Tears of the Broken (Dark Secrets)

by A. M. Hudson

  “Just say it.” David flicked his indicator on, and my uncertainty lingered in the silence. “Ara, say it.”

  “I’m happy, is all.” I shrugged and looked away. “I can’t figure out what on Earth you’d see in a girl like me, but I’m really glad you do.”

  We both stared forward, silence the only common ground. I really wish I hadn’t said it. One thing I’ve learned about life is that happiness is subject to ignorance; as soon as you acknowledge it, it disappears—like everything else you care about. How long will it be before he realises I’m not that great, before he sees through the rose-coloured glasses and leaves me behind? Alone.

  David smiled; his own private joke again.

  So, he has nothing to say about what I just said—and why should he, really? I expect too much from him. Then again, maybe he’s not saying anything because he’s afraid there’s too much at stake here, that I’m too risky to be involved with if it means my happiness is based on his coming into my life—or leaving. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  “Do you know why they say love is blind?” David asked, watching the road carefully.

  “Because you can’t see straight when you’re in love?” I shrugged.

  He shook his head. “It’s because you don’t need to see to fall in love. It’s purely chemical. You can fall in love with someone before you’ve even spoken one word to them. They don’t need to be beautiful, talented or anything special. Just, the right one.” David studied my face for a quick second, then turned his eyes back to the road. “Two souls are placed on this Earth at different times—and it’s their mission in life to find each other.”

  “You mean, like fate?”

  “Something like that. You see, you will always end up in the right place at the right time—to find the one you were destined to be with.” David smiled as he spoke, but his thoughtful gaze remained distant. “Love needs no sight, because it comes from a place beyond physicality, and because who you love was decided for you a long time ago.”

  So, does that mean you don’t have to match? Is he saying that I could be his soul mate? Surely not? Nope. No way. I’m jumping to conclusions—again. He never even implied anything of the sort. From what I know, your perfect match—your soul mate—has to be in your league. David and I, we’re not from the same species. He’s perfect and I’m…just Ara.

  David smiled to himself, then took one quick glance at me. “And to add to that, new girl, you are the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. And believe me, Ara-Rose, I have seen a lot of girls.” He touched the backs of his fingers to my cheek, keeping his eyes forward. “So just relax into this, okay? We’re together—I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

  Hm, we’ll see. I give him a month.

  I took a long, slow breath. “You’re right, you know, about being aged beyond your years.” All the pain in his life has aged him; he speaks as if he’s lived for forty years. “So? How old are you, really?”

  David’s head whipped around suddenly, his eyes widening on the outer corners—until he saw my smile.

  “David, are you okay?” That was a very odd reaction. Note to self: start asking more questions.

  “Actually, I’m—uh, I’m already eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks.” He dropped his chin toward his chest.

  “Is there a reason you wouldn’t want me to know that?” I asked with a certain amount of suspicion in my tone. I glanced at him sideways, my head slightly tilted in anticipation of another strange reaction.

  He sighed. “No one knows I’m older. I’m repeating high school. I went through a rough patch a few years ago and…I kind of let my grades slip.” He looked like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office as he scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. “I haven’t told anyone that. I was afraid you’d want to wait until you turn eighteen to be my girlfriend if you knew.”

  What a stupid thing to think. I don’t think I’d care if he was a hundred years old. “David, you worry too much. But what happened—a few years ago?” This is another story he’s never shared.

  “Ah, well, that was when I left my uncle—to come here.”

  “And…why did you leave your uncle?”

  “I lost someone.” He swallowed and took a breath. “I’ve been hiding from the world, I guess, ever since. I wanted to pretend I was still seventeen—get back some of the time I lost.”

  “I’m really sorry, David.” I wish I could just kiss all his pain away. But grief just doesn’t work like that. “But, why wouldn’t you just tell me that? Being older than me—it isn’t that bad.”

  “I’m sorry. I just thought it might be better left unsaid.”

