The Secret 00.5 The Prelude of Ella and Micha (10 page)

2 weeks later…

Ella

I wish I could go back to the sprinkler days, those afternoons when Micha and I would run around his front yard, getting wet. Life was so simple back then, so promising. Nothing is promising anymore.

The funeral is unbearable, yet I manage to get through it, even when my brother Dean informs me that he blames me also. After that, I spend most of my days cleaning the house. It’s the only thing I can focus on that doesn’t make my brain feel like it’s going to explode from the guilt. The only time I can fully breathe is when my father is gone; otherwise, he’s at the house and looking at me like I ruined everything.

Because I did.

As I pack up the clutter in my mother’s bedroom, I feel the truth weighing heavily inside me, like I did when they closed the lid of her coffin. Her death is my burden to carry. Forever.

With each of her belongings I put into the box, the weight grows heavier while repetitive questions replay in my head over and over again.

Is that what she wanted when she did it? To get rid of the burden? To leave this all behind? Her belongings? What was she thinking? Could I have stopped her if I was here? I did once before. That day she went down to the bridge. But I wasn’t here this time.

I’m pretty sure I can fly, Ella May.
The last words she ever spoke to me flow through my head. She had to be in the same mindset. Why didn’t I see it? Why am I such a bad daughter?

Why?

Why?

Why?

“Why did you think you could fly, Mom?” I whisper as I clutch onto a necklace that once belonged to her. “What went on in that head of yours?”

Setting the necklace down, I place the box on the unmade bed and open the nightstand drawer to take out the pills she once almost overdosed on. She took a few before she slit her wrists the final night she was alive—at least that’s what the medical examiner said.

Not truly understanding why I do it, I pop two of her pills into my mouth and swallow them, feeling the strangest bit closer to her the moment they slip down my throat and settle into my body.

As the pills seep through my bloodstream, I wander down to the kitchen to do the dishes, feeling slightly dizzy. The way the water moves is odd. The air smells weird, too, like grease and smoke.

Is this how she saw the world?

“I’m headed out,” my dad slurs as he staggers into the kitchen.

Elbow deep in pan grease, all I do is nod.

“I might not be home tonight, just so you know.”

I peer over my shoulder at him. “Okay.”

He lingers by the back door while he clumsily slips his jacket on. He hasn’t been sober since the night my mom died, and he has been binge drinking every night at the bar since the funeral.

“Be safe,” I feel the need to say.

He blinks at me like I’ve slapped him. “God, you look so much like her,” he mutters as he reaches for the back door. “It hurts to even look at you anymore.” Then he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

It seems like I should cry, but I think my tear ducts broke the night I found her.

Everything broke.

After I finish up the dishes, I trudge up to my room with my father’s words echoing in my mind.

It hurts to even look at you anymore.

Hurts.

Everything hurts.

I stand in front of the mirror on my wall, wondering if maybe he’s right. I do look so much like her. Leaning forward, I squint at my own eyes that are squinting back at me. For the briefest moment, something painful flashes across my expression.

The truth.

Of who I am.

My reflection can see it.

What I did.

Panicking, I rip the sheet from the bed and throw it over the mirror, breathing heavily. Is this what everyone sees when they look at me? What I did? What I caused?

“I need to get out of here.” I hurry out of my bedroom, bolt down the stairs, and then outside. I start to jog down the driveway—run, run, run away—when I hear Micha call out my name.

“What are you doing?” he asks over the sound of his boots thudding against the concrete as he jogs after me.

I almost keep going, keep running to the end of the driveway. When I get there, I’ll turn right and go to the bus stop. Then I’ll buy a one-way ticket out of here. Leave everything behind, including myself.

“Baby, did you hear me?” The sadness in his voice stings at my heart and my guilt.

I want to scream at him not to call me baby. I don’t deserve such an endearing name, don’t deserve him. Yet he seems to think the opposite, refusing to leave my side unless I lock myself in the house. Micha knows I’m breaking, and he wants to stop it, but I don’t deserve to stop breaking.

I halt and stare down the driveway at the neighbor’s kids across the street who are running through the sprinklers. Happy. He should be happy. Not sad.

“I don’t know.”

The fence rattles as he hops over it and then hurries up behind me. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“I ...” When he reaches me, he lowers his face and puts his mouth beside my ear. “What do you need from me? Please, tell me what you need.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. His nearness is painful. His nearness reminds me of the night two weeks ago when everything was perfect.

