The Heart's Ashes (22 page)

I leaned on
the wall beside his door, my head rolled back, eyes tightly closed,
still feeling the creep of skin for the possibility that Jason
could be anywhere—could be lingering outside my window when I
sleep. He’s the entity of my nightmares; the reason I check under
my bed, close my closet door before I go to sleep, double check the
backseat in my car before I hop in—but, now, he’s the guy who saved
me. What do I do with that?

And worse, he says he’s
sorry
.

How dare he. And how dare
I
sit and listen to that.

With a nod of
certainty, I gripped the handle. I’m telling Mike. We can be angry
at Jason together.

“
Mike...” I pushed the door open. “I need to tell you som—oh
my God!” I slammed it shut, covering my face. “Oh my God! Oh my
God!” My hands shook against my lips, muffling the screech that
came out with tears. I looked up to the wall, the roof, the
doorway, not sure where to go or what to do or how to
feel.

But the
emotion I couldn’t recognise forced me to fold over slightly,
feeling my muscles singe in slow motion, tightening all over with a
nauseating twist in my gut. It can’t be true. It just can’t.

“
Ara!” Mike’s door swung open, and like a deer reacting to a
hunter, I ran, grabbed my keys, fled past my room, past the porch
and to the gate—shutting it behind me as Mike reached the front
step, still buttoning his jeans. It took him the same amount of
time to get the gate open and reach for my door handle as it took
me to hop in my car and slam the lock into place.

“
Ara!” He banged my window. “Ara, wait.”

Tears streamed over my cheeks; each one an image I wish I
hadn’t seen. One for Emily’s naked, golden skin; her legs wrapped
tightly around my best friend. Another for his strong hands—the
hands which hold
me
safely—clutched around her hips and tangled in her soft,
blonde hair. And the rest for the death of everything I thought we
were—everything I’ve never had a right to think.

“
Baby, please?” His voice broke with panic. “Come back
inside.”

I fumbled with
my car keys, my hands shaking, determined to get away. He tugged at
my door handle, his pleas muffled beyond the glass. “Ara, let me
talk to you.”

I shook my
head, swallowing the hot, swelling golf ball in my throat.

“
Ara!”

I shoved the
car into gear, forcing Mike to either release his hold or be
dragged under the tyres as I squealed away, down the street,
without looking back.

The world
should be all right with the rhythmic squeak of my wipers, pushing
waterfalls upward on my windscreen, but the truth, like the ache in
my heart, was revealed in the blackness behind the rain. It was
stupid to drive off in the middle of the night, especially in wet
weather. I could see myself being like one of those girls in a TV
series, who rolls her car when she swerves to miss a cat or...or a
stranger in the middle of the road.

The wipers
seemed very loud then inside my music-less car, and the tin roof
merely made the sound of the rain, when mixed with the whir of the
road beneath my wheels, amplify the tension I brought with me. I
swiped hot pools of tears from my cheeks, leaning forward to see
the road clearer through the blur. It didn’t help.

Outside, the
night surrounded my little old car, closing me in with a pitch so
black I hardly recognised anything. I was sure I’d circled the same
street several times, because every sign said “Rose Place.” Then,
flicking my headlights on after a while helped, given that I
couldn’t see past my front bonnet.

Stupid thing
number three; driving with no headlights—in the middle of the
night, while it’s raining.

I had no idea
where I was going—had nowhere to go, really, so I just turned the
wheel when a corner came, following the invisible line of fate to
wherever I was meant to end up; in the ocean would suit me just
fine.

Inside, a
jagged blossom of regret and hatred unfurled, almost releasing the
pain in one rush, like the drop from the top of a roller-coaster.
Each sob came as a heave of emotion, my mouth agape. I felt
pathetic, so glad I’d managed to find a road with no
streetlights.

But feeling
pathetic once again reminded me so vividly of the night Jason took
me—how he humiliated me and forced anger so deep within my soul I
merely felt even more powerless. All the things that came to be
tonight—Jason, Mike, Eric and our possible...union—circled around
me, flaring up memories I had no way to escape—couldn’t drive far
enough to get away from.

