Scars (5 page)

Matt prepared to listen to Holly’s story very carefully. She had given him something he had not been given in a very long time—genuine understanding. Even his sister didn’t seem to comprehend his need to actually be off on his own and push those who knew him away. Becky didn’t understand that, in order to find himself, he needed to alienate himself from the people who attempted to reach out to him.

Holly not only had not judged his pathetic background and cowardly choices, but she had even appeared to understand them, or support them at the very least. It was kindness from a stranger, and it was a favor Matt intended to return in full.

“My father wants me to get married,” Holly said.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean in a far-off future,” Matt ventured.

Holly gave him the bitter shadow of a smile. “I mean now, at twenty-one years of age. He wants me to get married and have children and take over the family business.”

“And you don’t want any of that?”

“No,” Holly admitted. “Starting from the man he’s chosen for me.”

Matt’s eyes widened. “Hang on a second,” he said. “Let me get this straight. Your father has
arranged
a marriage for you?”

“Yes. I caught him discussing ‘engagement details,’ as he called them, with the guy’s father on the phone the other night.”

“I’m sorry, Holly, I mean no disrespect, but that’s fucked up.”

Holly laughed a little. It was a bitter, gut-wrenching sound. “Tell me about it.”

“Is that why you ran?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Holly said. “I tried talking to him. I told him I didn’t want to get married now and that I certainly didn’t want to marry Timothy Sutherland, of all people. The guy is the single most boring person I have ever met.

Matt snorted out a laugh. “With a name like that, I have no trouble believing it.”

“I told him I want to decide for myself, that I wasn’t interested in the family business.” Holly sighed heavily, her petite figure slumping with the weight of her burden. “I always knew he would want me to take over one day and that he would do everything in his power to steer me in his direction. But I was naïve enough to believe I still would have a say in the matter.”

“You do,” Matt said immediately. “Of course you do. It’s your life.”

“My father is not convinced,” Holly said, sadness washing over her beautiful delicate features. “I want to be an artist, you see. I tried telling him that the other night. I tried telling him it was not a phase and that’s really what I want to do with my life. I told him I would only marry for love, someday into the future, and that he should find someone to groom into becoming the perfect fit to take over once he retires.”

Matt cringed. “I’m guessing he did not take that well?”

Holly snorted. “That’s an understatement. He left me with no choice, no options whatsoever. It was either his way or the highway. Well, he didn’t exactly say that,” she added as an afterthought. “But it was the only options I was left with after our conversation…if you can even call it that.”

“So you ran.”

Holly nodded.

“What about your mother? What does she say about all this?”

Holly shrugged. The movement seemed painful. “She agrees with him. She says it’s tradition and that I would learn to love my husband like she has learned to love hers.”

“That’s bullshit!” Matt said hotly. He couldn’t help himself. It sounded too absurd to him to even contemplate.

“It is,” Holly agreed readily. “It became clear to me that if I really want to have a choice in my life, I have to be away from them. As long as I’m under their roof, they can dictate the rules. This was the only way.”

Matt took the story in and carefully mulled it over. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to be trapped into a life that someone else has planned out for you. Life may not have given him much, but he had always had a choice.

“I understand why you ran,” he said, and he made sure his gaze had locked with Holly’s before he said it. He wanted the words to reach her and sink in. He had the feeling that she needed to hear it. She needed someone to tell her that her reaction had not been the whim of a spoiled brat, but the conscious choice of a woman coming into her own. “I would’ve run, too.”

“Really?” Holly asked, her gray eyes shining with hope. She needed
so
bad to be understood. Matt could relate to that need, a craving for human empathy.

“Really,” he said immediately, sincerely. “No one should be allowed to decide what you should do with your life but yourself. And besides, married at twenty-one? Come on!” He winked at her to let her know he was purposefully downplaying the situation.

He was rewarded with a weak but genuine smile.

“Thank you, Matt,” Holly said. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that from somebody else.”

“I think I do,” he admitted after a moment’s hesitation. Then again, he had shared so much already…what was one more admission? “You needed it just as bad as I needed to find some understanding. I needed for someone to tell me I’m not abandoning my sister.”

“You’re not,” Holly said immediately.

Matt smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

The silence came back then. Matt relished it. He couldn’t remember a time when he had found such a companionable silence. Holly got him in ways that most people didn’t. It was a rare blessing, and he intended to make the best of it for as long as they would travel together. They barely had a day left of traveling before the bus would get to Oregon, and then their ways would part. Matt did his best to ignore the pang that thought brought along. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Holly, but he feared he had no choice.

