The Heart's Ashes (2 page)

“
I...N—nothing.” I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“
Okay. Come on.”

Slowly,
step-by-step, I walked beside Dad. As we peeked over the top of the
stairs and became visible to the eyes of our witness’ for the first
time, the whole room came to a standstill.

A white blur
seemed to form around the edges of each face, and the music became
muffled background noise in my own head. As I passed the rows of
seats, one by one, they disappeared—melted into dark shadow—the
tears and smiles people held as they saw my dress faded, I was
alone. The only other person in the world was Mike. My Mike—waiting
for me at the doorway before the light; his hands clasped in front
of him and the widest grin across his lips, his eyes a mix of awe
and pride. He glanced at the front row for a second, nodding.

Mike. I’m
walking to Mike. No one can see the shaking in my hands or hear the
thump of my heart. No one knows I’m about to turn and run the other
way.

Each step I
took was in slow motion, like the aisle had been paved with a
thousand lifetimes of silence. I needed to get to Mike and hold his
hand before my resolve slipped completely. I counted the steps in
my head; saw the bump in the carpet I remembered from
rehearsals.

Two steps,
Ara. Two steps.

“
Baby,” Mike whispered, his voice echoing in my dark world. He
reached his hand out, shook Dad’s, his movements so slow,
deliberate, calm. A white blur of light settled around him, his
skin aglow, his hair shining like a halo. But as I took the final
step, Dad closing the gap by placing my hand in Mike’s, the piano
slowed and the notes flattened out around me—making the room spin
in slow motion with them.

I felt the
warmth then, of Mike’s hand, as his solid, strong fingers closed
around mine—drawing me back to earth. It all just felt so wrong.
They should be cold—not warm. They felt too warm.

A quiver of
panic rose in my chest. The eyes of everyone in the church burned
through me as the music stopped, the priest waited atop the step,
and I stood at the base—staring at Mike’s hand.

“
Ara?” When I looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of my best
friend, he extended his other hand, as if to catch me. “Ara? Are
you okay?”

“
I—” I turned around, looked at all the faces, feeling small
and on display, seeing the smiles they wore as I entered the church
fizzle away, replaced by wide eyes and round mouths. “I’m sorry,
Mike.”

Everyone
watched as it set in, my own mind coming to realisation only after
I yanked away from Mike, lifted the front of my dress and closed my
eyes, running.

“
Ara?” Mike called.

The aisle
became a long corridor of people, their hands rising to their
mouths in waves as I passed, afraid one might grab me, stop me. But
I ran, ignoring the pain scorching my soul, and pushed hard on the
heavy doors, desperate to reach freedom before Mike started running
too.

Bright sun
greeted me and rain kissed my cheeks with dots of cold, the heavens
opening up as my feet touched the steps. I covered my head with the
bouquet, but as my feet scuffled apart in a skid, it dropped to the
wet ground, hitting as the doors slammed shut behind me—the echo
loud and empty. I dared to look back for a split second before
starting off again, leaving the bouquet falling to the last step
behind me.

My white
ballet-flats once again touched the grass, making time stop. I
stood clutching my skirt in one hand, holding my saturated veil
with the other, looking to the sky—letting the heavens rain down on
me as I cried out inside for some way to escape.

Lightning
flashed then and lit the bridal car up like a beacon across the
yard; “Thank you,” I whispered to no one, heading in that
direction.

But, like one
of those dreams where you’re flying and can’t get off the ground,
hands reaching up to grab you, I merely trudged through the grass,
dragging the sand-bag weight of my wet, muddy dress, unable to go
faster. I had to make it. I just had to. There was too much at
stake if I didn’t.

The car, my
body of salvation, waited for me, only steps away, when the church
doors burst open and Mike’s voice spilled into the air. I pushed
harder, reaching for it as if to drag myself there faster.

“
Ara!”

No. I closed
my eyes, praying, because I knew Mike was faster than me.

“
Ara?” he called desperately.

