The Knight Of The Rose (22 page)

The little girl by the water stared at me as he r mother grabbed her by the wrist and quickly

led her away.

Great. I can scare families off.

But I don’t care. The funny thing about breaking down is that you can’t choose when to do

it—it just hits you like a storm; a flash of heat , an over powering surge of anger, and then—the

pouring rain.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Mike spoke softly to someone behind me. How embarrassing. “She lost

her mum recently,” he added.

“Oh. Oh, poor dear ,” an elderly-sounding lady said. S he said something else, but I didn’t

hear. Mike pressed my face tightly against his bare chest—causing a sort of unintentional vacuum

seal over my ears.

The sobs slowed, and I scr atched the salt away from my cheek as I l ooked up at him. “You

really can’t tell my face is horrifically scarred?” His opi nion mattered to me more than almost

anyone else’s.

Mike held both my arms and leaned back a little. “No. You can’t tell at all. You are perfect,

just like you were before. You still have flawless, tight, smooth skin. Okay? So, stop feeling so bad

about yourself, baby.” He bent his knees so his eyes came in line with mine. “You are beautiful.”

I nodded and ran my fingers over the scar s. It was hard to even feel the slight bumps

anymore; they used to feel like litt le pins rising up from under my skin. “I hate looking at myself,

you know. I don’t look like me anymore.”

“You look the same to me.”

I nodded. “I really missed you, Mike.”

“Yeah. I know you did.“

“I really miss Mum and Harry, too.” I looked at the water, trying to stop the memory of their

faces; “I keep thinking I’m just gonna go home and they’ll be there, you know, like always.”

“Is that why you don’t want to move back with me?”

“I never said that, Mike. Okay? Lo ok, you just came in and, out of the blue, on the first day

you get here, you tell me you love me—no mind for the fact that I have a boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” Mike said. “Ara, you knew him for a day before you decided you were in love

with him.”

“Are you kidding me?” I jerked forward defensively. “You’re the one who told me I was

being silly for not following my heart.”

“What was I s upposed to say? For get him, he doesn’t like you, he’s j ust pretending? I’m

your friend. I care about you. I wanted you to be happy.” He dropped one hand to his side. “I

just never thought you’d actually
believe
you’re in love with him.”

“
Believe
I’m in love with him? What would you know about it? You d on’t even know your

own heart?” I shrugged out of his grasp. “You think you love me…but you don’t!”

“Ara—” Mike reached out, warning me of the staring people around us wi th a look in his

eye.

“No! I don’t care if they look. Let them look. I’m not going to stand here while you tell me

what’s in
my
heart.”

“That’s not what I’m doi—”

“Stop trying to touch me!” I jerked away from hi m. “I do love David, Mike. I do. You have

no idea how much—and you never will,” I added coldly and folded my arms as I turned around.

“Oh, never, huh?” He foll owed, raising his voice as much as I had. “So this freaky, overly-

possessive thing you have with David—is that true love, is it—is that how it works?” he asked in a

conceited tone. “So, when you love someone more than anyone in the world has ever loved anyone

else before, you let them hurt you and leave bruises on you.”

I huffed and started walking away again.

“—And don’t think I didn’t see that cut on your wrist, Ara.”

My steps came to an abrupt halt; I unfolded my arms and looked down at my left wrist. Oh,

crud! Since he never mentioned it, I thought he hadn’t noticed. But how can he not? I ran my finger

along the two inch, dark-brown scab where David cut me to drink my blood.

“Yes. I saw it!” His voice became huskier. “I know
you
didn’t do that. I know you better

than that.”

“I—”

“David did it. Didn’t he?” Coming up out of nowhere, he spun me ar ound sharply and held

my wrist up. “Is this what love is, Ara? Is it? Because I love you more than this. I would never hurt

you like this.”

“You’re hurting me now.” I twi sted my wrist in his gri p and yanked it out thr ough his

fingers. “Just leave me alone, okay. I’ve had enough.”

