Tears of the Broken (Dark Secrets)

by A. M. Hudson

  “Everything looked the same, and it smelled like home, but it was cold, empty—and so very quiet—like they weren’t there anymore. I couldn’t feel them there anymore.

  “The dishes were still in the sink from Mum’s coffee, and the clock on the wall was still ticking—that much stayed the same. It felt strange, how, even though they weren’t there, time just kept ticking without us. It seemed like it should’ve stopped, but it didn’t. That’s when I fell down. It hit me so hard. I just broke apart and cried in the doorway.

  “Dad didn’t know what to do. He ran next door to get Mrs. Baker. She made me get up. She made me pack my things. They gave me enough time to grab one box of pictures and a few of my favourite clothes before Dad dragged me away to a motel to stay until I got the all-clear from the doctors.” I pictured the dark shadows in the hallway near my room, how the absence of that warm summer sun meant the death of everything I loved.

  “I wanted to bring Pappy with me…” I burst into tears again, “Harry’s monkey toy. But Dad blocked the door to Harry’s room—he wouldn’t let me go in there. I never got to say goodbye. We never even went back to their graves.”

  “He was just doing what he thought was best, Ara.” David choked back tears.

  “I know.” I nodded. “But he was wrong. They all think they know what I need—but they don’t.”

  “What do you need, sweetheart?” David asked carefully. “Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

  “I need to die, David. I need to go back—to that night—I need to put down that goddamn phone and…” my words broke away.

  “Ara?” David grabbed my cheeks and shook me softly, but fiercely, bringing his nose to the tip of mine. “What do you think your mother would feel to hear you say that? Why would you want to die?”

  “Because that’s just it, David. She wouldn’t feel anything to hear me say that—because she’s dead!” I yelled. “Dead, and I killed her…” Ragged sobs lifted my chest. “I killed her.”

  “Ara—”

  “No. Don’t you see? I called her. I made her come and get me. Now they’re gone and it’s only me—and my guilt.”

  David’s eyes glistened. He breathed out and tightened his arms around me. “Does—” he started slowly, cautiously, “does your dad know you blame yourself?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think he could ever forgive me. I never told him that I called her. I never told him that I was the reason she was there. You won’t tell him, will you?” I looked up at him and clutched his shirt. “Oh, David, please don’t tell him. I’ll never be able to face him again.”

  David sat quietly. “What about your best friend, Mike?”

  “He knows—everything.” I looked down at my hands in my lap. “Don’t worry, he tried to convince me that it wasn’t my fault. People will say anything to avoid watching someone be eaten up by guilt.”

  “I don’t understand why you blame yourself.”

  “Because it was a senseless death, David. One that could’ve been avoided. Wrong place, wrong time is what the cop said. And that is my fault.”

  “That still doesn’t make it your fault.” He looked down at me. “It was the other driver who veered off the road.”

  I shook my head. Damn it, David. “No. If he’d had nothing to hit when his car landed there—”

  “He would have run into the house on the corner,” he said each word with a short pause between the next, “and killed the three-year-old twins in the front bedroom.”

  My brow creased tightly in the middle. “How did you know that?”

  David stiffened and stared ahead with his mouth hanging open a little, like he was about to say something. I retraced my story in my head. I never said that. “David?” I sat back so I could look right into his eyes. “Tell me how you knew that?”

  He winced and turned his head away, scratching at the back of his neck. “I kind of…already knew…about…all of it.”

  “What?” I jumped back. How did he know? How could he? Why would he let me recount all of this—dredge up all of this carefully buried pain if he already knew?

  “You needed to get it out, Ara. You needed to talk to someone.”

  “Who else knows?” I yelled.

  David looked at my watering eyes and wiped his thumb over a line of tears on my cheek. “No one knows, Ara. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Who told you?” I wish I could scream. I feel so betrayed. But there can only be one person who knows about my mum, and he made me a promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “I…I asked your dad.” David looked at the ground.

  “When? Why?”

  “Ara, calm down, it’s okay.” David pulled me tighter into his chest; I pushed away from him as hard as I could. He’s strong, but he let me go.

  “You betrayed me.” I jumped to my feet to get as much distance from him as possible.

  “No—Ara?”

  “You lied to me. All this time. All this time, you knew. You knew what I’d done, and you pretended to be my friend?”

  “Pretend? Ara?” David stood up.

  “What would possibly make you want to do that, David?” I looked up at him, grabbing a fistful of my own hair while warm tears rained down my cheeks. “When did he tell you—how long have you known?”

  “Please, just—”

  “When!” My scream echoed off the lake and came back to haunt me with its severity.

  He walked slowly toward me, his hand extended as if negotiating with a hostile mental patient. “When you first came here. He caught me during football practice—watching you on the swing, and—”

  I backed away one step at a time in unison with his. “You…were…watching me?” Each word ejected from my lips infused with disgust. An eerie sensation travelled over my neck and spine, like a hand just touched my shoulder in a room that was supposed to be empty.

  “Ara, I—” David stopped walking, and his green eyes flooded with agony as he lowered his arms. “I know how this sounds. But it wasn’t like that. I swear. Just, please. Listen to me.”

