I stared out the window again, leaving Mike, with his eyes closed, to his own private dreams.
Already, from where I laid, I could see the yellow foliage falling to the ground below, leaving a bare,
lifeless and empty body in its wake ; abandoned and alone. I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t slow it
down. One day, merely two weeks from now, I will lose them both; Mike and David, forever.
But then, Mike still hasn’t confessed hi s undying love for me. Maybe that means I ’m
supposed to...
“What you thinkin’ ‘bout?” Mike’s voice startled me.
“Oh, hi, I thought you were asleep.” I tried to smile—it was a pathetic effort.
“Clearly.” He sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “What was on your mind?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated quickly.
Mike sighed and dragged me, by the hand, to sit beside him. As the weight of his heavy arm
fell around my shoulder , I r olled my head and nestled my brow und er his jaw. Th e deep, almost
candy-musk scent of his cologne made a flash of his bedroom, back home, pop into my mind. “You
smell good,” I noted.
“It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday.”
“Really?” I sat up and looked at him, incredulity littering my grin. “I thought you said it smelt
like an unopened coffin.”
“Hm. I did say that, didn’t I?” his gaze became thoughtful.
“Yes. Among other things.” I looked down at my hands.
“I was a bit of a dick, wasn’t I?”
I shrugged. “You were only young.”
“I was your age.”
“Then I reserve the right to be an annoying cow, since you were.” I grinned, then, It growled.
“Ha!” Mike poked my belly; “The ogre! I see some things haven’t changed at all.”
“Nothing’s changed, Mike—not really.” Oh, God. Why did I jus t say that? I’m beginning to
think unintentionally-leading comments are my sp ecialty. Internally, I slapped myself on the head
with a novelty-sized baseball bat.
Mike stopped for a second, half-way betwee n getting up and s itting back down, then shook
his head and pulled me off the bed; “Come on, let’s just feed the beast.”
“Okay. Then, later, I’ll take you across to the school so you can meet my friends.” I bounced
on my toes a little at the word friends.
“Friends, hey?”
“Yup. I’ve made this whole new life for myself, Mike. I’m like, totally normal, now.”
“You’ll never be normal, Ara. You’ve always been—special.” That comment should’ve been
followed with the usual head-tilt-eye-wink-combo, but instead, his gaze delved into mine. Golden
brown eyes, like maple syrup, creasing in the corners a little with his smile.
“I hope you don’t mean that in a derogatory sense,” I said.
He rolled his eyes, groaning. “Come on, I need food—it’s past lunch time already.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I ran down the stairs ahead of him. And ever ything was just
the same as before—before all the tragedy and the awkward I-don’t-love-you-the-way-you-love-me
stuff. I threw pieces of fruit at Mike while he prepared food, and we talked about old times, movies,
music—home, and it was easy—for a moment.
Mike, with the sleeves of his dark-bl ue shirt rolled up, stood chopping onions and cor iander
at the bench, looking so tal l and so gr own up that I tried not to look at him—t ried not to feel…
anything.
But the strange sensation in my body, fl ooding me with pul sing hot blood ever y time he
smiled, made me long to be in his arms.
Then, that confusing pendulum of indecision kept changing things. I’d go back to square one
and think, No, Ara, what are you saying—you don’t want him to love you, be cause that means fate
has decided you should let David wander the earth, miserable, for eternity.
I felt kind of like Sherl ock Holmes, examining clues, and could even see myself pacing
around in my own head; I love David, but I love Mike, too.
I love David more, but Mike is good for me.
But, Mike doesn’t love me.
I guess, when I think logically, I wish he did—in a way. If I have to be without David, I can’t
think of anyone in the world I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, than Mike.
of bed this year?
When the plates no longer contained food and the last of the enthusiastic catch-up wore down
to more planned questions, Mike shook his head and smiled; “Know what I found the other day?”
“What?”
“Remember that picture we took at the golf course?”
“The day you tried to teach me how to play?” I started laughing, already replaying the tragic
ending to that day in my mind—tragic for the window of a golf cart, that is.
“Yeah.” Mike laughed. “You we re so much smaller then, and you still had that gap.” He
pointed to his front teeth.
I ran my tongue over my gums. “I thought you said you didn’t look at any pictures of me over
the last few months.”
Mike looked down at his hands, smiling under reddening cheeks. “Well, maybe a few.”
I shook my head. “Then how did you forget what I looked like?”
“I guess I didn’t, really. You’ve just...You know, you’ve grown up so much while we were
apart.” I smiled. “Of course I have. Did you think I’d stay a little girl forever?” Although, he has no
idea how close I am to that fate.
“I just never expected time wou ld change you so much while I wasn’t around to see it .
You’re,” he considered carefully, “well, you’re a woman now.”
“A woman? Mike, I’m seventeen. No older than when I left.” I laughed.
