"Did you know?!"
Aiden stared at me from the other side of our bedroom with nothing but total despair in his expression. But it didn't soothe me. It didn't stop the trembling that caused my entire frame to shake.
"Ari—"
"Did you?!"
He swallowed and then nodded.
I almost collapsed. It was too much. It was all too much. I felt nauseous. I continued shoving clothes into the over night duffle that I'd used when we went on vacation. Tops, shorts, skirts. I didn't give it a lot of attention. I just knew that I needed to get it all into a bag because I had to leave. I couldn't be under this roof for another minute.
"Please don't leave, Arian," his voice was broken. It was torture to hear the raw emotion in his words. But I shook my head and refused to turn around.
"Please Aiden," I sobbed, almost unable to see the zip as I reached for it. "You have to let me leave."
"I didn't realise until this afternoon," he said and I heard the door close. My heart picked up speed in fear. But I took a deep breath. He wouldn't hurt me. He wouldn't. "I didn't realise until you told me your last name. At the pet store when we were choosing the tag for Evin's collar. I swear."
"And the last name?" The sales girl glanced up with a polite smile while she tapped her pen on the countertop. Aiden glanced down at me with what seemed to be mild embarrassment.
"I don't even know your maiden name," he shook his head with disbelief. "We can use whatever name you choose beautiful."
"Oh, it's Peters," I shrugged a shoulder. "But I prefer Evin Emerson. It's so much cuter."
"I knew that I'd heard that name before," his voice was getting closer. "I checked when we got home. In a file that Kyle had put together a while ago. I'd never looked at it because I didn't want to have that secret between us. That I'd checked your background. But when I did look in it this afternoon. That's when I realised the truth. We'd never talked about how your parents died. I just never put two and two together. Arian, of course I knew that I had to tell you. I just needed to figure out how."
I turned around, tears spilled over and rolled down my cheeks and it felt as though I'd been impaled with a giant knife when I met his grief stricken expression. He stopped a meter or two in front of me and slipped his hands into his pockets. He'd done that before, to make sure that I felt safe. It just made me sob even harder.
"I've been living under the same roof as the man who murdered my paren—" a choked sob cut me off and I had to inhale a deep breath to continue. "My p-p-parents. The people that meant more to me than anything. I h-h-have been so alone without them."
His head dropped and he pinched the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook. I couldn't bare to see him hurt. I was mad but he was still the man that I loved. I stared out at the rain that pelted the window. The drops glistened from the bedroom lights and total darkness was all that could be seen. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one that I was feeling within me.
"You're whole purpose is to serve justice Aiden," I cried even harder as I gripped the duffel and let it hang beside me. "You're supposed to bring justice to the people that couldn't get it themselves. You hid a murderer! You gave him a new life and put him up in this g-gorgeous house. He never had to suffer the consequences of his actions. He— he took two innocent people and got away with it."
"He made a mistake Arian," he glanced up and his eyes were red, so was the tip of his nose. Again, I glanced away because I couldn't see him in pain. "He has had to live with that. And I know what he did was wrong. But he wasn't himself—"
"I don't care—"
"He's my best friend," he stepped forward but I stepped back. I knew that I could leave. I could leave because Aiden would never do something to hurt me. I had to keep reminding myself of that because I was scared. I felt weak. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to force myself to walk out of this apartment. "Arian please, I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to help him. Please understand. Please."
"I do," I nodded and my breath quivered. I wiped my sleeve across my nose and let the tears blur the vision that I had of Aiden looking weaker than I had ever seen him before. "I see your point. But I don't accept it," I said with a quiet broken voice. "I can't. I can't stay here. Please let me leave. Just- just let me leave."
He watched me for a moment. His eyes pooled with tears that spilled when he blinked. He was so beautiful. Despite the fact that he cried, he was still perfect. There was a tense pause that would have been silent if I hadn't been blubbering and sniffling. But the sound of my heart shattering as he stepped aside was the loudest most devastating sound of all.
I walked past him and went straight for the door, wrapping my hand around the handle before his quiet trembling voice said my name. I paused but didn't turn to look at him. "Take the car. Please. I don't want you waving down a cab on the street in this weather. . . I — I love you."
I nodded because I wasn't going to turn down that offer for the sake of pride. "Can you please cover the garden beds with the weather proof cases."
I didn't wait for an answer. I ripped the door open and almost ran down the corridor. Before I left, I crouched down in the living room and pulled Evin into my arms. She was shuffling with distress and began licking my cheeks. As if she was kissing the tears. "I'm okay," I sobbed. "I'm going to miss you baby girl. You be good alright. I don't know when I'll be back so don't forget about me?"
It wouldn't have been fair to move her again. She needed to settle in one place and I had no idea where I was going. She would be happier here. With food and her nice bed. I held her tight and kissed her soft ears a million times before I stood up again. She followed me to the elevator and barked, jumping up at me the entire time. She was strung out and I felt terrible for causing that. It was hard to make sure that she didn't get on the elevator or in the way as the doors closed. But I watched her sad little face as the metal came together and my legs gave out from under me.
When I woke up, my face was sore. My nose was blocked. And the morning sun was heating up the car that I'd fallen asleep in. I'd ended up in Tampa. Outside of my parents house. I sat in the drive and stared at the single story white brick house that I'd grown up in. The front lawn was mown short. The surrounding garden beds were covered in small pebble stones with little square hedges plotted about a meter apart. Someone had been maintaining the gardens.
