A Girl Like Lilac

by Victoria L. James

  “What did you say?” I asked tightly, feeling the lump rise in my throat as her tears threatened to spill over. She hadn’t once stopped smiling, though. Not once, despite her obvious pain.

  “What could I say? I could tell he was confused. I could tell that, without trying to, I was hurting him in some way. There was a moment of pause before I told him I felt the same way.”

  “But… you didn’t?”

  “No, I didn’t. What I really felt for him was so much more than friendship. So much more than love. He was my first, and he was enough. Always would be. But there was no way I was going to tie him down with confessions and guilty feelings. A relationship of that kind should be built on two people wanting the same thing at the same time without any clauses or terms and conditions, so I let him go. He was free to roam and live his life. Free to go off and eventually find the woman who would forever make him happy. We never touched each other again intimately. We never took things down that route, but every single night of my life, I replay the way he kissed me over and over again in my mind.”

  “Do you still see him, speak to him?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You do?” I asked in surprise.

  “Every day.” She smiled brightly.

  My eyes practically popped from my head. “But… how have you kept that a secret from me? How haven’t I known about someone so important in your life until now?”

  “It’s amazing what secrets you can keep in order to protect those you love with all your heart.”

  “Protect?” I frowned.

  Aunt Coral tilted her head to one side, her smile turning sad as a little tear fell down her rosy cheeks. “He has a life now. A wife. She’s troubled. She wouldn’t like it if…”

  Troubled.

  It could ruin lives.

  My stomach twisted.

  My mouth fell open. “Do I… do I know them both?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Wayne Hunter?” I asked on a whisper.

  Her eyes closed slowly, and she took a minute for herself before she opened them again. “Don’t think bad of me, Lilac, please.”

  “I don’t.” My head shook violently. She’d done nothing wrong. Neither had he. It’s not wrong to love someone. You can’t help the way your heart beats for another, right? But that didn’t stop me from feeling physically sick for my aunt and the thought of her suffering every day by seeing someone she loved and adored become caught in the middle of a constant struggle like Wayne was. The way he’d selflessly given up his life for Toby. The way he’d raised him for so long, despite…

  Oh no.

  “Wait,” I snapped.

  “I know what you’re going to ask.”

  “Did you know about Toby not being Wayne’s?”

  “Wayne never saw Toby as anything other than his.”

  “Did you know?”

  She looked deep into my eyes, and I found myself pulling away. “Now, just wait a minute,” she began.

  “Lilac, listen to your aunt. Let her finish her story,” Mum begged.

  “Did you know, too?” I asked Mum, craning my neck to see her properly.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “She didn’t, darling,” Aunt Coral added.

  I looked back up into her tear-filled eyes, and even though I was frowning hard, it was confusion taking over, not anger.

  It’s amazing what secrets you can keep in order to protect those you love with all your heart and soul.

  “Is he the reason you live here? To be so close to him?”

  She shrugged a weak shoulder. “Possibly. I told Wayne about the house being for sale after I came to stay here with you all. As soon as I found out he was getting married, I needed your mum’s shoulder to cry on for a while, then next door came available, and he was looking for a place to bring his new family, and it just rolled off my tongue when I spoke to him. I never expected him to buy the house, not really, and more importantly, I never expected to live here with you all for so many wonderful years.”

  “Once she’d been here for a while, we wanted her to stay,” Mum said, stepping closer to us both. “You adored her, she could help with childcare while your father and I worked, and I loved having my sister and best friend so close. It just made sense.”

  I held my hands up in front of me, demanding some distance while I cleared my head. “This is all so messed up.”

  “Is it?” Aunt Coral asked. “Not really. I was just a girl who fell in love with a boy and that first love lingered. He didn’t love me back in the same way, and I respected his decision. Did that mean I should have cut him out of my life? Did my love for him have to turn to hate or to distance myself from him because I couldn’t have him as a lover? Nothing has happened since. I’ve not tried to steal him. I love him as a friend as much as I love him romantically, and if I can’t have him as a partner, I’ll have him in any way I can get him. That’s true love, Lilac. The selfless kind. The one where you are willing to sacrifice everything to see the other happy. The kind Toby has for you.”

  The mention of his name had me shivering instantly, a shock of despair running through me before I felt the edge of the bed hit the back of my knees. I fell onto the mattress freely and let the tears fall. Within seconds, I had my mum on one side and my aunt on the other, both arms wrapped around me as they cradled me between them.

  I couldn’t be mad at them for anything. I was mad at myself for being so weak and fragile when I needed to stand up and be the warrior princess who would slay all the dragons for her prince who was trapped in the castle.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Aunt Coral whispered in my ear, her hand stroking my tangled mess of hair.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so worried about you,” Mum confessed, pressing the side of her head to mine.

  “That’s what I need you all to stop doing. Stop telling me how you’re sorry that I’m suffering. I’m not. Toby is. I’m worried about him, stuck in there when he’s the best person I know. All he ever did wrong was love me so right, and that’s cost him his life now. Everything is so messed up.”

