Opheliac

by J. F. Jenkins

  Angela’s smile faded. “I was joking. Okay? Don’t read too much into it. Not to sound like I’m their advocate, but you should at least consider being more civil.”

  “Considering,” he muttered. “I’ll see you later.” He watched her shut the door, wave one last time through the window, and then go inside of her house, before speeding off. Inside, he seethed. What did she know about his family? Outside of what he bothered to share, nothing. So her suggestion of being civil is a stupid idea. I’ve never had to be nice to them before.

  The last time Orlando’s parents had been home was over the summer. They celebrated birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and good grades. Celebrating was giving him fancy clothes that didn’t fit him, a stuffed animal from wherever they had visited, one embarrassingly large gift of some kind, a few video games, and some books his mother recommended he read. At least she had made an attempt at being thoughtful. Most of the money went into his bank account and had later been invested in remodeling the Apartment. The whole event lasted for two days. Orlando could be civil to them for two days, keeping the sarcastic comments to a minimum and pushing his anger toward them aside. A week and a half was another story.

  Orlando made his way home, knowing he could no longer delay the inevitable—alone time with his family. Having Angela around for dinner had been a blessing. She kept the whole thing comfortable, and his parents warmed up to her fairly quickly. While his mother was always a generally nice person to be around, his father was another story. The fact that Angela could get a smile out of the man spoke volumes about her charm. But he had no interest in being around without a buffer.

  When he entered the mansion, he noticed the lights were still on in the living room. Lyssa liked to do that if she was waiting up for him. Peeking his head inside, Orlando saw his mother and father on the couch watching something on TV. Carefully, he started to tiptoe down the hallway toward the stairs.

  “Don’t even think about sneaking up to your room,” his father called out.

  Groaning, Orlando walked into the living room. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  “What time is it?”

  He glanced at the clock. “Nine-thirty. Why?”

  “Isn’t that a little late to be out on a school night?”

  With a loud huff, Orlando rolled his eyes. “Yeah, for a five-year-old. I’m almost eighteen. I thrive on getting five hours of sleep every night, and then wasting my day in bed on the weekends. It’s kind of normal, in case you didn’t know.”

  “From now on, as long as we’re here, you’re back in the house by nine.”

  “So basically for the next week, I have a curfew?”

  His father’s jaw tightened. “Lyssa has given you too much slack. And for the record, we’ll be staying for much longer than a week.”

  “Okay, so two weeks then.”

  “I’m trying to be serious here. The attitude is not appreciated,” his father said darkly.

  Taking in a deep breath, Orlando did his best to regain some of his center. “A curfew I understand. Nine just seems…early. I hardly ever go out.”

  “Funny, that’s all you’ve been doing since we got here. If you’re not out with your friends, you’re in your room playing some video game.”

  “I read too,” he mumbled. Louder he said, “This is the first time I’ve actually had friends to hang out with in a long time. Before…I did it a lot. Then after Dallas, I…stopped. Holing up in my room with my games and stuff is more the norm.”

  A small smirk appeared on his father’s face and it caught Orlando off-guard. The man actually had a sense of humor similar to his own. “Or you’re trying to avoid me.”

  Orlando winced. “That too.” Why lie? It seemed like such a waste. “Nothing personal, it’s just weird. I like to be on my own.”

  “Not to hinder your individuality, but sometimes your own thing isn’t a great idea.” Taking in a deep breath, his father resumed his stoic nature. “I need to be able to know where you are. It’s important to me. After what happened with the…mugging, you could say your mother and I have had a bit of a reality check.”

  “Thanks for noticing me,” Orlando grumbled.

  The expression his father wore softened. “We always notice.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Scoffing, Orlando spun on his heel to go up to his room. “You can know where I am when you finally tell me where you all go all of the time.”

  For the first time since he came home, his mother spoke, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks. “We can do that. You’re old enough to know.”

  Swallowing, he faced his parents. They stood side by side, holding one another, and it was bizarre. Neither of them was affectionate often. “Okay, hit me. Where do you go all of the time and what do you do that’s more important than being here? Be honest. If it’s because you couldn’t handle being parents or something, just say so. A lot of people don’t like kids.”

  “Oh, honey, do you honestly think we don’t like you? We love you,” his mother whimpered.

  “Like and love are two different things.” He shrugged, averting his gaze away from her tear-filled eyes.

  “They are different, but we like you. We always have. Being away is a lot harder on us than you understand,” his father said. “Do you want to talk now, or are you tired from all of your adventures today?”

  Orlando was about to die from a mixture of shock and curiosity. Never before had his parents been forthcoming with information about what they did whenever they left the house. “I got time.”

  “You’re sure now is the time?” his mother asked in a soft voice. “What about Lyssa? She needs to know too.”

  Nodding, his father walked into the kitchen. “And we’ll tell her too, but it’s going to be harder to explain to her. If he knows first, he might be able to help.” He opened up a cupboard. “I’m going to make some coffee and something to eat. Go and get the presents, Farrah. Orlando, sit down. Is there anything you want?”

