Tears of the Broken (28 page)

We
talked softly over a few albums worth of music while the summer
breeze swept through my window, circling the fragrance of my
vanilla body wash, fresh cut grass and the sharp, spicy scent of
David’s powdery cologne.

It’s
so easy to be with David. He asked me a lot about Australia, and we
sat for about half an hour comparing the differences in words from
the two countries, like lift and elevator, and Mom versus
Mum.

“
And
the food here is different, too, as in the portions,” I said. “I’ve
never been so happy in all my life. Your large fries are the
equivalent to our family sized.” I patted my belly. “The green
ogre’s started raising his demands. I’m gonna get fat
soon.”

David squeezed my hand. “You would still be beautiful, even
if you were too big to touch your toes.”

“
Gross.” I winced, but it made me smile. “That’s the sweetest
thing any guy has ever said to me.” In a really strange
way.

He
went quiet for a second, shaking his head. “I don’t think you get
it, Ara.”

“
Get
what?” He stayed quiet, so I rolled onto my belly and rested my
elbows against his chest. “Get what, David?”

With
his lips pressed together, he smiled, studying my face. “Never
mind. So—what’s your favourite genre of film?” he asked as if he’d
never made that maddeningly cryptical comment.

The
air huffed out of my lungs. Never mind? I mind! I want him to
finish that sentence. What don’t I get? All that comment’s going to
do is leave me worrying about or over-thinking it later.
Deliberately, I slumped myself a little too heavily onto my back
and rested against his chest again. “So, favourite genre of film? I
guess—it used to be action. The nineteen-eighties kind. But,
now—”

“
Now?” David led when my silence lasted too long.

“
Now, I like comedies. You know, it’s like,” I huffed a breath
out through my nose, “I’m always so unhappy. If I can find
something that makes me laugh and forget about my life for a while,
then that’s what I like to do. So, comedies.” My shoulders lifted
once.

“
What kind of comedies? Stand-up, action—?”

“
Romantic.” I smoothed my fingertips over David’s ribs. “What
about you?”

“
Horror,” he stated without delay, then cupped his hand over
mine—stopping it from lifting his shirt.

“
Really? Why? They’re so—icky.” I pretended to rub goose bumps
off my arms.

“
Not
for me. I love a good, scary horror. I have this thing for
blood—and guts and fear—can’t get enough of it.”

Well, I never assumed
that
one. I just can’t believe my ears. Sweet, kind,
David? Likes blood—and gore? It just doesn’t fit. I rolled onto my
belly again to study his face. “Really?”

He
just smiled and placed his hand under my shoulder blade, making me
feel so grounded and so real with the weight of his touch. What is
it about him that can come across as so harmless, when all I’ve
heard are stories about his bullying antics, and now he tells me he
likes horror? I don’t know. All I know is that, even if he does
like to watch people get ripped apart and splattered all over the
screen, it doesn’t change who he is—not to me.

When
I fell back into my own head, David’s stunned stare at my face drew
a smirk to my lips. “Did I disappear again? I do that. How long was
I out for this time?”

“
Long enough.” His brows pinched in the middle and his dark
green eyes radiated a mix of curiosity and what I thought might
be—sorrow.

“
So,
what about your favourite sport?” A lighter topic might be in
order. I don’t want to know what my thoughts just displayed on my
face and he probably doesn’t want to tell me.

“
Well, that’s easy. Hockey.” He flashed a cheesy grin. “What
about you?”

I
shook my head. “I like dancing, but as for actual sports, I was
never interested. It was a taboo subject in my house—much to Mike’s
disgust.”

David cleared his throat and shifted a little, crossing his
ankles over where they dangled off the end of my bed. “I’m guessing
he spent a lot of time there?”

“
Yep. Every day. He was a permanent fixture—just another piece
of furniture. His mum and my mum were really close.”

“
You
and Mike were, too?”

“
Yeah. We were. I mean, we are, but we’re just so far apart
right now.”

“
Do
you think things will be the same as before when he comes to see
you?”

“
I
hope so. He’s always been a constant thing in my life. It’s been
really hard without him.” I crossed my hands over on David’s chest
and rested my chin on them, losing myself to thought for a second
before a smile expanded my lips. “He’s kind of like a favourite
pillow, you know, you can cry into it, it keeps you warm and comfy,
and it’s always there.”

“
But
you don’t sleep with it?” He tried to make it sound like a joke,
but I know he was also really curious. Everyone is.

“
No,
David. It’s not that kind of pillow,” I said slowly, then added
with a cheeky grin, “It’s a couch pillow. Mike’s just a couch
pillow. But this one—” my face rested onto his shirt again, and I
listened to the sound of his ultra-quiet breathing, “this is my new
favourite pillow.”

David nodded, then brushed his lips across my knuckles. “I’m
sorry. I wish the circumstances that brought you to me had been
different. But I am very glad you came here.” He touched my cheek
until our eyes met. “I’m sure when you see Mike in a few weeks
you’ll fall back into step with each other straight
away.”

“
Yeah, probably.” I shrugged and then
curiosity itched. “So? What about
your
family? Do you have any
brothers or sisters?”

David made little circles over my arm with his
fingertip—seeming hesitant. “I have a brother. A twin.”

“
Really? A twin? Wow.” I sat up next to David’s hips, crossing
my legs under me. This is too interesting for a lie-down
conversation. “Are you identical?”

“
Yes. We look the same, but we’re very different.”

“
Well, I gathered that. Why doesn’t he go to school with
us?”

“
He
chose a different path—stayed with my uncle, in New
York.”

