The Knight Of The Rose (24 page)

dream, even though I had no contro l over it. And I guess, in a way, that’s the problem; what we

dream
does
have meaning. What we think, feel, desire. It matters. And it hurts.

But life taught me t hat trying to find the reas ons behind what hurts is as futile as screaming

out to the heavens “Why, God, why”

No one will ever answer, because there is no answer. We’re all alone here, in this world. No

one is watching from above, no angel s are standing by to answer our prayers. We are the authors of

our own lives, and what we suffer is to our own error.

But it’s human nature, I guess, to keep searching for a way to make everything okay—to say

“Yeah, there was a point to all this, and my life isn’t just some big joke of the gods.”

For me, though, right now—that’s how it feels.

David said, since I won’t become immortal, that he wants me t o fall in love with someone

else, yet he contradicts that by being hurt when I do.

My heart was Mike’s before I came here—before it all happened, and now, after he threw it

away—he wants it back, and…I want to give it t o him. I’m not sure if I can go an eternity never

having loved Mike.

Sometimes I wish I’d never met David at all, then I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have my

heart squeezed between two iron compressors.

My thoughts came back to t he auditorium while I took a deep br eath. Though I sat

motionless, aside from my hands scal ing 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.

I played the scales slowly back and forth a few times—listening to the notes carefully, seeing

my future in the physical form of their tones; Mike, our children—their little round faces smiling out

at me from the space between thought and reality, and our lives, long and happy as we grow old and

grey. He would love me, and I would love him just as much.

But I still just don’t know if it’s enough.

As confusion and heartbreak consumed my emotions and took cont rol of my movements, I

played harder, slamming the notes. All of the anguish, the loss—I want it to go away, I want David

to stay, to marry me, to have babies with me and grow old together.

The notes became slow and high once again. It’ll never happen. I have a choice to make. To

choose life or eternal love—if David will still even have me.

Since Mike confess ed his love, I haven’t been able to think. Every time I turn around, at

dinner, when I do the dishes or while we sit on the couch, watching movies, Mike’s watching me

with pleading eyes. He wants me to give him an answer, but I don’t have one to give—not really.

David probably doesn’t even want an answer anymore. And I don’t expect to see him at the

Masquerade on Sunday. I should hope he’s happy somewhere, that he’s moved on—but it hurts when

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

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

lowering my head. Mike’s silhouette broke the line of soft blue light, and as he headed down the long

The Knight of the Rose

Page 9 of 15

isle toward me, he became a part of the dense black.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been going 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 becaus e your dad has

been out there searching for you since we realised you weren’t in roll call!”

There was nothing for me to say. I guess 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
.” Mike pointed to his chest. “How could you just run off like that? Not tell anyone

where you were going. You couldn’t have left a note or something? Jesus, gi rl.” 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 kn ow damn well you should’ve to ld 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 ho w long you’d been gone.” He looked at his watch. “It’s two-thirty,

for God’s sake, girl.”

I looked down at my lap and twisted my si

lver locket delicately in my fi ngertips. “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 fr iends?” I smacked the stool with my 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 freakin day!”

“Yeah, well, no one asked you to come looking f or 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 a rrived here, when my dad made me speak to you on the phone. You

said you were t ired 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 wa s not what I said and you know i t. You’re

adding words to what I—”

“Am I? Or is that what you
wanted
to say? I s that what you re ally 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 know the way you looked away when you

first saw me after the accident, and how disgusted you were in me that night for
daring
to feel what I

file://C:\eBooks\the knight of the rose\tmp_10fb7585fb340176147f7cd7cde60c05_vy... 27/05/2012

felt for you—”

“That’s what you think?” He briskly stepped forward and gr abbed 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 m y shoulder to se e his bulky silhouette in the middle of the stage,

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 hol low-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 ne ver have told me you

love me, Mike. Now I’m just confused and empty.”

Mike doubled back, dropping his hand to his si de as the b lade of my words hit his heart.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

“What would you know? You d on’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 r eject you. I just asked you to wait a second whi le 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 mi stake. Now, it’s time
I
fix things—put them all back in the ri ght

place.”

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

“I’m saying, I. Love. David, Mike—” I poked my ches t on each word, “—not you.” The lie

came out through my lips like a hot breat h; 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.

It’s too late now, t here’s no taking it back. He’s hur t, and I’m alone and mean and ugly

inside, like I’ve always been.

“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 bull shit!” His angered voice touched my nerves, forcing me

to quiver slightly. “It’s not real. He is not your tr ue love. He’s a random stepping stone, a fall back

guy—a—a bloody infatuation.” Mike took a deep breath and let it out with a loud groan, then held

his thumb to his brow. “Look—I hurt you. I’m sorry for that, okay? But you don’t love him, not like

you love me.”

“No—you’re right. I don’t. I love him more.”

“Ara,” Mike said softly, “I’m not giving up yet. I know you bett er than you know yourself .

You’re going to regret everything you just said to me in about five minutes.”

“You’re wrong, Mike,” the beast inside me sp oke. “I stopped feeling for you the day my

family died. I don’t care if the trut h hurts you, because you need to know. Just like I needed to—that

night.”

“Ara—” he edged closer, “Don’t. Please don’t.”

With a stiff lip, I drew a tight breath and said, “I’m sorry, but...I don’t love you. I want you to

go home and never come back.” Then, hurriedly, before guilt could set in, I turned away and headed

for the door. The light barely even touched my face bef ore I realised what that would have done to

him. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel the cold in the room from the detachment of his soul.

Mike was wrong when he said it would take five minutes for me to regret what I said—it was

instant. Holding my head high, with pride moving my feet, I kept walking. It’s too late now. I said it,

and it’s not like I can just t ake back something I said when it’s al ready been said. He won’t believe

me if I tell him I never meant any of it.

Out of the darkness, a hand grabbed me, stealing a gasp f rom my lips as Mike spun me

around and imprisoned me i n a fleshy cage, r ight in front of his face. “Say it again!” he order ed

gruffly. “Say it like you mean it, and I’ll go. But you don’t, Ara.” He studied me carefully, his eyes

darting over every inch of my face. “You don’t mean it. Say it!” He shook me.

My lip quivered and a cold tear rolled over my cheek. Mike had never been rough with me

before. It was suddenly very clear that he wasn’t as sure I loved him as he said he was. He believed

me when I said I don’t care for him—just as I’d wanted him to.

“That’s it, is it? Nothing? You have nothing to say to me?” His voice cracked above the

controlled hysterics. “After all these years, after…after all the…” He let go of my arms, turning his

head away as his hand covered his mouth.

Even though my face crumpled with the saturation of regret, I r efused to let myself hide in

my hands. He needed to see I was hur ting, too. He needed to know how I felt. If I couldn’t tell him

now, I’d lose him forever.

Mike and I stood in silence, only a step away from each other. I couldn’t speak. My chest felt

so tight the words wouldn’t come. If only he was like David, I could say in my mind, I’m so sorry,

Mike. I love you. I love you! And I want you to know that. I just…I’ll always love David, though.

Always. Above the silence, a mighty gr owl broke through. Mike looked up at me, then his eyes

followed to my belly as the ogre made a last demand for nourishment.

“When did you last eat?” He l ooked back at my face, and in the pale light from outside, I

noticed the hint of a smile around the corners of his eyes.

“Last night.“