Pieces of a Mending Heart (17 page)

             
Later that night, as I lay into bed freshly showered with blow-d
ried hair, I look out my window.
I think of David: what he’s doing, where he is, what he’s thinking… I know that he probably isn’t the David I’m remembering, but a stranger. I conjure up a picture of him in my mind and think of a time where we sat under the stars on our roof and watched the fireworks on my birthday.
I’m not even sure if this memory is real, but it’s bringing me comfort and, in some strange way, closure.

             
The stars glitter in the sky, twinkling like thousands of miniscule Christmas lights. The moon, bright and majestic, sits comfortably among the feathery clouds sitting stagnant in place. I pick the brightest star I can see, and do something usually reserved for children who see shooting stars; I make a wish. I wish for peace of mind, for happiness with Tristan, and for everything to fall into place. There are bigger problems in the world, but I risk sounding selfish if it means my wish comes true.

* * *

             
I’m dreaming again; my eyes must have closed
but
my brain is still whirring. I always seem to know when I’m dreaming, a gift David and I used to talk about frequently. This dream is the happiest I’ve had in a long time, filled with sunshine so real I can almost feel it warming my face. I’m wearing
a
floral
dress
that seem
s
to glow in the brightness, and my hair is blowing in the light breeze, which smells like sea.

             
I’m in a park, bare
foot, and the sun glints off a body of
water, making me squint. I leisurely walk towards the rocks that line the shore; large, man-placed rocks to keep pedestrians from wandering into the
surf
. There is a bike path and dozens of picnic benches dotted around the large park, which stretches on and on parallel to the water.

             
I feel arms wrap around me, but I am not afraid; his presence is calming, and the lapping against the rocks makes for a picturesque moment. Turning, I find myself blinded by the beauty of Tristan’s eyes, whose pupils are dilated in the bright light.

             
“Hey you,” I say, which surprises me because I usually don’t talk to people when I dream.

             
“Hey you,” he says, smiling before tugging me towards the closest tree. “I have something to give you.”

             
I smile, feeling free and happier than I ever remember being. Tristan reaches behind his neck, fingers moving gracefully as they unclasp a necklace I hadn’t seen before. He removes it from its place, safely nestled under his shirt, and reaches for my hand. I lean against the tree as he braces his arms on either side of my head, against the rough bark. He takes my hand and his necklace dangles between our fingers, a silver cross hangs from the chain.

             
“I love you, Katie,” he whispers, and then he leans in and kisses me.

Chapter 10

             
My alarm clock jolts me awake with its annoying buzzing, and I’m about to cry. The necklace, the water, the kiss... all a dream. I pound my fists into the bed, angry at the world for waking me up. I can tell it’s going to be a bad day, but the sun already shining through my window begs to differ.

             
Putting on my school uniform, I hear my aunt bustling around the kitchen. I run a brush through my hair, put some masc
ara on and fix
my skirt, which has a habit of riding up on my waist.

             
“Good morning, sweet pea! How’d you sleep?” Aunt Rachel says as she brushes flour off her face.

             
I giggle at the sight of the counter; covered in flour, it looks like a bomb hit.

             
“I slept great, Aunt Rachel,” I say. My mood begins to lift as I watch my aunt smile at me in genuine happiness.

             
“Well that’s great. You and I didn’t get to talk very much after Trist left last night. Is there anything you wanna tell me?” she says, smirking in a
knowing
way only a woman can.

             
Hard as I try, I
cannot stop the smile from spreading across my face. It starts off as a tiny, tight-lipped one, but grows into a full-on grin that Aunt Rachel has never seen me wear. Maybe she’s
some sort of magician, but Rachel seems to be the type of person t
hat can coax a smile from anyone
.

             
“He’s a great young man,” I say. Tristan can’t be called a boy; the word is too immature to describe his character. “Guy” seems too unoriginal,
but
“young man” suits him so perfectly.

             
Aunt Rachel laughs, plopping a pancake onto my plate. “Nice to see you found a friend so soon. A week’s time is all it took for you to get as close as you are? And, I’m not the snooping type, but I just so happened to see how close you got out by his truck,” she winks.

             
I blush, which is ridiculous considering the fact that he didn’t even kiss me on the lips. Although, a kiss on my neck is a lot more affectionate and it felt like the sky would open up and swallow us whole in a fiery inferno of passion.
Oh my gosh, I’m becoming such a teenager
,
I think to myself with a giggle, which escapes my throat.

             
I look up to see my aunt smiling, struggling to contain laughter. “Well, I just want you two to be careful. A week might not seem that long to you, but moments of weakness can make anybody vulnerable,” she says, but sees I’m confused and continues. “If you ever need, you know… protection? I keep some in the closet hallway. I’m not condoning that type of behavior, by any means, but better safe than sorry!”

             
My mouth pops open and I’m pretty sure my face was redder than the tomatoes growing in the garden out front. Tristan and I have known each other a week and she’s already thinking…

             
“No, absolutely not, Aunt Rachel. Nope, nope, I’m good, thanks,” I say, shoveling the last of my pancake into my mouth just as the doorbell dings.

             
“I’ll get it, Katie. Go brush your teeth, you wouldn’t want to keep the boyfriend waiting!” she calls loudly enough so that Tristan could probably hear her through the door.