They shared one last smile before he went back to his book and she went back to staring out the window. She fell asleep a few minutes later, and Matt took the chance to really look at her. She looked more innocent when she slept, more helpless. She looked as lost as she must feel, although she did her best to hide it when she was away. Matt tried to picture the situation. A young woman who had never set foot in the real world, on her own or with anybody else. She must be terrified, and Matt silently and secretly applauded her all the more for her brave choice; anyone with a lesser character would have given in to her father’s demands, albeit begrudgingly. Not Holly. Holly was fighting, for herself and for her dreams. Matt only hoped the ugly side of the world would steer clear away from her a little bit longer.

Holly awoke in the middle of the night. Everything around her was silent. The bus kept rolling along the highway at a steady pace, determinedly shooting for Oregon. Most of the passengers seemed to be asleep. Even Matt.

Holly turned a little in her seat to sneak a better look at him. He didn’t lose his rough edges when he slept. Contrary to what happened to most people, Matt’s features did not relax with sleep. Holly figured he couldn’t really be blamed. She didn’t think Matt was ever relaxed, and she thought she wouldn’t be either, if she were in his shoes.

The more Holly thought about Matt’s story, the more she felt shivers run down the whole length of her spine. She was anything but worldly, but even she could figure out that Matt was a good man. He was kind and considerate, and he listened in a full way that Holly had never experienced before. Usually, her problems were dismissed as the non-existent worries of a spoiled rich girl. Matt had not dismissed her. Matt had listened, and he had understood. She would always be grateful to him for his understanding.

Holly watched Matt, and she wondered. She wondered how someone who had led that kind of life and suffered those kind of blows still managed to remain a good person at heart. It was a mystery to her, and one that she felt privileged to have been a witness to. They would have to part ways, but Holly was glad she had got to meet someone like him.

Holly liked to freeze moments in time. Some people did that with pictures, but Holly did it with paper and pencil. She got her sketchbook out of her purse and began to draw Matt’s sleeping features. There was something perfect about him, even in the way that the tension didn’t completely leave his body while he slept. He had a guarded way about him that, in turn, made Holly want to protect him forever. He certainly had suffered enough, and Holly hated that she could do nothing to ensure that he would not suffer anymore.

Holly patiently drew every feature of Matt’s. She drew his curly, disheveled black hair. She drew his perfect chiseled jaw and the stubble that covered it. She drew his high cheekbones. She drew his long eyelashes, the straight bridge of his nose. She drew for quite some time, and once she was finished with the portrait, she turned the page and began a new drawing.

She tried to imagine what Matt would look like if he were happy. She tried to imagine what he would look like if only he’d had an easier life. She drew a softer Matt, an at-ease Matt. Then she tore the page off the sketchbook and hid it in Matt’s rucksack that lay at his feet, as a sort of parting gift. She tried to imagine his face when he would find the drawing. She hoped it would be a happy face.

She was almost drifting off to sleep when Matt began to toss and moan softly beside her. Holly sat up straight. She threw a quick look around, glad to find that no one seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. She waited, uncertain as to what to do. Should she wake him? Should she wait for him to settle down on her own? Was this PTSD or just a regular nightmare? In the first case, she thought she had read somewhere that it wasn’t a god idea to wake a PTSD sufferer from a nightmare.

She waited some more, and finally Matt awoke on his own. He sat bolt upright, eyes wide and skin clammy with sweat.

“It’s all right,” Holly said quickly, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re on a bus to Oregon.”

Matt stared at her uncomprehendingly for a few never ending moments, and then, gradually, his gaze began to focus. He slumped back against the seat and blew out a slow breath, staring up at the now dark overhead light in frustration.

“Would you like some water?” Holly said, offering him her half-empty bottle.

Matt nodded and reached out to grasp it with a shaking hand. He downed a few gulps and then gave her the bottle back. “Thank you,” he said, his voice slightly raspy. He cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Holly studied him carefully. He didn’t look fine in the least. “Whatever you say,” she said, deciding that it was probably best not to pry any further.

Matt flashed her a grateful smile, having probably caught her intentions. “I’m okay, really,” he said. “I’m used to nightmares. I’m just not a fan of them happening when I’m in a public place.”

“Nobody noticed anything,” Holly said, casting one more look around to make sure no inquiring gazes were on them. Just like a few moments ago, all the other passengers seemed to be either asleep or minding their own business, and they were far back enough that the driver couldn’t possibly have caught any signs of Matt’s discomfort. “Just me, and I don’t mind.” She smiled reassuringly.

“I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“You didn’t. You just tossed around a little, that’s all.”

Matt nodded. “Good.”

“Were you dreaming of war?” Holly’s eyes widened. She could not believe she had just asked him out loud. “Oh God,” she groaned. “I’m hopeless. I’m sorry, that was very insensitive of me.”

“It’s all right,” Matt said, waving her apology away with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “No, I wasn’t dreaming of war. I was dreaming of finding my older brother dead from an overdose in the bathroom when I was twelve.”

