With my nose pressed to the vent, I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
“If you get hot or cold, Ara, you really need to tell me. It’s just not something I think about.”
“Why?” I sat back in my seat and angled the vent to blast along my hairline.
He grinned. “I’m insensitive.”
“Yeah, you’re so neglectful of others’ feelings, David.”
“I know. Sometimes I lose sleep over it.” He laughed.
“Mm, I don’t know how you live with yourself,” I joked.
“Takes practice.” And he meant that, I could tell. And I was sure it was aimed at me.
“What are you saying?”
“Regret. It takes time to live with it.” He reached across and took my hand again. “You called your mom Vicki the other day.”
I felt numb then, not just from the crying but the stupidity. “Did I?”
“Yes. And if I am good at only one thing, Ara, it’s deduction; I think I’ve known for a while now that your mom died. I just don’t know why you pretend she hasn’t.”
I rolled my face slowly toward my chest. “Because I didn’t want people to ask how she died. Didn’t want them to feel sorry for me.”
“People only feel sorry for you when there’s good reason, Ara. Your mom’s gone. People just want to help.”
“I know.” But I didn’t want their help. Every ache was a step toward redemption.
“Redemption?’ David said.
I looked up at him quickly. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Uh—” He looked at the road again, his face grey. “Yes. Didn’t you mean to?”
I couldn’t believe my own carelessness. “No.”
“What did you mean by that—about redemption?”
“Just that…when you do something wrong, sometimes you can make up for it.”
“By doing what?”
I blinked a few times and the dried tears made my skin crack a little. “Suffering.”
The car slowed for a second, then, as David sat taller, his fingers tighter on the wheel, it went back up to speed.
I flipped the visor mirror down and gasped at the mess David had been looking at for the last five minutes. My life was over. I wiped the smudges of black mascara from under my eyes, using the remaining tears around my lashes to smooth it away without too much of a problem. But I couldn’t wipe away the blotchy patches of red under my skin and worse, my nose, whenever I cried, turned bright pink—forming a giant rouge smudge across my face. “I look like a clown,” my voice quivered.
“You look—” David turned my face with his fingertips, “—adorable.”
Right. Adorable. Was he serious? I folded my arms across my chest, looked out the window and focused on my breathing. The passing houses and tree-lined streets were all the same around here. Pretty, with that old-style, Halloween kind of feel. It felt like it should be autumn and everything sort of orange and brown, with the slight hint of cinnamon in the air. But the summer had this magic little place trapped in its grasp, making everything yellow and gold, and a little wilted.
The trees thickened as we turned onto a narrow road with dirt strips on both sides, and my squinting eyes relaxed as the sun’s glare disappeared over the canopy. “David, where’re we going?”
“Somewhere quiet, where no one can hear us.”
I laughed. “That sounded kinda creepy.”
He laughed too. “Sorry. I realised that just as I said it.”
I sat taller to take a good look at the deserted forest road. “Why should we be where no one can hear us?”
“Because, you need to talk. And you won’t talk if you think someone might hear you.”
I looked away, pinching the base of my thumb with my fingertips. He was right; I did need to talk, but I didn’t want to talk to him. He had this delusion that I was some nice, sweet girl. He didn’t know the real me—the one that I was trying not to be anymore.
“Let me guess—” He smiled, watching the road carefully, taking the curves with a kind of precision that put my dad’s driving to shame. “You don’t wanna talk to me about it. Am I right?”
“I’m sorry.” I looked out the window. “It was nice of you to bring me out here, but I don’t—”
“I’m not going to let you go until you talk to me.”
“And what are you going to do? Torture a confession out of me?”
He tilted his head a little, keeping his eyes on the road. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Well, it won’t work. I have my reasons for not wanting to talk, David.”
“And they mean nothing to me. You’re talking. Period.”
“You can’t make me.” I folded my arms and stared ahead, biting my teeth together.
The car slowed dramatically, gravel crunching under the tires as we pulled onto the side of the desolate road. “Ara?”
I shook my head.
“Ara?” David said again.
Begrudgingly, I twisted my neck to look at him. I felt kind of like a spoilt kid throwing a tantrum.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his whole body to face me. “Sweetheart, you’re taking things a little too seriously. I meant no harm. Really. And the more I think about it—” he rolled back in his seat and faced the front, a cheeky grin stretching the corners of his mouth, “—the more I think I might just have to kidnap you until you do talk to me.”
A small smile crept onto my lips. I pressed them together firmly to keep it hidden.
“Ara, please don’t be so moody. It’s okay to smile.”
I let my arms fall away from my chest with the release of a long breath. The ogre was obviously dominating my mood right now. I should’ve eaten more at lunch. “I know you have the best of intentions here, David. But this is really nothing to do with you.” I tried to sound polite, but the words came out sounding so mean.
“I can help you,” he said after a second. “I want to help you. All the bad things, Ara, all the pain you feel—” he reached for my hand; I let him take it, “—I can make it all hurt less. But you have to let me in.”
“I can’t,” I said in a breaking whisper and turned away.
“Come.”
“Where?” I looked back at him.
He smiled and opened his door, allowing the clammy air to mingle with the pleasant, artificial cool. “Somewhere better.”