Tears of the Broken

by A. M. Hudson

  “I remember, but that was before you ran away from school crying.”

  “So—” I pushed the door open a little more, attitude rising up in my voice, like heat. “Are you saying I can’t go now because I cried at school?”

  “No, Ara-Rose. I’m saying you can come and talk to your dad for one precious minute out of your busy day before you do.” He slid up the bed and held his arm out from his body, opening himself up to a hug.

  With a small smile, I wandered over and plonked on the edge of the bed, letting my head fall into the curve of Dad’s shoulder. He wrapped his familiar embrace around me. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Mm-hm.” I nodded.

  “And you know I—”He took a breath and looked at the TV. “You know I miss her, too.”

  I shrugged.

  “Well—” he rubbed the top of my arm, “I do. And I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I just want you to know that no matter what, honey, I love you and you can tell me anything.” He looked down at me, his eyes narrowing tightly on the inner corners.

  “I know, Dad. Really, I do.” I sat up and wiped my hair from my face—still messy and a little windswept from the sunset walk back to the car. “But…I…well. David and I are talking now. I told him about Mum.” Or rather, you did. But let’s not get into that.

  Dad’s shoulders dropped with a massive sigh of relief, and he pulled me back into the hug. “Then, in that case, you can go out with David any time you please, and we’ll even extend your curfew to eleven. How does that sound?”

  I grinned widely and nodded. “That sounds great. Really? Eleven?”

  He nodded and slapped a sloppy Dad kiss on my brow. “David’s a good kid. I know he’ll take care of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I hugged him softly, squeezing once before standing up. “And, um…Dad?” He looked up at me. “You shouldn’t watch that tape.”

  Dad nodded and turned the TV off. “I know.”

  After a breath of thought, I padded through the darkness of Dad’s room and stopped by his door. “Love you, Dad.”

  “You too, honey.”

  After I closed his door, the flicker of pink light flooded out from under it again. I sighed, shaking my head and wandered down the hall to my room, stopping only to smile at the one Mike will be staying in soon. I can’t wait to tell him all about my day, about talking to David, how he said he loves me and…hang on…now he’s said he loves me, does that mean we’re together or do we need to verbally establish that?

  Oh, God, there’s that tight feeling again. I lopped my hand across my gut and pushed my door open.

  “Are you okay, Ara?” David called from downstairs.

  “Uh, yeah—” I muttered back, folding over a little more. “Just gotta throw on some jeans.” Or throw up. “Won’t be long.” I slipped into the cleanest-smelling pair of jeans I could find on my floor and grabbed the blue zip-up sweater from my dresser, then scrunched my hair up a few times and slipped my shoes on as I stumbled out the door.

  “Ready?” David took my hand, ignoring my sudden start from finding him directly outside my bedroom.

  “Uh—” I took a jagged breath, “yeah. All set.”

  “You won’t be needing this.” He grabbed my purse and ditched it back into my room through the crack of door left open. I heard it clunk against my dresser with a dull, leather-sounding thud—but nothing tipped or smashed or broke.

  “Why won’t I need that? Don’t they sell food there? I’m starving.”

  David shook his head, unamused. “You know I won’t let you pay for your own food.”

  “Why? Is my money dirty?” I followed him down the stairs, my careless feet thumping loudly behind his barely audible footfalls.

  “No.” He opened the front door. “But when a guy takes a girl on a date, he should pay. It’s the way I was brought up.”

  “Well—” I sauntered past him; he closed the front door behind us, “it’s weird.”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when I treat you as a lady.”

  “Maybe I don’t.”

  Despite that, he still opened the car door for me, with his lips curving up into a careless grin. “Girls always do that,” he said, “—pretend they think you’re taking their independence from them if you open a door. But that’s not the case.”

  “Well, what is the case?” I sat down on the front seat—leaving my feet on the driveway.

  “Simply that we’re demonstrating good-breeding; showing the girl we’re worthy and capable of taking care of her—that we’re polite, considerate and nurturing.”

