by A. M. Hudson
Driving down the long, winding road, the driver looked at me from time to time in his rear-view mirror. I knew what he was thinking—that I’d lost it—not just because I ran away from my own wedding—Oh my God, I ran away from my wedding—but also because I asked him to drop me in the middle of nowhere, in my wedding dress, in the pouring rain.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait here for you, miss?” he asked for the twelfth time as he pulled over.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” I shut the door behind me and lifted my dress off my feet. “I come here all the time. Just...please don’t tell anyone where you dropped me. I need to be alone.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded, with a grin. “You take care, now.”
“I will.”
He made a three-point turn on the narrow road, gravel popping under his tyres, and waved as he drove away.
In the silence, alone for the first time since before the masquerade, I suddenly didn’t feel so clever.
What am I doing out here? It’s not like David will be here. I just told him to move on—gave him back the locket. God, I’m so stupid.
I slapped my palm to my head.
I should’ve begged him to stay. He never would have stayed, but I should’ve begged anyway.
With a heavy sigh and a small, hysterical laugh, I started walking into the trees. I knew the path well—so well I could’ve navigated it in pitch black, which would soon be necessary, with the sun dropping behind the clouds quite quickly. But it seemed to take longer, than when I took this walk with David, before the cool, mossy smell of the lake filled my lungs, and the trail opened out to the clearing. I’d never seen the lake in the spring. It was all so different. Only a few of the trees were in full foliage, but everything was so lush and green—and clean. There were no brown and yellow leaves littering the floor, and the smell of clay and moisture was gone—replaced by a warm, crisp, syrupy smell.
I stopped by a tree, unable to enter what seemed like consecrated grounds.
This was David’s place, never mine. It only became a part of me through loving him. I never thought I’d see it again. Never wanted to see it again. But for some reason, when it all fell apart with Mike—my glue—this was the only place I felt I could run to.
The sunlight shone down through the clouds then and made my dress, white, bleeding into brown around the base, glow with the soft light of dawning sunset. It no longer resembled a wedding dress, now carrying the stains of a life-changing decision; one that would see my best friend hate me, maybe for the rest of my life.
Still, I’d rather that than wake up and realise I made a mistake tomorrow, when it’s too late. If I promise someone forever, I intend to keep that promise. I don’t believe in divorce, and I won’t marry because I feel obligated. They shouldn’t have pressured me. They should’ve let me go back to Perth for a while first. I’m too young to be married. I’m just not ready.
But for this small amount of time, while no one knew where I went or why I ran away, I could pretend I was just here to meet David. Pretend I was never kidnapped by his vengeful brother—pretend I was never abandoned by him while I laid helpless in a hospital bed.
With a steady hand, I pushed off the bark of the tree, and when the rock came into view—the black one we used to sit by—my heart jumped in my chest. That rock was once a place I could look to and see David, either leaning against the base, the rug splayed out under him, or sitting atop, with my guitar. He wasn’t there anymore, but the memory remained.
I suddenly felt so small and alone in the vast wilderness, under the tall, green-filled branches of the trees. The wind brushed softly over my wet dress and chilled my skin. I rubbed away the tiny bumps then lifted my skirt over my hips as I climbed onto the rock—almost as if I were climbing into David’s arms.
And alone, finally here where I never thought I’d return, the open sky and the thunder gave more weight to the decision I just made. The base of my dress dripped, the last of the rain abandoning the fabric, and I traced my index finger over the empty place where my engagement ring had been only an hour ago.
Poor Mike. He’ll be beside himself. No one knows where to find me, but they’ll be searching. Concerned.
I wish they could let me grow up; realise I can make decisions for myself. I need everyone to stop trying to protect me all the time. I need to be allowed to fall down and figure out how to get back up again. They all watch me so closely; waiting for that moment I might need them to protect me. Going to Perth was the only way to escape that. Now, I can never return there. Mike was my only link to that place, but I no longer have a home to go to in his arms.
While a minute hand ticked inside my head, I tried to find some conclusion in all the confusion, seeing time pass before my eyes. Without Mike around, Dad and Vicki will watch me even more closely. I’ll never be free while I’m living under Dad’s roof—under anyone’s roof. But I’m eighteen now. He doesn’t really have a say over me. I might still be a child here, but if I were in Australia I’d be a legal adult now.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe I have to move away—away from home, away from all of it. Mike, parents, school...and love.
When my mum died, she left a small inheritance, one that, until now, I’d refused to accept—envisioning it as blood money.
But it’s not. And I see it all so clearly; see it more as a safety net; one last helping hand from my mum—the last help I will ever get from her.
I nodded as the thought became a brighter, more formed idea in my mind; I’m going to buy a house—away from Dad and Vicki, away from Perth. I’m going to start my own life, stop searching for somewhere I belong, and make a place for myself in the world. Make something right, for once.
I can’t take back what I did to Mike, and I’m not sure I can ever face him again either. He’ll be in pain for a really long time, but it would be worse if I pretended to be happy with him. He can have a chance now to find real love and have a girl love him back just as much. He deserves that—he’s a great guy. Just not the one for me.