  “You assume too much. So—” I crossed my arms over my chest, “—is there anything else you assume might be better kept secret?”

  “Yes. But that will have to wait for another time.”

  “No way. Tell me now.” I sat forward in the chair.

  “I wish I could. I will. Maybe. It’s not important. Let’s just drop it, okay?” He shook his head, lowering his right brow over his eye.

  “No. Not okay. If we’re going to be together you shouldn’t keep things from me.”

  “What if the secret I was keeping—was to protect you?”

  “You don’t get to decide that. It’s my life. So tell me?”

  He just shook his head. “Not today.”

  My eyes narrowed and I bit the inside of my lip, folding my arms over my chest again. This seems to be a constant thing for this drive—David and I disagreeing, and me getting all huffy about it. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But I won’t stop bugging you until you do.”

  “Fine,” he scoffed, letting his breath out with a chuckle, “—but I don’t give in easily.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m very stubborn. I don’t give up easily.” There was so much attitude in that delivery, I wonder if I am capable of normal teenage behaviour.

  David’s head rocked from side to side, fluid with annoyance. “You are a wilful creature, Ara-Rose. I swear you will be the death of me.”

  “I will if you don’t stop keeping secrets.”

  “Ara, be nice,” David said in a dry tone.

  I tilted my nose in the air and watched the trees, as we zoomed past them, blur in hues of green and brown.

  The drive to the lake is relatively short, but the scenery on the way out here changes so much, from closely gathered houses, to a long stretch of highway and finally, a tunnel of trees and a hard-packed dirt road.

  The gravelly side-road crunched under the tyres as we pulled over, and my blue guitar, which hadn’t shifted the whole drive, clunked noisily while the vibrations drew gentle hums of odd notes from the strings. I glanced over my shoulder to check on it and thought how clever it was of David to loop the guitar strap over the headrest in the backseat, keeping it from falling onto the floor.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?” David asked cautiously as I looked back out the front window.

  When aren’t I? “No. But I do wish you’d trust me.”

  “Believe me, I do. It’s only your…reaction I’m afraid of.”

  “My reaction? I don’t understand.”

  David shut the engine off and the sudden quiet made my ears ring. With a smug set to my lips and a half-raised brow, I tapped my fingers on my knee. You know, you have to tell me now.

  “It doesn’t matter. Look…” He shook his head, seeming to dislodge any resolve to confess his secrets. “I will tell you. I just need some time, okay?”

  “Well, what do you need time for?”

  “To decide the best way to say it, to prepare myself for you to ha—” He stopped and shook his head again. “Never mind. Just be patient, okay?”

  I huffed out in defeat. “Fine.”

  David glided along beside me with a soft smile on his lips, the guitar slung over his shoulder like a one-strapped backpack and the picnic basket in his hand. The sun filtered down through the tops of the trees in hazy lines of pale-yellow and white,
highlighting the golden tones in his hair. I just want to stop walking right now and run my fingers through it—but I won’t. Not only am I still a little mad at him and his vault of mysteries, but also, I don’t think our relationship is quite on the unguarded-impulse-control level yet.

  My folded arms tightened over my ribs and I titled my nose to the air, catching the familiar lemony spice of wet bark and the heavy clay scent of decomposing leaves.

  When we came out to the clearing by the lake, a spectacular rainbow of nature greeted us, and I lost myself in the awe of this secret place. With the autumn hovering on the horizon of the approaching months, the deciduous evergreens that surround the lake started to turn a hundred different colours. An illustration of mottled pinks, yellows and reds emulated off the lake’s reflection, and dust motes settled on the water around the moss—giving it an almost snow-like aspect. Across the lake, at the centre of the tranquil masterpiece, several flocks of colourful birds disappeared into the dense greenery of the island.

  “This place is so amazing, David.” And my mood just lifted like an elevator up the Empire State building.

  David’s hands circled my waist. He tucked his chin against the curve of my neck and squeezed my ribs. “I can think of something more amazing.”

