“Please, just don't make me say goodbye, David. Go, leave me, but don't make me say it.”
He smiled and sat beside me on the piano stool. I tried to steady my pulse, pushing away the memory of the first time I saw that dimple; how I wanted nothing in the world except him—just him. Life or death or murder meant nothing—I just wanted him. “This is not goodbye, Ara. Not yet. I still have a few more days.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat. “Until the last red leaf falls, right?”
“Until the last red leaf falls,” he said with a grin.
I touched my fingertips to David’s face, and he held my hand to his cheek, closing his eyes. My heart picked up with the desire to lay against him—safe in his strong, loving arms—held tight, like nothing could ever bring me harm.
If only we could run away—run from everything. Run from reality and the supernatural, run from fate and tragedy. But we couldn’t.
“Where will you go—what will you do when I’m gone?” I asked.
He looked down and then smiled as our eyes met again. “See the pyramids.” He shrugged. “Always wanted to fly a silver plane, too.”
I managed a soft smile.
“Don’t you ever forget, Ara, how much I love you.” He placed both hands on my face, then turned my head slowly. “And you still, and always will, belong to me.”
I nodded, rolling my cheek into his thumb as he wiped a tear away. Then, he slowly lowered his lips to mine, and like so many times before, they fit to perfection, as if we were made for each other—but so cruelly unsuited to each other. We’d kissed for love, kissed for lust, for happiness and thankfulness, but this was a kiss of sorrow, of loss and despair, yet so full of love—so soft and so gentle. Like a beast handling priceless porcelain.
But even with the warmth in my soul, weightless from his touch, the small silver locket around my neck felt heavy under the pain of imminent separation. It had felt that way for so long now, but only in his arms, with his lips once again belonging to mine, I could finally see that it always would—and I wasn’t sure I could bear it.
I yanked the chain loose and held it out to David as I pulled away from the kiss. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this.”
“Ara?” His voice overflowed with confusion as he held the locket in his open palm.
“It’s too painful for me. I can’t keep this as a memory of you. I need to forget. I need to try to move on, and every time I do, this is a constant reminder that you’re no longer a part of my life.” My voice broke—shattered, as I delivered the words I knew were tearing out his heart.
His rounded eyes burned through me, deep into my soul; he wanted me to feel what he felt right then, but I already knew. I could feel it myself—in my bones, breaking my resolve.
I looked away. It hurt too much to see that on his face. It would only destroy me over and over again.
The locket sat in David’s outstretched palm, shimmering like moonlight on sand in the soft, dull light of our eternal darkness.
Placing my thumb against the heart, I closed his fingertips around it and held my grip there for a second. “This is not goodbye, remember?”
“Not yet, anyway.” He nodded solemnly as he placed my heart into his pocket, and then, like so many times before, without a word, without a smile, the darkness was the only thing I saw in his place.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With my back against the wall outside Mr Benson’s class, I hugged my books—the books David usually carried—and watched everyone pass. They didn’t talk to me. They hardly even gawked at me anymore, and the horrid yellow linoleum just seemed to be a part of the scenery, ironically, like me. Didn’t mean it fit, though.
“Hey, did you hear?” Emily came bounding over.
“Depends. What was I supposed to hear?”
“The benefit? We raised enough to cover Nathan’s funeral.” Her lips practically touched her ears. “And due to an anonymous donation, Mrs Rossi won’t have to pay the hospital bill, either.”
“Wow, that’s really great.” We moved aside for Mr B to get into class. “So, who’s the donor?”
Emily glared at me. “Ara, the point of being anonymous is that no one knows who you are.”
“Oh, right.” I closed my eyes for a second. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m not really with it today.”
“Are you ever?” she asked; I shrugged. “So, what happened to you anyway, after the show? You just…disappeared.” She fluttered her fingers as if throwing a handful of butterflies into the air.
“I uh—”
“Is it Mike? ‘Cause you guys seem pretty friendly.” She paused for a moment. “Is Mike taking you to the ball? Since David had to go New Hampshire?”
New Hampshire, huh? “I haven’t asked him. But, I guess he will. It’s been really busy around my place lately.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. We haven’t even gone shopping for my dress yet.”
“Oh, my God. Emily. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
“I don’t blame you, not with a hunk like that hanging around.” She elbowed me softly, hugging her books to her chest.
“Can I make it up to you?” I asked.
“Yeah, okay.” She lifted one shoulder and dropped it. “Hey, why don’t we go tonight? Maybe have some dinner out?”
“Yeah, you know—” I grinned, “—that may be just what I need. What time?”
“Six fine with you?”
“Sounds—great.” Really great, actually.
We parted ways and I suffered the trials of obligation for the next seven hours in silence. It was during this desolate wandering I had a revelation; school was so boring. I decided I wouldn’t be coming tomorrow and probably not for the rest of this week, actually. I wanted as much time with Mike as I could get before he boarded that plane next Monday and, if I decided not go with him, disappeared from my life forever.
It seemed to be the way with people I loved; I’d get to hold them, love them only long enough to realise I couldn't live without them, and then they were gone. A blink of an eye.
There was no going back to the simplicity—the uncomplicated rose-coloured glasses of love. Love was not enough anymore, and if love were truly blind, then I’d surely be running away with David.
But the heart must not be allowed to rule the mind. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Though, I was starting to wonder which one was which.