Let Me Love You: A Novel

by Praks, Wanitta

  “Elsa?” she asks.

  Yeah, I think I got her attention all right, what with that shocked look on her face and the disappointed expression in her eyes.

  I’m not sure why she’s disappointed, though. It’s not like Elsa belongs to her. Maybe she feels sorry for me.

  “Yeah. I’ll show you.” I hobble to my guitar case and take out Elsa. “Ivy, meet Elsa.”

  Ivy stares at me for a long time. I can feel my cheeks burning. Then she turns to stare at my guitar. This goes on for a full minute, until finally she says, “So Elsa is your guitar, not your…”

  Wait! Let me get this straight. Did she think Elsa is my girlfriend?

  I laugh when I think about this. “What? You thought Elsa is my girlfriend?”

  I think I have the answer right because she just blushes again.

  Ivy’s the type of girl that doesn’t need a blusher. Her cheeks color in response to any word I say. And right now, I really like the rosy color on her face. And I want to keep it that way too. So I say, “Just so you know, I’ve only had my kiss stolen once. It was when I was wearing this mask at the school festival.”

  I show her the photo hidden in the strings of the guitar.

  She blushes again, nods her head, bites her lips, and looks away. I know then she must know it was me, but she still won’t admit it. Damn, that stubborn girl.

  Some time later, she asks, “You named your guitar Elsa?”

  “Yeah. Silly aren’t I?”

  Don’t ask me why I named my guitar Elsa. Maybe it’s the two-syllable thing. I like names with two syllables. That reminds me. Ivy has two syllables.

  I abruptly shove the thought to the back of my mind, scared of this revelation.

  “No, not silly at all,” Ivy says. “It’s a beautiful instrument. I’ve always been fascinated with music. But unfortunately, I’m not gifted enough with instruments.”

  Her fingers caressing the strings softly as she speaks. It would be nice if those fingers were to run across my lips and jaw too.

  What the hell? What has gotten into me? One kiss from her and I want her to touch my lips and jaw?

  I shake my head out of the thick cloud.

  “Yeah, well, music isn’t going to feed you. That’s what Mum always says. So I don’t know whether I should pursue music or not. I love it dearly, though.”

  I don’t know why I’m telling her all my hopes and dreams. It’s so weird. But I find being with Ivy really soothes me, like she’s a calm stream, cool to the touch, supporting me from below, and I’m floating above her pristine blue water.

  Shit! Now I’m being all sentimental.

  “That’s not true. One should always follow one’s dream. I believe you will never be happy unless you do something you love. I think if you like music so much, what’s stopping you from pursuing a career in that field?”

  “Well, it’s not easy being a musician.”

  “You’re already in a band. What’s so hard about it?”

  “Yeah, but we’re not famous outside of school. No one knows about us.”

  “Yet,” Ivy says. She smiles. And my heart kind of melts.

  Shit, I’m in deep now.

  “No one knows about you yet. You just got to let them know you exist.”

  “Well, it’s not that easy,” I argue.

  Why are we talking about my hopes and dreams? I don’t feel comfortable with this subject.

  “Who says hopes and dreams are easy to accomplish. If Thomas Edison didn’t try for the thousandth time, the light bulb wouldn’t exist, would it? And if Alexander Graham Bell didn’t try so many times, we wouldn’t be able to speak to each other through the telephone.”

  It takes me only a second to fully appreciate what Ivy’s trying to tell me. I can see bright light shining at the end of my high school years.

  Yeah, it looks bright all right. I know what I want to do, and with Dad’s support… and Ivy’s, I’m sure I can do anything.

  “You really think so,” I ask for reassurance.

  “I don’t just think so. I know so,” she jokes.

  Ivy only shows her generous face for a split second before her guard is up again. Now she stands looking at me with a scold on her face.

  I only shake my head and laugh. This girl has many expressions hidden in her bonnet, and I bet she doesn’t like to show her sunny side to anyone.

  One day I hope she’ll show them all to me.

