The Sounds of Secrets

by Whitney Barbetti

  “I told her Ames was too good for her.”

  She’d whispered it, but she was loud enough that I could still hear her. “What?” I asked—not because I hadn’t heard the words, but because I didn’t have any clarity.

  “Mal. I—I told her Ames was too good for her. She’s been…”

  She didn’t have to continue. I knew, from what little Ames would speak about it, that Mal had been grieving a bit differently than the rest of them.

  “She’s my sister, and I told her that her husband was too good for her.” She pushed her hands into her hair, pulling, twisting, and I knew she was seconds from melting into grief.

  “Hey, hey,” I whispered, placing my hands over hers, squeezing her hands to get her attention on me. “It’s going to be okay.” It was the second time I was saying it, but the words sounded hollow in my throat. “Mal is strong, she’s from good stock.”

  “She was on her way home, texting me.” Lotte blinked rapidly and looked at me, eyes as wide as saucers. “I…” Her eyes glided over my face. “We don’t know what happened, but the car was found upside down, in a stream. She was still buckled, half of her face underwater.” She covered her face with her hands and then dragged her fingers down. “Oh my god.”

  “Shh,” I whispered, holding her shoulders as she faced me. “You’re strong, like she is. You’re not going to fall apart right now. Ames needs you. Your dad needs you.”

  She stared into my eyes as if I was preaching the gospel.

  “You’re going to get through this. No matter what happened before we got here, Mal loves you. You love her. Nothing else matters.”

  She nodded, but she seemed almost as if she was in a trance.

  I tilted my head to the side. “Hey. Let’s get those coffees and settle in until we get some news.”

  She nodded again, but she looked more alive around the eyes. She gently touched the torn skin on my chin before pulling away.

  “I’m guessing I look terrible,” I said with a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over my chin and wincing. “Not my best moment.”

  “Yeah.” She shifted her weight. “Do you remember … what happened?”

  I closed my eyes briefly. “I remember getting in a fight with a guy who was a little too aggressive at the pub. I don’t remember what we said, but he got the first one in.”

  “Ames had to carry you inside.”

  “That’s how I ended up on the sofa?”

  She nodded solemnly, and ordered the coffees once we’d made it to the front of line. “Do you…” She swallowed and the line between her eyebrows deepened. “Do you remember anything else?”

  I stared at her a beat longer than I should’ve, searching. She was weary, her eyes swollen and her skin pale. She could’ve been knocked over with a feather. “No,” I told her. “Why?”

  She turned away from me, pulling out some money. I put my hand on hers, stopping her, and handed my cash over. With her head bent down, she picked up two of the coffees, and walked away.

  What I’d said had bothered her, I knew. And I felt like an arsehole for it.

  But I’d lied to her, like the spineless coward I was.

  I remembered all of it.

  The kiss.

  Calling her Della.

  The way she’d run from the room.

  It was too early. The timing was wrong for this conversation. It was best, for the moment, if she thought I didn’t remember it.

  I rubbed my hand over my face and followed her.

  Ames and I were huddled along one wall, Asher was asleep a few seats away and Lotte was curled up in a ball opposite of us, her fingers playing along the muted wallpaper pattern, when a doctor stepped into the room and called Ames’ name.

  He stood up slowly, like a man walking to the guillotine. Something about the doctor’s demeanor, the look in her eyes, compelled me to come up behind Ames and place a supportive hand to his back.

  Lotte met my eyes briefly, and I hated seeing her looking so broken. There were entire oceans of pain in her eyes, and I was completely incapable of helping her swim through it.

  The doctor said some words, and I felt the tremble of Ames’ entire body against the flat of my palm as the doctor delivered the news that would saw him in half.

  As quickly as she’d arrived, she stepped away, leaving me pulling Ames against me.

  He made unintelligible noises, hands clutching at my shirt like he was trying to dig his way out of a hell I couldn’t imagine. I met Lotte’s eyes over his head, as I held my best mate in my arms. Her bottom lip fell open, and she emitted the saddest sound I’d ever heard.

