Dark Secrets (84 page)

I jumped up, ignoring
the dizziness and narrowed vision of low blood-pressure, and ran
for the school.

I needed to
play.

The dark room echoed
as the door closed behind me and the shadows swallowed me whole. No
one looked up; no one turned their heads, because the only sentinel
was the pitch black. Everyone was at lunch, the auditorium set for
the concert tomorrow night.

I kicked the door ajar
a little, placed the doorstop in the crack and hugged myself as I
headed down the aisle, walking the path of the thin blue line of
light from outside. The warmth of the day remained behind, making
me shiver as I reached the stage. I looked back for a moment,
seeing only a faint outline of the seats along the aisle, then felt
my way up the stairs, keeping my hands out in front of me in case I
tripped.

“
Ara?”

“
H-hello?” I waited in the middle of the stage, hearing
nothing. No one whispered back. “Hello? Is anyone there?” My voice
stayed low, almost as if I didn’t
want
an answer.

All around me, the
shadows carried eerie secrets, like a person may be lingering
within—waiting for me—while the strong feel of being watched
crawled over my skin, tightening my pores. I knew I shouldn’t be in
here. Knew I should be at lunch, be attending school today like
everyone else. I hesitated a moment longer. If I was caught in
here, I’d be in trouble.

But, like a beacon of
salvation, the piano greeted me with all its glory, sitting
majestically centre stage. I took a seat and looked down at my
hands on the keys. Here, in front of the piano, I felt narrowed
in—safe inside some magical, invisible orb, where no one could see
me. For one moment I just needed to sit; just to exist in the space
where music was the centre of my world; where the only thing that
mattered was the notes, the keys, and me.

My heart was trying
to make sense of things—of the fact that David left me because I
had that stupid dream, even though I had no control over it. And I
guess, in a way, that was the problem; what we dream
does
have meaning. What
we think, feel, desire—it matters. And it hurts.

But life taught me
that searching for reasons why it sucks is as futile as screaming
out to the heavens “Why, God, why?”

No one will ever
answer, because there is no answer. No one is watching from above;
no angels are standing by to answer our prayers. We are the authors
of our own lives, and what we suffer is due to our own error. How
we endure is determined by our will to survive.

I would survive this.
I had to stop asking, had to stop wondering if there was some point
to all this—some lesson to be learned—because, in doing that, I was
holding myself back from moving on.

David told me to move
on—told me to love another, but contradicted that by being hurt at
the possibility.

My heart was Mike’s
before I came here—before it all happened. And, sometimes, I wished
I’d never met David at all—wished I didn’t know what it felt like
to love someone that way.

My thoughts came back
to the auditorium while I took a deep breath.

Though I sat
motionless, aside from my hands scaling across the keys, the room
seemed to be spinning slowly around me. I wasn’t sure if I was
dizzy or just lost in some ultra-realism with slow-motion camera
panning, but nothing felt right—or looked right.

I played the scales
slowly back and forth a few times, listening carefully, seeing my
future in the physical form of the notes; Mike, our children—their
little round faces smiling out at me from the space between thought
and reality. I saw our lives—long and happy. And he would love me,
and I would love him just as much.

But I still just
didn’t know if it was enough.

Confusion consumed my
emotions and took control of my hands; I played harder, slamming
the notes. All of the anguish, the loss—I wanted it to go away. I
wanted David to stay, to marry me, to have babies with me and grow
old together.

The notes became slow
and high once again. It’d never happen. I had a choice to make. To
choose life or eternal love—if David would still even have me. He
probably didn’t even want my answer anymore. And I didn’t expect to
see him at the Masquerade next Sunday.

I wanted to hope he
was happy somewhere out there, that he’d moved on—but it hurt when
I tried.

I closed my eyes tight
and let my heart die a little more, as it had been, slowly and
surely, every day since my first kiss.

David, if you’re out
there, somewhere, please know how much I miss you. Please know how
sorry I
—

“
Ara!” Mike’s angry
voice broke through my thoughts. “Where have you been?”

The room fell silent
instantly as I pulled my hands from the keys and placed them in my
lap, lowering my head.

“
Do you have any idea
what I’ve gone through this morning?” The stage thudded under his
feet. “I was about to call the police.”

“
Police? I was at
school—”

“
Don’t give me that
rubbish. I knew you didn’t attend school today because your dad’s
been out there searching for you since we realised you weren’t in
roll call!”

There was nothing for
me to say. I kind of knew he’d be worried. “Well.” I shrugged.
“Guess you found me, so—”

“
No. I didn’t. Your dad did. And he was so mad he couldn’t
even come in here to talk to you, Ara. He called
me
.” He pointed to his
chest. “How could you just run off like that? Not tell anyone where
you were going. Jesus, girl.” The fabric on the stool dipped as he
sat beside me, shaking his head.

“
I
don’t need
your
permission to go for a run.”

“
That’s
what you were
doing?”

“
Yes. Is that okay
with you?”

“
Ara, stop being a
child. You know damn well you should’ve told someone where you
were. Don’t try to make me out to be the bad guy. I’ve been driving
all over town looking for you. We had no idea what time you left or
how long you’d been gone.” He looked at his watch. “It’s
twelve-thirty, for God’s sake, girl.”

I looked down at my
lap, running my thumb over my locket. “Stop yelling at
me.”

“
No. I’m mad. I was
so worried about you I nearly shook Emily when I asked her if she’d
seen you.”