“
So,
who do you live with, then? Are your parents still
together?”

“
My
mother passed away when I was a baby and my father followed not
long after.”

“
Oh,
David.” I covered my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“
It
was a long time ago.” He nodded and rested his arm behind his
head.

“
So,
you grew up with your uncle?”

“
Well, I was raised by my aunt, and when she passed away, my
uncle took my brother and I into his care.”

“
Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d suffered a lot
of grief. I feel bad, like I’m making a big deal out of my
problems, but you—”

“
Don’t say that.” He pushed himself up on
his elbow and took my hand. “You have every right to ‘make a big
deal,’ Ara. You
just
lost your mum. My grief, my loss, it all happened a very long
time ago.”

“
Can’t be that long ago. You’re only a teenager.” I frowned,
half laughing at the way he brushes off his own grief—just like I
do.

He
smiled and looked down at our hands, then took a deep breath. “I’m
older than I look. The things that have happened to me in life
have
made
me
older—given me wisdom beyond my years.” He laid back down and spoke
through a breathy smile, “Sometimes I feel like I’m over a hundred
years old.”

“
So,
do you see your uncle much, I mean, since you moved
away?”

“
Uncle Arthur and I are members of a council, so we see each
other every week—or at least talk on the phone.”

“
What about your brother?”

“
Jason?” David’s cheek flinched. “Not so much. We’ve kind of
grown apart.”

“
Why?”

“
He
uh—”he eyed Vicki as she passed my bedroom door, “he and I had a
falling out a while back. Things are…neutral, now.”

“
Neutral?”

“
Mm,” he muttered and sat up. “I’m just waiting for him to
find out about you.”

“
Is
that a bad thing?”

“
No,” he said in short. “I mean, I don’t
think so, but—” he took my hand and waited until Vicki passed my
room—
again
. “How
‘bout we get out of here for the day, go to the
lake?”

A
smile spread across my lips—a real smile. “Sounds
great.”

“
Okay.” David nodded and helped me to stand. “Do you have a
picnic basket?”

“
Yeah, I think so.”

He
leaned in and pecked my cheek. “Go get it. I’ll run to the store
and get some supplies.”

Chapter
Ten

Drawing a deep lungful of the woodsy leather smell, I smiled.
Dad’s car smells nothing like this, and though the upholstery of
David’s car is sticky and uncomfortable under my legs in the summer
heat, it seems to retain the aged scent of experience—a bit like
riding in the car with my grandpa, which makes it emotionally
comforting.

But
this time, as weird as it sounds, I actually feel safe riding in
his car. Even with my dad, I still haven’t been able to go for a
drive without white-knuckling it the whole way, and don’t even get
me started on the whole wrong side of the road thing. But I barely
notice that with David.

With
heavy weekend traffic, the trip out to the lake seemed to take
longer. David, only half paying attention to the road, watched me
sort through the CDs in his glove compartment. Most of the music
would belong better in my dad’s collection, but a tickle of elation
perked me up at the sight of familiar cover-art. “I think I
might’ve heard of these guys.” I held up the disk. At last, one
musical interest in common.

David smiled. “I have that album on my iPod. I’ll bring it
with us when we get to the lake—play it to you.”

“
Okay. Do…do you like them? I mean, I know you have a CD, but,
like, what’s your favourite one of their songs?”

David’s chest puffed out with a deep breath and he looked at
the CD. I held it up so he could see the back. “Off that
album…Overcome.”

I
nodded, scanning the song titles. “Why that one?”

“
It
has a nice melody—I like the piano.”

“
Oh.” I considered the cover for a second, then left it in my
lap. “Hey…David?” As I looked up at him, a knot of hesitation
tightened my throat.

He
tore his eyes away from the road and they locked to mine for a
breathless second as I freaked out—imagining him veering off the
road. “David! Watch the road!”

“
It’s okay, Ara. You are more than safe in the car with me.”
He reached across and pried my fingers from their grip on the
leather seat. “I have extensive driver training. My uncle even
forced me to take one of those stunt-driving courses once. I know
how to handle myself on the road.”

“
That doesn’t mean you’re incapable of
having an accident,” I scolded. “Besides, it’s not just
your
driving I’m worried
about.”

“
Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve never had an
accident?” He grinned, raising his eyebrows.

“
No.” I stole my hand back.

“
Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. No more eye contact when
driving. Deal?” he said with a breathy laugh, shaking his
head.

“
Deal.”

“
Now, what were you about to say, before?” David kept his eyes
on the road this time.

I
don’t know if I should say it now—since the moment has
passed.

“
Just say it.” David flicked his indicator on, and my
uncertainty lingered in the silence. “Ara, say it.”

“
I’m happy, is all.” I shrugged and looked
away. “I can’t figure out what on
Earth
you’d see in a girl like me,
but I’m really glad you do.”

We
both stared forward, silence the only common ground. I really wish
I hadn’t said it. One thing I’ve learned about life is that
happiness is subject to ignorance; as soon as you acknowledge it,
it disappears—like everything else you care about. How long will it
be before he realises I’m not that great, before he sees through
the rose-coloured glasses and leaves me behind? Alone.

David smiled; his own private joke again.

So,
he has nothing to say about what I just said—and why should he,
really? I expect too much from him. Then again, maybe he’s not
saying anything because he’s afraid there’s too much at stake here,
that I’m too risky to be involved with if it means my happiness is
based on his coming into my life—or leaving. I should’ve kept my
mouth shut.

“
Do you know why they say
love is blind
?” David
asked, watching the road carefully.