“Ara?” he called.

Forget it! I’m not stopping. I don’t need to stand there and have him tell me I know nothing

about love; I’ve felt its spiny sting—I know what love is.

Mike’s worried because he thinks David hurt me. But of course he did; love is pain. I know

that for sure, because, since the day I first felt my heart beat for a man, I’ve had nothing but tears.

And maybe it was wrong of David and I to do what we did, but it felt right in the moment, so I don’t

care what Mike thinks.

“Ara. Stop.”

“I said leave me alone, Mike!”

“No,” he sai d from a few f eet away. “I’m not letting you walk off by yourself. You’re a

young girl in a bikini, for God’s sake. Anything could happen.”

“Why, because I’m wal king on such a deserted strip of sand?” I faced him and held my

hands out, gesturing at all the beach-goers.

“You don’t have to be alone to have something bad happen. You can walk off and throw

your little tantrum, but I’m going to follow you wherever you go.”

Across the carpet of sunburned backs and multi-coloured towels, the salty, pl astic smell of

sunscreen wafted between us, and even in the br ightness of the d ay, the c ompassion in h is eyes

shone out like a beacon among the darkest sea.

The last of my dummy-spit released with a huff, and I dropped my hands to my sides. Damn

him and kind eyes! All I want now is to fall back into his arms—back to where we stood before—

before I yelled at him and told him he knows nothing. “Mike, I—”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head and launched forward into a half run, then swept me into him

and folded his body around me.

The hot sun beat down, making s weat trickle down my temples, but I closed my eyes and

held my breath in the intense squeeze of his arms—a hold so tight I knew he never wanted

to let go, knew he loved me. Not like he loved the ocean or the sunset, but like the way I loved

David. True, honest and intense love.

“I’m sorry, Ara. I know you love David, and I know he loves you. I shouldn’ta said those

things. It’s just—” He brushed my hair from my face, then lifted my locket for a sec ond. “I love

you, too. I really do. I love the way your eyes turn deep blue when you ’re sad; the way you bit e

your lip when you play piano; I love your smile, and the way you view the world, Ara. I absolutely

love
everything
about you.” He paus ed and his eyes darted over my face. “I just wish you could

understand that—wish you’d forgive me for making the biggest mistake I’ll ever make—and love

me back.”

Without a word, I folded my face back against his chest; the sand, which had dried in the

heat, felt soothing against the itch along my jaw, and the sound of his heart through the thick of his

skin had an oddly comforting hum to it. I could tell from the way he took shallower breaths that he

was waiting for me to say somet hing. But I couldn’t grace him with a res ponse, because I had

nothing good to say to him.

He can never understand the love I have with David, or t he way we interacted with each

other. He thinks I’m sadistic for allowing David to hurt me, but he ’ll never know the true intensity

of the passion behind it.

Slowly, and more surely than ever before, I think I’m starting to consider going with David.

Everyone looked up as I stepped int o the auditorium and dumped my bag on t he ground by

the stage. “Hey, stranger.” Spencer waved.

“Hi, guys—” I sat beside Emily in the front row and unwound my white scarf from my neck,

then repositioned my beanie.

“Where’ve you been, girl?” Ryan landed in the next seat and gave me a skinny-armed hug.

“Just hanging out at home.” I sat back in the chair. “Good turnout for a rehearsal.”

Emily nodded and went back to her note-taking. “Most of them are just here to watch. It’d be

better if they weren’t. Too noisy.”

“Yeah.” I slid down in the seat and put my feet on the crate in front of me.

“Where’s David? Is he coming tonight?” Ryan asked.

Emily looked up fr om her book; I s hrugged, reaching for my locket. “I don’t think so.” He

should—but he won’t.

“Oh, I thought he said he’d make it for dress rehearsals.” Ryan looked a little confused.

“He did—” I tipped the crate with my foot, tryi ng to look di sinterested, “—but I guess the

plan changed,” or the heart.

“Where’s your new pal...Mike?” Ryan asked.