“
Damn it!” I hit the steering wheel, calling to anyone who
cared. I did this. I forced Mike and Emily together. I just can’t
believe it. I can’t believe Mike would do that—that he’d kiss me,
then jump into bed with my best friend.

And Emily
should know better! She knows how I feel about Mike. She had no
right to touch him. No right!

I hate her. I
hate her.

The numbness
took over; my arms felt heavy, empty, and my face dropped, all the
muscles going flaccid and lazy, like I was sleeping. Easing my foot
off the accelerator, the car came to a slow roll in the middle of
the road before common sense kicked back in and I turned the wheel
a little, not really caring if there was verge to pull up on—or if
I’d just drop off a cliff.

I forced
myself to pull on the handbrake, then sat with my head against the
chair back, my eyes tearing, blurring the reflection of headlights
off rain, while my ears tried to block the sound of angry thunder.
It sounded like a busy street; the wind as the roar of a train, the
rain on the roof the patter of a thousand footsteps, and the
shelter, the closed-in feeling of the car, like being packed
between twenty bodies—too warm, too tight—suffocating.

I lurched from
the car and slipped, landing chest-to-floor with slimy pools of mud
oozing through my fingertips.

The thunder
was louder out here, its angry growl seeming to touch the tips of
the trees, gently brushing them like a hand along a wall.

With tightly
closed fists, I stood up looked back at the car. What now? I had no
idea where I was or what time it was. My car fuel light had come on
and the rain was soaking the dash inside, leaving moist friends
behind to stink my car out tomorrow when the heat returned.

I kicked the
door shut with my heel then, shaking clumps of mud from my hands,
wandered toward the tree line. At least with the headlights on, I
could make out that they were actually trees. When I reached the
other side of the road, I looked past the leaves and branches, but
saw no houses. No mailboxes, no driveways.

Suddenly, I
felt very alone.

With the sky
hidden behind the leafy canopy and the cluster of storm clouds, I
couldn’t make out north or south from my own arm.

Retreat became
imminent, until the rain slowed to a soft patter, opening up to a
gentle breeze, the fruity scent of water mixing with the light
scent of pine within it. I took a closer look at the shoulder of
the road beneath my feet. Dirt. Brown dirt lining bitumen on both
sides. I knew then that only meters up ahead the road turned
completely dirt and a pair of evergreens would be there to greet
me, sentries to a world I once knew only with David.

“
The lake.”

Just being so
near it again, I could feel the memories, feel David, the love we
had, the way we held hands, the way we talked about things we’d
never share with anyone else—the way he knew me better than I knew
myself. I wanted to cry for him, but somehow, just being in the one
place left in the world that was our little secret, I felt closer.
So I walked instead. Heel over toe, balancing each step carefully,
looking only at my feet until the bitumen became dirt, well, mud,
and the mud became trees. I looked up at the evergreens, welcoming
me with the swaying bows. The branches had grown since I was last
here, and gently brushed my face and neck as I ducked beneath them
and entered the darkness of the forest trail.

Though the
storm and the squeaking of branches, moved by things unseen,
should’ve made me feel very small in a place so big and
uninhabited, it didn’t, because the feeling, like coming home,
hugged my shoulders a little—making the cold less bitter, the dark
a little lighter, and the vision of my best friends fornicating, a
little fuzzier. The leaves under my feet were crunchy, stripped of
moisture from the summer heat, but seeped into the ground of mud
that bedded them, making my steps cushioned. Everything was so much
slipperier with the heavy rain—not helpful in the dark—and I tensed
a little, unable to see my own hands in front of me, walking
completely blind, just waiting for that little cluster of rocks
David always steered me around. My toes found it instead. I managed
to stumble forward, keeping my balance just long enough to drive my
heel down on a slippery patch of leaves and end up sidelong on the
ground, my ear breaking my fall; my lips opening to allow a cough
of air past my clinking teeth.