I looked over
my shoulder; he stood at the base of the steps, his eyes holding
the question on his lips. It passed over me then, a breath, a beat
of my heart that showed our future, and the grey day closed in
around me, showing each year to pass as an image, like a pathway of
chess pieces, linking us together. But the thunder rumbled again,
breaking that single moment which might have changed everything,
forcing me onward, making me turn away and, with ragged sobs, push
on.

I’m so sorry,
Mike.

“
Ara—wait!”

No! I can’t
wait, I have to get away. I have to go—I can’t explain it all to
him right now. He’ll make me change my mind. I love him too much.
I’ll marry him, and then I’ll regret it.

I ran faster
and faster, yanking the door open when I finally reached the car.
“Go—go!” I yelled at the driver, tapping his headrest as I slammed
the door on my dress. He tilted his rear-view to look at me; I
slapped the headrest again. “I said go!”

The engine
tuned over, and I sat back, feeling a strange kind of relief as the
tyres snaked slightly over the muddy ground—taking us faster than
Mike could run. And even though I knew it would eat away at me
later, I couldn’t fight the urge to turn and look back.

The pouring
rain came down, distorting everything beyond the glass, but the
blurred frame of the man standing alone, a group of family and
friends behind him on the steps, could only have been one person.
He bent down to pick up the yellow and white bouquet I dropped.
Each and every white rose in that bouquet was for him, because
David was the red. One left out, the other left behind.

As Mike stood
up, holding the discarded flowers, a mask of heartache consumed his
entire frame, and I knew what would be behind those eyes as he
watched me drive away.

“
I’m so sorry, Mike,” I whispered with my hand against the
glass.

Driving down
the long, winding road, the driver looked at me from time to time
in his rear-view mirror. I knew what he was thinking—that I’d lost
it—not just because I ran away from my own wedding—Oh my God, I ran
away from my wedding—but also because I asked him to drop me in the
middle of nowhere, in my wedding dress, in the pouring rain.

“
Are you sure you don’t want me to wait here for you, miss?”
he asked for the twelfth time as he pulled over.

“
No, thank you. I’m fine.” I shut the door behind me and
lifted my dress off my feet. “I come here all the time.
Just...please don’t tell anyone where you dropped me. I need to be
alone.”

“
Sure thing.” He nodded, with a grin. “You take care,
now.”

“
I will.”

He made a
three-point turn on the narrow road, gravel popping under his
tyres, and waved as he drove away.

In the
silence, alone for the first time since before the masquerade, I
suddenly didn’t feel so clever.

What am I
doing out here? It’s not like David will be here. I just told him
to move on—gave him back the locket. God, I’m so stupid.

I slapped my
palm to my head.

I should’ve
begged
him to stay. He never would have stayed, but I
should’ve begged anyway.

With a heavy
sigh and a small, hysterical laugh, I started walking into the
trees. I knew the path well—so well I could’ve navigated it in
pitch black, which would soon be necessary, with the sun dropping
behind the clouds quite quickly. But it seemed to take longer, than
when I took this walk with David, before the cool, mossy smell of
the lake filled my lungs, and the trail opened out to the clearing.
I’d never seen the lake in the spring. It was all so different.
Only a few of the trees were in full foliage, but everything was so
lush and green—and clean. There were no brown and yellow leaves
littering the floor, and the smell of clay and moisture was
gone—replaced by a warm, crisp, syrupy smell.

I stopped by a
tree, unable to enter what seemed like consecrated grounds.

This was David’s place, never mine. It only became a part of
me through loving him. I never thought I’d see it again.
Never
wanted
to
see it again. But for some reason, when it all fell apart with
Mike—my glue—this was the only place I felt I could run
to.

The sunlight
shone down through the clouds then and made my dress, white,
bleeding into brown around the base, glow with the soft light of
dawning sunset. It no longer resembled a wedding dress, now
carrying the stains of a life-changing decision; one that would see
my best friend hate me, maybe for the rest of my life.

