Bound by Secrets

by Angela M Hudson

  What had that done to her already stilted notion of love? To then be cast aside by Mike when she came to return my jacket. Shut out. Barred until she could come back with new eyes for me.

  What we’d basically done is tell her she is not welcome unless she wants to love me.

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to go back a few months in the past and alter the course of things. I did this. I pushed her away by trying to force her to be what I needed.

  I loved her. I missed her while she was dead. I couldn’t live without her.

  And I made her life hell lately by not seeing that it wasn’t about me.

  35

  Ara

  Harry placed a thermometer in my mouth and warned me not to speak or I’d crack the glass and be poisoned by mercury. I laughed, trying to be serious, but it was just cute when his little speech impediment would come out, and R would be replaced with W.

  Mike looked up from the book he was reading under the sunlight in the big armchair and reminded Harry it was ‘mercu-r-y’ not ‘mercu-w-y’.

  “Yes, Uncle Mike,” he said, digging into his medical bag.

  David walked in then and appraised the scene: me on the couch, a blanket up to my chin, a cloth on my head and a bucket beside me to catch all the blood that was apparently going to eject itself from my body soon. He laughed, falling into a lean on the doorway. “Well, what have we got here?”

  “Mommy’s sick,” Harry said. “She’s dying of Ebola. But don’t worry.” He looked up at David. “I’m going to save her.”

  When David laughed again, and his eyes met mine, he actually retained the smile for once. It felt nice to be under his smile for a moment.

  “Apparently,” I started, but Harry shushed me.

  “You’ll crack the glass, Mommy,” he said.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, the thermometer moving around under my tongue.

  “Daddy, do you want to play?”

  “Uh…” David unfolded his arms. “Do I have to be a patient, or can I be a doctor?”

  “We’re in Africa, Dad. All the doctors but me are dead already.” Harry got up and walked around the couch to take David’s hand. “You can be a nurse.”

  “Okay.” David laughed. “What do I have to do?”

  “Sit here.” He placed David on the couch beside me and guided his hand to my head. “And you can comfort Mommy.”

  David cleared his throat, sitting back a bit. Harry got busy measuring out ‘medicines’ to fix me, while the awkwardness of being this close to David just got worse and worse until he looked away from me, rocking his jaw. I heard Mike laugh in the corner, clearly finding the whole situation amusing.

  “Daddy!” Harry turned around to see his nurse not doing his job. “Mommy’s going to die a vewy painful death, you know,” delivering the R as a W again. He grabbed David’s hand and put it on my brow, lifting it and brushing it up to make him pat my head. “Comfort her,” he added.

  “R, Harry,” David reminded him.

  “Okay. But do your job, Dad,” he said firmly, looking so cute in the white coat with a plastic stethoscope around his neck. “You don’t want Mommy to die scared, do you?”

  David swallowed hard and shut his eyes, turning his head as he swept his hand down his face.

  “Harry, mate,” Mike interjected, “maybe Daddy can be a doctor instead.”

  “No, it’s fine,” David said, fixing his eyes on my face as he leaned in and gently stroked my brow. It felt nice but a little uncomfortable, because I knew he didn’t want to touch me like this. I wanted to reverse roles and be the one to comfort him. I didn’t seem to have as much trouble being kind to him as he did to me.

  “So, Ebola, huh?” he said to me, his breath brushing my face.

  I nodded. “Apparently, I’ll suffer so horrifically I’d be better off dying.”

  David’s hand stopped moving then and his skin went clammy. He stood up, not saying anything when I asked him what was wrong.

  Harry took notice then and Mike got to his feet too.

  “Don’t let him follow me,” David said firmly, pointing to Mike.

  Mike took hold of Harry’s wrist and David ran for the courtyard, getting to his knees by the garden bed just as his breakfast evacuated his stomach.

  I sat up, tossing my head cloth aside. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing,” Mike said, squatting to Harry’s level. “Mate, why don’t we press pause on this game for now, and you and me can go get a milkshake at the café?”