“Uh, he’s taking my brother to a movie tonight.”

“Sweet.” Ryan nodded. “Well, I’ll fill in on guitar for David, if you like?”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Let’s just get this over with, then.”

Emily frowned as I stomped up the stairs to the stage—probably at my lack of enthus iasm.

It’s just...this concert is as much a part of David as everyone else, and he
should
be here to practice,

especially since he and Nathan were close.

“Hey, where’d this come from?” I je rked my thumb to the black baby grand piano at the

centre of the stage.

“Oh, it’s on loan from Musicology,” Emily called out, keeping her eyes on her notes.

“What’s Musicology?” I sat down on the stool.

“It’s a music store,” Ryan informed, walking past me to grab his guitar.

“Oh, cool. It feels nice,” I noted, resting my fingers to the keys.

“Wait ‘til you hear her.” Ryan sat on a s tool near Alana, w ho was flipping the pages of her

notes on the music stand. “We’re calling her Betty.”

“Who?” I said.

“The piano,” Alana said.

“Oh.” I looked at the piano. “Why Betty?”

“The song…” Alana said, rolling her eyes in Ryan’s direction. “Black Betty.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my fingers as they positioned themselves on the home-plates. “Okay,

we’ll start with Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Ryan nodded and flipped the page s in a black folder, then repos itioned his capo on the neck

of the guitar. “Hip, bubbly, Ucayali style or…”

“Longing misery,” I said.

Ryan nodded. “Nice. Let’s do it.”

They played, all of them, including the version of me who takes over when the real me can no

longer bear to feel. In these moments, sometimes I feel like I’m watching from outside myself, and

sometimes I live inside my own mind where I can recreate my world of misery to the image of

dreams. If I could just imagine David sitt ing where Ryan is, looking over and smiling at me, I might

be able to muster a smile.

But he’s not there, and wishing won’t change it. It would be a waste of time.

It just feels so strange to be back here without him; like I’ve come to a party that was thrown

for him, and forgotten to invite him. It’s just...empty. I’m still moving and talking, and for the most

part, no one would know what I’m feeling inside. But I don’t know how much longer I can stand

this. I’ve always been good at pl aying the role of normal. God knows, I’ve had enough

practice. I’m just not sure if I’ll ever truly be happy again.

Ryan, when I looked across at him, half expecting to see David, smiled with a nod of

approval. I smiled back because, in truth, our song did sound amazing. The three instr

uments

harmonised so well with each othe r, even though my fingers were a lit tle stiff and the flow of

emotion through them was rigid, if not absent.

When I opened my mouth to sing the words, my voice cracked and we all burst out laughing.

All the sea-salt I swallowed the other day made my throat dry and hoar se; I sounded like a broken

gramophone.

But I was glad we went to the beach, and desp ite our argument, the r est of that day went

really well; just two old friends hanging out, eating salty fish and chips as t he sun went down, and

talking about nothing.

While my mind wandered into the other days we’d spent together, the performance moved to

the next song on our list; an instrumental piece from one of Nathan’s favourite gangster movies.

“Ryan?” I stopped playing for a second.

“Yeah?” He looked over the music stand, and Alana lowered her violin.

“On that last bar, can you give me a B flat, instead?”

“Uh—yeah okay,” he said slowly and frowned, but did it anyway, and t hen his face lit up

when I came in with the piano.

“Okay. Cool, so, just remember; B flat on th e second verse, okay?” I said and flexed my

fingers. That’s enough for toni ght. It’s getting late and Mike will probably be home by now. “I’m

gonna call it quits, guys. I need to get home.”

“That sounded amazing, Ara.” Emily stood beside the piano; her reflection appeared upside-

down on the glossy top.

“Thanks. Looks l ike I sti ll have enough soul left in me to pl ay music.” I smiled, trying to

sound light.

“You miss David?” She hugged her clipboard to her chest.

“More than you know.” Because he’s never coming back. I hurt him, and I made hi m leave,

forever.