  I dragged Ames to where she sat, pulled her in with us, thankful for the moment that Asher was still asleep, and not bearing witness to what happened when news of his oldest daughter’s death hit the rest of his family members with the impact of a tractor trailer.

  Mal was dead. I couldn’t wrap my head around that. This family, who’d only just lost their mother months before, now had to contend with the loss of a wife, a sister, a daughter.

  What made all of this worse, I knew, was that this was only the beginning. This was the earthquake, and even after we put the world back together as best as we could, there would still be aftershocks in all of us—in them especially—and I didn’t know when they’d hit. I just knew I’d be there, through all of it, for them.

  Chapter Three

  Three years later

  “Are you all packed?” Bianca asked, but her attention was on the waiter walking by the table.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to reply snidely to her. Well, considering I’m crossing the ocean tomorrow, yes, I am packed. But I humored her, by giving her a “Yep,” followed by a smile.

  “You know, American guys aren’t like ours.” She raised an eyebrow, still keeping an eye on the waiter. She adjusted her shoulders and pushed hair away from her face, preening like a bird on display. Bianca was the biggest flirt I’d ever known, always looking for an opportunity to find her next boyfriend—even while she was currently in a relationship.

  “Oh?” I asked, not really caring what she was going to say. I’d been planning this trip for nearly a year, and I wasn’t about to let her ruin it, even prematurely. “Been to America, have you?”

  I felt rather than saw her roll her eyes at me. “You know I’ve not been out of London, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never met an American boy before.”

  I didn’t doubt she had. Bianca worked at a posh London nightclub, known for having a stream of A-listers on nights she worked. I knew, because each brunch she told me about it. “Makes you want to leave the pub and work with me, right?” she’d ask every time. But no, I never wanted to abandon my family’s pub to work in a nightclub. Especially if it meant spending more time with Bianca, my childhood best friend.

  It was hard to explain my attachment to her, because in truth, I wasn’t really attached. I’d known her since we were in Year One together, and had remained friends once her family moved to a better part of the city, but our lives were so different now. I often felt as though she’d outgrown me, having gone to university—and I had not finished—and living the life she did now meant the only time we’d crossed paths were our regular Saturday brunches. She hardly asked what was going on in my life, but was sure to prod me when I’d neglected to ask her what was going on in hers. Part of me resented her a little, but I did not know how to break our connection, tenuous as it was.

  Tomorrow, I was boarding a one-way plane to the United States and a part of me expected that my distance from her would allow us both time to realize that we weren’t necessary to one another anymore. At least I hoped.

  “I don’t need to work now,” I gently reminded her, and handed my card to the waiter as they passed by.

  Bianca shrewdly eyed the card I handed to the waiter. “Well, it only took you twenty-four years to stop doing what everyone else wanted you to do, didn’t it?”

  It was meant as a dig, but it was easy for me to brush aside.
“That’s right.”

  “Who bought your dance studio?”

  “An older couple, that’s all I know.” Handing my keys over to the one place that had been mine had felt strange. A little sad, at least, but that place had also become somewhat of a cell for me. Despite being a gift from my Grandma and Grandpa, the dance studio I’d managed for a couple years hadn’t really felt like a present. London as a whole felt entirely too stifling in its safety. I’d longed for safety growing up, and now I had nothing to tether me to the city, apart from my father and my brother-in-law. The freedom, knowing I had adventure on my horizon, was immeasurably freeing. And scary—but I found that I looked forward to facing the fear.

  “I still can’t believe you dumped it.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and seemed to finally remember that I was in front of her, just as our brunch was thankfully nearing its end. “Is this because of your sister?”