  “Yes!” He threw off his stethoscope and looked at me. “Sorry, Mommy. You have to die this time.”

  I laughed, but David sobbed louder, coughing out his anguish. Only Mike and I noticed it, though, thank God, and it made my limbs feel weak. I just wanted to go out there and hold him. I didn’t even realize he was crying as well as vomiting.

  “I won’t die, Harry,” I said. “Don’t you know? Love can save more lives than medicine.”

  “Did Daddy save you then, or did I?”

  “You know,” I leaned in and whispered, “I think maybe Daddy did it this time.”

  Harry smiled hugely and took Mike’s hand. As they walked away, I muttered a quiet thank you to Mike, and he whispered back ‘Good luck.’ I wished I knew what for. I had just assumed David was suffering a human affliction of some kind, but it had erupted rather suddenly after the horrific suffering comment, and I got the sense that David was having flashbacks of what happened to us in those tombs—flashbacks he didn’t want Harry to see.

  I very cautiously walked out to the courtyard and knelt down on the terracotta tiles beside David. His knees were dirty, and he smelled like vomit, and he clearly wasn’t done throwing up. He took heaving breaths, his face ghostly-white under a thin sheen of sweat. When I touched his arm, I could feel the moisture on his skin through his shirt, like his whole body was in some kind of shock.

  “David?”

  “Don’t.” He shot to his feet and as his head clearly spun, he grabbed the umbrella pole by the table, leaning against it.

  “I need you to talk to me,” I insisted, standing beside him.

  “I can’t.” He shook his head, his voice a raspy whisper.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll tell you everything, Ara, and I…” He looked into my eyes. “I can never speak of it.”

  “Why?” I sung, sweeping toward him, my touch soft and comforting along his spine. “Maybe it will do you good to get it off your chest.”

  “No.” He moved away, cutting me off. “It didn’t happen. You’re okay and I’m okay. It didn’t happen—any of it.”

  “But it did—”

  “No,” he cried softly, dropping down onto his knees from very weak legs. He brought his arms up to cover his head and just knelt there, crying. “None of it was real. I can’t face it, or I’ll fall apart.”

  “God,” I hummed under my breath, kneeling down on the hard ground again. My touch was even more hesitant this time for fear that he’d just run away if I pushed too hard. But I needed to know what happened. He needed to unburden himself so he could breathe, be free and not have to face this so alone anymore. “Okay, none of it was real. Like you said, I’m okay and you’re okay—”

  “No. You’re okay. But she’s not!” He looked at me coldly. “She died, and you won’t let her come back, but I need her to.” In my confusion, David sat down heavily, his hands falling loosely in his lap. “I need her to come back, Ara. I—”

  “I know.” I wrapped myself around him and let him cry into my shoulder. “I know, David, but—”

  “You don’t know a damn thing!” He pushed me off him. “You don’t understand why I need her.”

  “Then tell me. What would you say to her if she was here right now?”

  His eyes slowly went wider and his mouth fell open, his cheeks going a dull gray again like he was going to throw up. Then he turned to the planter barrel beside him and buried his face in his arms, his whole body convulsing with sobs. “I nee
d her to forgive me. I just need her to come back and tell me she forgives me.”

  “For what?” I wanted to touch him but decided not to.

  He just shook his head, keeping his face hidden. “I can’t say it out loud.”

  “Yes you can.” I sat cross-legged in front of him. “Pretend I’m her—”

  “But you’re not.” He grabbed my arms so suddenly I jolted back a bit, but he was strong—stronger than I knew, and he held fast, not letting me go. “You can’t give me the absolution she can because you didn’t suffer what I did to…” He froze, holding his breath. “You didn’t suffer what she suffered.”

  “But I did. I just don’t remember it,” I corrected.

  “And why would you want to?”

  “Because I can see you’re suffering. Alone. And—”

  “And what do you care?” he yelled. “Stop pretending to care about me, Ara—”

  “I’m not pretending—”

  “Yes you are!” he yelled, throwing me down onto my back as he got to his knees, towering over me. “You’re a fake—a pawn placed in her spot to taunt me. I will never confide in you because it will bring me no absolution. No peace. Your forgiveness means nothing to me because you are not her!”