And then it wasn’t.

“I just need …” I open my eyes and dare to look at him. The worry in his aqua gaze makes me instantly regret it, though. Micha sees everything inside me. He has to see the ugliness in me right now.

I should run back into the house and away from him, but I don’t want to go back into that house. Into
her
house. Into the quiet. With myself and my stupid all-revealing reflection.

I’m pretty sure I can fly, Ella May.

She thought she could fly.

Why did she think that so much?

I need to understand.

And there might be a way.

“I need to go somewhere,” I say to Micha. “To the party going on. By the bridge.”

Micha

For the first time in my life, I can’t help Ella. I’m trying the best I can, but she won’t open up to me. Maybe that’s why I drive her to the party, even though it’s clear she’s out of it, either drunk or on something. With the largeness of her pupils, my guess is the latter.

The ride up to the party is agonizingly quiet, nowhere near the comfortable silence we used to share. For most of the journey, Ella stares out the window with her arms crossed, watching the mountains, hills, and then the bridge roll by.

“My mom used to think she could fly,” Ella mutters suddenly as the car reaches the center of the bridge. “She would say so all the time. She even thought she could fly off that bridge.”

I open my mouth to say something, but I have no clue what that something should be. I feel so helpless all the time. I fucking hate it.

“You don’t need to say anything.” She shuts her eyes and rests her head against the window, curling up within herself. “I was just mumbling nonsense.”

My heart is breaking for her. God, I wish it was the only one breaking, wish I could bear her pain. She thinks it’s her fault. She told me that. I’ve told her a thousand times that it’s not, yet I can’t seem to change her mind. Her stupid, asshole father and brother aren’t helping at all, either. Both have put the blame on her.

Fucking bastards.

We make the rest of the drive in silence again. As soon as we arrive at the party, Ella hops out and heads straight for the alcohol. The party is going full force, music blaring, a bonfire blazing in the trees. Half the damn town is here. Mad chaos fills the air, but that’s typical. I used to love it, but right now, I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have brought Ella here.

“We should go to our spot,” I suggest to her an hour into the party, “or somewhere more quiet.”

“You can go wherever you want,” she replies, sipping her beer. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

I frown as I scan the rambunctious crowd, the bonfire, the noise, and then her. Since that night, dark circles have permanently resided beneath those gorgeous eyes of hers. Her skin is pale, and I think she’s been losing weight. I want to call her out on her weight loss, but I’m afraid I’ll push her to the edge.

“I love babysitting you, though,” I attempt to joke like we used to all the time. I drape my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer, refusing to let her out of my sight for the night. “It’s my favorite job in the world.”

She tenses then ducks out from under my arm. “Well, I don’t want you to.” She stumbles away toward the fire, gripping the beer bottle in her hand.

I smash my lips together, my body trembling as I begin to curse the stars above us, only it’s cloudy and I can’t see them. So, instead, I curse the clouds.

Everything seemed absolutely great two weeks ago. I was going to tell Ella how I felt, and it seemed slightly possible that she felt the same way. But everything’s reversing now.

Everything’s gone.

My beautiful, wild, carefree Ella is gone.

I want to cry. Tears are actually starting to sting at my eyes. Unsure I’ll be able to hold them in, I start for my car so I won’t break down in front of half the town.

I make it three steps before someone steps in front of me and blocks my path.

“Hey, Micha.” Some woman who looks vaguely familiar touches my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

I shake my head, annoyed and still on the verge of crying. “Can you move please? I need to get to my car.”

She giggles as she strokes my arm. “Want some company?”

“No.” My tone is clipped.

She presses her chest against mine. “Give me five minutes,” she whispers in my ear. “Bet I can change your mind.”

I remember the last couple of years when I let women distract me from Ella, but the idea of doing so right now seems completely fucking wrong. Plus, I doubt it will help. Nothing will help except getting my Ella back.

Without responding, I dodge around her and hurry for my Chevelle parked out in the midst of a ton of other cars. As soon as I sink into the driver’s seat, I shut the door and let a few tears fall freely. After a few minutes, I collect myself and climb back out to find Ella, who seems to be nowhere. I grow worried as I head for Ethan’s truck where he’s chatting with Renee.