  * * *

  Ivy looks nice in her purple cardigan today. Somehow her hair is neater looking too. She looks pretty.

  My mind and eyes are not focusing as she’s explaining. I’m too busy thinking and looking at her. Luckily, the lesson flies by. Just to make sure she doesn’t ask any questions, though, since I won’t be able to answer her anyway, I distract her by bringing Elsa over. Her eyes glaze with excitement immediately.

  “I’m going to play you a song,” I tell her.

  She smiles and closes her eyes.

  The whole atmosphere transforms into one of wonder. I feel at peace, yet my heart is also racing. I don’t know why.

  “I’ll be leaving now,” she says when I finish my song. “Don’t forget to do that homework I gave to you.”

  I nod and accompany her to the door.

  “Thanks for today. I learned a lot. I’ll be waiting with tea.”

  She smiles back at me. Suddenly, the door yanks from the other side, almost knocking her over. Luckily, I catch her in time. She falls into my arms, and I end up circling her waist.

  Wow, this is intimate.

  She looks up at me. Her brown eyes aren’t boring to look at at all. They’re the color of chestnuts. They’re so mesmerizing that I feel like I’m stuck in a trance.

  Seriously, this girl is gorgeous. Why didn’t I see this before?

  We look into each other’s eyes like this for some moment when someone at the door slurs out like a drunken fool, “Wow, she’s a hot one.”

  I snap out of my trance and turn to stare at the intruder.

  Shit! What’s he doing here?

  That intruder just happens to be my older half-brother Dillon. He’s like a virus, always appearing in places he’s not invited.

  I turn back to look at Ivy and her face turns pale. She clings to my shirt. I can feel her fingers digging into my skin.

  Something isn’t right. I can feel the tension in the room.

  “Hey, you okay?” I ask in concern.

  Ivy just keeps shaking. I’m really worried now. By this stage, Ivy’s safety is my main concern. So I tug her behind me to protect her from Dillon.

  “Would you be careful when you open the door? You might hurt someone here.”

  Dillon doesn’t bother replying. He’s too busy making eyes at Ivy. I shift my body a bit more to hide her behind my frame.

  “She’s your girlfriend?” Dillon asks.

  “Get off it, Dillon. Just go inside. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, little brother. And good job, by the way.” He laughs, slaps my shoulder, and disappears inside.

  Finally!

  I turn to Ivy. “Sorry about that. My brother can sometimes be like that.”

  She looks at me fiercely, like she’s angry with me or something. She tears herself off me, then says, “I’m going home now.”

  I don’t like this change of atmosphere. We were friends before, and now she acts all frosty. I try lighting up the mood by chuckling. It sounds a bit strained even to my ears. “Okay. Thanks for today. I’ll see you in two days time, then.”

  I have a hollow feeling inside me when I say this. But I ignore it. I hobble back inside once Ivy’s out of my sight.

  “Hello, little brother,” Dillon says by way of greeting. Then he crashes on my couch.

  If he breaks my couch, he’s going to pay.

  “Heard you were stupid enough to run into a tree and break your leg. Guess now you can practice on your damn music for months.”

  I don’t reply to him. Instead, I just buy mys
elf time, waiting for him to get the hell out of my apartment. His cigarette smell really stinks up my whole place. My nose twitches just being this close to him.

  “Nice apartment you got here,” he says, glancing around. “Did Dad decide to splash all that money on you?”

  “Zac, who is it?” Catalina calls out from the kitchen when she hears Dillon’s voice.

  “And who might that be?” Dillon’s eyes light up with malicious delight, shooting straight towards the kitchen.

  I really dislike his eyes. They’re so red, like he’s always hung over. I bet it’s due to his binge drinking and pot smoking.

  “My brother, Catalina,” I shout back, hoping she won’t come in to investigate. Except she damn does.

  Catalina comes into the lounge, takes one look at Dillon, gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and then goes straight back to work.

  Catalina knows of Dillon’s flirtatious nature, so she’s not too fond of him. She’s always keeping a wary eye on him, telling me not to follow in his footsteps.

