“You say that like you were a part of the decision.”
“Well—” he reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a picnic rug, “—it’s up to each generation to decide. I chose to keep the land private.”
“Why?”
“I like knowing I can come here to think. That when I do, I’ll be completely alone.”
“Alone is right.” I looked around again. A few metres out, in the middle of the lake, a family of trees gathered on a small island, surrounded by a moat of algae. And the only other signs of life here, aside from David and I, were a couple of ugly brown ducks. “It’s very…private here.”
“It originated as hunting land.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, taking a long breath, squinting as he observed the landscape.
“What did you hunt?”
“Hunt?”
“Yeah. You said it was hunting land.”
His jaw rocked. “I did, didn’t I?”
I nodded.
“It was…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Foxes.”
“Foxes?”
“Yeah.”
“And…what about now? Do you still hunt here?”
“Only if the foxes stray onto the land—disregarding the warnings around the border.”
“What!” I laughed. “Last I checked, foxes couldn’t read.”
“Well, then they die,” he stated, then plonked down on the blue-and-red chequered blanket, with his back against the rock. “Don’t be shy.” He patted the spot next to him. “I won’t bite.”
I folded my arms, remembering suddenly why he brought me out here.
“Come on, Ara. You know you wanna talk to me.” The arrogant smile on his lips filtered through his voice. “You also know I’m not going to let you go until you do—and no kitten-force Kung-fu is going to help you. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, ma petite, but I’m a lot bigger than you.”
“What does ma petite mean?” I twisted at the shoulders to face him.
He smiled to himself, looking down at his outstretched legs. “Roughly? Little girl.”
I huffed. “I am not a little girl!”
“Good. Then stop acting like one. Sit down.”
I wanted to sit there, so badly, but letting him in to my world meant opening it, and I wasn’t sure I even could anymore.
David shrugged, then rested his hands behind his head—keeping his smiling eyes on me. “I’ve got all day.”
Slowly, with his conceited stare melting my icy exterior, my frown dropped, my arms following, until, with a low sigh, I wandered over and sat down about a metre across from him. And he waited, saying nothing. I was happy to let time just pass around us—happy to be this nice, sweet girl he thought I was, for just a little longer. But I knew it would come to an end. It had to eventually. He had to know the truth about me—about what I’d done. “I’m sorry, David.”
“Why would you need to be sorry?”
“I think I might’ve given you the wrong impression about myself.” I lowered my gaze. I didn’t want to see his face as I said this—the way any compassion would dissolve from his eyes, and that look, the smile that seemed to be reserved only for me, would vanish into disrespect. “Actually, I deliberately gave you the wrong impression.”
“So, you’re not a schoolgirl with a broken heart?”
“Is that all you see in me?”
He shook his head when I looked at him. “You know what I see in you.”
I nodded. “And that’s exactly what I wanted you to see—everyone to see. But I’m not nice. I’m not sweet and I’m not this golden child that organises benefits and listens to people talk about their day. I—” I laughed a little. “Half the time I really don’t care what Emily thinks about the latest books she’s reading and, most of the time, I cut her off—talk about things I want to talk about.”
David laughed. “And your honesty is one of the other things I like about you.”
I shook my head. “But it’s not honesty. It’s horrible. I mean, it’s not like I don’t care about people, but, I…I never really place them first.”
He exhaled. “And you think that makes you a bad person?”
I shrugged. “Maybe just selfish.”
“Okay, so maybe you’re selfish. I still like you.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that, but dropped it quickly. “What if…what if my selfishness went so deep it cost someone their life?”
He rose to his knees and shuffled closer. “Then you have to take a risk, right now—you have to put faith in our friendship, and just know that when you tell me what you’re going to tell me, I’m here—for you. Not for anyone else. I don’t care about Emily or her trivial conversations either, Ara. Not right now.” He grabbed my hand. “Right now, I’m here with you, my little friend, and you’re going to tell me what’s on your mind.”
I stole my hand back and pressed both palms to my now cool cheeks, swallowing the tight lump in the back of my throat.
“Ara,” he said softly, cupping his hand over mine, his fingertips resting just beside my ear. “I can see you holding back tears.”
“I know. But if I let them go, I’m not sure I’ll stop.”
He clicked his tongue. “Can I tell you something? A little story—a legend among my people.”
I nodded, resting my hands in my lap.
“They say that the tears one cries for loss are the Tears of the Broken. We call them the Devil’s Liquid because, for each one you shed alone, you sacrifice a piece of your soul.”
I sniffled, looking up at him.
“And they also say that for each tear shared, you give a piece of yourself for someone else to safeguard until you’re ready to see the sun rise again.”
“And you…” Hot tears doubled my vision; I blinked them out. “You want to be that someone?”
He stared at me, his round eyes unmoving. “Ara, I am that someone.”
Only a short sniffle passed before it all fell to pieces. “She shouldn’t have been there, David.” I covered my face, inaudible gusts of explanation dribbling through my lips. “She should’ve been in her bed, sleeping.”
“Your mom?”
I nodded into my hands. “It was my fault.”
“Why?”