  He was so enraged that he spat as he talked, his red eyes wide and fierce, his hands making impressions on my arms. I tried to get up but, again, he was too strong.

  “How are you doing that?” I looked at his hands. “How are you holding me down?”

  He seemed to realize what he was doing then and released me. I dropped the rest of the way to the floor and just laid there for a moment, catching my breath.

  “It happens sometimes,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands where he stood now by a topiary tree. “It’s not uncommon for those that have been reversed to retain some of their supernatural abilities.”

  I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. “Really?”

  He glanced back at me, sighing then before he turned around. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Ara. But if you know what’s good for you, don’t ever ask me about those tombs again.”

  “I know what’s good for me and what’s good for you,” I started, getting to my feet. “Which is why I’m still going to ask you, because you need to get it off your chest.”

  “I’m warning you, Ara—”

  “Do you think I’m afraid of you?” I laughed, folding my arms. “Go ahead. Hurt me. You’ll just feel bad for it later.”

  “Or maybe I won’t.” He grabbed my head so quickly that I squealed, his fingers digging in and making the blood stop beneath my eyes. “Maybe this is what’s needed. Maybe I just need to bash your head in until my Ara comes out!”

  I coughed out as he hooked his foot around mine and I landed hard on the ground, my spine jarring, knocking the wind right from my chest. I reached up to gently push his hands away, knowing I could really hurt him if I wasn’t careful, but he squeezed tighter—so tight I wasn’t sure I actually could break away.

  “Why won’t you just let her out!” he screamed in my face, dots of saliva splattering my lips and nose. “I need her! Can’t you see that?”

  “I… I’m not trapping her, David.”

  “Bullshit!” He smacked my head into the ground, my ears ringing. “That’s bullshit, Ara. You’re doing this to torture me—”

  “I’m not,” I cried. “I swear—”

  “Just shut up.” He lifted my head again and I shut my eyes as the next smack made a cracking sound. I wasn’t sure if it was the pavement or my skull, but it felt wet beneath my head after and it hurt so much that my ears rang loudly. I couldn’t draw a breath to give my limbs strength then. The shock and panic paralyzed me and turned off any ability to fight.

  I sucked in a shaky, tight gasp of air and tried to plead with him. “Dav—”

  “Just shut up! I don’t want to hear your voice anymore.” He pulled my head up, shouting his words into my face. “I can’t do this. I can’t live without her—”

  I let out a little whimper as he ripped some of my hair from my head, but as hard as I tried not to cry, to stay calm and reach him in that dark place, my emotions got in the way and I started bawling. He looked so ugly with his face like that—his teeth caged, his lips in a snarl, his eyes wide and icy. All I could see in him now was hatred, and I felt as if I should just die again and give him peace.

  “What are you doing?” Emily screeched, ripping David off me.

  I rolled over and got to my hands and knees, gasping for air as the shock flooded my lungs. Gushes of blood dripped down from my hair, gathering in the thin puddle left under me, coloring my fingertips. I didn’t see where David went but when Emily helped me stand, he was gone.

  “What happened?” She burst into tears when she saw my face. “Why was he doing that to you?”

  I couldn’t speak. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. It truly did. He wanted me to die. He wanted me to go away and give his wife back to him. He had not one ounce of love for me in that heart and, worse than that, he clearly hated me. Clearly thought I was choosing not to be Ara—that I was doing it to hurt him. But he just didn’t understand. He just didn’t know. I would give anything to be her—to have her memories, the love she owned. Why would he think such things of me?

  “Come on.” Emily put her arm around me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Mom?” Elora said, stepping out into the courtyard. I looked up at Emily to stop her, but it was too late. She dropped her bag when she saw me and rushed to my side, helping me stand as my legs went weak. “What happened?”

  “David,” Emily said. “Looks like his nasty streak never really died.”

