The Sounds of Secrets Page 13

  That time, after coming up for air, I felt that familiar stirring in my limbs. I’d gone from dancing just about every day to doing other kinds of physical activity, and it was taking a bit of getting used to. My arms and legs missed the tensing and holding that dance provided me, so the handstand off the end of the dock satisfied me more than climbing rocks did.

  “Wow,” Ryan breathed when I shook the water from my ears. “Are you a gymnast?”

  “No.” I smiled though, flattered by the comment. “But I used to do yoga.” I pulled myself back out of the water and tested myself again, doing slow back bends right off the edge of the dock until I landed in the water.

  It was if my body was coming alive, little by little. This was what I needed: dance. Slow, purposeful movement. Hiking and climbing felt monotonous to me, but dance gave me the freedom I didn’t normally exhibit.

  I climbed the ladder again, did another handstand walk to the edge of the dock, and this time before I pushed off, I spun my body before I went in feet first.

  It seemed as if I immediately had made a mistake. I went in too fast, too far at an angle, and my foot struck something hard enough to ricochet through my leg, sending me so quickly into a panic that I swallowed water as I clawed my way to the surface. My foot wasn’t working right, I couldn’t bend it to use it to kick myself to the top. My hands met wood and I slapped around it, trying to find my way around the dock, which I’d ended up under, until, finally, I could breathe.

  Not seconds after I took that deep breath did I let loose a sound of pain that didn’t even sound human. My first thought, after the shock of the blinding pain, was of home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wanted another pill. I kept them on my person, jingling the little baggie in my pocket wherever I went. Like a test to myself. Could I abstain? How long could I go until I was too miserable and had to succumb to them?

  When I showed up to the pub that night, Ames hollered over at me, “Oh good, you’re here. Can you unplug the open sign?”

  I pulled the plug on the wall, and the light went dark in the window. “Do you want me to lock the door too?” I asked him.

  “Gonna be here for a bit?” He was drying some dishes behind the bar. “Need a place to stay?” he asked me.

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know what the hell I need.” The restlessness I was feeling was probably partially due to the fact that I was weaning myself off of the pills. And also, due to the fact that I still didn’t have a muse at the moment, no inspiration. My painting had stalled in the last few weeks, and I was waiting to recapture the feelings I had only a month before.

  The timing was suspect to me, considering that Lotte had been gone for nearly a month. I tried to get as much information out of Ames when I could, how she was doing, what she was doing. But it wasn’t the same. And I realized, now that she wasn’t here all the time, how much I missed seeing her in the corner of the pub when I walked in at night.

  “Do you want a beer?” Ames set a coaster on the counter without me confirming and began to pour me a beer. “Still restless?”

  I tried not to sigh as deeply as I wanted to. But, I was completely unmoored. Without a plan in sight. I’d never felt so distracted, like pieces of me were scattered all over the place and I couldn’t find them, collect them, put myself back to rights. “I don’t know what’s going on with me, mate. But it’s terribly frustrating.” That wasn’t a complete truth, however, because I knew part of what was going on with me was the fact that I was dealing with constant nausea, headaches, and shakes. It was hard to paint anything when you had a tremor in your hand, and though I knew it was my fault, that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  And it didn’t help that Della was hitting me up every few days or so, asking when I’d be round again. If I was being honest, Della was the reason behind my intentions to become sober. Not because I wanted to be better for her, because I did not care about her. But her presence was a reminder of the darkest parts of myself. She represented the most superficial time of my life, and at the same time, she was somebody who fed my demons, happily. And I didn’t want to keep feeding them, I wanted to starve them. It was sink or swim time, and I was already in over my head.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been sober, that I didn’t even know who I was without the pain pills. I didn’t know who I was without that calm in my limbs.

  I knew the time was coming for me to end it with the pain pills and, finally, end things with Della. I couldn’t move on with my life surrendering my freedom to them and to her.

