Sickness of the Heart

Ophelia first met Harriet at a Sunday sermon. Harriet hid in the back of the congregation with a deep scowl and the most beautiful eyes Ophelia had seen. Three years later, when they entered high school, Ophelia swore to follow her parents’ lectures about why people like Harriet were sick.

Ophelia’s love fell into Harriet’s hands despite her parents' caution. The two found comfort at the abandoned school grounds after classes and made sure to keep their interactions tucked away from judging eyes. Then, high school concluded, and Ophelia was tasked with choosing the next path — one where she settled down before she hit twenty. The path didn't include Harriet.

After graduation, she found herself on the football field bleachers. Ozone stung her nose as she stared forward; her head rested in her hands. The cold metal bit her skin, and the wind turned her exposed legs into goosebumps.

Harriet stood and gazed down at her through black bangs. Her platform boot bounced on the metal which shook it like an earthquake. “I don’t get it.” 

Ophelia’s hands trembled. “There isn’t much to get, Har. I can’t go.” She smoothed her skirt. 

Thunder rolled in the distance. Twister season was well on its way in Nebraska. Harriet wanted the two of them to flee east for college, to New York, before the weather turned sour. She shrugged off her leather jacket and slung it over her shoulder. “You don’t have any sense.”

Ophelia bit her lip until the tang of iron spread across her tongue. Birds chirped with caution of the incoming storm. She wanted to heed them.

Harriet huffed out a sigh. “This place will kill you.”

Ophelia hid behind her golden curls. “Harriet, this is all I’ve ever had. I can’t just give that up.” The clouds darkened to a charcoal gray. Her cardigan dampened and clung to her skin.

Harriet’s gaze burned Ophelia’s cheek. “What do you have? A family that hates the real you? A congregation that says you’ll burn?”

The sweet, earthy smell of the storm drew closer. “My family loves the person they see.” God had gifted her parents to her, and it was her duty to accept His offerings.

Harriet’s family was worse than Ophelia’s. Harriet presented her hacked hair with a grin after her parents told her she couldn’t cut it. Her father’s words tore into her skin when she uttered her true self. Her mother sobbed and prayed that the Lord would cure her daughter. Harriet assumed Ophelia’s parents would do the same.

They couldn’t unleash fury if Ophelia kept her lips sealed. The secret of her love hid deep in her chest – veiled behind Gospel choirs and rosaries. She risked a peek up.

Harriet’s lips drew together into a thin line. 

Ophelia’s eyes jumped back to the football field. The bleachers grew hot as coals. Bolts of lightning shot through the air, and innocent bushes and trees prepared for destruction. “I’m not sick, Harriet.”

“Right, but I am.” Harriet shook her head and scoffed. “That’s what your loving God says.”

Ophelia yearned to disagree, to sputter that Harriet was anything but. She was an odd perfection. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth; it silenced her. Drops of heavy rain pattered across the stands, ting after ting. “I’m going to marry a nice guy one day. I’ll be happy.”

“You won’t be.” The rain picked up from a drizzle to a deluge. 

Ophelia ignored her words and said, “I’ll have children and live in a house in town. I’ll follow His plan.”

Harriet laughed. “God, Lia, you are sick.” She didn’t hesitate as she left. Her boots mixed with the claps of thunder. She paused at the last step with fallen shoulders. “Why can’t you love Him and me?”

The rain scorched Ophelia as Harriet stalked off into the storm. Ophelia hunkered down in the town that despised them.

Ophelia scoured the streets the next morning, but Harriet was nowhere to be found. She dragged herself to church. She needed solace, the kind that came from the confessional booth. Cracks laced the leather of the seat, and the wooden lattice that separated her from the priest bowed. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.” She could just make out the man’s features.

He fiddled with the crucifix that hung on his neck. “What sins do you wish to tell our Lord?”

“I-” A flush rose in her cheeks. She couldn’t let the man know what she was. “I’ve had improper thoughts.” 

The priest shuffled in his seat. “I see, and what is the subject of these improper thoughts, my child?”

Harriet’s name sat on her tongue.

The silence alerted the priest. “Remember this is a confidential space. Only the Lord and I are listening.” 

She stared down at her lap with knitted brows. “They’re about women, Father.” 

“I see.” The priest’s head fell. “And why do you feel the need to confess this?” 

Ophelia’s breath hitched. “It’s a sin.”

The priest let out a sigh. “What I’m about to tell you need not be repeated. Is that understood?”

Ophelia’s face pinched in confusion, but she nodded.

“I knew a man once – in Rhode Island – who believed he suffered the same affliction as you. He came to me and begged to make the thoughts stop so that he would not be an abomination.” He paused for a moment. “I told him to cast the thoughts away or else he would forever be a sinner.” His voice faltered. “Two weeks later I was holding his funeral mass.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Your love is not the sin I once believed it to be. Love is the Lord’s greatest gift.”

Ophelia sat in silence, jaw slack. The cushion of the booth felt soft under her. Harriet’s image blossomed in her mind. The two stargazed on the football field, and the night air chilled their bones.

Ophelia’s body sang with new hope. “Thank you, Father.” 

She stumbled out of the booth and through the church; she passed a dozen pews. She paused for a moment to peer at the altar. A cross hung above it, wooden and large. The color matched Harriet’s boots.

She broke out into the cool air of the day. Cars sped down the main road, and mud squelched under their tires. Water seeped through her shoes, but Ophelia strode forward. 

The place she had grown up sped by: the corner store where she bought Harriet gumballs, the drive-in theater where they snuck into the back, the bowling alley where Harriet worked a summer, the park where they frequented when the moon rose, and the football field where Ophelia learned what it felt like to kiss someone who peered into her sick-filled chest and adored it.

A voice called her out of town – deep past the high school and even farther. Ophelia didn’t have a proper plan for the path ahead, but her heart knew there was a life out there that was hers.