  “Dad did this?” Elora sounded horrified, which made me think that she’d been protected her entire life from this side of David.

  “I always said there was more to your father than you’d ever understand,” Emily confessed.

  “And this is what you meant?” Elora looked at me then. I tried to stop crying but I think I was in too much shock. No one had ever hurt me before. My body, my mind, maybe even my heart just didn’t know what to do. “Aw, Mom. It’s okay.” She held me to her, whispering quietly into my hair. “It’s okay. We’ll sort this out. It’ll be okay.”

  “Should I call Falcon?” Emily asked.

  “No.” Elora looked up with panicked eyes. “Whatever you do, do not call Falcon, or my dad will be dead by the end of the day.”

  Emily presented my bleeding head to make a point. “Maybe that’s what he deserves.”

  “Emily!” Elora shrieked. “He may be a first-class asshole, but he is still my dad. You can’t say things like that.”

  Emily looked humbly at her feet, but I could tell she meant what she said. Every word of it.

  36

  David

  “She was sobbing so hard she couldn’t speak!” Elora yelled through the phone. “By the time I got her calmed down enough that I could understand her, she was too ashamed to tell me!”

  “Ashamed?” I scoffed. “Of what? She—”

  “Because she feels like a fool, Dad. She thinks she did something wrong! And she thinks she’s done the wrong thing telling me what you did to her—”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m your daughter! She doesn’t want me to know what a horrible person you’ve been.” Elora was so distraught as she spoke that I was sure I could hear her mother’s anguish coming out through her voice. “I can’t believe you can do such a thing to someone you love—”

  “Hey! I do not love her, Elora! I can’t love her—”

  “You’re a liar, Dad. And worst of all, you’re lying to yourself. And if you don’t do something to fix this and she ends up leaving, I swear to God, I’ll go with her, because after what you did today, you don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve any of us! I am so disappointed that I don’t even want to look at you.”

  “Elora—”

  “No. You can just shut up and listen!” she screamed. “You put your ha
nds on my mother! You bashed her head into the ground and told her you wanted to hurt her.” She broke apart then, crying to herself for a second. “What kind of man are you, Dad? What happened to you in those tombs that changed you so much?”

  “Elora, please—”

  “No. I don’t want to hear an excuse. I can’t even comprehend what’s happened today. I…” She exhaled, her voice quivering into a high whimper as she said, “What would Mom say?”

  I sighed, resting my head on a fist. What would she say? Nothing. She would say nothing. In fact, she would never have let me do that to her and I had to wonder why Ara did. She was stronger than me, even in my rage, so why didn’t she fight me off?

  “Fix this, okay?” she said, her voice gaining its steady command again. “Or you won’t just lose her, Dad.”

  I went to speak, but she hung up the phone, leaving me alone in my room again. My ears tuned in to the conversation going on in the kitchen then. It was hushed, but I could tell Ara was back. As I crept down the stairs and stood in the dining room, I heard Mike’s voice rising angrily above Em’s. He had Ara tucked tightly into the curl of his arm, his worried gaze on the floor, as Emily quietly told him everything. I could see Ara’s body shaking even from here, but her sobs were muffled almost inaudibly against Mike’s chest.

  Vicki’s stone face appeared in the doorway then, and she shut it, closing me out.

  I deserved that. I couldn’t explain what came over me today. I couldn’t give a reason why I’d done that to Ara, and I also couldn’t say I was sorry. Because I wasn’t. Even now, if I could slit her throat and it would bring my Ara back, I would. That girl had buried her, trapped her inside, and she needed to be forced to let her go.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Mike appeared behind me. Before I could gather my wits, he grabbed my shirtsleeve and dragged me away from the dining room. I stumbled and tripped along behind him until we reached the den, standing back as he shut the door hard, making the windows rattle. I was certain a punch in the face would follow, but he just sat down on the edge of the lamp table and said, in a solemn, weak voice, “I know what you’re going through, okay? But you better hope to God Falcon doesn’t learn of this, because he will kill you if he sees that girl sobbing like that, and—”