  I laughed, though it wasn’t out of amusement. “All this time—you’ve known about me. Even when we talked in the library. You pretended you didn’t know anything about me. Well,” I shook my head derisively, “I guess it makes sense now why you were so…” Eager? Is that it? What is it with him? Does he enjoy the company of messed up young girls? Perhaps it’s a complex of his—Knight Syndrome. I feel like such an idiot. I turned and marched off. I need to vent my anger—away from anyone that could get hurt.

  “Ara?” David’s footsteps picked up behind me.

  “David, just leave me alone. Don’t follow me!” I called out coarsely.

  To my regret, he stayed put. It’s probably for the best. We’re not friends anymore and I don’t want to hear any pathetic excuses for his deceit.

  The forest showed me down an alternative path to the one we came in on. I don’t really know where I’m gonna go. I can’t go back to the car since that would mean driving back into town with him, the conspirator, the liar—whatever he is to me now. So, I veered off the track and headed west—hopefully toward town.

  A month. I arrived here a month ago? Has he known about me for that long? I wandered through the trees, following a faded trail with long billowing grass growing between old tyre tracks. What a jerk! Why didn’t he just tell me he knew? What did he hope to accomplish by making me cry like that? Does he enjoy it—does he get off on grief?

  Er! I feel sick.

  My trek of rage drove me forward quickly. I scaled the slopes of the forest faster than I should—submerging myself into an eerie surrounding, with the once background sound of the birds and the leaves rustling in the wind, now, unnervingly loud.

  It’s weird for me here. After all my years of walking through the bushes back home, I have no idea how to navigate these green, mushy forests. This trail, thick with grass and crawling vines, is clearly not used anymore and therefore, not likely to lead me to a road or th
e safety of random hikers.

  Real smart, Ara. Go off the beaten track. I slumped heavily onto a nearby log and hugged my arms across my body. I’m such an idiot.

  The gentle breeze stopped, and a cunning silence looped around me, stealing the tranquillity of the woods. The dancing midges disappeared from the beams of sunlight and the warmth under the cool shade subsided rapidly—leaving my arms covered in little bumps.

  Behind me, a heavy thud set my hair on end; my spine straightened and I looked over my shoulder. “Oscar?”

  Oscar? I burst out laughing, folding over as I clutched my stomach. How stupid am I? Oscar can’t be here. He was a thud, for real, but I’m pretty sure giant Red Kangaroos aren’t native to these parts.

  That memory will stay with my best friend, Mike; how we used to take long walks through the national park just outside his house. A quick hop over the fence and down a steep hill of rocks, and we were far away from civilisation.

  The first day I met the thud, it scared me so much I was about to run in the opposite direction, but Mike grabbed my arm and held me in place. Very slowly and very cautiously the thud showed itself. Mike just smiled and said, “G’day, Oscar.”

  He was magnificent, Oscar—nearly as tall as me, with round black eyes; eyes that seemed to stare at me with a kind of unnerving intelligence behind them. It isn’t commonplace to see them hopping around, and I knew they could become hostile when they get frightened. But Mike was comfortable in Oscar’s company. When Oscar bounded away, I let my breath out with a laugh and thanked Mike for making me stay put.

  I can’t believe I’ll never see Oscar again.

  My mind snapped back to the harsh reality of the now, with the reaching trees towering over me, clouding out all warmth, and the eerie solitude creeping under my skin. There’re no gum trees here, no soft, light smell of eucalyptus when it rains, and certainly no kookaburra to warn me of approaching…animals.

  Wow, this place is kinda scary all of a sudden. I hope there aren’t any bears or lions or…tigers. I mean, anything’s possible. I’m not in Oz anymore.

  I kicked a ladybug off my shoe and looked back up the slope I just walked down. It was a mistake storming off like that. I know better than to traipse into a forest—alone.

  There’s no denying it. I’m lost and I feel really bad for yelling at David, too. He has a good heart. I was unfair to him. Is it so bad that he’d been curious about me? That he asked my dad about me?

  Not really, but it means that all of this time, while he led me around the school and talked to me about little things like music and books—that he knew. He knew, and he pretended he didn’t. How can I get over that kind of betrayal?

  I should go back and find David—talk to him about this. I stood up and took one step up the hill—falling instead, into the warm embrace of strong, firm arms. “Ara!” He just appeared out of nowhere; his eyes alert and his brow creased in the centre.

  He’s been worried. He must’ve figured I’d get lost. Now I feel worse. “David?” My arms dropped to my sides as I stepped back from him. I want to say sorry. But how can I? I don’t deserve the right to use those words. I’ve been a monster to him.

  “You silly girl!” He wrapped me almost restrictively in his arms, with his fingertips pressing against my ribs. “Don’t ever run off like that again. I couldn’t find you. I was worried sick.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest.

  “Ara? You. Have. Nothing to be sorry for.” He rolled my face up with his hands on either side of my cheeks.

  “But I—”

  “No.” David folded me back into him and shook his head against the top of mine. “I won’t let you hate yourself anymore—not for anything.”

  “It’s my punishment, David. I deserve to be miserable.”