  “Depends, can you cook better than Mom?” Orlando asked, trying to keep his tone playful so he didn’t insult anyone. His mother tried hard, so he had to give her some points for all of the effort.

  He sat down in a large, plush, black leather chair, making himself comfortable as instructed. Why was he ready to hear the big secret and not his sister? Was she even home in the first place? In the past, he’d assumed she had already been told about whatever it was his parents did. He was now rethinking that theory.

  While his father bustled about in the kitchen, his mother brought out several gift bags of various sizes and colors. This is not how I was expecting my night to go, Orlando mused. Ever since Alan popped into his life, every day became unpredictable.

  “Do you want some coffee?” his father asked, entering the room with a spread of food on a tray. Most of it was junk food: a bowl of potato chips, some onion dip, candy, and popcorn. A dish of trail mix and a plate of sliced carrot sticks were the only two things that were healthy.

  Orlando wasn’t sure what to make of the man wanting to wait on him hand and foot. “No, it’s kind of late for coffee.”

  “We could have a long night.”

  “I can manage to stay awake until the middle of the night without the caffeine, but help yourself?” Orlando almost made a joke about his parents being old, but he decided to not push the humor too much. He was almost positive his parents had been kidnapped by aliens while he was driving Angela home.

  His father put the food on the coffee table before getting the pot of coffee and bringing it over as well. He poured two mugs of the piping-hot liquid and handed one to his wife, and then both sat down on the couch.

  Why is Mom’s hand shaking so much? She’s going to spill all over herself. Orlando frowned, watching them. He cleared his throat. “So…what’s going on?”

  Taking a moment to take a small sip of coffee, his mother met his gaze with her own. “We brought you some things from our last trip.”

  “O…kay…”

  Hand
s still shaking, she moved the largest gift bag in front of him. “Go ahead.”

  Orlando gazed down at the bag, raising one of his eyebrows. Curiously, he pulled off the abundance of red tissue paper that matched the color of the bag. His hand brushed against soft, synthetic fur. Another stuffed animal? I’m not five. Still, there was something sweet about the abundance of plushies his parents bought him. When he was younger, they made for good friends to fill the empty space of the mansion. Sometimes they were the only thing keeping him connected to his parents.

  Unlike the other animals he had received, this one was a fictional creature. Most of the time, he opened the gift wrapping to find exotic animals from all over the world. Elephants, giraffes, pandas, gorillas, and just about every other wild species on the planet. They tended to represent wherever it was his mother and father were working, or that was the assumption he made. Staring at the alien-like animal in the bag, he wasn’t so sure.

  Carefully, as if it were possibly alive, he pulled it from the bag and examined it. The stitching and fabric was high quality. A sweet, dog-like face gazed back at him. Its eyes were large, round, and orange; the fur was wild and fluffy, much like that of his two long-haired cats. In all actuality, the whole animal reminded him a lot of a dog with a few major differences. While the face shape was the same, the critter had six legs instead of four. Rather than being a soft brown, black, or white color, it had bright orange and purple fur.

  “I…thanks…” he said, unsure of what he thought of the gift. More importantly, what his parents were trying to say through it.

  His father took a long sip of coffee. “It’s called a ponda. As you can see, they’re similar to dogs. Even in nature, they have a lot of the same spirit. They live on a planet called Altura and are the popular house pet.”

  Orlando chuckled, admiring the back story that had been invented to go along with the toy. Until his brain focused in on one word: Altura. He choked on the air, coughing and blinking as he processed what he had just been told. “W-what did you say?”

  “You know what I said,” his father said calmly.

  “A-Altura?” How do they know about Altura? Wait a second, if this is an animal from there, does that mean…? “H-have you…been there?”

  “Several times.”

  Speechless, something that was near-impossible for Orlando. He almost always had something on his mind to share, but at that moment his was a total blank. “You know…”

  “I know,” his father echoed. “We can talk about your dabbling in the war later. Right now, I have more to tell you. The ponda that you’re holding is similar to the one I grew up with back home.”

  “Then that means you’re from…” Orlando swallowed. “Altura.”

  “Yes, and your mother was my childhood sweetheart.”

  “So that means she’s from there too…”

  “Right, which makes you and your sister—”

  Orlando sucked in a slow breath, feeling nauseated. “Alturan.”

  “We always told you, you were different.”

  “No,” Orlando whispered.

  “And for a long time I didn’t think either of you would need to know just how different you are.”

  “No!” Orlando screamed, grabbing his head with his hands. Psychic energy pulsed through the room, causing the pictures to rattle against the walls and a vase to nearly tumble off a table. He squeezed his eyes shut. This isn’t happening. I’m having some kind of a nightmare. I’m not an alien.

  A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder; a touch he recognized belonging to his mother. “I understand this is probably hard to hear. Since you’re involved now, and things are starting to get worse, we decided it was time you knew the truth. For a while, we thought this planet would stay safe, that things wouldn’t change. You would grow up here and not know the difference or tap into your powers. We were naïve for thinking we could keep you in the dark forever. And it made us sad…not being able to share our heritage with you.”