  “No.” And that’s all I would say. It was still hard for me to talk about my sister’s death, especially since it had followed so closely after my mother’s death. Two deaths in three months. And my brother-in-law, Ames, had stayed on with us despite being widowed, to help run the pub. He was the only brother I’d ever had. And he had graciously given his blessing for me to leave London and explore—while I was still young. “I just needed to get away. You had University. This is for me.”

  “A little bit selfish, leaving Ames to run the pub, isn’t it?”

  I pulled my cheek in between my teeth and gently rubbed my teeth against it. Bianca knew how much I’d struggled with the decision to leave, which is why she was able to deliver a direct hit to my heart. “Ames didn’t want me to go, initially, only because it’d mean selling my studio and he didn’t want me to have to do that. But the sale of my studio allowed for him to finally finance the renovation for the restaurant.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding. But her brown eyes were still narrowed on me. For the first time since I’d told her of my travel plans, I sensed a bit of jealousy in her. “The restaurant that was your sister’s gift. So, now Ames runs your dad’s pub and your sister’s restaurant.”

  I ran my fingernail along my skin—the closest sensation I could get to pulling my hair. “Ames loves the pub. And the restaurant is the last thing he and Mal were going to make together.”

  “You seem fidgety today. You all right?”

  I stopped running my fingernail across my arm. “I’m fine.”

  “You should do a better job on your eyebrows.”

  “What?” My hand went to them immediately. There was little hair left, but I’d filled it in with pencil.

  “Your eyebrows look drawn in. Honestly, Lotte, must I give you some makeup types before you go off gallivanting in America?”

  My cheeks burned, and Bianca noticed, because a small smile tilted her blood red lips.

  “I forgot to do them today. I’ll fix them when I get home.” But when Bianca turned to smile at the waiter again, I looked at my reflection in my phone’s camera. They looked fine. Bianca was just messing with me.

  “So, is this big trip because of Sam?”

  Not for the first time, I cursed the day I ever told her about Sam. Biggest mistake, telling her about the person I’d been in love with for a pathetically long time.

  Even the kiss we’d shared hadn’t been my biggest mistake—telling Bianca about it was. I’d been in a vulnerable place after it’d happened, and things had been so weird right after that, with my sister passing away as I was grieving the fact that Samson had called me by his girlfriend’s name—it seemed so petty now. That summer had been the worst of my life—the beginning of something I hadn’t known was my new beginning. A new chapter in the story of my life, but one that came too soon.

  “It’s not because of Samson. I told you, I’m fine.”

  “And I told you, you’re a liar.” She leaned over the table and lowered her voice conspiratorially and for a brief second, I felt myself being sucked in. When we’d been more innocent, more naïve, we’d been able to lean over this table on Saturday and gossip about things. The nostalgic pull was so strong, I had to place my feet flat on the ground to keep myself from leaning over the table and engaging.

  “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. The urge to pull on my hair was taunting me, but I squeezed my fingers tightly together.

  “You’re in love with him. I’m fairly certain that if he came to you and told you he loved you, you’d tear up that plane ticket and stay.”

  I didn’t want to think she was right, but it was hard to say with absolute sincerity that I’d still go onto America. Which made me feel foolish.

  My hands twisted harder in my lap. “I’ve spent all this money on my travel and accommodations and my schedule; I’m not going to throw it away on a whim.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, but looked unconvinced. In fact, she looked as though she was rooting for this possibility. Which made me all the more determined to prove her wrong.

  The waiter returned with my card and gave a smile to Bianca as I tucked the card back into my purse.

  “Nice of you to treat today,” Bianca said as I stood.

  “Well, it’s the last time in a while that we’ll have the chance to do this,” I replied. She followed me out of the restaurant and we stood on the street outside of it. Years before, we’d go from here to the movies, or to the park—weather permitting. The last couple years, we’d separated here, moving on to our days separately.

  If I was honest, I mourned the time when we’d been inseparable. Things had changed after the summer that deeply impacted my life. Between the death of my mum, that brief, unfortunate moment in my living room with Sam, and then my sister’s death … things had never gone back to what they once were—it was me. I was the reason things had changed.