He shook his head. “I t’s not your age, it’s something…else. You’ve been through a lot. It’s
bound to leave its mark.”
“You mean scar.”
He reached across the t able for my hand; I reluct antly placed it in his. “I’m here now, baby
girl. I didn’t know how much I was missing you until I saw you. Now it feels almost like my heart
might tear out if I have to leave you again.”
“I’m sure you’ll change your mind after two weeks with me—then you can go back and get
on with your life,” I said, then laughed in an attempt to bring nonchalance back into the room—since
it suddenly got very intense.
He nodded. “I’m beginning to rethink that.”
“What?” My heart stopped with an almost audible thud. “Why would you say that?”
“I miss you, Ara—you belong in my life, you al
ways have. I…look…I have to tell you
something.” His shoulders lifted a little. “Please don’t get mad, okay?”
“Okay?” My limbs tightened in panicked anticipation.
He looked down at our hands for a second, then back at me with those caramel eyes, warmed
with a smile hidden under the corners, but infused with anxiety. “T he truth is—I came here to say
goodbye, Ara. One final go odbye before I let you go for good. You seemed to be getting on with
your life, but, now I’m here, I can’t do it.” He shrugged and one corner of his lip turned up. “So, I’m
going with plan B.”
“What’s plan B? Hire a time-machine for the week and change the past?”
“Not quite.” I could tell he wanted to roll h
is eyes at my lame joke, but he only toyed with my
fingers nervously. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I...I love you, Ar. I want you to come home
with me.”
“That’s not funny, Mike.”
“Good, because I’m not joking.”
A deadening sense of shock and heartbreak melted through me, starting in my hear t and
pulsing through my tor so until finally, i t filled my head. The r oom swirled as his words hung l ow
around my ears, repeating themselves under the echoes of things he said when he rejected me—when
he told me what I was doing that night wasn’t right.
“Ara, say something. Please. I’m dying here.” Mike squeezed my hand; I stole it back and
glared at him, not bot hering to fight back the hot tears brimming my lashes. “Ar—” He reached out
for me again. “Baby, you okay?”
“This is wrong, Mike!” I jerked up out of my chair. “You’re lying. You just feel guilty
because my mum died—you don’t want me.” I leaned forward as I spoke. “Remember? You told me
you don’t love me. You—”
“I was a damn fool .” He stood up and grabbed my arms gently. “I di dn’t mean it like that . I
didn’t mean a bloody word of any of it.” He closed his eyes tightly and angled his face to the ground.
“I can’t take back what happened, but I—”
“Please stop.” My head shook almost uncontrollably. Why is he doing thi s? What did I do to
make him think he has to lie to me? “Mike? You were right when you said that just because we work
well, doesn’t mean it’s how thi ngs are meant to be. We’re friends. It was me that got confused. I
shouldn’ta made you feel you had to make a choice—I shouldn’ta put you in that position.”
“I never got to tal k to you about it , Ara,” he spoke louder. “You never let me fini sh and
then—” he ran a brisk hand through his hair as he stood back from me, “—then everything happened
so quick. You were in hospital. I only saw you at the funeral and—” He stopped and rubbed his face.
This is horrible. Why would he do this to me?
Hiccupping sobs shook my chest; Mike sighed and pulled me onto his lap as he sat back
down. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he said, stroking my hair.
No—it’s not. Nothing is—and it’s never going to be okay again.
My heart burned inside as I sobbed out my confusion loudly. I don’t know what to say or
what to think. If he’s lying, then why can I feel it—the love? Why does he hold me like David
does—so strong, so warm and loving?
God, no. It can’t be love. It’s just manifested grief and guilt making him think he wants me.
Yet, it feels so right—and so unbelievably wrong. I fall so easily into step with Mike, like
we’ve never been apart.
But what he’s doing to me right now will only hurt more, later, when he realises he had it all
wrong—and leaves me.
“Ara, you have to understand—”
“No.” I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand. “Just stop.”
“Ara?” Mike started again.
No! I shook my head, breathing in short, quick gasps. The breakdown that had been looming
all this time flitted to the surface. I held my hands over my ears, shaking my head.
“Will you just listen?” he said.
“No—please, Mike, please don’t do this—” I can’t hear thi s—I can’t let him make this
mistake.
“Amara, calm down,” he said softly and pulled my hands away from my ears. “Ple ase
listen—you never—that ni ght—you never let me ex plain it to you. We were trying to make the
transition from childhood f riends to something so much mo re—something I was afrai d you weren’t
ready for. God, Ara.” His ar ms tightened around my body, consuming my shape and almost
completely covering me in a snug cloud of safety. “I have never been able to forgive myself for that
night.”
