“No—you’re right. I don’t. I love him more.”
“Ara,” Mike said softly, “I’m not giving up yet. I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Then tell me what to do,” I sobbed, pressing my fists into my eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Come home with me. Let me love you.”
“It won't make it okay. It’ll never be okay.”
“I know. Ara, we can't take back what happened. We can only try to move forward. But if you let me, I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold you until all the hurt just hurts less. Please—let me do that.”
I took a deep, jagged breath. “I can't. I can't, because when I do—when I decide to, I die inside.”
“Why, Ara? Why do you feel that way? I—I don't understand.”
“You can’t, Mike. You can’t, because you don't understand love.”
“Love?”
I nodded.
He drew back a little. “This isn't just about losing your mum and Harry, is it?”
I shook my head.
“So…it’s about David?”
I nodded.
“You’re serious? All this is about David?” He motioned to my ruined self on the floor of the school auditorium.
I nodded again, my chest quivering, my snotty nose snivelling.
“Ara, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm gonna say it anyway, okay?” He touched my shoulder.
“Please don't.”
“I have to, baby. You—you’re not okay. You need a hand to guide you right now, and I—I know you better than anyone. This isn’t normal—the way you feel. This is grossly magnified by grief. This love you feel for David—it isn't real.”
I looked up at him quickly. “You’re wrong, Mike.” The beast inside me grew—rising up from the ashes of disaster as I clambered to my feet. “It’s you I don't feel for.”
He stood too. “Ara, that’s not true and you know it.”
“It is true,” I screamed. “I stopped feeling for you the day my family died. And I don’t care if that hurts you, because you need to know.”
“Ara—” He edged closer. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry, but...I want you to go home, Mike. We’re never gonna be what we were. It’s all just too broken now. I just can’t forgive you for pushing me away.” Then, hurriedly, before guilt could set in, I turned and headed for the door. But the light barely even touched my face before 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.
The thing was, if he couldn't understand what I felt for David, then he couldn't understand how to love me. We’d never be right for each other.
Holding my head high, with pride moving my feet, I kept walking, even though I knew, deep down inside, beneath the ogre, beneath the pain I always felt, I loved him, and I wanted him to take me home.
“Say it again!” Mike ordered, grabbing my wrist, whirling me into the cage of his arms. “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. 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 didn’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, backing away as his hand covered his mouth. “Oh, God. I did this. I did this.”
Even though my face crumpled with the saturation of regret, I refused to let myself hide in my hands. He needed to see I was hurting, too. He needed to know how I felt. If I couldn’t tell him now, I’d lose him forever. But 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 growl suddenly broke through.
Mike looked up at me, his eyes then falling to my belly as the ogre made a last demand for nourishment.
“When did you last eat?” He looked 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.”
A loud huff of air burst out through his wide grin. “I shoulda known.” His arms flew up and wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest with a jolt. “I shoulda known you could never say things like that.”
As my breath struggled through his strangle hold and into my lungs, I tried to push away from him, to protest against his sudden change in direction. But he squeezed me tighter and shook his head.
“No way, baby girl. I am not letting you go.”
So, with a sigh, my shoulders dropped and I gave in, let him hold me—let his warm, strong embrace make me feel safe and loved again. The way he always made me feel.
“Just say it though, please?” He held my shoulders, looking down into my face. “Just so my heart will believe my ears. Please just tell me you didn’t mean any of it?”
“You know I didn’t, Mike,” I said very softly.
His chest shuddered. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you, baby.” He gathered me up; I folded into him willingly, letting him make an apology for something he need not apologise for. “I was just so worried. If I’d lost you—if you were gone, I…I just don’t know what I would’ve done.”
Even though I knew he was referring to the fact that I ran away this morning, a small part of me wondered if what he really meant was, if I didn’t love him, or if I truly wanted him to go back home.
And that made me feel happy, in a silly kind of way, that he could love me so much, to be so devastated if I would not love him in return.
When we walked through the front door back home, Dad didn’t even bother grilling me. I half expected to become the steak to his side of fries with way too much salt. But he just hugged me—held me tight, like I mattered more to him than anything in the world—then handed me back to Mike before walking away, without saying a word.
I looked to Mike for reassurance.