  “No,” he said through his teeth. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” I looked up at him.

  He smiled, breathing out through his nose. “Would you have wanted me to know? Would you still have been my friend?” It was a rhetorical question; we both know the answer.

  “So, what am I to you now? I mean, what would you want with someone like me? I’m just a lost cause. I hurt everyone I ever come into contact with.” The tension in my shoulders loosened with a sigh. “I’m nothing but a murderer.” Can’t he see that?

  “Murderer? Ara. Don’t say that.”

  “Well, it’s true,” I yelled, pushing away from his chest.

  “No, it’s not true.” He took a step toward me. “You were upset and you called your mum. How many girls out there do you think would’ve done the same?” The fury in his eyes softened as he reached for my face. “You didn’t know what was going to happen. It. Was. Not. Your fault.”

  I shook my head. It doesn’t matter what I say. He must have some reason for wanting to be around someone like me. “Why would you still be friends with me now that you know all of this? Am I some damsel project to you or something? Do you think you can save me?”

  David shook his head, but no irritation rested in his eyes, only honesty. “No, Ara. When I first saw you—the day you arrived here—your dad was unloading the suitcases from the boot, and you, you stood there in your little yellow dress, staring up at the house.” He smiled and closed the gap between us, resting his arms around my waist. “You looked so alone and so beautiful. I wanted to be the one that got to hold you, and yes—I do want to be the one that makes you okay. Not because I have martyrdom syndrome, Ara, but because right there and right then, at that very moment, I fell in love with you.” He studied the side of my face then brushed a few stray hairs behind my ear.

  There are no words I can offer him in return. He just admitted that he loves me, and all I can do is stare at him while my heart dances in my stomach.

  He folded me back into chest and I let myself feel safe.

  “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.” He nodded. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  David offered me the comfort of silent companionship as the sunset stole the afternoon. In his arms I stood, with my eyes closed and the tranquillity of love keeping my heart beating, while each breath I took unlinked my soul from the binds of my shadowed past.

  I never want to go back to before. I want this embrace to last forever—to stay here in his arms where all of my troubles don’t seem so absolute and the world doesn’t seem so cruel.

  I know now, as wholly as I know myself, that the empty feeling I’ve suffered for so long could only have been cured by this moment—by David, who came into my life as just a boy, and turned out to be a knight.

  Chapter Nine

  David’s headlights cut through the darkness and landed in round, pale illuminations on the garage door as we pulled into the driveway where Vicki normally parks.

  “You okay?” David reached toward me but stopped and placed his hand on the dashboard. A passing motorbike revved noisily in the ultra-quiet of the dark street, making my shoulders lift around my ears. David smiled at me, and I smiled back sheepishly.

  “Um. Yeah. I’ll just be a sec.” I unbuckled my seatbelt.

  “I’ll come in with you.” David offered in a tone that did not invite discussion.

  “Uh—okay.” I looked up at the dark, creepy-looking house. “It does look a bit…quiet in there. I wonder where everyone is.”

  “I’m sure they’re just out shopping or something.” He jumped out of the car and opened my door before his even closed.

  “How do you move so quick?”

  “I don’t. You just faze out all the time.” He offered me his hand and pulled me out of the car.

  When I placed my keys in the bowl by the front door, I stopped and listened for a moment. “Do you hear? Piano?”

  David exhaled softly and looked down at the ground. “I’ll uh—I’ll wait here.”

  Weird. We don’t have a piano. I always wanted one, but this doesn’t sound like a piano—more li
ke a fuzzy recording of one. The sound led me to Dad’s slightly open door. Keeping hidden against the wall, I peered in through the crack and searched the shadows of his bed, his dresser and his wardrobe until I spotted him on the floor across from the TV. A single line of moisture stained his cheek and melted my heart. “Oh, Dad,” I whispered to myself, looking at the TV screen as the dancer, gliding as gracefully as a dandelion on a summers breeze, filled my memory with light. My mother showed me this tape when I started ballet. She told me it was her greatest triumph as a dancer, to make it the Sydney Opera House just weeks before she fell pregnant with me, then gave up dancing forever.

  I’m the dancer in the family now, but I haven’t been able to look at my ballet shoes since I lost Mum. They sit in a box in the furthest corner of my closet—where they will stay, forever.

  It broke my dad’s heart when Mum left ballet—it broke his heart when I quit, too. Now, the sound of that music only chills me to my bones—haunts my dreams at night.

  How can he watch that tape? Isn’t it enough that she’s gone? But now, her memory fills the room like she’s still here, and then, when the tape ends he’ll lose her all over again. I looked away, closing the door behind me.

  “Ara?”

  My eyes scrunched tight as I stopped dead, then slowly turned back and opened the door. “Hi Dad.”

  He smiled and looked at the screen as he pressed pause, then patted the spot next to him. “Come sit with your dad.”

  “Uh—” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder, “David’s waiting for me downstairs. We’re going to Betty’s, remember? I told you at lunch.”

  “I remember, but that was before you ran away from school crying.”

  “So—” I pushed the door open a little more, attitude rising up in my voice, like heat. “Are you saying I can’t go now because I cried at school?”