Tears of the Broken (42 page)

“
Your dad asked me. What was I supposed to say?”

“
Humph.” I refolded my arms for good measure and glared at my
parents as we pulled down the drive.

I
hate this. I feel like a science project or a carefully guarded
psyche-patient. Why did he say yes to babysitting me today if he
hates me? Maybe I was right about him having Knight Syndrome—either
that or he’s a glutton for punishment.

By
the time the church came into focus on the distant horizon, the
silence in the car had turned into tension. My eyes tried to focus
on the dizzying blur of trees outside my window, and David drove
very slowly and much more carefully than ever before.

When
the car stopped, I jumped a little as he appeared at my door and
reached for my hand before my seatbelt even came undone. God, I
must be fazing out more than I thought—I didn’t even see him get
out of the car.

Ignoring his offer of assistance, I grabbed the doorframe and
hoisted my dizzy self from the car, taking inconspicuously deep
breaths to steady the ringing in my ears. David’s hand hovered near
my waist; I must look pale or something. I
feel
pale. “Are you okay,
Ara?”

“
I’m
fine,” I said, scowling at him, but the spite in my tone caught me
off guard and flattened my brow.

David stood taller and dropped his hand. My eyes stayed on
his shiny black shoes and the pebbly gravel of the car park. It’s
his own fault if he’s insulted or hurt that I don’t want him near
me; he shouldn’t have pretended to care about me just to save me
from myself. I should tell him that I know all about his and my
dad’s little conspiracy.

Then
again, maybe I should just leave—walk back home.

My
gaze lingered between the church and freedom, when Emily caught my
eye and waved softly.

Crud. Well, that blows my going home plan out the
window.

I
fluttered my fingers in the air—an attempt at waving—then dropped
my hand and huffed. I shouldn’t have come. I know that. But if I
just leave and go home, everyone will wonder why the new girl
suddenly disappeared from a funeral—questions would
follow.

David looked down at me with a small grin that lit his eyes,
but didn’t reach his lips. I love that smile—his secret smile.
“Shall we go in?” he asked cautiously.

“
Lead the way,” I offered, and walked behind him—slowly. I’m
in no rush to be stuck in that dreary red-bricked building,
listening to the old ladies with curly brown hair speak in
languages I don’t understand.

By
the door, a portly woman of that exact description, wearing a
black, knee-length tunic smiled at David before quickly returning
her attention to the priest beside her. As she talked—in Italian, I
think—she moved her fingers anxiously around the beads of a long,
wooden rosary.

That
must be Nathan’s mum.

“
After you,” David offered the pathway, stopping to shake the
priest’s hand. I crossed the threshold of the church and dipped my
fingers in the holy water beside the door, making the sign of the
cross over my body. David did the same.

“
This isn’t the time to smile, David,” I said quietly, behind
my teeth.

He
dropped his private, glittering grin and leaned closer as he
whispered, “Sorry. I was er…remembering something.”

Humph. I wish I could find something good to think about in a
tragic time. All I can think about is that the last church I
stepped foot into was in Perth—on the day I buried my family. I
have to stop myself from thinking about that, though,
otherwise…I’ll start crying.

The
ringing in my ears returned, obviously brought on by the empty
chill of the high brick walls and the echoing sobs bouncing off
them. I need to sit down. The same blur I saw on the trees through
the window of David’s car came into the church and moved the walls
around me. I turned my face away from the sight of the coffin at
the front of the church and grabbed the wooden seatback. Don’t
think about them, Ara-Rose. Don’t think about them. They’re not
here—their spirit doesn’t linger in these walls.

But
the light hint of smoke from singed candles forced my mind to
remember them—invoking what I thought were inaccessible tears. The
only difference between this church and the one I said goodbye to
my family in, is that the people crying and sobbing around me
aren’t staring at me—waiting for me to fall to my knees and
weep.

