Her name was Omorfia Dimakos and she couldn’t quite figure out whether the cranky storm clouds above reflected her or if she reflected them. She sat beside one of the tall, finger-print stained windows of the Life Sciences building, her Biology II homework strewn before her. Her eyes wandered over the dozens of prints at her level. How many people had sat here, just today, and touched the glass as the rain drummed down? She shrugged to herself and forced her eyes back to her work.

Her focus on the cellular reproduction of DNA was interrupted when a girl from the same class suddenly plopped down in the chair across from her. Codie was a tall, lanky thing with bright blue eyes and a dazzling, little smile. She sat beside Omorfia and they would semi-regularly help one another in class, however, this amount of interaction was unprecedented.

“Hey girl, watcha’ doin’” Codie asked, situating herself in the tall chair.

Omorfia blinked almost dumbly and re-adjusted her glasses, a thick, blue-rimmed pair that had been her favorites since high school, “Just some homework.”

Codie nodded once, tossing her long, raven-colored hair over her shoulder, “Mind if I join?”

Omorfia nervously fingered one of her tight, coal-black curls, “Um, you know I was actually about to leave for my Shakespeare class. It’s clear across campus and I need to get there a few minutes early to talk with my professor.”

Codie shrugged good-naturedly, “No problem, I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Omorfia carefully put her books and pens in their designated slots in her Skillet handbag, “Sure, that sounds good. See you later.”

Wrapping her cotton cover-up tighter around her willowy frame, Omorfia deftly slunk out the side doors. The cold pitter-patter of the seemingly never-ending Seattle rainstorm met her ears as she escaped. She lifted the hood of her cover-up and walked swiftly from the shelter of the Life Sciences overhang.

Despite it being late summer, the rain still bit through the thin material of her cover-up like tiny bee-stings. She reached to itch her collarbone but gasped when she caught the small mole situated in the crook of her neck with her nail. Her father had called it her “Morfi mark,” because beauty mark had been far too mainstream. She slammed the door shut on the reverie.

The grounds were somewhat deserted, only a handful of lonely travelers moving from building to building. She emerged, only slightly dampened, into the main library. The inviting scent of fresh coffee drifted from the breakfast nook in the corner but she headed towards her Shakespeare class.

She arrived nearly ten minutes before even the most astute students would and took her customary desk. She was thankful that there was no class before her own in this room, it gave her some much needed quiet time.

Her eyes drifted over posters on the walls. They came to a halt on the poster for Hamlet. “Witness one of Shakespeare’s most timeless of works on September 3^rd @ 7:00 pm in the Renaissance Center. Hamlet, the trial of one young man who must avenge his father’s death.”

She stopped reading there. Her fingers absent-mindedly grasped the golden ring on the chain around her neck. Her father’s wedding ring. Grief bit at her heart as his passing suddenly welled up inside her. She did her best to let it slide off of her.

She jumped as her phone buzzed in her pocket. Flipping it open, she quickly recognized the name splayed across the cold, blue screen. Cal. Her heart leaped a little. He’d been her closest friend for many years and had been an irreplaceable support since her father’s death.

She punched in the numbers 0-8-2-8 to unlock the phone.

You ready for tonight?

She grinned, hitting the reply button. Skillet here we come. See you at 7?

Will be there! See you then!

Cal had promised to take her to the Skillet concert nearly a year ago and, despite her father’s recent passing, had assured her that nothing would change that.

Classes finally ended and she drove to her little suburban home to see her mother sitting on the porch, a thin shawl wrapped around her narrow shoulders. Darting under the shelter of the porch, Omorfia pushed the hood from her head, her hair springing loose with a vengeance. Her mother didn’t acknowledge her immediately, instead choosing to stare blankly into the storm.

“How was school?” her mother’s tone sounded as hollow as her cheeks appeared. Omorfia felt a pang of guilt; her mother hadn’t properly eaten in nearly six months.

Omorfia re-adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Nothing but rain.”

Her mother finally deigned to look up at her, her eyes only a ghost of their former lively selves, “Mm, I’m sure you’re hungry. I didn’t cook but there’s sandwich stuff in the fridge.”

Omorfia nodded once, slipping silently into the warm embrace of the house. Her little sister, Camilla, bounded up to her, their little dachshund-mix hot on her heels. “Hi, Morfi!” Camilla’s big brown eyes danced as she threw her arms around her waist. Lily wagged her tail furiously as Omorfia bent to pick her up after untangling herself from Camilla’s embrace.

“Hey Milla,” she said, laughing, “hi Lily.” She gave the mixed-breed a vigorous kiss. “What’s up?”

Camilla took Lily in her arms and plopped down on the well-worn sofa, “I’m watching Spongebob, do you wanna watch?”

“Why not?” she shrugged, stripping her boots from her feet.

It turned out to be one of Omorfia’s favorite episodes, where Spongebob and Patrick get themselves trapped inside Sandy’s tree dome during a winter storm. The goofy duo finds themselves struggling for survival in the harsh, blisteringly cold conditions of the tree dome. Omorfia looked at her sister and then to the miserable conditions outside. Who knew children’s cartoons could mock your current condition?

She sat and watched TV with Camilla before wandering back to her room to do homework. She quickly sprawled out her multiple textbooks before her.

However, she noticed a piece of paper peeking out from beneath her Shakespeare book. Gently pulling it out, she was met with the gaze of her father. It wasn’t the best picture he’d ever taken, but one could easily see his intoxicating smile and his shining brown eyes, eyes that he’d passed down to both Omorfia and Camilla. The title beside the picture read, “Anemos Dimakos, 8/28/1968-7/21/2011”.

Her heart twisted in her chest as her eyes glanced at the words she’d written herself for the obituary. She felt her cheeks redden as anger started to rise in her chest. Six months had done very little to ease her pain. She suddenly yanked open a drawer and shoved the obituary inside. Out of sight, out of mind, she figured.

Several hours of mind-numbing homework passed when excitement pricked the back of her mind as she thought about the concert tonight. Kal wouldn’t be there to pick her up until 7 pm, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t let him know how eager she was. Picking up her phone, she punched in the numbers 0-8-2-8 to unlock it, and quickly found Cal in her favorites list. She dialed and the phone rang only twice before a voice answered a female voice. “Hello?”

She blinked dumbly, “Hi, this is Omorfia, I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Hi Morfi, this is Maria.” The voice responded. Maria, Cal’s mother. She’d known Maria since she and Cal were toddlers but certainly hadn’t expected her to answer.

“Hello,” Omorfia felt uneasy, “I’m sorry to bother you but is Cal there?”

Maria paused, “He's in the hospital, sweetheart.”

Part II will be posted next week. Come back and see what happens to Omorfia and Cal.