Dark Diary

by Anastasia,P.

  Matthaya always needed to be sure he was doing the right thing, and I wondered how long it would take him to believe the truth. Although he hated himself for the sins he had once committed, it had been a necessary evil to become the man I had married. I have never regretted nor grieved over his actions toward me.

  “Yes. I’m happy with you, Matthaya,” I said. My other hand rose and I tangled the cross pendant around my knuckles. “I’ve always been happy with you.”

  I could have sworn I heard him sigh as a tiny smile of relief formed on one side of his mouth. He released my fingers and dragged his fingertips across my tattoo.

  There was a faint jingle of bells against glass, followed by a reserved patter of footsteps and then complete silence. My head turned at the sound of the front door swinging closed.

  I ignored them for a moment, but then the visitor’s scent crashed into me like an avalanche and the familiarity of it left me paralyzed with fear.

  Derek!?

  I knew that smell and I knew it well.

  But he was dead… Derek was dead. I had seen him die. I had watched Ve’tani tear him open. The scent was undeniably his, but something about it was… feminine. Subdued.

  Matthaya, in the meantime, didn’t react while he sat across from me, and I was relieved to know he hadn’t recognized the scent just yet.

  I gathered my senses, swallowed my apprehension, and then headed into the waiting room. There stood a small woman, no more than five-foot-two or three, maybe, and she was studying one of the framed pieces of artwork hanging on the wall. Her fingers rested against the glass and she gazed longingly at the drawing.

  She looked to be in her fifties, her hair was brownish-blond with stray strands of white showing here and there, and her face appeared weathered and fatigued. She wore little make-up, had thin, faded-pink lips, and was dressed somewhat plainly in crisp, clean, neutral-colored clothing and a matching brown sweater.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, poking my head out of the back and taking a step closer to the strange-smelling woman. She was surprised by my entrance and tore away from the image to look at me.

  “Yes,” she said with a crack in her voice. Her hands trembled, but she clasped her fingers together to try to hide it from me. “This is a nice shop you have.” Her heartbeat quickened as she nervously glanced around the room as if in search of something.

  “Thank you,” I replied softly. She looked so timid that I was sure that any other tone would have sent her scurrying away.

  “My…” She cleared her throat. “M-My name is Valerie Thompson. I’m…” She stammered as the words caught in her throat and she took a quivering breath.

  She looked up at me as I came closer and I recognized the deep brown color of her eyes.

  “I’m…” she tried again, still fighting to get out what she needed to say.

  “I know who you are,” I interrupted, saving her the trouble.

  Derek’s mother.

  When I looked into her eyes, it was as if I could see him again. They were plainly inherited from her and it was eerie how alike they were in depth and color. It was uncanny.

  “Please wait here,” I requested, motioning for her to take a seat on the soft bench just to her left. She nodded and then slowly shuffled across the room to sit down. Her heart still beat like a frightened animal’s and I struggled to keep the amplified pounding from driving me senseless.

  “Who is it?” Matthaya was about to stand from his seat.

  I was focused on the presence of Derek’s mother and didn’t reply.

  “Kathera?” He pulled out his chair.

  “No.” I gestured for him to stay where he was and bent down to pull the lowest desk drawer open. It caught in the track and I jerked it hard.

  “Do… do you need help?” Matthaya asked. “Kathera?”

  The drawer popped open and slid off the hinge, taking part of the railing with it. I’d forgotten my strength.

  Inside was the book I had covered in white paper; looking completely undisturbed from the moment I’d placed it there. I wrapped both hands around it and stood. Matthaya’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask me anything else.

  I took a step closer to the waiting room and then stopped. My grip tightened on the book and I hesitated to move farther.

  A brief peek out into the hallway confirmed that she was still there, waiting anxiously for my return. I turned and set the book down on the nearby table. I unwrapped it swiftly but gently and flipped it open. I knew what page I was looking for.

  A quick tug and the page came out. I slid it from the book and set it face down on the desk. My ink signature still bled through the page and haunted me even from behind. I didn’t have time to think about it as I rewrapped the book.

  After a silent goodbye to its soft, red velvet cover, I walked back into the lobby. Derek’s mother had lost herself in thought and I tried my best not to frighten her as I lowered the book down toward her lap.