“
What! You talked to
my friends?” I smacked the stool with both hands. “Mike, how could
you—now you’ve gone and made a huge drama out of thi—”

“
No. Ara.
You
made the drama. You took off without leaving a note to say
you hadn’t gone to school. You’ve been gone all bloody
day!”

“
Yeah, well, no one
asked you to come looking for me.” I folded my arms. “I’m fine. I
just lost track of time.”

“
Well, that may be the case, but you’ve caused a lot of worry.
People care about you, Ara—” He reached for me; I jerked away.
“
I
care about
you.”

“
You
? You don’t care about
me
. You just feel sorry
for me. You just feel responsible for me, like you always
have—”

“
Ara? Don’t say
things like that.”

“
I
didn’t say it!” I shot up off the
stool and fled to the heavy curtains near the wall. “You
did!”

“
What? When?” He sat
taller. “Ara, I would never say something like tha—”

“
You did. The day I arrived here, when my dad
made
me speak to you on
the phone. You said you were tired of being responsible for me,
that I had to grow up, and if I wasn’t such a baby then none of
this would’ve happened!”

Mike stood up,
reaching for me. “Ara, that was not what I said and you know it.
You’re adding words to what I—”

“
Am
I? Or is that what you
wanted
to say? Is that what you really meant, only you
didn’t have the guts to say it?” I yelled across the stage, feeling
rather well-placed for such a theatrical display of
emotion.

“
My
exact words to you that day, and my
exact
meaning were,
I feel responsible for what happened to your mum
and Harry.
And you said it was your fault,
that if you hadn’t run away it wouldn’t’ve happened. That’s when I
said that running away was a childish thing to do. And that was all
I said, Ara. The fact is, I was responsible for you. I let you
down. I did not say you caused this. I never said, felt, or meant
that. You know that.”

“
No. I don’t. I know the way you looked at me. I saw you look
away when you first saw me after the accident; I remember how
disgusted you were in me that night for
daring
to feel what I felt for
you—”

“
That’s what you
think?” He briskly stepped forward and grabbed my arms. “That I was
disgusted? In you? Ara, I was disgusted in myself for—”

“
For telling me how
you truly felt?” I shrugged out of his hands. “You shouldn’t be.
Because that should be allowed. If you don’t love someone, you have
a right to tell them.”

“
But I do love you.
You know that.” He swooped into me again.

“
Don’t touch me!” I
ducked out from under his arms and ran to the edge of the stage. “I
don’t want you to touch me.”

“
Ara.
Please—”

I took a glance over
my shoulder to see his bulky silhouette by the piano, reaching out
to me, then jumped off the edge, bent my knees as I landed on the
ground, and walked away with my arms folded.

“
Where are you
going?” he asked.

“
Home.”

At a run, Mike’s
footfalls fell down on the hollow-sounding floor, then stopped as a
soft tap of shoes on carpet came up behind me. “Baby, talk to me.
Please don’t be like this. I just want you to be happy.”

“
Happy!” I spun
around. “If you wanted me to be happy, then you’d never have told
me you love me, Mike. Now I’m just confused and empty.”

Mike doubled back,
dropping his hand to his side as the blade of my words hit his
heart. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

“
What would you know?
You don’t know anything about me, Mike. Maybe you used to—in fact,
no—scratch that. If you did, you’d never have rejected me like
that.”

“
Ara, I didn’t reject
you. I just asked you to wait a second while I processed what was
happening between us. You shook me up, girl. I wasn’t expecting you
to throw your arms around my neck and kiss me.”

“
Yeah, well—” I looked up at him, keeping my arms folded, “—it
was a mistake. You and I. All of it. Nothing but a big, fat
mistake. Now, it’s time
I
fix things—put them all back in the right
place.”

“
What are you
saying?” He grabbed my wrist; I yanked it back.

“
I’m saying, I. Love.
David, Mike. Not you.” The lie came out through my lips like a hot
breath; I couldn’t even gasp the words back in—they just fell
out.

When Mike dropped his
head, even the shadowed darkness did nothing to hide his pain. “So
that’s it then?” His voice quaked. “You’re just going to throw it
all away because of some boy you just met?”

“
He’s not just
some
boy
, Mike. He’s my one true
love.”

Mike nodded, clenching
his fists beside him. “You’re not a child anymore, Ara. It’s time
you grew up. All this true love and fairy-tale bullshit!” His
angered voice touched my nerves. “It’s not real. He is not your
true love. He’s a random stepping stone, a fall back guy—a—a bloody
infatuation.”

“
Don't say that
word!” I screamed at him, clenching my fists. “I never want to hear
that word. You don't know. None of you know. You don't have a clue
what I feel—what I've gone through.”

“
Tell me then, Ara—”
He stepped closer. “Tell me, so I understand.”

I looked at him for a
moment longer, swiping my shaking hand across my nose before I sunk
to the ground, curling into a ball. “I can't do it. I can't do it
anymore, Mike.”

He fell to his knees
and wrapped me up in his arms. “What, baby?”

“
I'm so tired. I'm so
goddamn tired. I just can't do it anymore.” It was all too much. I
missed David like I needed air, like I couldn’t breathe anymore.
Mike made it all feel better, made the air thinner, easier to take,
but I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fix how hurt I was that he pushed
me away in the first place. I just couldn’t fix it.

“
Ara. Baby, talk to
me. Why are you shaking?”

“
It’s all gone.” I
closed my eyes tight. “It’s all—all of it. I don't wanna do this
anymore, Mike. I don’t wanna do this anymore.”