Page 34 of Ticket to You

“In case you couldn’t pick up on this, I don’t have much experience with ‘normal, boring families.’ Idareyou to bore me…You made it sound like your parents aren’t supportive of your journalism. Why not?”

Where to begin?“My parents always made it clear to us kids that financial success should be one of our top priorities, if notthetop priority. But I saw that their success resulted from long workweeks and constant stress. While my siblings are all happy to follow their lead, I craved freedom. Journalism was my ticket to a different lifestyle.” I pause, wondering why I’m giving up so much information. It seems strange, but talking to Ophelia comes easier as the days go on, so I continue. “No matter how much career success I find, I’ll probably never be as financially successful as my parents or my siblings, and I think that stresses them out.”

Ophelia swings her dangling legs. “Did you ever think it would be easier to just…do it their way?”

I scoff. “Sure, it’d be a hell of a lot easier. But I would feel tied down. And while I want their acceptance, I’m not willing to sacrifice everything else to get it.”

Ophelia nods slowly. “I respect that, Abrams.”

“Is that acompliment?From you tome?”

She shoots me a lighthearted eye roll and hops off the railing. “Don’t get too used to it,” she says before going inside.

19

OPHELIA

“Who is your interview with today?”Adam asks as we pull into the quaint town of Engelberg, Switzerland.

“A young woman who grew up here has been making waves in the fashion industry. She’s an amazing independent designer and creates thesestunning, modernized Swiss embroidery pieces. She’s been worn by Dakota Johnson, Natalie Portman, Emma Chamberlain, you name ‘em.”

Because the trip is structured around Adam’s already set schedule, I had to scramble to find people to interview in the predetermined locations. I’m lucky that today’s designer is willing to drive from her studio in Zürich to meet me here in her hometown.

Neither Adam nor I have been to Engelberg, and our awkward silence turns to awestruck silence. Like Chamonix, mountains hug the town, their tips dusted with spring snow. But here, the mountains give way to hills that are impossibly green with trees in large gatherings. Our windshield’s view looks like a postcard.

We walk up a cobblestone street to the tailor shop. Racks of clothing, two sewing machines, and a handful of looms fill the room. Pictures in mismatched frames plaster every wall. It’s lived-in and cozy, looking more like a cluttered home than a place of business, and it makes me want to curl up and drink tea.

A woman with gray hair braided back and thick red-framed glasses looks up from behind her sewing machine, and her plump cheeks ball up with a smile.

I walk over to the woman and hold my hand out, trying to mimic her bright expression. “Hello, I’m—”

“Miss Brooks, yes?” the woman says, her Swiss accent heavy. She returns my handshake firmly.

Warmth rises from my hand and into my chest. She reminds me of my grandmother, and the warmth twists into a knot at that realization.

“I’m sorry, my English is not much good. Good that you are here to talk to Serena, not me.”

Right on cue, Serena walks in through the back door, her platinum hair swishing behind her elegantly. From my research, I know she’s only twenty-one, and she looks even younger. She’s short, at least a whole head shorter than me. Her makeup-free skin and rosy cheeks make her look like a porcelain doll.

“Ophelia Brooks!” she squeals, rushing to me. “Thank you,thank you, for coming here today. I’m honored. When I invitedAtelierto my studio months ago, I never imagined I would hear back.”

“Well, I’m just sorry it took so long to hear from us, and I’m sorry we aren't able to go all the way to your studio.”

“Just as well,” Serena says, her voice sounding like a wind chime. “Engelberg is where the true story is. This is my mormor, Anja.”

I introduce Adam to the duo and compliment Serena’s outfit. It’s of her latest designs, with wide-leg cropped pants and a matching boxy tank top, both with traditional embroidery in a bright chartreuse color. Adam and I make small talk with Serena and her grandmother as we take some photos around the room. Eventually, Serena and Anja show me to the loom where Serena learned to embroider as soon as she could hold a needle.

I hardly notice Adam during the interview because I’m so caught up in Serena and Anja’s relationship. Anja not only looks like my grandmother, but she also has the same belly laugh and the always-present smile. She looks at Serena like my grandma looked at me, with nothing but unadulterated love and pride.

Serena tells me about her mother’s passing and her father’s abandonment, which left her to grow up under the care of her grandparents. Serena grew up assisting Anja with her tailoring business, starting with basic alterations. As she progressed, she began creating intricate embroidered pieces for tourists. Anja saw Serena’s potential and insisted she move to the city, even if that meant losing her daily companionship. It was selfless, and it paid off with Serena becoming a fresh up-and-comer in the independent fashion industry.

Serena’s story is much like my own, and I find myself teary-eyed in the middle of the interview. Anja notices at once.

She scoots bundles of fabric off the couch cushion next to me so she can sit closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” My voice breaks a pitch higher, betraying me. “It’s just…You and Serena remind me of my grandma and me.”

Anja pats my knee, and that simple act drives a few tears from my eyes. They burn as they streak down my cheeks. I look at Serena and see her expression matching Anja’s perfectly: small smiles, soft eyes, and slow, understanding nods. I dip my chin to hide my face, and unprofessionalism, from Adam.

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