  “This was his,” I whispered, opening my fingers slightly so she could take the book from them. “I want you to have it.”

  Her short, shallow breaths were laced with fear, so I took a seat beside her and passed the book off into her hands. She began unfolding the white paper, lowering one side and then the other side of the wrappings across her lap, until the contents were exposed. The red darkened as she caressed the velvet in one direction and then it lightened slightly as her hand stroked the other way.

  She lifted the cover open and tipped her head to study the design on the first page. It was one of Derek’s more reserved sketches—probably one of the first ones he had created for a client. Still, there was no denying the strength and ferocity in the line work of the beautiful Chinese fire dragon. The next page revealed a comparable beast, similar in color but with the shape of a more traditionally styled European dragon. Its eyes were accented by furrowing brows of green thorns, and a pair of silvery wings graced its back.

  She turned the page again.

  And again.

  Her heartbeat calmed and an affectionate sigh wafted from her lips.

  “Michael was always such a good artist. But I had no idea he could do all of this.”

  Michael? I was sure that’s what she had called him. “I’m sorry. Did you say his name was Michael?”

  “Yes.” She glanced up at me with a confused look bending her lips.

  “I always knew him as Derek,” I said.

  She gasped and brought her hands up to cup her mouth. The book clapped closed in her lap.

  I touched her shoulder in comfort and leaned a little closer to her. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something wrong, but—”

  “Michael was his middle name,” she clarified, her eyes sparkling with the threat of tears. She smiled. “Once he had started high school, he wouldn’t let anyone call him by his first name anymore. It was like he had become someone else.”

  I had never even known that Derek had had a middle name. The fact that he had let me call him a name he hadn’t even allowed his own mother to use made me grateful.

  “Derek was a good man,” I assured her, pressing my fingertips gently against her shoulder. I wanted to console her and tell her how much he had meant to me, but it felt awkward. Part of me wanted her to know the girl her son had asked to marry him, and the other part of me knew it was better off a secret. “As long as I knew him, he was kind and caring. You would have been proud of what he did to better himself.”

  “I am.” Her voice broke with a sniffle and she wiped tears from her cheeks. “I am.” Her body trembled and short breaths caught in her throat. I pushed discretion aside, pulled Valerie closer and embraced her. The feeling of her crumpled up against me, her tears saturating my shoulders and her hair tickling my neck, reminded me of not only him, but of my own mother. I imagined myself fighting back a well of tears in my own eyes, but they never came.

  No heartbeat. No tears.

  “Kathera?” Matthay
a stepped out of the back room and took quiet steps toward us. He tilted his head, observed for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide and his jaw eased open. He, too, recognized the woman’s scent.

  Valerie’s face lifted from my shoulder and she took a quick breath.

  Matthaya sensed her anxiety, so he softened his entrance the only way he knew how.

  “I’m Matthaya,” he said, in a tone even gentler than his usual, coming closer and bending at the waist to better level with her worried gaze. He was trying very hard not to intimidate her and offered a hand out toward her with a sincere and inviting smile.

  She seemed taken aback at first, a little surprised to see him there, but she soon shook his hand and introduced herself in return.

  “Did you know him, too?” she asked. There was hope in her eyes.

  “Yes.” Matthaya nodded. “And I’m sorry for your loss, but you should rest soundly, knowing Derek did good things with the time he had.”

  Valerie coughed from her congestion and Matthaya reached across the front desk for a tissue.

  “Thank you,” she wheezed, taking the tissue from him and using it to wipe her eyes and nose. “I must seem like a basket case right now.” She tried to laugh but couldn’t.

  “No.” Matthaya shook his head. “Losing someone you love is never easy.”

  Her face rose up from the shadows to look him in the eye and her slumped shoulders straightened. There was something unusual about the way Matthaya’s vivid green irises comforted Valerie with their empathy.

  “You must be strong,” he added. “You have to move on with your life. He would have wanted you to.” A nudge of his fingers against the velvet book sent her eyes back down to its cover.

  I slid a hand across her shoulder and patted her lightly on the back.

  “You’re always welcome here, Ms. Thompson.”

  And I meant it.