  “You got something on your mind, want to talk about it?”

  I rubbed my hand across the forehead and tried to imagine the look upon his face if I told him about my addiction. I would have to keep that, just like my night with Lotte, out of his head for now. He had a lot going on between Asher and the restaurant, and his upcoming wedding to his fiancée. He was a better man than I was, someone who stepped up to shoulder the burden of responsibility that came with the family he had grown attached to. He didn’t need the burden of my own as well.

  “All sorted out. I keep thinking I’ll go out to the country, maybe down to Kent. Some scenery, some fresh air. Maybe during a stretch when it’s not so busy at the pub?” I cupped my hands around the glass that Ames set on the bar top. “I just feel like I’m suffocating here.”

  “Still seeing Della?”

  I glared Ames. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know if I want to know what it is.” He wiped a rag down the counter, moving away from me and part of me wanted to call out to him to tell him why I kept seeing her, even though she was no good for me. To make him understand. But then I remembered that the last thing he needed was more problems.

  “For the first time, Ames, I don’t want a woman in my life right now. I just want my art, my friends,” I touched the lip of my beer, “some good beer. I want simplicity.”

  Ames turned to me, his mouth open like he was going to say something, but then his phone chimed from across the bar. “Little late to be getting a call innit?”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Lotte.” He stared at his phone for second before sliding his thumb across the screen. It was a video call. That was all I could really tell, because I was just enough out of the camera site so Lotte couldn’t see me. But I saw the stark white of her hair just off the side of the phone screen.

  “Hey you.” Something about the tone of Ames’ voice, as if he was restraining himself, caused me to sit a bit straighter in my chair, still leaning over just far enough to see the phone but not far enough for Lotte to see me.

  Her voice was broken when she spoke. “Ames. I’ve done something to my foot.” I heard a sniffle on the other side of the line and then a sound like a coughing sob. “I did a jump into a pond, but I wasn’t careful. My foot landed hard on a chunk of rock. And I felt the crack all the way up my leg.” She sniffled again and her pain was palpable. “I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know I can’t walk on it.”

  Ames ran his hand down his face and muttered a swearword. “Oh, Lots. I’m so sorry. Where are you, love?”

  “I’m in the hospital in Utah, just outside of Salt Lake.” Her voice went high pitched and panicky. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I couldn’t dance again, especially for such a stupid mistake I made. Oh, God.” She made another cough sob sound and I gripped onto the bar to keep from going over there, to keep her from seeing me.

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “They’re going to run x-rays on my leg. But I really think it’s my foot,” she sighed and her voice lowered. “And, what if I can’t walk on my foot? What if I can’t dance again? I feel so stupid, so unbearably stupid, to think that I could come here and have this adventure and not even a month later, I’ve already done something possibly permanent to the one thing I have for me back home. It’s such a cock up.”

  “Hey,” Ames said, interrupting her stream of panic. “For one, you’re okay. You’re go
ing to be okay. And what are you even saying? Dance isn’t the only thing you have back home. That’s tosh and you know it.”

  Mila came into the pub and Ames motioned her over.

  “Lotte’s in hospital. Hurt her foot.” Mila looked at the screen and her face fell seeing Lotte’s reflected back at her.

  I heard a whimper from the other line, and it took everything in me to stay still on the barstool as I listened. I’d never heard Lotte speak like this, except for when Mal died. If she was ever in pain around me, she concealed it well.

  She was truly devastated. And truly alone. I hated that she was halfway around the world, without her family there to protect her, without me there to protect her.

  “Oh, I know you must be gutted right now, Lotte, but it’s too soon to panic.” Ames and Mila huddled around the phone as Lotte spoke.

  I felt mildly guilty for earwigging on their conversation, especially since Ames and Mila seemed to completely forget I was still there.