  Aw, how sweet. I smiled and rested my elbows over his. “I like that—the feel of you against me that way.”

  David pulled away, but stole my hand as he did, turning me to face him. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He swept his arm outward, presenting a small square patch of flattened grass, held down by the rug, with the picnic basket at the centre and his iPod dock setting the scene with some soft music.

  “How did you—” I looked back at David, and my eyes quickly darted from where he’d been standing beside me, to the rug, where he laid with his ankles crossed and the cheekiest grin warming his eyes. “I’m sure you’re not human.” Shaking my head, I wandered over and sat down in front of him. “Are you getting sick?”

  David jumped back a little when I reached out to touch the purple indent under his eye. “Ouch. Your hands are freezing.”

  “Sorry. I always forget that.”

  He cupped my hands, and I smiled as the warmth of his breath changed the temperature of my fingers. “Well, anytime you need them warmed up, I’m happy to help,” he said.

  “Fine by me.” I closed my eyes and imagined myself tasting his warm, honey-scented breath. Mmm.

  “Did you know—” David closed his hands a little tighter around mine and pressed his nose against my fingers, drawing a deep breath in, “—you smell like a freshly baked cake?”

  “Yeah,” I gently pulled my hands away, rubbing the moisture from his breath into my skin, “that’s just my body wash.”

  “No.” He shook his head, looking up at me. “It’s just you.”

  Okay, subject change crucial to my thumping heart’s survival. “What’s this song? It has the most heartbreaking melody.” I nodded to the iPod dock.

  “It’s called Overcome.” David looked down at his hands. “The one I said I’d play to you.”

  The words to the song danced around in my head, lilting softly over the wistful tide of the piano, while David stared into the tree line, his mind a million miles away. I watched his soft, angel-like face for just long enough to see that he’s more beautiful than I’ve really noticed before. He’s always perfect, but with his eyes lost in the splendour of the colourful surroundings, focused and totally unaware that I’m staring, I can suddenly see just how out of my league he really is.

  His features are almost perfectly symmetrical, even down to the width of his mouth on both sides and the sharp, heart-shaped curve of his upper lip. There’s this undeniable allure about him—something—maybe an energy that just draws me in, making me want to close my eyes and fall against him. He’s like the perfect sunrise—golden and blindingly bright, after the darkest and most harrowing storm.

  It’s too late for me now. I’ll never be able to go back. Never be able to live without him. This song, ‘Overcome,’ is very suitable for how I feel about David.

  David looked up from his reverie and frowned at my expression.

  I wiped away my pout, forcing a look of composure, though inside, my heart was breaking. I’ve always known he was beautiful and perfect, but it goes deeper than just an unnatural beauty—there’s something so unearthing about his perfection that I wonder how I can possibly ever be good enough for him. “Were you going to say something?” I asked when David suddenly looked away from me, his mouth closing quickly and trapping the words that had been a breath away from his lips.

  “You’re hungry.” He jumped up with a movement as light and fluid as if he were on the moon.

  He’s right. I didn’t notice it, but my stomach is empty. It might’ve even growled at one point, but I’d been too lost in David’s flawless face to notice. I could’ve starved to death and probably wouldn’t have cared.

  “Here.” He handed me a small bunch of grapes and sat across from me with my guitar in his lap.

  “Thanks.” I picked at the plump, round fruit and watched David pluck the strings. The squared tips of his fingers found the notes so effortlessly, almost as if the guitar was made from his own flesh.

  “Do you realise,” I said, “that I’ve never actually heard you play?”

  “Yes.” He smiled, keeping his head down as he tuned the guitar, twisting the pegs atop the neck. After a strum and a nod of satisfaction, he started playing.

  My eyes tried to close again as the sound touched my heart, but I forced myself to open them and watch the phenomenon that is David’s every note. “You make me feel like an amateur.” I sighed.