Holly cringed. Matt wasn’t trying to make her feel bad; he was just honest, an abrasive kind of honesty.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and she didn’t know whether she was apologizing for being nosy or expressing her sorrow at Matt’s tough childhood.

Matt shrugged. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “For the most part, I deal…sort of. But sometimes I still dream about it.”

“It’s understandable,” Holly said. “I think I’d have nightmares, too.”

He noticed the sketchbook then, which was still in her lap. “You were drawing?”

Holly felt herself blush furiously. “Earlier,” she said. “Nothing major, just a few doodles to keep myself occupied.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Holly hesitated. She really didn’t want him to see the portrait of himself asleep in the bus seat, but she also couldn’t think of a reason to refuse to show him. “I guess not,” she said, handing over the sketchbook hesitantly.

Matt took it carefully and opened it, scanning the drawings that he found in there. His portrait wasn’t the only drawing that occupied the book’s pages, of course. There were others before that one. There were landscapes and animals—mostly horses—and people.

“These are truly remarkable, Holly,” he said, impressed, without lifting his gaze off the page.

Holly flushed, pleased. “Thank you.” She waited with trepidation for him to reach the end of the drawn-on pages.

When he did, Matt looked up so sharply that for a heart-stopping moment Holly thought he might be angry. Instead, Matt’s green eyes were wide with wonder and surprise.

“When did you draw this?”

“Earlier, when you were sleeping,” Holly said, doing her best not to squirm in embarrassment.

“It’s unbelievable.” Matt looked back down at the drawing, unable to tear his gaze off the paper.

Holly smiled. She felt almost overwhelmed with emotions, and she blamed her particularly vulnerable state for the intensity of it all. She knew, however, that there was more to it than that. No one had ever acknowledged her dreams of becoming an artist, let alone her genuine passion for drawing and art. No one had ever noticed or nurtured her talent. There was always a voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was good enough and that she had what it took to pursue her dream seriously, but she never had any validation from other people. Until now. Until Matt.

When he finally looked up again, his eyes were shining. “Thank you,” he said. “I never thought I was interesting enough to be drawn by an artist.”

Holly flushed again, just when the heat was beginning to subside in her cheeks. “I’m hardly an artist yet,” she said, modestly. “And you are one of the most interesting people I have ever met.” She hesitated, wondering if she should ruin the surprise, and then she decided that she might as well tell him. “There’s another drawing. I put it in your rucksack, I wanted to give you a parting gift.”

Matt looked at her quizzically. He bent down and rummaged around his rucksack until he found what he was looking for—a loose piece of paper. He took it out and unfolded the page. He didn’t say anything for what might as well have been hours, his eyes scanning the paper with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

“This is me?” He said, finally looking up at her again.

“Yes. I wanted to capture what you would look like if…” Holly trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish.

Matt frowned. “If what?” he prompted.

“If you’d had it easier in life,” Holly finally said after a moment’s hesitation. “If you could relax a little. If you were less guarded.”

Matt blinked. He seemed to genuinely not get it. “Less guarded?”

“Yes,” Holly said again. “Most people tend to look more innocent while they sleep, more relaxed. More at ease, if you will. Not you.”

“No?” Matt asked, curiously.

“No. You look almost just as tense.”

Mat shrugged. “I suppose it comes from my military training.”

“Maybe,” Holly conceded. “But the kind of sorrows you’ve had to deal with in life surely have not helped, either.”

Matt cringed. “Am I that pathetic?”

“What?” Holly stared at him, horrified. “God, no! Not at all. That’s not what I meant, really. All I meant was that you’ve had it rough, and it shows.”

Matt studied her for a few moments. Finally he seemed to be satisfied with her explanation, because he nodded. “All right then.” He folded the page carefully again. “Thank you so much for this. It was very sweet.” He put the page in-between the pages of one of the paperbacks he had bought on the road and then put the book back in the rucksack.

“You’re welcome,” Holly said. “I hope you didn’t think I was too bold.”

“Not at all.” He smiled brightly at her.

They lapsed into what was now becoming a very familiar kind of silence between them. Each of them soon got lost in their own thoughts, but they never felt alone as long as they were sitting next to each other. Almost without either of them realizing it, their hands began to gravitate towards one another, until their fingers were intertwined. Neither Holly nor Matt said a word; neither of them commented on it. They simply sat there, holding hands, relishing that surreal feeling that Holly suspected could only be found on a crazy journey such as this.

They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t need to. Holly leaned her head back against the headrest and looked absently out the window. Outside, the sky was beginning to take on the gray and blue tones of the pre-dawn hour. It was her favorite time, a time that was neither night nor day. A time where it felt like anything could happen.

Holly closed her eyes and fell asleep, lulled by the steady motion of the bus. Her hand remained in Matt’s.