed to have was another man or sometimes a lady or sometimes both, who they held tightly. The foods were also never the same food. Sometimes they were things that made crunching sounds, short and fast, and sometimes they were things that made soft clucking sounds, and sometimes they were things that made no sound at all except for the cloud lady’s satisfied “ahh” after she finished them. Opal enjoyed watching the foods and the books and the cloud lady’s enjoyment of both. It felt a little bit like a dream, in the way that her happiness was so large that the feeling made it all the way across the creek to where Opal was hiding. It was agreeable. It was a scene that she liked to return to often. Plus, the bench was close enough that she could return to the Barns each night without having to make a nest, which was convenient as it was raining nearly every evening.
On one of her trips back from watching the cloud lady, Opal encountered Adam. Shockingly, brilliantly, he seemed to be arriving at the Barns on foot. People did not come to the Barns on foot. They came by cars that would smash her flat and not feel bad about it so stay out of their way, according to Ronan. But here was Adam on just his legs, slowly coming into view through the mist rolling down the dark tunnel of trees out to the road. Opal was delighted to discover him traveling in the same way she did. She met him halfway down the long driveway and frolicked all around him as he put one foot in front of the other while the last of the late afternoon’s light dappled over both of them. He said nothing as she grabbed his hand and then danced around to grab his other hand.
Ronan was less thrilled to discover Adam’s inventive way of travel. “What the hell, Parrish? I was just about to leave to get you. Who dropped you off?”
“I walked.”
“Ha ha.” Ronan’s real laugh did not sound like ha ha, but this was not Ronan’s real laugh. When Adam didn’t explain the joke, he said, “Walked. From where?”
“Work.” Adam had ceased frolicking and instead removed his shoes and then his socks before sitting at the round table in the kitchen.
“Work. What. The. Hell. I told you I was going to pick you up.”
“I needed to walk.” Adam put his head on the table.
While Ronan ran tap water into a glass and set it on the table like he might be able to smash a hole through the wood with it, Opal climbed beneath the table to prod at Adam’s bare feet. Legs that ended in feet were strange and interesting to her. Adam’s feet were long and hairless and vulnerable looking. His anklebone protruded like his wristbones did, as if his feet were just very strange hands. He had little bits of dark sock lint stuck to his skin, and it came off in a stripe when Opal rubbed at it.
“It’s not the only place you applied,” Ronan said, continuing an earlier conversation.
“But it was what I wanted the most. Opal, stop.”