The smile I started by seeing hers grew. I knew what she was about to ask. “Maybe. Once or twice.”
“I knew it.” She slapped the covers, and her mind went from our adventures in the field to the night I came to her room and danced with her. “So…the yellow dress?”
I wasn’t sure if I should admit this. “Yes, I…” I shrugged dismissively. “I figured I owed you a new dress—since I ruined the blue one.”
“Ha! I can't believe you just said that.”
Neither could I.
“And, what about the memories?” she said. “Did you leave mind-blocks in place, or were you actually in those dreams with me, showing me all those things yourself?”
“Many of those were memories of things we did before…” The pictures of my childhood—the things she’d asked me about, things I’d shown her in our life together before I let her fall into Drake’s hands came to mind, so clear, so intense with the love we have for each other that I almost forgot I was talking. “I never placed mind-blocks. I erased those things, but only enough to hide them from a human mind. As you grew stronger, your brain lifted the sheet.” You were never supposed to find those memories again, I added without saying it.
“Sheet? But you said you erased them.”
“Nothing can ever truly be erased from a mind. It’s like a hard drive—unless you have some pretty high-tech equipment, there’s always an imprint left behind.”
“Right. So, all those things you showed me about your childhood—”
“You asked. I answered.”
She nodded. “Did you want me to hate David?”
I laughed. Of course I did. I just didn’t want her to learn the hard way what kind of man he was. “It’d be nice if you did. But, no. I did and do want you to know what he’s like, though.”
“What do you mean?” Her soft cheeks dropped as her lips sat parted, curiosity lingering beneath a hint of fear for the truth I might offer. She was so perfectly beautiful, so soft and so fragile. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could have slapped her. And then I remembered again—the way I hit her, the way I screamed at her, threw her, dragged her, hurt her, and made her cry. I’d stepped outside myself when I did that, but no matter how far you step away, when you come back, the truth will always belong to you, and you cannot escape your own memories.
I feared for her and her loving soul. She forgave me for an act of depraved cruelty. I knew she’d forgive Mike, and I knew, if David ever slapped her, or locked her away in her room or forced her to wear the clothes he saw fit, she would accept that. She loved him enough to look past anything. “You have such a forgiving heart that, well, now I'm sure you’d forgive David if he struck you in anger, and his strike would not be a tiny slap.”
“You only say that because you think I'm going to let Mike get away with it.”
She would. “No, I say that because my brother can seem to do no wrong. I’ve seen him raise his voice at you, and you only blame yourself—tell yourself not to push him. Ara, that’s a recipe for a submissive nineteen-fifties abused housewife. I just don't want to see you crying on a kitchen floor, punished because the Pavlova sunk and, sweet girl, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Because I remembered too clearly the events of days gone by—stories I could never share for fear of breaking her heart—breaking the mould she thought David fitted.
“You don't think very highly of him, do you?” she said, but what she really wanted to say was, You’re just behaving like a jealous brother.
“I love my brother. I do. But I know him, inside and out, and he’s old-fashioned. He doesn't see anything wrong with disciplining his wife. It’s not a personality fault; it’s a time corruption.”
“He’d never hit me, Jase.”
I wiped my thumb down her cheek, right where Mike would never have hit her either. “Neither would Mike.”
She pushed my hand away. “And David would never even do that much.”
“I hope not. And I hope, if he ever does, you would come to me. You would see it as an error on his part, and not just think yourself the problem.”
“I wouldn’t. Okay?” But she knew she would; she knew she’d take it to her grave because, if he ever struck her in anger, it would be so apparently out of character for him that people would ask what she’d done to provoke him. “I know it might seem like I let him get away with being all controlling and forceful, but if he ever did anything to me that I didn't like, I’d leave. I have a no-strike policy with men, Jase. If he hits me, even once, he’s gone, because that’s not love.”
Then how could she love me? “I hit you,” I said, and her mind went blank with guilt; she hadn’t thought of that, but my point was made. And made strong.
“Jase. Don't. Okay? Just stop feeling guilty. Look—” She couldn’t find the right words, no matter how hard she tried, because she knew, deep down inside, that it was true; I hurt her. She should have expelled me from her life a long time ago for that. “Okay, you hit me, you’re a bastard. I hate you.” Her lovely white teeth showed with that special grin she did only when she was being cheeky. Her fangs had grown with the blood of the immortal being constant in her veins now, and they looked so cute on her; so small they were almost like baby teeth. I loved her so much in that moment that the tears I’d held all night, from the first moment I found out what she was planning to do with my uncle, came out from hiding. I didn’t want her to see them. I swiped one away as it fell onto my cheek.
“You were just so small and precious.” I couldn’t stop it then; the whole thing played out in my mind, forcing me to see the way Arthur touched her. To see her cry and throw up, and as my heart raged with fury, wishing I could skin my uncle, the memory of her face when I struck her, when I tortured her, came rushing back like a punishment. I broke. I had to tell her how I felt. I knew it would only make her pity me. But I needed her to know I never stopped regretting it. “Every strike felt as if you’d snap, shatter, like porcelain. I—” I held my hands out as if she was in them, broken, crying for me. I could see her there—see her in my arms. “I hit as softly as I possibly could, but I—”
Her fingertips landed in mine, bringing me back, waking me. “Don't go there anymore. Just, when you think about it, go to a place where we were happy, instead.”