I was wrong to say I’d marry him. I made a huge mistake. I hugged my knees against my chest, tugging the fabric of my wedding dress as it pulled downward—trying to force me off the rock. While I sat, the sky turned orange over the treetops, and the leaves that were green in the sunlight became dark, shadowy, as they rested on the backdrop of the descending night.
I was just coming up from my thoughts, wondering how I was going to get home, when I thought I heard something. I held my breath and tuned my ears to the sounds around me. The birds had stopped chattering, the crickets no longer played their sunset ensemble, and the breeze retreated with the storm. “Ara?”
An invisible rock landed on my shoulders. Crud! They found me.
“Ara-Rose?” he called again.
A minute passed before I heard footsteps trudging through the muddy ground—just near the tree line.
“Ara?” his voice sounded echoed, as if he were calling through cupped hands.
I sighed heavily. “Mike?”
“Ara?”
“I’m over here.”
Nothing but a bulky silhouette showed in the shadows near the trail. The dark made him look menacing and creepy. He sighed heavily, staying where he stood, lit by the soft green light of a phone beside his cheek. “Greg. I got her,” he said. “Yes...okay, I’ll bring her home with me. No—thanks, Greg.”
I turned away when the light withdrew as he dumped his phone in his pocket and looked at me. “Ara?” The word came out in a long sigh.
“I’m sorry, Mike.” I hugged my knees closer.
He hoisted himself onto the rock, shaking his head. But, then, he just sat quietly and watched the lake with me while the sunlight in the distance disappeared completely.
After a while, he turned to me and said, “You look damn beautiful, girl.”
I said nothing.
“Just tell me why? Ara, why did you wait until you made it to the altar?”
A rise of heat
flooded my stomach, shaking my insides. “I don’t know.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but let it out with a huff. “Do you still want to marry me—ever?”
“Mike,” I whispered. “I just—I want you to be happy. I’ll never be that girl; the one that loves you and only you, the one who can think of no one else in the world.” I rested my chin to the cold satin dress over my knee.
“I was okay with that, Ar. The heart takes time to heal, I—”
“No.” I paused and looked at him. “When I kiss you, I should only see your face. But I...well, I...I’m not her, Mike. I fell in love, but he’s gone now—and I can’t move on. I can’t love you when it will never be openly.”
“Ar—”
“No. I want better for you—you deserve better.”
“Don’t you think that’s a decision I should get to make?” More agitation than I’d ever heard before filled his voice, making him seem more fragile in the darkness without the expression on his face to simmer it down. “Ara, I was happy with you. I know you’ll never be over him. But it was enough for me.”
“Only because you’ve never had that kind of love before. You don’t know any better.”
Mike nodded thoughtfully. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I probably am.” I shrugged one shoulder slowly.
As the moon rose over the lake, painting the top of the water with a silvery line and announcing the end of my last day as a child, Mike placed his arm around me and softly said “I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re going back?” I asked, knowing already that he would. Of course he would.
“There’s not much reason for me to stay right now. I think we both need time to think.”
I nodded, but although I tried to be strong, the tears burst out of me. I pressed the back of my wrist to the crease between my brows and let myself sob for a minute, while Mike just sat, breathing jaggedly, looking out at the darkness.
“I’m so sorry, Mike,” I whispered, but he didn’t respond.
The airport had a different presence to me as I walked between Dad and Mike. The clouded blur you get for what stays behind when you’re about to take a journey someplace else were no longer mine. I’d been prepared for weeks to come here, board that plane, and never look back. Now, I was on the other side; instead of leaving behind a memory, I would wave, then turn around and walk back into the air and the energy of the place I was never going to return.
People stared at me as they passed, not because I was in a wedding dress—I got changed before my dad drove us to the airport—but because I was crying so hard I couldn’t see through the tears.
Mike’s head turned an inch to look at me, and though he clearly saw the plea for forgiveness in my eyes, he looked away. He won’t say it. I knew he wanted to yell at me, or cry, or tell me how much he hates me, but he wasn’t saying anything. He hadn’t said anything.
“Please, Mike?” I sobbed while Dad waited at the security check-in to have his shoes scanned. “Please say something.”
He sighed, dropped his bag to the ground and stepped into me. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m trying not to.”
He nodded. “You just have to be strong,” he said softly, stroking the side of my face. “You’ve always been so strong. I’ll...I’ll be okay.”
“No, you won’t.” I wiped my face. “I know you won’t.”
“Final boarding call for flight two-oh-three.”
Mike looked up at the speaker box. “I have to go,” he said, and I cried harder then. My dad wrapped his arm around me as Mike picked up his bag.
“Greg.” Mike shook Dad’s hand. “Thank you—for everything.”
Dad let go of me to hug Mike, patting him on the back several times, saying something I didn’t hear.
Mike nodded and stepped back, then looked at me for a second. “Bye, Ara.”
My chest shook and I sobbed my heart out as he backed away, one step at a time, before throwing his bag over his shoulder and turning around—without a hug, without a kiss, without anything.