As
we finally sat down on the cold, wooden pews, David edged closer to
me, allowing more room beside him for other people. The Priest
started to address the congregation for the pre-funeral mass, and
we all kneeled.

After communion, I knelt beside David and opened one eye to
watch him. He seemed intent on his prayer, his eyes closed tight
and lips moving fast—speaking in tongues. Okay, so, not in tongues,
but something unfamiliar. Could be Latin? David’s never mentioned
religion before—I didn’t know he was Catholic, and I didn’t know he
spoke Latin. But why not, he speaks French? Then, so does Mike—but
that’s different, because Mike’s mum is French, so he grew up with
it.

Not
that it’s a big deal, like, I grew up in Catholic school, so this
is no weird cult to me—but
I
don’t speak Latin. I’m not sure I even believe in
God. Maybe David grew up in an intensely religious family. That
might explain a lot, like the not wanting to kiss thing and the way
he’s obligated into being my friend.

Everyone shuffled in their places again and began to sit back
in the pews. David pulled me up gently by my arm. I glared at him
and pulled my arm free. “I can get myself up, thank
you.”

“
Sorry.” He swallowed and looked away, rubbing his flat palm
across the left side of his chest. When his hand dropped back into
his lap, I studied the fine lines in his knuckles and the squared
tips of his nails. If only I could just…

A
murmuring hum filled the emptiness as people dropped from their
pews to kneel on the floor—again. Man, this is getting old. My
knees hurt, and I feel stupid sitting here with all of these people
while they pray.

Right now, this church feels more like a prison than a
supposed house. But I’m trapped—unable to run—fenced in by a large,
round, sobbing woman on my right, and David on my left. He’ll
follow me if I do, and everyone will turn and look at me. They’ll
all say I wasn’t ready for this—they’ll tell my dad, and he’ll
leave and come after me. Then he’ll think he was right—and he was
right—but I’m not going to let this defeat me.

David, deep in his thoughts, with his eyes closed, lifted his
hand from the tight prayer grip and moved it onto mine. His smooth,
cool touch took my breath away. My concentration wavered for a
second, and a solitary sob left my lips. David looked at me with
round, focused eyes, then mouthed, “Are you okay?”

Oh,
man, that makes me feel even worse. It should be
me
asking if
he’s
okay. David’s
question went unanswered as we sat back in the seats. Instead, I
looked forward and watched the priest waving his hands over
Nathan’s closed casket.

It’s
hard to believe there’s a person in there. I have to focus—to see
it for what it is on the outside. A box. Nothing more.

David squeezed my hand firmly. “Just don’t think about it,
Ara.”

I
turned my head to look at him. I wonder if my face is giving away
my internal emotional turmoil. The poker face I was practising last
night slipped back into place like a well-worn mask. All I have to
do is sit and wait patiently until this torturous moment is
over.

One
of the kids from school stood up the front of the church and read
from a stack of palm cards—talking about the tragedy of losing
someone we love, when they had only just begun to live. “Nathan
was, and will always be a well-respected and much-loved friend,”
the boy said. “He was there to give advice or a quick word of
encouragement to anyone—be they a jock, a chess geek, a cheer girl
or even a kid he didn’t know, who looked like he mighta needed a
little help—a little sunlight.

“
Nathan was that light. He was the guy we all expected to see
graduate with honours, make the national football league, marry the
prom queen.” The boy smiled then, and looked at Emily. “Death is
tragic in any case, but when it comes so suddenly and takes the
life of someone who had so much to offer the world, who never had
the chance, it truly is a tragedy.” He touched Nathan’s casket and
placed the palm cards on top. “We’ll all miss you, Nathe—rest in
peace, man.” Then, he stepped off the altar stand and his friends
patted him on the back as he sat down.

The
grey sky opened up as we stepped outside the church, and the cool
breeze eased the trapping tension of my own sorrows—sorrows I had
no right to bring with me to the farewell of another.