“Hey, have either of you seen Ella?” I jerk my hand through my hair as I scan the throng of intoxicated people, searching for her fiery red hair in the midst.

“Yeah, she took off with Grantford somewhere,” Renee tells me, resting back on her hands. “She told me something about going to the bridge … I don’t know … She seemed pretty out of it.”

My heart slams inside my chest as I recollect what Ella said earlier, how her mom thought she could fly off the bridge.

No … She wouldn’t … Would she?

I don’t think.

I just run to my car and drive like mad toward the bridge.

It starts to rain on my way there. Downpour. Lightning flashes. Thunder grumbles. The scene is like two weeks ago when Ella and I stayed in my car. It feels like an eternity has passed since then, the memory fading. It makes me want to cry again, bawl my fucking heart out until I can’t breathe. But I can’t break down right now, so I drive until I reach the bridge.

The sight knocks the wind out of me. It’s worse than I imagined. Ella’s out on a beam that extends over the blackened water, the rain streaming down from the clouds. All I can think as I hop out of my car and run toward her is that I’m going to lose her.

I
can’t
lose her.

“Ella, what are you doing?” I shout as I stumble to a halt near the railing and grasp the metal beams of the bridge. “Get down from there. You’re going to hurt yourself.” With little hesitancy, I hoist myself up.

“I don’t think I will,” she insists with her arms stretched out to the side. “I think I might be able to fly … just like her.”

“Your mom couldn’t fly.” Balancing, I inch my way across the beam toward her while trying not to look down at the deep water—reality—below us. “What are you on?”

“I took one of her old pills.” She tips her head back and rain showers across her face. “I wanted to see what it was like for her.”

“Your mother didn’t know better, but you do.” Gripping onto the metal wire above my head, I reach my other hand for her, my fingers trembling with the fear that I won’t get to her in time.
Stay calm. Don’t panic. Just get her off of here
. “Now come over here. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“I don’t know if I can.” She gradually rotates around and faces me and my fear escalates.
God, please, please don’t let her fall. Please.
“I’m not sure if I want to.”

“Yes, you do. You’re stronger than that.” I move closer to her, reaching for her, needing her. Right now. “Please, just get over here.”

Her body leans and starts to drift to the side.

A part of me dies, right there on the bridge, a part of me I’ll never get back.

“I swear to God, Ella!” I shout. “Give me your hand!”

She abruptly snaps out of her trance then stands up straight and grasps my hand. As our fingers entwine, I pant heavily. I just came so close to losing her, and I’ve never told her I love her.

I can never lose her
.

I need to tell her I love her.

Once I get us both off the beam, I circle my arms around her and clutch onto her with everything I have in me. “I’m never going to let you go. I love you. Please, don’t leave me,” I whisper so soundlessly the pitter patter of the rain swallows up my voice. Leaning back, I smooth her wet hair out of her face and speak lucidly this time. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. I can’t do this without you.”

“Micha, I …” She slants her head back and blinks against the drizzle of the rain as she peers up at me. “I’m sorry.” She embraces me back, her arms wrapping around my waist. “I didn’t want to think anymore. It was just too much, and my mind wouldn’t slow down. But it’s all right now. I can think clearly again.”

“Next time come to me, don’t just run.
Please
. I know things are hard right now, but it’ll get better. We’ve always made it through every single bad thing thrown at us.” I summon a breath, preparing to say what I needed to two weeks ago, the most important thing I will ever say. “Ella, I love—”

Her lips crash against mine, and moments later, our tongues tangle as our bodies align. She kisses me wholly.
She
kisses
me
for the first time. Right there in the middle of the rain.

I try to tell myself the moment is perfect. That everything will be okay. That it’s the most mind-blowing, life-changing kiss I’ve ever experienced. And it is. But, it’s also the most heart-wrenching, soul-breaking kiss I’ve ever had and will ever endure.

When she pulls away, I can see exactly how not okay everything is with her. With us. Exactly how imperfect the moment is. Because it’s only a fragment of my Ella looking up at me, one that doesn’t want to be here. With me. Be here at all.

I want to say something perfect that will fix this.

Want to say
anything
.

But there are no perfect words.

I’m not sure if anything will be perfect again.

I won’t stop trying, though.

Ever.

Until I bring my Ella back.