  “I was out on a dock on the pond, and everybody was jumping off the dock. It wasn’t a big deal. I’d even done it a few times. But the last time, when I jumped off, my legs went under the dock instead of over and they think I hit the rock that’s anchoring the dock in the middle of the pond.” She sniffled some more “I feel so stupid, Mila. I’m not like you, I’m not a world traveler, I can’t even manage a month in a foreign country before I break something on my body. I should’ve never taken this trip. I feel like such a dummy.”

  If I thought her physical pain was bothering me, it was nothing compared to bearing witness to her spirit being broken. She sounded so small, and I pushed my face into my hands to keep myself from launching across the bar, ripping the phone from Ames’ hands, and checking on Lotte for myself.

  A year ago, I never would’ve imagined my insides being so twisted up by Lotte. She was my best mate’s sister, and because of the person I was, she’d always be too good for me. Not that that had stopped me a month earlier. I had to fix this, had to fix her.

  Mila shushed her. “Oh, don’t beat yourself up so much. Yes, I had adventures, but do you think I haven’t had injuries too?” She held up her arm in front of the camera and showed the scar that ran around her elbow. “This is from crashing my arm against a slab of rock, in Peru, so trust me, I know what it’s like to injure yourself far from home.” She looked to Ames. “One of us will come over, will help you out, and get you back home where we can take care of you. It will be okay,” she assured her. “I promise you, you will dance again. If it was bad enough, you’d be in surgery right now. But let us know what the doctors say once you’ve spoken to them, okay, sweetheart?”

  “We’ll get it sorted,” Ames assured her.

  Lotte sniffled again and I wanted to tear apart the bar with my bare hands. She was a fragile bird again. To hear her in pain, knowing that she was all alone and fearful of what was going to happen, took my agitation to a whole another level. I recalled how she’d looked before climbing into the taxi, eyes wide and searching, and I hated myself for letting her go. Even if I couldn’t have her, having her within arm’s reach, within my eyesight, to watch her—those were important to me. Maybe after some time, I’d grow through the other feelings I felt for her.

  I was so distracted by the helplessness I felt, that I didn’t even register the fact that the call had ended, and my hands were still gripping onto the bar as if I could peel it away myself.

  Ames and Mila were talking with one another about what their plan was, and I could tell from the strain on Ames’ face that he was stretched too thin.

  “I’ll go.”

  Mila and Ames stared right at me. “What do you mean you’ll go?”

  “You have too much going on right now, and Asher is definitely not able to go—nor should he.” I loosened my hold on to the bar. “I need to get away anyways. I’ll go over, I’ll bring her back, and you guys can stay put, and figure things out with the pub and with the restaurant and with Asher. You don’t need this thing on your plate as well.”

  Mila looked to Ames and chewed on her lip. “I mean it makes sense to me, what do you think?”

  Ames sighed. “I suppose it’s the only choice we have.” He leveled me with his gaze, looking at me as if he knew something about me that I didn’t even know myself. “You’ll be careful with her, right?”

  The way he narrowed his eyes on me gave me pause. I didn’t even know how to answer him. I didn’t think he knew about me and Lotte, but there was something knowing in his eyes, something that worried me just a little bit. But, this was the only option available. And I had selfish reasons for wanting to go.

  “I’ll be gentle with her,” I said not really understanding what I was promising him.

  “She might have had a crush on you years ago, but I don’t know if that just goes away.”

  Wait. I wanted to pause the conversation, to fully digest what he was saying. I mean, I’d suspected Lotte liked me in some way, given the fact that she’d been the one to invite me to her room. But … years? I didn’t have time to process that, as Ames was already moving on.

  “Just take care with her. She’s like my sister, okay?” His eyes were hard, like he was already imagining me ripping her to shreds. It wounded me a little, but he wasn’t wrong. Lotte didn’t need me. She needed better.

