Tears of the Broken (41 page)

After a moment’s hesitation, I walked over, slipped the diary
from under the mattress and sat down with it open on my desk. I
want the sense of resolution that diary writing usually brings, but
I don’t want to record my true feelings, because as soon as I write
them down—they become real.

Outside, a group of children ran noisily past our block,
dragging a red box-cart behind them. Their laughter filled the
night until they disappeared down the street, leaving an eerie
stillness behind them.

How
is it that a second of distraction can make everything seem less
empty, and when it’s gone, it seems as though the silence and
hollow void you were lost in before has now grown into a vortex of
desolation. Just like with David, I suppose; he came into my life
when I was numb inside, and now he’s gone, I feel like I’m
dead.

I
looked down at my diary, and sighed. I need to record my feelings
and thoughts—even if I don’t want to admit them. They’re just
eating away at me. I can’t take it anymore—self-pity is very
exhausting.

Dear
David,
I wrote in my diary.

I’m
so very, very sorry. I understand completely now why you have to
leave. It was me. It was all me. I moved too fast—threw myself at
you, and you felt compelled to give me the attention I
wanted—afraid to say no to a desperately sad girl. My dad must’ve
told you they have me on suicide watch, even though I’m in no way
suicidal.

But
if you knew I was really okay, you’d never have let me be with you.
That’s why you wouldn’t kiss me in the first place! You don’t
really love me. And then I went and made you feel bad—made you feel
like you had to keep up the lie of your love for me, and even made
you feel obligated to give me my first kiss.

I
wish you hadn’t, though—the memory will always sting more
now.

If
only I could’ve returned your kindness, at least by being there for
you when you lost a friend. Instead, I hurt you, and I’m
sorry.

I’m
no good for you—you knew that, and I see it now, too. So, I’m
letting you go. I won’t be sad here without you, I promise. I’ll
always be happy that I had you for a while, and I’ll always be
grateful to you, because despite how much it hurts, by pretending
to love me, you brought me back from the darkness I caged myself
in. You were my knight in shining armour.

I
love you. Your friend, forever, Ara

As I
closed the book and rested my pen on top, a wave of resolution
washed over me. David will never see this letter, and I’ll read it
to myself whenever it gets hard to be without him.

He’s
free now. Free of my confining heart; I won’t trap him here any
longer.

Tomorrow, when the sun comes up, I’ll go running for the
first time since I lost them—feel the fresh air on my face in the
early morning, just as I used to every day with Mike, back home in
Australia.

Vicki will think I’m okay again, Dad will be happy I’ve left
my mum and Harry in the past, and I will run. Nothing more. Run,
until everything that hurts in my heart and my soul moves to the
edges of my limbs, into my knees and my lungs, and I will leave it
there. Leave the pain—leave the sorrow. Leave David.

When
I see him at the funeral, he won’t know me. I can play a different
Ara. I can stand strong—smile. I
will
smile. If only for a second,
just to nod toward him, while in my mind I’ll be saying
goodbye
.

Chapter
Fifteen

“
Dad, you look nice,” my voice trailed up as I set eyes upon
my suit- wearing father, headed down the stairs.

“
Thank you, Ara.” He nodded solemnly.

It’s
hard to hear his voice sounding so flat and sad. Today will be hard
for him, too—we’re both saying goodbye to someone.

Dad’s lips twisted tightly as he studied my mournful black
attire: a soft, cotton dress with a burgundy belt around the waist.
“Ara, are you sure you’re ready for this? For a…funeral.” His voice
wavered on the word funeral.

Steadying my desire to burst out and tell him, again, to stop
worrying about me—that I’m fine—I looked down at my feet. He won’t
just let me forget about them. No one will. Moving on from this has
been really hard, but I am getting better. Why is it that every
time I try to do anything normal, someone shoves the memory of
their death in my face or questions my ability to cope?

“
It’s just that—it’s barely been two months, honey, since—” he
stopped. Even he can’t say the words—not when they apply to Mum.
“Are you sure you can cope with this?”

“
No, Dad. I’m actually not sure. I’m
actually not sure about
anything
anymore. But I
want
to go—for Emily and…David.” His
name stuck in my throat.

Dad
nodded, but didn’t speak.

“
What?” Sam yelled; I spun around quickly,
my heart racing from the sudden noise in the ultra-still of the
house. “Why does
she
get to go? She didn’t even know him.” Sam pointed at
me.

“
Sam, neither did you. And I’m not having this discussion with
you again.” Dad groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, then
started down the stairs.

Sam
folded his arms across his chest and stomped back to his room at
the end of the hall—slamming the door. Dad didn’t even bother to
look up, let alone yell at Sam for it. Vicki didn’t even pop her
head out to yell. She must be in the shower.

I
looked at Vicki’s door, then the clock on the wall at the base of
the stairs. It’s nearly time to go. The funeral isn’t until nine
o’clock, but Mrs. Rossi asked my dad to attend a church service
beforehand. Unfortunately, he agreed. I wonder if David will go to
it.

While David’s face—the moment I told him to leave and never
come back—impaired my breathing with its hurtful parade around my
thoughts, my stomach complained at me; twisting into tight knots
and groaning loudly. If I don’t feed the ogre soon,
I’ll
turn into one,
especially since I’m already feeling green. But I don’t want to
eat. My heart hurts too much.

From
the kitchen downstairs, the smell of Dad’s toast wafted through the
entranceway—making my hunger pangs worse. With the itch of the ogre
controlling my footfalls, I stomped down the stairs, slumped on the
bottom step and hugged the wooden post. I should sit at the table
with my dad—maybe even have a coffee to help ease the chill in my
skin from my early morning run, but I don’t want him to see through
my mask and tell me I can’t go today.