  “So, I guess this is goodbye?” She turned to me and held her arms out, making no move to walk towards me.

  I hesitated. “Ames and Mila are throwing a farewell breakfast tomorrow, in the pub.”

  “Lots,” Bianca said, using her oft-used childhood nickname for me, “It’s a Saturday. You know the club’ll be filled to the gills and it’ll be a late night for me.” She dropped her arms. “Ames is still with that tourist?” she asked, her poke at my brother-in-law’s girlfriend of nearly a year.

  “They’re engaged,” I explained. “And right, I forgot. Of course you couldn’t make it.”

  She stepped forward and looped an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened slightly, so unused to her random displays of affection. “Maybe I’ll come visit you in the States, yeah?”

  That would be the worst thing she could do. But knowing there was a slim chance she’d make such a grand gesture, I gave her a smile and nodded.

  “Hey,” she dropped her arm from my shoulder and poked my collarbone, “don’t look so glum. You’ll only be gone a little while. It’s not as if this is forever.”

  The trip wasn’t for forever, but my feelings were. I just didn’t know what to do with my collection of feelings, how to translate them into something that I could articulate. I looked forward to the trip, to seeing what else there was out there in the world. But at the same time, I worried that my anxiety would get worse.

  “Besides, I suspect you’ll miss Samson too much to be gone long.” She gave me an exaggerated wink, her perfectly winged eyeliner making me feel inadequate for some reason. She was dressed very fashionably, in all black—boots, trousers, blouse, and even the sunglasses atop her head were all black. I glanced down at my own outfit, the white dress that swished around my thighs. When I was next to Bianca, I was never more aware of how childish my clothes seemed, even though they fit me and worked for me.

  “I’ll miss many things,” I said, not validating her response.

  “But Sam,” she said conspiratorially, that same tone back in her voice as she nudged me. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid to tell him how you feel. It’s your last night and all.”

  “Why are you pushing so much?”<
br />
  “Because you’re about to embark on this grand adventure, but you’re not even willing to tell your childhood crush that you’ve liked him forever.”

  I looked at her sideways, wishing a taxi would swoop in and save me from standing here with her. “What good would it do anyway?”

  “What bad would it do?” she challenged.

  “You don’t get it,” I muttered, adjusting the straps on my white dress.

  “No, you don’t get it.” Her voice took on a tinge of that jealousy again. “You’re about to go and do something that other people would kill for. Something that’s very much unlike you, but you can’t even work up the nerve to tell him how you feel?”

  My cheeks warmed from embarrassment and anger equally. I often bit my tongue so hard around Bianca that I tasted blood. Right now was no different.

  I reached for my hair just as Bianca squealed, “Oh, look at you! Were your ears burning?”

  It was as if every atom I was made of froze, my back to whomever Bianca had spoken to. When I heard his voice, cold ran through my veins.

  “Hi Bianca. Lots.”

  I slowly turned, working to compose my face as I greeted Samson as he approached us. It was almost laughable, how much the sight of him strolling down the street toward me made my insides twist. I only met his eyes for a brief second before looking at the ground. I didn’t know what it was about him that turned me into an instant submissive, but I obeyed the feeling regardless.

  “Your hair’s darker,” she said and reached her arm to touch his head. “What happened to the blond? Your art career not paying for the stylist?”

  “Retired the blond, for the moment. And art doesn’t pay much in the way of anything outside of supplies.” His warm hand came to rest on my shoulder and I hated how the feel of his skin against mine made me want to shiver. I tugged my camisole higher up on my shoulders. “I came to collect you, Lots. Ames needs help.”

  I quickly peeked up at him. “In the pub?”

  Sam nodded and I looked over at Bianca, who was raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in encouragement. “Guess I’ll just be going.” She pulled me into her arms and out of Sam’s touch, squeezing me tight. “Don’t forget to write, you know? I know you know how to.”