  “Well, I’ve been playing for a very long time.” He laughed, though it sounded more like a release of tension. He plucked the notes slowly, rolling his head to one side and closing his eyes as the midday sun beamed across his neck.

  In comparison to David, my musical ability is sub-standard, clumsy even. I hate that. He shook his head, for God knows what reason, then strummed an A minor—my favourite chord—and smiled.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” I asked.

  Without a word, he shuffled over and picked a grape off the bunch, then popped it in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I wanna play you a song.”

  “Okay.” I sat up more and put the grapes back in the basket. “Is it a song I know?”

  He looked forward and pressed his lips together. “You might. It’s by Ponder.” He plucked the strings a few times, then added, “It’s called Providence?” David took a breath, closing his eyes as his long, elegant fingers pressed the frets, flowing along the neck of the guitar without thought.

  I picked through my music brain. I haven’t heard this one before and don’t recognise the melody at all. The wind-chime notes, as my mind wandered away, carried me to another place—a dream-like world where emotions are displayed in melody. This one, with its harmony balancing on the edge of sadness, would be the song of a night sky that fell in love with the sun.

  David strummed once, then started singing, plucking the notes again. “The skies were grey, my heart was black—but she fought the darkness of my day. I’ve found a love that’s real, and now, I’ll never let it fade.” The notes of the song started on a low tone and rolled softly up through the scale, his voice carrying them as though they were precious stones—an instrument all on its own. He puts my singing to shame.

  David looked at me, his lips turning up into that sexy smile. He tried to hold it back, but it crept onto his face anyway. “She smiled at me, and in one kiss, gave me strength to stand the night. Now I’m lost again, but to love, no end—she’s my destiny, my light.

  “Eternally I wandered, without hope, just wasting time. But if I wake beside her every morn’, then the sun will always rise.”

  A tight pull, like the blood in my brain suddenly gained ten pounds, filled my skull. I closed my eyes, surrounding my thoughts with his perfect voice. He makes me want
to cry, to be a part of that song, a part of him—and though I can’t see anything but the golden light turning my eyelids red underneath, I can feel the colour of the lake around me—an image carved out in notes—David’s notes.

  The last of his song hovered in my subconscious for a moment, and I wiped my fingertips under my eyes.

  “Ara? You’re crying.” Sudden warmth spread through my cheek, and the bright red glow under my eyelids became shadowed as David knelt in front of me—his hot, sun-kissed fingers on my face, pressing it against his heart.

  With a laugh, I pulled away from his chest and wiped my face with both hands. “I’m sorry, David, it’s just that…” I nodded toward the guitar, lying abandoned on the rug, “music is something that comes from a really deep place in me. I feel things so much, so completely, and that song—” I leaned back and looked into his emerald eyes. “It was so beautiful.”

  “It reminds me of you, Ara.” His gaze penetrated my watery barrier and made my heart forget how to beat.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you see how much I’m in love with you?” He grabbed my face and rested his fingers under my hair at the back of my neck. “Don’t you get it? Forever doesn’t have to be a curse for me. Not anymore—not now that I have you.”

  Motionless, breathless, with the only connection to the real world being the burning sun above, my mind fought for reason. “But we don’t get to live forever.”

  “What if we did? What if you could have an eternity with me?” His thumb pressed into my cheek a little. “Would you take it?”

  “If there was such a magic in the world.” A soft breeze cooled the top of my head and a peaceful serenity encased us. “If eternity were real—I’d give my soul to spend it with you.”

  “Ara?” A shadow lowered in front of my face. “Open your eyes. Look at me and say that.”

  I didn’t know they were closed. The sun brought momentary blindness with its bright glare as I looked at David. “Say what again?”

  David studied me carefully, his brow tight in the middle. Nearby, bee’s buzzed with a gentle hum and a few birds chattered noisily in the treetops above us, but David’s round eyes stared, glassy and distant as his lips sat parted—and no words came out. At last, he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. Did I say something wrong, why is he frowning?