Ouch.

I felt like a
total idiot, which only made the self-pity, the humiliation and
stupidity of not noticing my two best friends falling for each
other spread over me like water on rocks. I closed my eyes around
the vision of them in bed, the pain of my fall making the images
more vivid; their naked bodies, the warm yellow glow of light, the
murmured giggles and moans of pleasure I probably never actually
heard. I was sure I heard them laughing at me, too, but I doubt
they did.

And the truth is,
I
pushed Mike away, so I have no real right to be
mad—or to want him back.

I sat up and
tucked my arms in to my body.

I’ve no right
to want him back, but I still do—maybe even more than I did before.
Almost defensively, like I could scratch Emily’s eyes out.

But at the
same time, she’s so right for him. She’s the chocolate to his
orange. One sweet, the other good for you, but mix them together
and you get the scent of dreams.

But just
because it works, doesn’t mean it’s right.

I stood and
winced at the squelchy feel of mud down the back of my jeans, then
started walking again, not really sure if I was even headed to the
lake. For all I knew I could be headed off a steep drop or into the
deeper depths of the forest. David’s words, the day he told me
about the signs bordering this land, how they warned foxes not to
stray, that those foxes would be killed if they did, echoed in my
thoughts. It only occurred to me right then that he wasn’t talking
about foxes.

But cringe as
I may have once, I just didn’t care.

I dare him to
come. I dare him to kill me. I’d happily die right now just to see
him again.

Overhead, the
cold wind had ceased, leaving behind a dense, murky cool, the kind
you might feel on one of those tours inside a cave—just at the
entrance—where you can still feel the warm grasp of the sun
outside, but know that deeper, if you take just a few more steps,
you’ll be enveloped in its darkness. The dead calm, the eye of the
storm, made my steps seem awfully loud, and the brisk, short
breaths I took, tired from walking longer than I remembered this
trail being, sounded a little like panic.

By the time I
reached the tree line by the lake, the rain began to pour into the
open space again. My feet stopped dead with a skid in the mud, and
my heart jumped in my chest when I saw the rock where we used to
sit. It was like I could see him there, just a silhouette of
perfectly formed muscles and soft brown hair under the moonlight. I
closed my eyes, savouring the image, and when I looked back up, the
silhouette evaporated. But all around me, sitting on the cusp of
the clay-scented pines, was the sweetly familiar scent of orange
and chocolate. Like an Easter morning hug from someone you
love.

I closed my
eyes again and drew in the last of the fading memory; his perfect
green eyes, the milky-smooth skin of his lips and the way he smiled
when he read something on my mind that he had no right to know. All
those little memories were fading now, like they’d never been real
in the first place; just another fantasy I dreamed up while lying
alone in my bed at night—trying not to cry.

I miss
him—miss his smile, miss everything about him.

I wanted to
believe, just for a little longer, that he was still here. I
wandered over to the rock and fell into imaginary arms against it,
tucking my knees up to my chest while ignoring the mud seeping
through the denim cushion. I tilted my head back on the rock, my
eyes closed, chin raised to the heavens; “Let me believe it, for
just a little longer.” I just needed to feel him. I’d have given
anything. Anything to have him here again—even let him read all my
inappropriate thoughts, just to lay eyes on him for one second.

Icy fingers of
rain trickled over my face and down the collar of my shirt, but the
chill could not penetrate the aurora of numbness, though it made my
arms shake and my skin so tight with bumps that the hairs on my
legs were hurting.

In the
silence, for the first time, I allowed myself to realise what I’d
done—what I’d done to my life, my friends, my family. I should have
told Mike so long ago that I only loved David; I should never have
said I’d marry him. I should never have left the locket with the
rose—should never have said goodbye.

I just keep
failing. Over and over again, making the wrong choices.

Or maybe they
were the right choices, and no matter what I do or choose, I’m not
capable of being happy. Maybe If I’d chosen David I’d still feel
this way.