  I folded my arms. “Women don’t need nurturing—or to be taken care of. We can fend for ourselves. We’re equal to men, you know.”

  “Ara.” He stared down at me with a stern tightness under his eyes. “I’m not disregarding equality by being a gentleman; I’m exercising chivalry.”

  “That’s out-dated, though, isn’t it?” I challenged, with a grin.

  “Never,” he said in a high tone. “Why should courtesy be out-dated—or offensive? Is it not polite to offer a seat to a pregnant woman on a bus?”

  “Yes, but that’s different?”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s pregnant.”

  “Then, how is it fair to offer a seat to the pregnant woman, but not the other lady—just because she’s not with child?”

  “Because that’s just the point—she’s not with…she’s not pregnant.”

  “But she’s still a woman. You want equal rights for all.”

  “This is getting off topic.” I swung my legs into the car. “The point is—” Argh! What was my point?...Oh yeah, “The point is that I should be able to pay for my own food if I want.”

  “And you can, but not when you come out with me. I have rights, too.”

  “So…I’m taking away your rights by buying my own food?” I remarked sourly.

  “Absolutely.”

  “What a load of rubbish.”

  “Think of it like this: some girls believe exerting independence by denying a man his own rights to be respectful demonstrates strength. But women are incredibly strong. We already know this, so unfortunately, by labelling chivalry to be insolent, she is merely robbing the next generation of civility—ensuring the extinction of well-mannered men. It’s my right and duty to preserve the tradition.”

  “Not all women consider it good manners when a guy forces her to accept a free lunch.” I tightened the fold of my arms.

  “Oh, really?” He looked down at me with one brow arched. “Yet, if I neglected to wrap my jacket over your shoulders on a cold evening I’d be regarded as a jerk.”

  “I—”

  “I’m a gentleman, Ara. Get used to it.” He closed the door on my retort.

  David shut the engine off after we pulled up in an angled space just outside the buzzing café on the corner. “Welcome to the best burger joint in town,” he said with a smile.

  Pink and blue flashes highlighted the side of his face and made the hollows of his eyes look deeper, almost menacing. With a shudder, I looked up at the café and was reminded instantly of a painting I saw when I was kid, one of a window-walled café, with dogs sitting at a bar inside.

  Beyond the door, the generation gap seemed to be left behind, with kids sitting on the chrome-rimmed stools by the milk-bar, singing loudly to Elvis songs, while others gathered around the white billiard tables on the lower level of the café. Even the staff, in their flaring poodle skirts and sneakers, seemed to have jumped right out of a film set. It’s a pretty awesome place, but I can’t go in yet. “David?”

  “Yeah.”

  Looking back from the time-warp, my eyes met his. He smiled at me softly, comfortably, as if he’d not taken his eyes off me the whole time. “I’m sorry about the whole independence thing. I think it’s really sweet that you’re a gentleman.”

  He nodded and took my hand delicately. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I can s
ee right through your carefully designed facade, young lady.”

  “Oh, really.” I leaned back in the chair, my eyes employing a defiant glare. “And what exactly do you see, Mr. Know-it-all?”

  “I see…”He leaned forward, his voice becoming low and deep in a smooth, alluring way, “I see a young girl who just wants to be loved by a man worthy of her.”

  Several retorts came to mind, none of them sassy and creative like I wished. I went with, “Aw, how romantic,” and squeezed my fists tightly to stop from launching myself into his arms.

  “Come. Let’s get some food.” He turned slowly and disappeared, closing the door quietly behind him.

  As I clambered out of his car, David took my hand; the cold touch of his fingers made my heart skip a little and blood rush up to warm my skin. He’s colder than he was earlier, but not wintry cold like me, just sort of cooler than most guys—like brushing up against a leather jacket on a person who just walked into a warm house.

  “What are you smiling at?” David asked, leaning closer to talk over the blaring music.

  “I was just thinking.” I looked up from our hands. “With those pointy canines and cold hands—you could pass as a vampire.”