Small droplets of rain began to sprinkle over the black
hearse while David and a group of footballers carried Nathan’s box,
and slid it into the back. As I watched them close the door, my
emotions remained amazingly square, like a blank page. Controlled
and composed. No one would know how I’m feeling, inside. I’m too
good at playing the role of normal.

“
You
okay, honey?” Dad whispered in my ear as he stood beside
me.

“
Mm-hm.” I nodded.

“
You
look pale,” he added.

“
I
could take her home?” David offered quietly.

“
I’m
fine,” I scolded and followed the procession line to the church
gates—leaving David and my dad behind.

As
we passed into the cemetery, walking slowly behind the long black
vehicle, I closed my eyes and let the darkness narrow me in. There
are no gravestones—there are no dead bodies and no skeletons lying
under this grass.

The
huddled mourners’ sobs around me guided my blind footsteps until a
hand grabbed my arm. My eyes flashed open to David’s face. Where
did he come from? He was walking beside the hearse a second
ago.

“
Don’t walk with your eyes closed—” he said, “It’s
dangerous.”

I
nodded, and David walked away—back to the black car.

Humph! I tucked my cold, shaking hands into my elbows. Who is
he to tell me what to do?

A
grumbling roar rolled across the sky, and everyone looked
up—squinting against the white sun until a cloud shadowed its
glare, and soft, icy patters of rain came down, making little dots
of cold rise up on my arms.

With
my hand across my stomach, I folded over ever-so-slightly,
realising how much this day resembles the one I buried my family
on—cold, grey, and I’m all alone.

Little black umbrellas popped up all around me. I rubbed my
arms with my fingertips, holding my breath to keep the cold out.
But the shivering and dizziness just aggravated my exhaustion. I
need to lie down.

“
Are
you okay, dear?” A skeletally haggard old lady reached her hand
toward me.

I
nodded, taking a step away from her when a long, firm arm scooped
around my waist and pulled me under the shelter of a black canopy.
The rain tapped the umbrella softly, soothing my suddenly racing
heart with its song of nature. “She’s fine.” David’s silky voice
hummed through the top of my head. “She’s with me.”

“
Okay.” The old lady smiled at David, but when she looked at
me, her eyes narrowed.

“
Aren’t you supposed to be up the front?” I asked, craning my
neck to look up at him.

He
winked at me and a smile warmed his face. “I thought you might need
some shelter.”

I
pushed his arm from around my waist and rubbed the fine spread of
raindrops off my skin. “I was fine. I don’t need
you
to shelter me.” Only
I do—so, so badly that it hurts just to stand this close to
him.

“
Oh,
um—” He lowered his gaze to the floor and placed the umbrella in my
hand, squeezing my fingers around the handle before stepping back
into the rain. “I’m sorry.”

“
No,
David—” I reached out, but he strolled away too quickly,
disappearing into the mist of rain cloud. What is wrong with me?
Why did I just say that?

The
congregation dispersed suddenly, then formed a semi-circle around a
rectangle hole in the ground. I scanned the crowd for my dad or
Vicki, finding them beside the priest at the head of the
hole.

The
rain came down harder then, making my ears feel blocked with its
noisy pattering. Droplets of cold water splashed up onto my shoes,
wetting my toes, while we stood around and waited for the boys to
position the pine box in the ground.

The
priest readied himself, straightening the cloth over his shoulders
while an altar-boy tipped and swayed, standing on his toes to keep
an umbrella over the man.

The
rain stopped abruptly and all eyes cast to the heavens for a moment
as umbrellas closed, like flowers at dusk, all around me. I leaned
the umbrella David gave me against a nearby headstone and folded my
arms over my chest.

As
the priest began, Dad wrapped his arm around Mrs. Rossi and cast a
quick glance at me; I smiled reassuringly. On the outside, I know I
look strong, but inside, my heart is pouring like the rain passed,
and my arms feel weak, like the blood’s too thick to pump smoothly
through my veins.