  “A good-for-nothing that boy is.” She often expresses her opinion to me.

  I hate to admit this of one’s sibling, but I’m not too fond of him either. He hardly visits, and if he does, he comes barging in uninvited.

  I go to grab my stuff from the study and sit in the lounge, ready to start on the homework Ivy gave me, completely ignoring him.

  “Did you hear what I said, dumb head?”

  Dillon comes and takes my homework while I’m busy writing my equation.

  “Shit. You’re doing elementary math,” he criticizes.

  A fuse blows inside me.

  One more word out of him and I swear I’ll hit him.

  “What do you want anyway?” I ask when he continues to hang around the room.

  “Can’t I visit you?”

  “Just do whatever you want. I’m busy.”

  “Busy plotting a plan to shackle her?”

  “Dillon!”

  I can’t believe this. How can Mum tolerate this kind of behavior? I’m so glad I’m not living with him.

  “Okay, fine, fine. Don’t get all pissy with me, lover boy. I’m famished. Get me a Coke or something.”

  I’m about to snap my pencil in half. “Do it yourself.”

  “I’ll call on that old lady, then.”

  “No, Dillon.” I stand up and tell him off. “You want to drink it, you get it yourself.”

  “Fine.” Dillon goes and raids the fridge. The poor thing will be traumatized once Dillon has his hands on it.

  “Fuck, Zac,” he shouts, his head still in the fridge.

  Catalina gives him an angry glare. Dillon raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, amigo.”

  I can only shake my head at this idiotic man that happens to be my half-brother. I want to tell him Catalina is Italian, not Spanish, but the swear really got to me. I don’t abide anyone swearing in my house. Shit is fine, but not fuck.

  “Don’t swear in my house.”

  “Ooooo. Since when has the little bad boy Zachery turned into a saint?” He hits me on the head with the icy can of Coke in his hand.

  “Just leave, will you. If you have nothing to do or say here, then just leave.”

  “Fine, stupid head. Just checking up to see how much of a shithead you’ve grown up to be. And I’m right. You really have turned into an asshole. See ya later, loser.”

  “Same to you,” I sarcastically lash out.

  I heave a sigh of relief when he disappears through the exit door. Dropping my homework, I go into the kitchen and apologize Catalina.

  “You don’t follow his footsteps, Zac.” Catalina hugs me.

  “Yeah, Catalina. I know.”

  That night, I practice on Elsa a bit more. When tiredness almost robs me of my sleep, I decide to call it a day and slip into bed.

  Overall, it was a fun day. But why I can’t seem to stop thinking about Ivy and how upset and angry she was really surprises me. And with that thought plaguing my mind, I fall asleep.

  Chapter 5

  IVY

  The Faceless Truth

  He really is a handsome guy. His face, it’s so flawless. Shouldn’t we teenagers have acne?

  I can’t help but keep praising him as I stare into his eyes and assess his face. At the moment, he’s holding on to me tight because the door suddenly opened, startling me so much that I ended up falling into his arms.

  His eyes are still grazing my every feature, touching me, caressing me, giving me the feeling I’m the most important object in the room.

  I flush and bite on my lip again, feeling shy at the close contact between us. Seeing my cheeks redden, he starts his teasing game again.

  Zac has been constantly teasing me, throwing his witty phrases at me from left and right. I can’t dodge anymore.

  I’ve now come to realize I actually look forward to our tutoring sessions. Today, I have on a nice purple cardigan with long sleeves, the one I only wear on special occasions. I’m not sure why I decided to wear it today, but now that I think about it, I thought I would look pretty in his eyes.

  And I hope right now he’s thinking the same.

  “Oh, she’s a hot one,” someone speaks. Like a bucket of icy cold water being dumped over me, my senses come back and I turn to that voice.

  I freeze and my body starts shaking. I feel sick to my stomach.

  He’s back. My nightmare, my horrifying nightmare is back.

  Staring right back at me are those bloodshot weed-green eyes, so similar to Zac’s yet so ugly. This is the face of the man that crashed into my parents’ car, causing their and my brother’s deaths.