  “It won’t always be this way,” Aunt Coral reassured me.

  “Maybe not. I don’t know anything anymore. Thanks for telling me the truth, though.”

  “Thanks for listening. It’s been hard keeping a secret from you for so long, but sometimes secrets aren’t ours to share, Lilac. Sometimes it isn’t a question of what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s a question of when is the right time to talk, if ever? Darlene had her secret, and she held it tight for way too many years. Imagine how she’s felt keeping that inside for so long. My confession is nothing compared to that poor soul’s. Us women, we carry so much in our hearts to save those we love. We have the weight of everyone’s happiness on our shoulders, especially those we want to shelter from pain. We’re willing to be in pain for the rest of our lives, so long as those we adore are safe. The secrets kept from you, from Toby, were never kept to hurt you. They were to save you. Sometimes best intentions can backfire. It’s important you know that the intentions were the best anyway.”

  I nodded slowly, thinking over her words as our tears fell together. Reaching over to them both, I grabbed a hand from either side and gave them a squeeze.

  “I want you both to know that from this moment on, all my intentions will be good, no matter the result.”

  “And what exactly does that mean?” Mum’s worried voice trembled.

  I stared into her warm eyes before I turned to do the same to my aunt. “I love you both, but right now, I love him enough to go against what you all want me to do. I’m not respecting his wishes… I refuse. I’m not going on to live my life. I’m not giving up without a fight. I’ll shout and scream from the lighthouse rooftop if I have to. I’ll wear a T-shirt every day with I’m guilty written across my chest. He may have already gone down, but I’m not letting him stay down without a fight. You two are either with me or against me. Trust me; I’d rather have you with me. Our names were bo
rn from this family’s love of colour, right?” I asked them, looking between them both.

  “Right,” they said in unison.

  “Then let’s fill up this goddamn town with our rainbow personalities and our honesties. If being ourselves and making people believe we’re the good ones is all we can do, let’s do it. I’m not staying silent. I refuse to let people believe those Atkins men are decent. If anyone can convince Southwold who was right and who was wrong, it’s us. Toby always told me I could make any bad situation turn good, that I didn’t know how to quit when I wanted something. Well, I want him free. I want to speak up and salvage his reputation for him. Let’s make sure everyone hears us. Let’s show this community that Toby Hunter is innocent and Marty Atkins is the real criminal in all of this. Let’s fight for Darlene, for Charlie, for Harry, for Wayne.” I squeezed Aunt Coral’s hand tightly. “We’re natural born optimists. It’s time we stopped hiding in the shadows.”

  The silence was thick as the two of them stared down at the floor.

  Their thoughts were loud, yet undecipherable until Mum squeezed my fingers, looked up at her sister and me, and let out a weighted breath.

  “When did my little girl get so tough?”

  “When he showed me how important it is to fight.”

  Toby,

  Nice try.

  I figured something out.

  You don’t have a beast inside of you. You’re not some wild animal who lashes out when unprovoked. You’re not this unleashed boy with no hope in his future because he’s so volatile. Those are nothing but excuses for you to avoid being everything you’ve secretly always known you can be. It would be easier for you to give up—to fail, right? It’s safer for you to brand yourself as a hooligan, a reckless heart, and an unstable mind. You’d have an excuse to stay close to your mum then. You’d give yourself a reason, a valid one, not to chase life and not become everything you know you can be.

  Your potential scares you.

  You love harder and more selflessly than anyone I’ve ever known.

  You sing and play guitar effortlessly.

  You’re smart. College is easy for you.

  You’re powerful, strong, and feared without trying to be. Nobody can beat you, even now when you’re still growing.

  You’re handsome—so handsome it makes my chest ache, Toby. You with those glasses, that mussed up black hair, that strong jaw, perfect cheekbones, and blue eyes that make my knees go weak.

  You got the girl.

  You got me without even trying.

  What reason would you have to stay in Southwold with all that natural talent and all those adventures at your feet? If you were still living life here with me, you’d have to become the hunter, wouldn’t you? You’d have to chase life. You know you would because I’d make you. I’d make you because I love you, and when you love someone you push and push and push and push for them to become their best versions of themselves—to live their best lives.

  And your guilt and devotion to your mum wouldn’t let you do that, would it?

  Prison is easier for you, in some messed up, warped way.

  I understand now. I’m not mad. I’m not upset anymore. I was. Oh, I cried and yelled and kicked things. I even threw a rock at your window, then panicked as it sailed through the air in slow motion, hoping it wouldn’t crack the glass. It didn’t. It fell short. I throw like a girl. But all that anger has finally drifted away, Toby, and all I’m left thinking is how amazing you are for doing what you did to save me… and save yourself.

  Be with the broken ones for a little while if you must. Rest.

  Heal.

  You do you, and I’ll do me.

  I’ll use every advantage I have to make this town see you for what you really are: a superhero. And there isn’t anything you can do to stop me. By the time you get released, whenever that may be, everyone around here will adore you. You’ll be like a mythical creature in an old-fashioned fairy tale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you found a statue built in your honour on Gun Hill. I have Duke on my side, too, and we both know how powerful he can be. Looks can be deceiving. He and I together make quite a team. I can’t wait to tell you all about it face to face.

