Underwater (6 page)

“Don’t leave.” My voice sounded desperate even to my own ears. “Not yet.”

She turned around slowly and her eyes found mine. I knew she couldn’t see me clearly because I was still hidden in the shadows. Taking a few steps in her direction, I could tell right away I made her feel anxious.
 
She took a step back and held both hands in front of her as a shield.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” Her voice was even, but I could hear the trace of panic hidden within it. I frightened her.
Fuck... I didn’t mean to
. “W-what do you want?”

Trying to reassure her that I meant her no harm, I put my hands in front of me and said, “It’s okay. I work here. I help Bennie out. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why did you keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” I said softly and immediately squeezed my eyes closed and winced, realizing I had said those words louder than I had intended. I didn’t mean for her to hear me.
Shit!

When I chanced a glimpse in her direction again, it became all too clear I hadn’t helped the situation at all.
Fuck.

Anxiety rolled off her body in waves. I hated seeing how uncomfortable I made her. I think part of it was because she still couldn’t see me. I remained hidden where the light didn’t reach.

But I could see her. She had a small nose and those green eyes – I could look at them for days. Her pink lips were full and plump. I wanted to keep her engaged in conversation for the sake of watching them move. Her face was tanned, albeit a little flushed. She also looked tired, and that brought me to the question of why was she here. Who was the one she wanted to bring light back to? And why did the thought that it might be a boyfriend make me want to break something?

What was wrong with me?

I needed to ask her. I needed the answer like I needed my next breath. “Why are you here, Aria?”

It was the first time I said her name out loud and fuck… I wanted to keep saying it for as long as I could get away with it.

B
ecause you’re beautiful.

The way he said that, his deep voice whispering with such conviction... he sent a shiver down my spine, making my whole body tremble. He frightened me and fascinated me all at once.
And if what Mary said was true, he was fucked up six ways from Sunday. I shouldn’t bother. I should run. God, I
needed
to run…but I was rooted in place. His voice sounded so… sad. I had no choice but to stay.

“Why should I tell you something so personal about myself when all you do is hide?”

His whole body stiffened and his hands fisted at his sides. I stood straighter and avoided his eyes, feeling regretful.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for…” I trailed off, unsure what to say. “It was nice meeting you.” Turning away, I moved towards the door once more, hoping I could forget this day ever happened.

I felt him closing in, and I walked faster. I didn’t want to face him. Not now, not ever.

Grabbing my left arm, he turned me around. I gasped in surprise and my heart thudded erratically. He sucked in a breath and tensed. His fingertips opened and closed several times while his breathing grew harsher. It felt like he was having an inner battle. After long heartbeats and breaths, he tightened his grip and pulled me even closer to him.

I was afraid to look in eyes, afraid what I might see.

He leaned in, his stubble poking my cheek and whispered, “Look at me and you’ll understand why I hide.”

His hot breath caressed my skin as I lifted my head slowly, biting my lower lip hard in the process. My eyes landed on his long disheveled black hair that reached his neck and covered one eye. I lowered my gaze, skirting his high cheekbones and lips that were full and soft. Then I saw it. A large, angry scar starting from his upper lip and curved down until it reached the end of his chin. I thought he was beautiful, even with the scar.

“I looked,” I murmured. “You have a scar. So what? Is that the reason you hide from the world?”

A mix of emotions played across his face: surprise, confusion, wonder and bewilderment. I wasn’t sure what he expected my reaction to be, but goodness… it was only a scar.

Then his eyes hardened and his mouth thinned into a line. With his other hand, he swiftly brushed the hair away from his face. Fortunately, I was able to stop the gasp that nearly broke free. I held my head high, not wavering from the horror I witnessed. There was another jagged scar that started above his left eye and cut a path across his face almost reaching his nose. How could I have missed it?

What had he lived through?

Who the hell did this to him?

T
he day started like any other. I never imagined I would meet this girl at any stage of my miserable life, much less today. She was like a ray of light shining through the dark cage I was hidden in, brightening up my fucking universe.

Who in the hell was she?

No one spoke to me this way. I was used to being treated with kid gloves, not being called on my bullshit.

She looked at my scars and didn’t even blink. Anyone who saw me couldn’t look at my face without flinching. I was used to it. I learned to live with the stares, the whispers, even the fear people threw my way. The scars made me look intimidating and people tried to steer clear, which was fine. I didn’t want to deal with them anyway.

After I left Afghanistan and was discharged from the Marine Corp, I knew my life would never be the same. Not with how messed up I had become. This tiny girl had no idea how fucked up I was. I was rotten from the root and no matter what anyone thought, there was no fixing me. Not anymore.

And yet… something in the way she looked at me, made me feel like there was hope. How crazy was that? She looked at me as if I didn’t look like a monster. I didn’t even realize how much her reaction meant to me. Her question also struck a nerve with how close she was to the truth. I was hiding from the world. I felt like a ghost, invisible to all those probing eyes while I remained in the shadows, unseen.

After I came back from war, I couldn’t touch or be touched by anyone, because I associated touch with pain. The only three people who could sneak a feel here and there were my mother, my little sister, and Bennie.

The fact that I touched Aria and I didn’t feel the anguish that always accompanied touch surprised me, puzzled me, and scared the shit out of me.

How could it be?

Shock. Fear. Hope.
Again with the hope…

Angry with the way my thoughts were going, I released her arm and took a step back. I put my hands in my front pockets and watched her, trying to make sense of who she was. I couldn’t explain the sense of familiarity she evoked in me, stirring the protective side in me. It was puzzling.

Since I couldn’t answer her question, I again asked
my
question. “Why are you here? I showed you mine – now you show me yours. Isn’t that how it works?”

Her face wore amusement and that was far better than the fright she wore earlier. Relieved, I hid a smile.

“You can only dream I’ll show you mine. Let’s start with that,” she quipped. “And since you’re so interested, I’m here because of my dad.”

Her amusement faded. Now, she just looked sad. My heart contracted with thoughts about my own dad, doing my best to keep them at bay. I couldn’t let my demons out. All I wanted to do was to take a few steps in her direction and gather her in my arms.

However, I kept my distance. Even though I had already touched her, my mind was tricky. I couldn’t risk an episode in front of her. I was positive she wouldn’t let me touch her, anyway. I could tell she didn’t feel safe here with me.

That needed to change. I wanted to get to know her. She was the first person that punctured the walls I had built around me, and she did it without even trying. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. She nodded. “What are his odds?” I asked. For some unknown reason, I needed to know what she was dealing with.

Looking dejected, she went to the chair to her right and sat down. When I sat next to her, she turned her head in my direction and answered my question.

“Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty.”

—
Rumi

“W
e don’t know, actually.” I said. “Dr. Brown doesn’t believe in odds or percentages.”

Closing my eyes, I recalled the conversation I’d had with my dad’s doctor.

We stood alone in his office. My dad had escaped to take a breather at the time.

I asked him what stage my dad was in and what the chances for a full recovery were. My brain was all over the place. I didn’t know anything about cancer. I always heard about it, yes…I didn’t live in outer space. The difference was that it always passed me by. I never paid attention to the details and medical knowledge. Not until it hit home.

Shifting his position to face me, Dr. Brown looked at me with warm blue eyes. With graying hair and a face that looked older than his years, I presumed that working in such a hard profession, and treating terminal patients, had taken its toll.