The sight of him leaving was more than I could bear. As he stopped at the gate, he handed the girl his boarding pass and I could almost feel myself running after him. But I didn’t move. “I don’t want him to go, Dad.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Ara...”
“What if I’m making a mistake? What if we’re meant to be together?”
“Then you better run after him.”
I watched with tear-filled eyes as the girl placed the boarding pass in his hand, and he lowered his head, looking at it for a moment.
“Mike?” I called across the distance between us.
He looked up with eyes full of imprisoned tears. He was trying to be strong, but I was supposed to be with him—going home. We should’ve been laughing, holding hands, kissing and telling everyone we were just married. This should’ve been the happiest day of our lives.
Only now, Mike was leaving. Alone.
But my call to him went out in vain, because I had nothing else to add; I couldn’t run into his arms, I couldn’t change it—any of it. It had to be what it was. I had to watch, had to see his hope break again as he nodded to himself, knowing I was going to let him walk away. Then, as the hostess waited for him, the last passenger, he waved once and disappeared through the doors.
A piece of me fell away inside. I couldn’t move. Everyone around me was still smiling and talking, continuing with their lives. But mine just stopped.
Everything stopped.
My shoulders lifted with each gasp of realisation; he came here to say goodbye, all those months ago when we saw each other for the first time in so long, and now he’s leaving with exactly what he thought he was coming here for—a broken heart.
“Come on, honey.” Dad gently grabbed my shoulders and turned me away from the devastating sight I’d come to know so well in my life; the emptiness of farewell. “Let’s get you home.”
“Dad,” I said, fighting to glance back. “Did you see that—did you see the way he looked at me?”
Dad, unable to meet my eye, just nodded and said, “Yes. I saw it.” And despite his obvious disappointment, he still hugged me before I climbed into the car, and told me everything would be okay, but I knew what he really wanted to say.
The red rose—the one from Dad’s buttonhole—sat scrunched-up, abandoned, in the tray under the dash, and the words my dad had said to the driver echoed in my mind; You’re a real life saver...life saver...life...
That driver may never know exactly how many lives he saved by saving me from myself. I will never destroy another man’s heart by believing I can love him—ever again.
I’m going to live my life as living was intended.
But I’m going to do it alone.
Chapter 2
“Emily? Do you have that box with the kettle in it?”
“Yeah, on my way,” she called. The setting sun’s long orange shadow faded from the tiles as the front door closed and Emily bounded around the corner carrying ‘Emily’s glory box’. “You gonna make coffee, Ara?”
“I was thinking about it.”
She dusted her hands on her three-quart jeans after placing the box beside me. “I really do love this house. It’s very you.”
I hopped down off the bench, nodding while taking in the pale colours and soft light that filled the airy space. “Yeah. My mum would’ve loved it.”
She patted my shoulder. “I know. And Mike would have too.”
I rolled my eyes and reached into the box. I’m so sick of hearing about Mike. I get it. He’s hurt. I suck. Leave it in the past, Emily.
“Hello?” A high voice filled the house as sunlight coloured the white tiles again.
I set the lip of the kettle under the tap and ran the water. “Hi, Vicki. We’re in the kitchen.”
“You must have known we were on our way,” Dad said, nodding at the kettle as he came through the archway.
“Hello, Mr. Thompson.”
Emily retied her headscarf and flicked her blonde hair away from her chin as she smiled up at my dad.
“Emily.” He nodded. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too, Mr. Thompson.”
“You can call me Greg, now, Emily. You’re not one of my students anymore.”
“Old habits die hard.” She shrugged and walked over to me. “I’ll get the coffee, Ara. You go show your parents around.”
“Is that an offer or an order?”
Emily plugged the kettle in near the stove. “The way you make coffee? It’s an order.”
Dad laughed, but Vicki remained distracted in a stare of awe, slowly spinning around to take everything in. “Ara—” She reached out and gave me a one-armed hug. “This house is perfect for you.”
“I know.” I smiled back at Emily. “We were just saying the same thing.”
“So, when does the dining table arrive?” She motioned an open palm to the space across from the galley-style kitchen.
“Three o’clock, and they’re bringing a lounge to go in that sitting room as well.”
“Just a lounge?” she asked; I nodded. “That’s a big room, Ara, dear, you’ll need more than a—”
“I’m planning on that being the music room,” I said quickly, before I could get an hours’ worth of interior design advice. “Once I can afford a piano.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, running her hand across the glossy top of the hip height wall between the dining and sitting room. “What’s with the small wall?”
“They call it a nib—a fashionable method of dividing two rooms, without actually diving them. I’ll just use it as a junk storage area, I think.”
Emily groaned from the kitchen. “Good thing we at least have a dishwasher.”
“Are you saying I’m untidy, Emily Pierce?”
“Would I say that?” she said dismissively as she poured hot water into mugs.
“You just did.”
“Now, now, you two. I’m sure you can work out the chores between you. You’ll just have to draw up a roster,” Dad said.