  Despite what you told me not to do, I’m taking comfort in all the things we used to enjoy together. I’m listening to my sad love songs. I’m reading my tragic poems. I’m chasing a cure to fix this crevice in my young, fragile heart. Songs, movies, books, and poetry are the perfect fuel for my motivation—anything that will fan the flames of my determination. I think about you all the time. I miss you even more than that. Every day I try to focus on how there’s still hope in all of this. Hope for us. I read a poem online the other day. I read it once, then read it twice, and before I knew it, I had the whole thing memorised. It felt like I was meant to come across it.

  Return to me,

  Thoughts sublime.

  Held in silence by candlelight time.

  Invisible miles,

  Infinite desire.

  Close to taste, hearts on fire.

  New moons pass,

  Till fingers twine.

  Inhale your scent, make you mine.

  (A. Stone)

  I’ll always be waiting. Every morning I look across at your bedroom window, and I feel so empty knowing you’re not there, not close. But my heart knows you’ll be back one day, and as long as I know that’s a truth, I’ll cling onto it and wait. Then we’ll be kids again, right? Only this time we’ll be selfish. We’ll do things for each other and let the rest of the world fall behind us. Life will begin. Maybe weeks, months, or years later than it should have, but we’ll pick up where we left off. I know you’ll try to resist this at first, push me away, and tell me I deserve more, but you can’t tell someone who they can and can’t love. You can’t force me to move on when the only place I want to be is here.

  You once told me I was worth a war. I never got around to telling you you’re worth one too.

  Your Lilac, forever.

  Don’t even try to argue with me.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Toby

  I’d lost count of how many times I’d read her words over and over again, the hope I felt bubbling up in my chest like a rising cake every time. There were no more minutes free to reread it that morning, though. Before leaving my cell, I hid the letter in my safe place—tucked up behind the exposed pipe at the back of the sink—then I walked outside into the corridors, feeling the biting atmosphere of the morning all around. Two of the inmates had been yelling at each other from 6:00 a.m., promising the rest of the prison inmates a fight for entertainment before classes began. When the whole place is filled with hormones and growing testosterone, with no option for any of them to fuck and get it out of their system, fighting was all they had. Their slurs against one another echoed off the prison walls as I made my way out into the communal area, cries of anger, hate, and profanities bouncing from one end to the other.

  What didn’t concern me didn’t concern me, so I kept moving, making my way to where I needed to be.

  We all had to attend class after breakfast. It was the law of the lawless, a part of the rehabilitation programmes we were all forced to endure. I didn’t mind them, but I wasn’t like the majority of the kids in here. I’d already had an education. My college grades had been decent. Compared to now, I guess my whole life had been decent, even with my family and their troubles. All I had left to master was my anger-management, and that was something this place offered plenty of classes for.

  If ever I thought I’d never had enough in my middle-class home, or that I’d gone without, I was wrong. These kids around me had truly come from nothing. My manslaughter charge hadn’t made anyone blink, except for Mason. He had blinked. Very, very slowly. And then he’d stared me in the eye for at least a minute without blinking again. When he opened his mouth, he only had one thing to say, “Manslaughter is for pussies.”

  Mason was seventeen, too, and here for the murder of his abusive stepfather. He’d be sh
ipped off to an adult prison on the day of his eighteenth birthday, no doubt, just like me, but he only had one regret about his crime: that he didn’t kill him sooner.

  “That bastard will never lay a finger on another kid again,” was all he said, but I’d seen the coldness in his eyes. If he could go back and murder him again, he would. He’d do it a thousand times over and smile every time.

  I’d been scared of Mason at first, not that I’d let him know, but after standing up for myself for the first time and putting a younger version of Bruce Lee on his arse after one hit to the face, Mason decided to be my friend.

  “I keep the quiet ones close by,” he told me one day in the yard. “They’re the ones you can’t predict. I see it in your eyes, Hunter. You’re unpredictable.”

  “You don’t know shit about me,” I said quietly.

  “Not yet, but I will soon. I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve got around here.”

  “And if I don’t want a friend?”

  “Better a friend than an enemy.”

  I’d picked at the frayed knees of my green prison uniform and pretended to be bored.

  Being one of the good guys in prison, you did that—kept your head down. That’s if you wanted to get out early, anyway. You never showed your full hand, never let your poker face slip, and you sure as shit didn’t start a beef with someone unless you absolutely had to. Any sign of trouble and your sentence had limitless possibilities for extension. I’d been lucky to get away with the first fight I’d had. I wasn’t going to run the risk of becoming a bad boy to score points in this place. I didn’t want a reputation. I just wanted to wake up and be twenty-five already.

  Mason was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs that morning, leaning on the railing with his face set to stone as he rolled his eyes at all the shouting from the two inmates who hadn’t been released from their cells yet. They were trying to sound like men with their insults. I wish they could have heard themselves through our ears. They sounded like yapping puppies.