I
watched my father with a careful eye—sitting with his chin rested
on his interlaced fingers, staring out at the white glare of the
morning. I wonder where his thoughts are. He says so little about
what he’s feeling—how he’s coping.

There’s no way of knowing how
I’ll
cope today. I know I’m not
ready for this. The memory of Mum and Harry, of their…funeral, is
still so fresh in my mind. It feels like it was only yesterday, and
the last thing I want to do is cry at a funeral. No one knows about
my mum—they’ll all assume my tears are for this kid I never
met—then they’ll think I’m creepy. But I have to go. It might be my
last chance to say goodbye to David.

“
All
set to go, are we?” Dad asked, leaning against the doorway of the
dining area.

Standing up quickly, I painted my carefully practiced
sympathetic-yet-emotionally-controlled mask on my face. He fell for
it.

“
Everyone ready?” Vicki asked from the top of the
stairs.

“
Vicki.” Dad paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked
at her adoringly. “You look lovely.”

“
Thank you, Greg.” She straightened the front of her skirt.
“I’m just sorry for the occasion.”

Dad
nodded, and a humbled smile stole the sadness from his blue eyes
for a moment.

Vicki does look nice in black, but it seems like such an
unfriendly colour, almost cruel really, to say goodbye to someone
in. If my last memory were of my funeral, I’d want to see everyone
dressed as rainbows—to
celebrate
my life, instead of mourn it.

Dad
took Vicki’s hand, and as he swung the door open, my breath stopped
short of my lips. The cool morning air blew across my knees,
sending a chill through my skin, and the sun reflected brightly off
the damp black road outside, like a spotlight—blinding me. But my
eyes did not betray me—displaying perfection before them. “David?”
my dad said cheerfully. “You’re right on time.”

Right on time?

David stood in the doorway with one hand in the pocket of his
tailored black suit as he shook my dad’s with the other. “Good to
see you again, Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson.” He nodded politely at
Dad, then Vicki, and turned his head to look directly at
me.

I’m
shrinking. I can feel it. I should close my mouth—wipe the
dumbfounded stare off my face, but I really do love him too much to
hide the elation in my soul.

But,
what is he doing here? He’s been gone for nearly two days without a
word, and now he turns up—uninvited—looking so damn perfect that
there’s no way I’m going to be able to control my emotions
now.

“
Good morning, Ara,” he said in that smooth, weightless
voice.

He
shouldn’t speak to me so nicely—I’m not a nice person. When I
looked up at him, the proverbial rock I thought I’d lost found its
way onto my chest again. My face contorted, desperately trying to
retain the fake smile. “Um…hi,” I said, and my eyes fell to the
floor. I can’t look at him anymore. How can he stand there like
that, looking so normal—like nothing ever happened between
us?

“
Uh,
Ara,” Dad disrupted the lengthy silence, “since you kids are having
your own wake at Betty’s, I thought you might like to ride to the
funeral with David so he can take you out after?”

“
You mean you
assumed
.” I folded my arms, and my
bottom lip jutted out slightly. How could he do this to me? How
could either of them do this to me? Nobody seems to care about
my
trying
to move
forward. I went jogging today! Jogging! Isn’t that
enough?

It’s
true, I can see it now; they’re trying to make me suicidal. By
bringing him here when I wasn’t ready for him, they’re making me
lose all my resolve to let him go.

David looked at Dad before turning stiffly away. I skulked
along behind him—arms still folded. He opened the car door for me,
and I pierced his soul with eyes like daggers. “I can get the door
myself.”

“
I’m
sorry.” David took a step back. “I know you can. I was…” He stopped
talking when I pushed past him and slumped into the passenger seat.
I kept my eyes forward, and the door closed after a short sigh from
David.

In
the silence, while Dad talked to David by the mailbox, the woodsy,
lemony smell of his leather seats stirred the memory of our picnic
by the lake—making my stomach growl again as a familiar weak and
shaky feeling spread through my arms.

Outside, David lowered his head, and my dad placed a hand on
his shoulder. Vicki rubbed David’s arm gently, smiling. Then, they
all nodded a few times, smiled again, folded their arms over their
bodies and nodded again.

God,
what are they doing? Nice of them to just leave me sitting here.
David looked over his shoulder at me, just for a second, then shook
my dad’s hand, jerking his head in the direction of the car. Dad
looked at me, pressing his lips into a tight line while eyes lit
with humour. I know they’re laughing at my bad mood—they always do.
No one cares what’s wrong. All they care about is that I’m sulking
and it’s something funny to laugh at.

It’s
not like it’s deliberate. I don’t mean to be moody, and I don’t
mean to be selfish, either. And I do feel bad that I’ve noticed the
obvious sadness in David’s eyes this morning and yet, there’s no
way I’ll ask him if he’s okay. Not because I don’t want to know if
he’s okay, but because I’m worried he’ll say something like “Yeah,
I will be when I get
you
out of my car.”

You
see? There it is. Despite trying to change, I’m still just the same
spoiled, self-centred girl I’ve always been.

David slid into the car and closed the door as a roll of
thunder echoed across the sky, making my skin crawl. “You okay?” he
asked, buckling his seatbelt.

I
cleared my throat and looked out the window. I’m so mad at him for
carrying the lie of this friendship even further—just to please my
dad. There’s no way I’m going to make him feel at ease by lying and
saying, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“
You
haven’t eaten,” he stated factually, resting the key in the
ignition.

“
I’m
fine,” I muttered—just to shut him up.

“
You
know, you could’ve said no—” he said in a short tone, starting the
engine. “I didn’t force you to come in my car.”

“
You
could’ve said no, too.”