             
She called him my boyfriend… is that what he is? We haven’t really put a name to what we are, and I’m not sure there is one to describe us. He hasn’t said we’re officially a couple, but it’s pretty much implied. Why would we see anybody else when we have each other right here?

             
“Have a good day, Katie!” Rachel calls to me from the kitchen as I make my way down the hallway. Tristan is sitting on the step, my backpack at his side. He looks especially nice today despite the sweater-vest that threatens
to destroy
his bad-boy image. Looking innocent and shy, he looks over his shoulder and stands when I close the door behind me.

             
“Hey you,” he says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. I jump back, startled because this is what he said in my dream last night.

             
“Hey you,” I say, smiling, hoping my dream will come true. Maybe the star heard my wish last night, and the dream is God’s way of letting me know to expect good things. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into the entire thing; two words don’t mean anything.

             
“Ready to get going?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear.

             
I smile wider, my mood completely improved. “Sure,” I say as I bounce down the steps.

             
The ride to school is quiet, and the breeze blowing through the open truck windows feels nice on my face. Soft music is playing on the radio, so I reach over to turn it up and Lady Antebellum floats from the speakers. I hum along with the music, mouthing the words and tracing the scars on my wrists absentmindedly. I feel guilty, like I should be crying and depressed that David isn’t who I thought he had become. But instead, I feel a peace and wholeness now that I know. Like maybe I can move on completely, free of the past and locked into the present.

             
“What are you thinking about?” I hear a velvet voice ask, breaking me from my thoughts.

             
I shake my head, not sure how to adequately put my feelings into words. “About how I think I should be depressed,
about David, but how I’m feeling… normal,” I say, voice breaking, contradicting my words.

             
Tristan cuts the engine in his usual parking space before reaching for my hand. “Let yourself feel whatever you feel. Don’t second guess your emotions; they’re there to show you how to continue. How to live. If they’re telling you not to be upset, don’t make yourself feel something else,” he says, rubbing little circles on my hand with his thumb.

             
I smile and pull my hand away, climbing out of the car. The door bumps into something, and I instinctively pull it back, revealing a girl with short brown hair sprawled on the ground.

             
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I say, shutting the door and nervously sticking my hands out to help her up. I watch her eyes shift from shocked to alarmed as she assesses my scarred wrists, and I pull my hands back, feeling guarded. “Are you okay?” I ask, wanting to avert her attention.

             
She nods, somewhat curtly, turns her head to pick up a book and stands. It is then I notice the bruising around her neck, which can’t even be hidden by the white turtleneck under her uniform shirt. It’s warm out today; she must be roasting in a long-sleeved shirt.

             
It hits me like a brick, the flashback. My father, standing over me as I cower, crying, on the floor of my closet. His hand
snaps back, ready to strike
my cheek, but he stopped, a heinous
smile forming on his frightening face. I let
out a sigh of relief, happy he was
appeased with merely frightening me
at the time.

But
I should have known bette
r. Both of his meaty hands shot
forward, one tilting my head back so that I was staring at the ceiling and one wrapped around my neck. S
queezing, squeezing, until I saw stars and my world faded
to black.

             
I must have been staring at the girl too long, because she squirms and walks around me, feet shuffling on the asphalt. I hear
horns honking and kids shouting
and these sounds snap me back to reality. My cheeks burn and I feel like his hands are still on my throat. I turn my head to find Tristan watching the brown haired girl retreat across the parking lot, and my eyes catch something shimmering in the sunlight. A bracelet. I bend down and pick it up, observing the charms with curiosity. A pair of angel wings graces the intricate silver chain, along with a set of ballet shoes, and a butterfly.

             
Carefully, I put the bracelet in the pocket of my skirt, knowing I’ll track down the brown haired girl later to see if it belongs to her.

             
“That’s Sorena Murray. She and I used to be really good friends, but then I…” Tristan trails off, letting his words float into the air.

             
“Sorena. I like that name,” I say, biting my lip.

             
“I used to call her Sorren, but she complained that it was too masculine,” he chuckles, eyes distant.

             
“Why haven’t I seen her before? I have a hard time believing she would’ve gone on the Greece trip,” I say as we start walking through the parking lot, swerving through the spaces of parked cars.

             
Tristan shrugs, letting his hand find mine. “I don’t know, she seems like a totally different person than who I knew. Wh
at did you pick up
?”

             
I release his hand, watching his face fall ever so slightly, and fish into my pocket for the bracelet. “This was on the ground. It’s probably Sorren’s, but I’m not positive,” I say, handing it to him.

             
He smiles, nodding. “It’s hers. She used to wear this all the time. I bought her the
star
charm for her fourteenth birthday.
She had a freaky obsession with fate and Greek gods.
”

             
For a moment, jealousy races through me at the thought of Tristan having a girlfriend. Malaya had said he was popular among the girls in school, but I hadn’t even given it a second thought. He’s a different person now, but I’ll ask him about it later out of simple curiosity.

             
“Did you date her?” I ask, some of the jealousy seeping into my words, which makes me feel horrible. The poor girl looked like a scared little doe, and I had the nerve to feel aggravation towards her?