  I go pale and grip Zac’s shirt. Zac, noticing I’m scared, pulls me to hide behind him. The next few words exchanged between the two fire me up and make me go rigid.

  “Get off it, Dillon. Just go inside. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, little brother. And good job by the way,” the man says, and then he gives me another lecherous stare and goes inside.

  Zac turns to me then. “Sorry about that. My brother can sometimes be like that.”

  I stare at him fiercely. Inside, I’m boiling with rage and pain. Zac’s brother is that killer. The one that makes me want to seek justice by studying law.

  I tear myself from his protective embrace and state firmly, “I’m going home now.”

  Zac’s still his usual jovial self. How can he be affected like me anyway? He’s not the one who just came face to face with a killer who didn’t even get punished. If it comes down to it, he would probably side with his brother.

  I don’t listen to him when he waves at me and says, “Okay. Thanks for today. I’ll see you in two days time, then.”

  I’m too consumed with my anger and pain that I go to hide behind a wall instead. Once he’s out of my sight, I grip my chest.

  It hurts. It really hurts. My heart simply shatters.

  The memories, they’re all coming back to me now. The rain. The blaring bright lights. The sounds of screeching tires. The crash. My parents and my brother all aligned in their caskets. All dead. All gone. Just me, Clare, Moon, and Gigi.

  Subconsciously, I touch my forehead. There’s a scar running into my hairline. I pull up the sleeve of my purple cardigan next to reveal the many scars aligning the length of my left arm where the bones on my forearm broke. They are ugly-looking scars. Seeing them only reminds me of the nightmare I’m trying to forget. That’s why I always wear long-sleeved tops and have a fringe so it covers my forehead. If people were to see the scars on my forehead or my arms, it would only invite them to pry into my affairs, asking me countless questions about how I got my scars. To answer would only bring me pain, and I don’t want to experience that pain ever again. I want to forget it all.

  My thoughts return to Zac. I thought I had a crush on him and might have liked him a bit since he’s the one who stole my first kiss. He was even kind enough to show me Elsa, his guitar. I know he must have felt embarrassed na
ming his guitar Elsa, but he showed it to me anyway. At least I mean something to him, right?

  Who am I joking? I’m simply dreaming. Zac is the brother of Dillon Elliot, the guy who took away my parents and brother.

  Dillon Elliot. Zac Elliot. Why didn’t I notice the resemblance in the color of their eyes or their last name? Weed-green eyes, emerald-green eyes. What’s the difference? They’re both green.

  I shake myself, tears of pain streaming down my face. After some painful crying and reliving that nightmare again, I wander back home. It’s getting dark. Gigi and Clare must be worried sick.

  Moon comes running to me the minute I walk inside the house in my zombie-like state.

  “Vivi? What’s wrong? Why are you sad?” she instantly asks me with just one look at my face.

  Children seem to have an instinctual awareness.

  “I’m not sad,” I say to her weakly, dropping her a kiss on the forehead and grabbing myself a glass of water from the kitchen. “Just tired, that’s all.”

  Moon follows me into the kitchen. Clare and Gigi are cooking. I force a smile at them. Gigi is the first to speak. “How’s your new job? Did your student behave?”

  “It was okay. My student behaved,” I tell her.

  “Just remember if you don’t like the job, quit anytime. I’m here to support you.” That comes from Clare.

  It’s very touching that Clare cares for me, but I want to earn my own money for university. I don’t want to rely on her forever.

  “I know, but I want to save up to go to university,” I tell her.

  “I have that fund all sorted for you, Ivy,” she says, her hand still cutting up vegetables.

  Gigi’s over her pot of stew. From the aroma that hangs in the kitchen, I guess it must be pasta tonight.

  “I know. But I want to earn my own money. Thanks for your support, though.”

  “If only Brian were here, you wouldn’t have to take that tutoring job.”

  There she goes again, bringing up the past. I don’t mind her saying it, but not in front of Moon like this. So instead of answering like I usually do, I gesture to Moon, telling her to follow me.