  I was already pulling up a travel app on my phone and booking the next flight out, when Ames went upstairs to check on Asher. Mila came around the bar and put a friendly arm around my shoulders

  “I know.” She let out a sigh, and squeezed my shoulder. “About Lotte’s last night here. Well, not all of it, but, I know enough to echo what Ames said, about being careful with her. Ames doesn’t know,” she quickly assured me, “but Lotte isn’t just any other girl.”

  “I know that, Mila.” It made me wince to hear her say these things to me, because she wasn’t wrong. But for the first time, I wished she didn’t have to say this to me. I wish I could be someone who was trusted implicitly by her and Ames to not fuck this up.

  “I hate to be the one to have to have this conversation with you, but I think it’s better me than Ames.”

  I licked my lips. “Yes, because I highly doubt that Ames would have a conversation with words. I gather he’d be more apt to use to his fists.”

  Mila patted me on the back and then eased away. “She’s got a lot of feeling in her soul, and she’s hurting right now, so I’m just asking you to treat her the way she needs. She’s one of the most important people in your best friend’s life. He doesn’t have a lot of family left, and we don’t need her coming home with a broken foot and a broken heart.”

  I could tell Mila wasn’t comfortable even bringing it up with me, but she felt she had to—I’d indirectly put her in this position, and I would honor her wishes because I respected her for being the one to warn me about Lotte. “I promise,” I said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was no Belle from Beauty and the Beast. I thought I was, desiring some kind of adventure that took me halfway across the world.

  But it wasn’t for me.

  I scrubbed the tears away from my face in my hotel bathroom, encouraged by the dim lighting. If I couldn’t see what I’d done to my face, I’d be better off.

  My compulsion to pull had intensified, like a raging ocean. Wave after wave of embarrassment and frustration had crested sometime overnight, leaving me with a neat little pile of eyelashes on my pillowcase.

  I ran my finger over what remained anyway, feeling sick over how few there were. I tried to remember ever having a full line of lashes, but I couldn’t.

  I had to stop touching them, because the urge to pull them was just that much more present. I only had a few left. What was the point, anyway?

  Forcing myself to stop touching, I braided the halves of my hair on my head, securing each end in clear elastic. I made them tight, so that I wouldn’t need to pull.

  Even though it was dark in the dingy bathroom, I could see what my picking had d
one. My eyebrows, once sparse but still present, were practically nonexistent. My hair, which had once been thick like my mum’s, was now flat. I tugged at the braid, loosening the chunks until it appeared fuller.

  I had to repeatedly adjust my stance due to the walking boot I wore on my leg. “You have a mid-shaft fibula fracture,” the doctor had told me. I’d been encouraged by the fact that I’d fractured the leg bone that wasn’t weight-bearing, but I needed to be in the damn boot they’d fitted me with for two weeks, and then use crutches.

  It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but the injury itself had woken me up to my purpose. I’d been grieving the thought of losing my ability to dance, but I’d still be able to. This injury wasn’t the ender, but realizing I’d worried about it at all had been like a lightbulb flashing on.

  The doctor had warned me that my muscles would undergo atrophy, so even when the bone was healed in six weeks, my leg wouldn’t be the same as it was before. But I could get it back to what it was with some rehab.

  So not only was I embarrassed for having made a big deal about fracturing a bone that was more or less useless, I was embarrassed that I was stuck in my hotel room while Joss and the guys had continued on the trip I was supposed to be on. To the one place I wanted to go, Arches National Park.

  I’d miss out on the hot air balloon ride as well—the boot made that too inconvenient.

  I looked out the bathroom window of my room, seeing the Salt Lake City airport in the distance, and knew the next four days until my flight home would drag.

  I’d been in the hotel room for two days now, watching endless television and stuffing my face. Today, I was going to actually leave my room and go into the city for some adventuring. Which was why I was bothering with putting on a set of false lashes, why I filled in my sparse eyebrows. My eyelids were swollen from the crying and the irritation I’d caused them, but after applying the line of lashes, I felt—and looked—much better. It was a small thing, but it made such a difference to my confidence that it didn’t feel small at all.