  “So you just decided to take us along for the ride when war broke out?” Orlando snapped. “Take us to a foreign planet and abandon me and Lyssa?”

  His father scoffed. “Don’t be silly. We would have never left home if you were in the picture. No, your sister was conceived on our first trip over, and you were conceived and born in the city you were named after. The war wasn’t even happening then.”

  “Why leave?”

  Both of his parents gazed at one another. His mother nodded, tears brimming her eyes. Exhaling slowly, his father offered up a weak smile. “Just because there was no war didn’t mean there was no civil unrest. Our nation, however, was exploring space for other reasons. We wanted to know more about Earth, which had been discovered a long, long time ago by another country on Altura. Your mother and I studied foreign culture and history. Earth happened to be one part of my doctorate, I guess you could say, so when a job opportunity came up for us to travel we took it. For a while we sent back samples and data from all of our travels. When the war became official, we were called upon to act as ambassadors to the Earth governments.”

  Orlando took in his father’s tale, trying to come up with a coherent thought. “So you were seriously back on Altura all of this time you went away? Is that where you’ve always gone?”

  “No, we went there shortly after we were last here, and returned in December to the Earth atmosphere. The journey between the two planets takes around two weeks.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Technology is a lot more advanced for us, remember? Our ship is faster than most, but it isn’t a pleasant two weeks. It takes almost that long to recover from the trip itself. Most take the longer route, which lasts around a month or two.”

  Nodding was about the only thing Orlando could manage to do. “So you know everything about what’s happening here.”

  “More than you think I do.” His father gave him a pointed look. “I’m not sure I approve of your involvement. You’re much too young to be fighting this battle. Plus, it is clear your abilities are quite strong and you are not being properly trained in how to use them. You would benefit a lot from having a formal teacher.”

  Orlando rolled his eyes. “You know, I thought the same thing at first, but what makes it okay to tap other teenagers my age instead of me? Seems a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? If they can do it, so can I. They need me, and…I want to do this. After everything I’ve seen, I can’t let the other tribes continue to hurt and kill my classmates. What they’re doing isn’t right. As for me learning how to use my powers, I’m doing just fine on my own—kind of what I’m used to.” He made sure to glare at his father for good measure.

  “I had hoped for you to join our tribe rather than the Rosalotuve.”

  “And your tribe is which one, exactly?” he asked, his voice shaking.

  “The Nassalmvan, or gold tribe. Don’t misunderstand me, the red tribe is one of our allies. I work closely with your leader’s father. They’re a good people. If you were to be involved, however, I would prefer you do it where I can monitor your safety so we don’t have anymore…mugging…incidents.”

  Orlando groaned. “First of all, I don’t need a babysitter. Okay? I can take care of myself just fine. Second, the mugging incident had nothing to do with the war. That was a personal project.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “No.” There was no way he would tell his parents about Dallas’s resurrection. Not only would they not understand, they could call Dallas’s parents and make things even more complicated than they already were.

  With a sigh, his father took another sip of coffee. “I’m still not putting my approval of you working with the Rosalotuve.”

  “And I don’t think there’s any way you can stop me,” Orlando said darkly. “I’m not going to switch teams just because it will make you feel more comfortable. You don’t get that kind of courtesy.”

  “I’m still your father, and you’re still a minor,” his father replied icily.


  Shaking his head, Orlando stood from his chair. “For a few more weeks, I’m still a minor. Chances are, you’re probably not going to be around for much longer anyway, so tell me no all you want. It won’t make a difference. Lock me in my room, but as soon as you leave, I’ll get right back into it again. Red tribe, gold tribe, they’re allies, so I don’t see why you should be bothered. I could be working for the bad guys.”

  “We can discuss this further later,” his mother said, surprisingly calm. If Orlando didn’t know better, he almost thought she approved.

  It was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

  “I’m not sure if there is a lot to discuss,” Orlando said. “But yes, we can talk about it more later. Right now, I’m too…I don’t even know…too something to talk about this.”

  “Sit,” his mother insisted. “Please. Let me give you the rest of your gifts first.”

  With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “How about another time, Mom. I’m sure they’re awesome, I just…” He glanced at his father. “I have a lot to think about.”

  “Of course,” she whispered. “I understand. Do you want me to come up with you and help you get settled into bed?”

  She wanted to tuck him in, something he could barely remember her doing from when he was little. The childish side of him thought it was a fantastic idea, but the part of him growing up made him decline. How would it look in front of his father if he acted like a baby, anyway?

  The pain and the shock of what he’d just been told had Orlando fleeing the room in desperation. A lot of space was needed if he had any hope of processing everything. He ran up the stairs, the ponda in his hands.

  “So this is what animals look like on Altura,” he said softly. And I’m an alien. Sure, I may have been born here, but my DNA is still not from Earth. How different did Alan say Alturans were from Earth people? Was it a lot? Are we the same species? If we aren’t, does that mean I won’t be able to have kids with someone from here? Is Dallas like me? He must be, since our parents are close, and if he is, he has to know the truth. After all, he got all of life’s answers in the great beyond.