  SHE STOOD FROM THE BENCH and heaved a sigh. Her thin, pale fingers held the book protectively, hugging it close to her chest like the treasure it was to her. I walked her to the front door and held it open for her to exit the shop.

  As she scuttled past, I felt the irony of the situation, and a quiver shot down my spine. The similarities of their scents made me uneasy and flooded my brain with memories of Derek’s tragic end. His mother, however, held no foul opinions of me, nor did she know how much Derek had loved Kathera… and despised me.

  “Matthaya?” Valerie paused a few feet from outside the door and turned. “Who was it?” she asked quietly. “The one you lost?”

  It wasn’t a question I had wanted to answer. And it wasn’t a wound I felt like tearing open again, but her lonely brown eyes yearned for someone to relate to.

  For the night, that someone was me.

  “My mother.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head in sympathy.

  Kathera came up beside me and wrapped both of her hands around one of my arms.

  “Thank you for everything,” Valerie added, looking back up at us. A grin spread across her lips and she gestured to the book. “Thank you so very, very much.”

  “Have a good night,” said Kathera.

  Derek’s mother returned to her car and drove down the street until she was nothing more than a tiny pair of red lights in the darkness, which soon faded away.

  I felt pressure on my arm as Kathera lured me back into the shop. She locked the door behind us, flipped off the lights, and then pulled the shades down across the windows.

  “That was a brave thing you did,” she said, “facing your fears and swallowing your pride to make Derek’s mother happy.”

  I hadn’t really done it only for that reason.

  “He meant a lot to you, Kathera,” I reminded her. “Just because we didn’t get along doesn’t make me appreciate him any less for how much he cared about you. His mother deserved to know him for who he was before I came along.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” She headed into the back room and I noticed her eyes dart briefly to the sheet of paper she had torn from the book. It was still face down, just as she’d left it. I’d had enough honor to know that she had turned it that way for a reason. Even if she had secrets still, I was willing to wait for them to be shared of her own accord.

  After all, it wouldn’t be the first thing she’d kept from me. A lot had happened after I’d left her alone with Derek. Some things she had told me and some she hadn’t. But that’s the process we all go through in our relationships. It is the disclosure of our weaknesses, our regrets, and our most coveted secrets that strengthen the trust formed by love.

  Kathera switched on the radio and plopped down onto the brown suede couch that was pushed up against the wall. She liked sinking into that couch… and she liked music just as much. More so now that her ears had become especially tuned to its nuances.

  We don’t really think about it, but we hear a thousand sounds every day. Some of them stand out more than others. Music was one of the few things I’d never really been able to ignore. My overly sensitive hearing had made it difficult to tolerate at first—the bass, especially, had tingled my ears and irritated my senses, but I eventually learned to phase it out. I knew by now that she only listened when she wanted to clear her head of something else, and her comfort meant more to me than my own.

  She bit her lip and stared off into the empty hall, tapping her fingernails repeatedly against the arm of the couch. I sat down beside her and nuzzled up against her shoulder.

  “Are you alright?” I set my hand onto her thigh and walked my fingers down to her knee, massaging them against her leg along the way.

  “Yes,” she replied, still fixated on nothing.

  She was thinking about her mother and missing her more than ever. Seeing Valerie had unearthed old memories, leaving us unsettled about our pasts.

  I had been given up, had fallen in love with Kathryn, had been separated from her, and now I was with her in the form of Kathera. It was a type of closure, but I had never really known who I was. I had never really known who to miss in my life, and that emptiness had left me feeling transparent.

  The tattoo ring around the base of my left ring finger was new and exciting for me. Now I had something and someone to make me visible again.

  Ve’tani’s chains had been broken by a love that had traversed centuries. But it had not been without the deepest sacrifice that I acquired that devotion. Kathera was pure of heart, and even with the hell of being tempted toward suicide conquered, she was still not without her own demons. Like cancer, they thrive on regret and sadness and will likely surface again in time. They will be a challenge I will face by her side, for we will always harbor our tragedies… and our darkness.

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  The Fluorescence Series (Available Worldwide):

  Book 1: Fire Starter | Book 2: Contagious

  Book 3: Fallout| Book 4: Lost Souls

  Fluorescence: The Complete Tetralogy

  (Includes all 4 full-length novels)

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