Still, I’d
rather that than wake up and realise I made a mistake tomorrow,
when it’s too late. If I promise someone forever, I intend to keep
that promise. I don’t believe in divorce, and I won’t marry because
I feel obligated. They shouldn’t have pressured me. They should’ve
let me go back to Perth for a while first. I’m too young to be
married. I’m just not ready.

But for this
small amount of time, while no one knew where I went or why I ran
away, I could pretend I was just here to meet David. Pretend I was
never kidnapped by his vengeful brother—pretend I was never
abandoned by him while I laid helpless in a hospital bed.

With a steady
hand, I pushed off the bark of the tree, and when the rock came
into view—the black one we used to sit by—my heart jumped in my
chest. That rock was once a place I could look to and see David,
either leaning against the base, the rug splayed out under him, or
sitting atop, with my guitar. He wasn’t there anymore, but the
memory remained.

I suddenly
felt so small and alone in the vast wilderness, under the tall,
green-filled branches of the trees. The wind brushed softly over my
wet dress and chilled my skin. I rubbed away the tiny bumps then
lifted my skirt over my hips as I climbed onto the rock—almost as
if I were climbing into David’s arms.

And alone,
finally here where I never thought I’d return, the open sky and the
thunder gave more weight to the decision I just made. The base of
my dress dripped, the last of the rain abandoning the fabric, and I
traced my index finger over the empty place where my engagement
ring had been only an hour ago.

Poor Mike.
He’ll be beside himself. No one knows where to find me, but they’ll
be searching. Concerned.

I wish they
could let me grow up; realise I can make decisions for myself. I
need everyone to stop trying to protect me all the time. I need to
be allowed to fall down and figure out how to get back up again.
They all watch me so closely; waiting for that moment I might need
them to protect me. Going to Perth was the only way to escape that.
Now, I can never return there. Mike was my only link to that place,
but I no longer have a home to go to in his arms.

While a minute hand ticked inside my head, I tried to find
some conclusion in all the confusion, seeing time pass before my
eyes. Without Mike around, Dad and Vicki will watch me even more
closely. I’ll never be free while I’m living under Dad’s
roof—under
anyone’s
roof. But I’m eighteen now. He doesn’t really have a say over
me. I might still be a child here, but if I were in Australia I’d
be a legal adult now.

Maybe that’s
it. Maybe I have to move away—away from home, away from all of it.
Mike, parents, school...and love.

When my mum
died, she left a small inheritance, one that, until now, I’d
refused to accept—envisioning it as blood money.

But it’s not.
And I see it all so clearly; see it more as a safety net; one last
helping hand from my mum—the last help I will ever get from
her.

I nodded as
the thought became a brighter, more formed idea in my mind; I’m
going to buy a house—away from Dad and Vicki, away from Perth. I’m
going to start my own life, stop searching for somewhere I belong,
and make a place for myself in the world. Make something right, for
once.

I can’t take
back what I did to Mike, and I’m not sure I can ever face him again
either. He’ll be in pain for a really long time, but it would be
worse if I pretended to be happy with him. He can have a chance now
to find real love and have a girl love him back just as much. He
deserves that—he’s a great guy. Just not the one for me.

I was wrong to
say I’d marry him. I made a huge mistake. I hugged my knees against
my chest, tugging the fabric of my wedding dress as it pulled
downward—trying to force me off the rock. While I sat, the sky
turned orange over the treetops, and the leaves that were green in
the sunlight became dark, shadowy, as they rested on the backdrop
of the descending night.

I was just
coming up from my thoughts, wondering how I was going to get home,
when I thought I heard something. I held my breath and tuned my
ears to the sounds around me. The birds had stopped chattering, the
crickets no longer played their sunset ensemble, and the breeze
retreated with the storm. “Ara?”

An invisible
rock landed on my shoulders. Crud! They found me.

“
Ara-Rose?” he called again.

A minute
passed before I heard footsteps trudging through the muddy
ground—just near the tree line.