  David laughed aloud, rolling his head back. “Better watch out then,” he pulled me along and opened the café door, “we are on a dinner date, after all.”

  “Hm,” I said. “Guess I better order garlic then—or maybe a steak.”

  “A steak?” he asked, confused.

  “Yeah, you know…?” I prompted, making a stab-like motion with an invisible stick toward my heart. “As in…a stake?”

  David shook his head but a warm smile sparkled in his eyes. The door closed behind us, and my face lit up as the nineteen-fifties time-warp enveloped me. “You like it?” he asked.

  “It’s great. Crowded, though.”

  “When you taste the food you’ll see why it’s so busy here.” A cream-covered milkshake floated past me on a round tray. My stomach groaned.

  David chuckled mockingly. “I see we can’t mention the substance of nourishment without awakening the ogre.” We slid into a booth near the door, and David shuffled incredibly close—leaving at least two-seats space on the other side of him while my forearm pressed against the cold glass window.

  “H-have you seen the others yet?” I cupped my hands together in my lap, looking down.

  “By the pool table.” He tilted his head in their direction without taking his eyes off me.

  “Hu,” I scoffed. “Didn’t even see them when we walked in.” I leaned around him and watched Emily and Alana, standing close to each other—covering their mouths and giggling at Ryan. “Are they checking out his butt every time he takes a shot?”

  Without looking at them, David nodded, smiling.

  “Do you think we should go and say hello?” I asked.

  “No, they’ll come over when they finish their game. For now,” he shrugged, “I kinda like this.”

  Me too. I hope they never come over. In fact, I wish David had just asked only me out tonight.

  The corner of David’s mouth turned up and his eyes sparkled. I spun my face away as my cheeks burned. Sometimes I feel like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Why do you do that?” He cupped my chin and turned my face back to his; my heart slapped my throat, exhilarated by his touch.

  “Do what?” As if I don’t know. But what can I say? Because I don’t want you to know how much you affect me? How embarrassing.

  “You turn your face away when you blush,” he said delicately. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “It’s embarrassing.” I smiled sheepishly.

  “It’s sweet.”

  My breath fluttered as our eyes locked together for an awkward moment. Well, awkward for me—he seems perfectly at ease. David’s dimples pressed into his cheeks and he looked down. He does that so often it’s not even funny.

  “What?” he asked, smiling yet defensive.

  “What’s what?” I snapped out of my reverie.

  “You were staring at me…accusingly.”

  “Oh. It’s…”It wasn’t accusingly, it was confusedly. David smiled again. “Do you have any idea how often you do that?”

  “No.” He leaned back a little, his eyes wide but soft with the same smile. “Do what?”

  Then he did again. “That!” I pointed to his face—to the smile that seems to hide his own private joke.

  “Oh.” He raised his head a little and dropped his smile, keeping the smallest hint of humour hidden under his lips. “I guess I do, maybe do that—a lot.”

  I nodded. “So, what is it? Why do you do it?”

  “You’re very observant, Ara-Rose.” With tightly closed lips, he nodded. “I just spend too much time in my own head, that’s all.”

  “Like me?”

  “Yeah, except…it gets pretty boring up here, so I find ways to amuse myself.” The bright smile dropped instantly and his lost words hung in the air as I folded my arms and stole his smile for my own.

  “So, am I boring you?” I asked.

  “I didn’t mean it like th—”

  “Hey-you-two.” Emily bounced up beside the table.

  “Hey Em.”

  “Check it out.” She inclined her head to one side in a quick movement, hinting with her eyes.

  “Oh, my God, you guys?” I beamed, looking at Ryan, holding hands with Alana. “When did this happen?”

  “Well.” Ryan swept his fingers through his hair. “I kinda got the hard word put on me.”

  Alana raised her eyebrows in Emily’s direction. Emily shrugged. “You weren’t there to talk with me about David, this afternoon, so I had to find something to do.”

