Miguel Ortiz secured the last button of his light blue shirt and
stood back to admire his reflection in the mirror. Dark eyes were staring
back at him twinkling mischievously, and his black hair curled haphazardly
over his brows. Ophelia appeared from behind, also smiling widely at his
reflection. She reached up a hand to brush the curls out of his eyes and
then planted a kiss on his lips. Handing him his dark blue tie she watched
as he turned away, beginning the first attempt to fasten it round his neck.
"What are you so happy about, anyway? You hate having dinner with Jack and Ellen. Last time you came home vowing to set fire to Jack's car." She asked, watching as his smile broadened.
"Yeah, last time Jack said something about my hair, likened it to a poodle if I remember correctly." He spoke, frown starting to crease the corners of his eyes as he struggled to tie a satisfactory knot. She gently pushed his hands away and turned him so she could tie the knot for him. He smiled down at her as she began to work the silky piece of fabric. She shook her head.
"That's exactly my point. Jack drives you crazy, why you continue to dine with him I'll never know. My question was; why do you look like a child on Christmas morning?" She finished, smoothing down the tie and looking up at him. With her question his grin widened further.
"That's a silly question, Ophie. I think it's pretty obvious." He told her, wrapping one arm around her waist and tangling the other in her dark, curling hair. "I'm just happy I get to spend the entire evening sitting next to you."
"I see. Well, if I don't go and get dressed you'll be dining on your own." She replied, attempting to slip from his arms. His lip slipped into a boyish pout and Ophelia shook her head again. "Don't start that."
She kissed him again as the phone began to ring. Seizing the chance she jumped away to answer it and he looked across the room at her, shocked. She stuck her tongue out and grasped the receiver.
"Hello?" she asked, and there was a pause. Her face quickly shifted to surprise and confusion as she listened to the person on the other end. "This is Ophelia . . . "
"Who is it?" he whispered in her ear, capturing her again. She turned to look up at him.
"Here, Guel. It's for you." She spoke with a shrug, handing him the phone and gazing up at him with interest. He accepted it with more than a little apprehension, pressing the piece to his ear and listening.
"Miguel?" asked the voice. It was low and cold, accented thickly with the flavor of Cuba. Miguel's eyes grew wide.
"Dad?" He asked, and Ophelia's eyes grew wide as well. Thinking quickly he motioned her off to finish getting ready and took the phone out onto the terrace. "What's going on?"
"We're coming out to see you." His father spoke simply, and Miguel felt the tremor that shot through him. This simple statement terrified him to the core, more than anything else ever could.
"What are you so happy about, anyway? You hate having dinner with Jack and Ellen. Last time you came home vowing to set fire to Jack's car." She asked, watching as his smile broadened.
"Yeah, last time Jack said something about my hair, likened it to a poodle if I remember correctly." He spoke, frown starting to crease the corners of his eyes as he struggled to tie a satisfactory knot. She gently pushed his hands away and turned him so she could tie the knot for him. He smiled down at her as she began to work the silky piece of fabric. She shook her head.
"That's exactly my point. Jack drives you crazy, why you continue to dine with him I'll never know. My question was; why do you look like a child on Christmas morning?" She finished, smoothing down the tie and looking up at him. With her question his grin widened further.
"That's a silly question, Ophie. I think it's pretty obvious." He told her, wrapping one arm around her waist and tangling the other in her dark, curling hair. "I'm just happy I get to spend the entire evening sitting next to you."
"I see. Well, if I don't go and get dressed you'll be dining on your own." She replied, attempting to slip from his arms. His lip slipped into a boyish pout and Ophelia shook her head again. "Don't start that."
She kissed him again as the phone began to ring. Seizing the chance she jumped away to answer it and he looked across the room at her, shocked. She stuck her tongue out and grasped the receiver.
"Hello?" she asked, and there was a pause. Her face quickly shifted to surprise and confusion as she listened to the person on the other end. "This is Ophelia . . . "
"Who is it?" he whispered in her ear, capturing her again. She turned to look up at him.
"Here, Guel. It's for you." She spoke with a shrug, handing him the phone and gazing up at him with interest. He accepted it with more than a little apprehension, pressing the piece to his ear and listening.
"Miguel?" asked the voice. It was low and cold, accented thickly with the flavor of Cuba. Miguel's eyes grew wide.
"Dad?" He asked, and Ophelia's eyes grew wide as well. Thinking quickly he motioned her off to finish getting ready and took the phone out onto the terrace. "What's going on?"
"We're coming out to see you." His father spoke simply, and Miguel felt the tremor that shot through him. This simple statement terrified him to the core, more than anything else ever could.