“Forgive yourself? Mike! It was me—”
He pressed his thumb over my li p to shush me. “No, it was my fault. I wanted you. I wanted
you so damn bad, but you didn’t understand that. I couldn’t do those things with you while you were
drunk. It would’ve been irresponsible of me.” With his fingertip under my chin, he rolled my face
upward to look into my eyes . “I wanted you to love me, but not like that—not intoxicated, not when
we hadn’t talked about it. When I told you no, you got so upset, I just didn’t know what to do—I said
all the wrong things. I let the ball drop, and you were gone. I broke this. I lost you because of my
own stupid fears.”
My eyes burned with hot tears until I could no longer see. How can he do this to me, now?
After everything we’ve been through?
And how can I love the fact that his arms ar e wrapped so tightly ar ound me, and how can I
never want him to let go?
I love David!
But I love Mike, too—and I love him too much—it’s all just too much.
“Why now?” It came out as a whisper—perhaps less. “Why not then?”
“I chased after you, Ara. I tried to follow you, but you were gone—like lightning. I searched
the streets for an hour. I called your house—no one answered. Then—”
We both knew the ending to that story.
He wiped the tears from my face and kissed my brow. I could feel my hands shaking again as
sensation came back into my limbs. “Why didn’t you tell me before I left Perth, then?”
“I tried. You wouldn’t see me though, remember?”
“Then why not on the phone—after I left?”
“Why? So you could f eel worse, or so I could f eel worse? I c ouldn’t come to you, Ar a. It’s
been killing me, I—” he dropped his head into his palm and closed his eyes, “—I can’t sleep
anymore. I play it over in my mind all the time—the things we should’ve done that night. I should’ve
known your heart better. I should’ve known you were more mature than I gave you credit for.” He
clutched the base of my jaw in his hand. “I just didn’t want you to have regrets in the morning. I
knew I wouldn’t.”
I wanted to look away from his penetrating stare, the way his eyes seemed to read mine. But
he held my chin and forced me to keep looking at him.
“I’d been watching you for months—” he cont inued, “just waiting f or you to real ise how I
felt about you, and then, that night, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know how to tell you what I
really felt, and I was so af raid if I did, and you were just confused because you’d been drinking, that
it’d ruin our friendship forever. It was just one stupid misunderstanding, and I lost you—for good.”
The tears falling down my face and trickling over my neck felt heavy around the silver locket
David gave me. And the most hideous truth about all of this was…I put them there.
This is all my doing—everything; Mum, Harry, Mike, David—all ruined, because of me.
Why? Why did I have to be so stupid?
Poor David; I lied to him about how I felt for Mike, then he f ound out in the most horrible
way—by over-hearing a conversation, and now, all hope for David is gone. Mike loves me. I was
wrong about that as well.
Mike smoothed my tear-soaked hair from my temples and along my chin. “Ara, I don’t know
why you’re so upset, baby. It’s not the end of the world.”
“But it is!” I pushed his arms off me a
nd jumped to my feet. “It is for me. You don’t get it .
You don’t know what this means.”
“I do, baby. I get it. Your mum and Harry died becau—”
“No! It’s not that. You’re not even close. God, you don’t know anything about my life,
Mike.”
“Ara—” He grabbed my hand.
“No! Just leave me alone. This is all your fault!” I tore away from him; he tried to hold on, so
I pulled harder, running for the safety and concealment of my room.
I saw him stand as I fled the kitchen, but he stayed where I left him.
The weakness in my mind forced itself outside my head and tr avelled down my legs as I
stumbled up the stairs. I just had to make it to my room before I fell.
Unable to see, I burst through my door, half folded over, and slammed it shut with my foot
before I collapsed into a pair of strong, cool arms. “My love. It’s okay. Just calm down.”
“He loves me, David. What do I do now? He loves me—” I murmured into his chest.
“It’s okay,” his voice was liquid with worry. “Everything will be okay.”
I shook my head, sniffling. “Fate. Fate de-ci-ded.”
“What are you talking about, Ara?”
I tried to speak, but even my thoughts wouldn’t form the truth for him to see—the truth that I
let my future fall in the hands of chance, and now I had my answer.
Now, I knew what I had to do.
He looked at me for a long mo ment, obviously trying to find a thought amo ng the mess of
confusion in my mind. Wit hout conclusion, he shook his h ead and folded me ba ck into him. “Just
cry, sweet girl—for as long as the tears will fall.” He kissed the crown of my head, then lif ted me in
his arms and carried me to the bed. “I’ll be here. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”
I settled against his chest, and even though he had no heartbeat to show his emotions, I could
feel the pain my every thought inflicted on him, feel his body stiffen every time I saw Mike’s face in
my mind—feel the thorn through his soul with every beat of my heart that wasn’t for him.
But he stayed with me, loved me a while longer as my heart tore itself apart and shattered in
two; one piece for David, and one for Mike—who really owned that part of me all along.
As the sky turned dark, in his arms I drifted into a deep, exhausted sl eep. A restless dream