  A beaming smile broke out across David’s lips and he looked sideways at me. I blinked a few extra times. Gee, thanks a lot, Emily. Now he knows we talk about him all the time. “Well, that’s really cool, guys.” I smiled at Alana.

  “Yeah.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m pretty happy about it.” They slid into the booth opposite us, and Emily slid in beside David. I wonder if she deliberately planned that seating arrangement. I know she likes David, a lot, but I’m sure if she knew how I felt she’d never try anything.

  I looked at David, nodding to himself again.

  What is he thinking?

  A waitress popped up out of nowhere, wearing a smile that could light a dark alley—a smile aimed at David—and pulled a pen from her ponytail. “What can I get you guys?”

  David handed me the menu and I placed it back down, shaking my head. As the others rattled off their orders, he leaned in and whispered against my ear, “What’s wrong, Ara? Why aren’t you ordering?”

  “I am,” I said enthusiastically, logging the cool, minty scent of his breath in my memory. “I just don’t need the menu.” I looked at the waitress as a tray of burgers and fries passed her head. “I’ll have that, thanks.”

  She turned around, then smiled when she looked back. “Okay, Betty Burger, fries and shake?” She wrote it down and looked at David.

  “Same.” He smiled.

  “Okay, that’ll just be a moment.” She skipped off.

  David stared at me. “That’s a lot of food. Can you really eat all that?”

  Obviously, he doesn’t know me very well. “Okay then?” Everyone at the table looked at me. “A challenge? Who can eat the most?”

  Emily shook her head. “Ew, no, sorry. Count me out. I’m on a diet.”

  My eyes bulged. “A diet?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no, not like that.” She waved her hands around. “It’s just a healthy eating thing—to get fit for the big game. I’m on top of the pyramid. If I weigh too much, someone could get hurt.”

  “Okay then. Alana?”

  “Sorry. Count me out, too. I have a really small stomach. I’ll probably lose on the first fry.”

  Ryan grinned wildly. “I love a good challenge. You’re on, sister.” He shook my hand, then we both looked at David, who leaned back in h
is chair and linked his fingers behind his head.

  “I don’t know—” the right corner of his lip quirked upward, “—I can eat a lot. I could probably eat you and not think twice about it.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, titling his shoulders closer to me. “Do you think you’re up for that kind of a challenge, little girl?”

  “Bring it on.” David extended his hand; I jammed mine against his and drew back with a little yelp as a jolt of static shot through my fingers. “Ow. I hate that.” I laughed, shaking my hand in the air.

  “Sorry.” David chuckled and touched the sleeve of his thin black sweater. “I’m wearing wool.”

  “Wool,” I exclaimed with a certain amount of accusation in my tone. “How do you even know that’s wool—you’re a guy!”

  He leaned on his hand, resting his knuckles just beside his smile. “A guy who knows what wool feels like.”

  “Sometimes I think you know too much for your age, David Knight.”

  “Well, I come from a wealthy family—” he distracted himself, swapping the salt label with the sugar one, “—Grooming and Deportment were lessons of great significance during my upbringing.”

  “Grooming and what?” Emily asked.

  “Etiquette classes,” I informed, leaning around David to look at her. “I had to do them in modelling school when I was ten.”

  “Oh.” She sat back, staring ahead thoughtfully. “Hm, that makes sense on so many levels.”

  Yup, and it looks like I’m not the only one around here who thinks David’s not quite right.

  But if he was raised like an English Lord, it makes sense why he’s so…charming and charismatic and…otherworldly. Makes me wonder what he’s doing here—in New England.

  David and Ryan discussed, rather heatedly, their opinions on the best guitar brands while I lost myself to thought, sliding my finger over the condensation on my milkshake glass and swirling the fermented chocolate syrup with my straw.

  The waitress took our plates and left the bill. David snaffled it quickly, opened his wallet and placed a few notes on the table, shaking his head at Ryan’s offer of money. “I’ll get this one, guys.”

  Quiet murmurs of appreciation spread over the table.