I hadn't been able to go inside last night. It was just too hard. The emotional trauma had been at its peak when I arrived after midnight. I was exhausted and so instead, I settled for sleeping in the back seat of the Range Rover. Even that in itself was hard. I could smell Aiden. I could see him driving. I missed him so much that it hurt but I felt betrayed by him. And I know that he hadn't done that on purpose. He hadn't gone out of his way to hurt me. But that was how I felt right now. I hoped that I could get past it. But I was scared that I'd never be able to look at him without knowing that he helped the man who killed my parents, live a life free of consequence.
Not to mention that I adored Hunapo. He was my friend. I wanted the best for him. I was proud of his sobriety and his relationship with Zoerina. We'd become friends. I was friends with someone that I should never want to forgive. I felt so conflicted. It was clear that he felt terrible about what he'd done. But I still felt so angry. I hated him. But I didn't. It was still Hunapo. But Hunapo took my parents. If he had unloaded his gun or if he'd shopped somewhere else or even if Dad hadn't tried to be such a hero. . .
I felt nauseous and suffocated as I jumped out of the car. I didn't want to blame Dad. I didn't want to hate Hunapo. It was all so fucking unfair.
I thought that I was going to be sick for a minute but even though I heaved in the direction of the grass a few times, nothing came up. That was probably due to the fact that I hadn't eaten in forever. I straightened up and glanced around at the street, hoping that no one was watching. I needed a minute before I could go inside. But I no doubt looked insane.
The key on my clip remained on whatever keys I'd used for the last six years. I never took it off. I just added to it. When I moved houses or started a new job etc. I stared at the door as I walked up the concrete steps. Large silver numbers were fastened to the wood. The letter flap still gleamed. It was all so familiar despite the fact that I hadn't been back in over half a decade.
I took one last breath and then twisted the key so that the door opened. The familiar smell hit me like a freight train. It wasn't musty. It didn't have that scent of abandonment. It was just how I remembered it. The tiles on the foyer floor were just as I remembered. The little floral patterns in the middle of them were the first thing that I saw when I came home from school. It had been my job to keep this part of the house mopped and cleaned from the time that I was small. I loved it because the tiles were so beautiful.
The mirror above the hall table startled me. I looked as awful as I felt. So I didn't dwell for long. I just dropped the keys into our mosaic bowl. The sound, it was another thing that pushed me right back in time. That sound was the sound of Mom and Dad coming home. It was the sound of being home. And whenever I heard it, the thud of the door closing, followed. So I reached back and pushed it shut before I continued around the corner and into the living room.
Nothing had changed.
Which is what brought on another bout of tears. I moved slow, touching the surface of Mom's China cabinet. All of her antiques, her plates and porcelain dolls sat behind the glass. The tea sets and expensive utensils. Her trinkets that had been passed down for generations. The book shelf beside it which was stacked, over flowing even with all of her favourite novels. She loved to read in the arm chair beside the window. I could see her sitting there, curled up with a tea. I could see her smile when she read something romantic, her tears when a character broke her heart. I could hear her laughter when she found something too amusing to keep it in.
I crouched in front of the chair and touched the soft cream coloured arms, looking for the whisper of her ghost in the things that she'd left behind. I closed my eyes and wished so hard that she would appear. That she'd be there and nothing would have changed. Surely, if I begged the Lord with all my heart, she could come back. She could hold me again and tell me what to do. She could give me advice and assure me that it would all work out. Just as she had when I was a teenager.
She would listen to me sob over some idiot that dumped me during a lacrosse game. Or she'd listen to me blubber over a friend who had said something mean about me. She'd tell me that it didn't matter who decided to walk out of my life, because as long as I left the door open, someone better would walk in. There was always space for friendships and true love and as long as I didn't close the door, as long as I didn't let the hurt lock it shut, then better things would be just around the corner.
She was so optimistic. It was contagious. Dad loved that about her. His chair was on the other side of the sofa, which sat between them. He had a better view of the television. When I got closer, I noticed that the material was thread bare where his butt would have been. I chuckled through a choked sob as I remembered how he'd sit. Remote in hand, his legs elevated on the footrest. He'd watch the fishing shows. He'd talk about it while I did homework or polished my nails. He was so excited to get his boat fixed up so that he could take me out. But it was still in the shed. Where he left it, the motor never ran.
And I never got to fish with him.
I crossed the room and smiled as I walked into the kitchen. I'd experimented more recipes than I could count in here. The small round dining room table and chairs sat on the Lino. Just three of them. The window over looked the front lawn. Mom and Dad drank their morning coffee, watching the sun come up over their picket fence and landscaped masterpiece. It was a simple front lawn. But their love of it was bright. It was them. Simple but beautiful.
The kitchen exit went two ways. The back door sat opposite the kitchen in the corridor. But I turned left and wandered the narrow walk way. Our family portraits hung right until the end. There were so many memories in each photo that it hurt but being on the same carpet, under the same roof, touching the same walls that they had touched, that hurt more. I could feel their presence in every square inch. I could see Dad flossing in the bathroom while Mom combed her hair. I could see Mom filling the linen cupboard with clean sheets and towels after folding the washing. I could see Dad standing at the back door with his hot tea, watching the sun set while Mom served dinner.
I was a mix of emotions when I reached their door. It came first. Before mine. I was struggling to breathe, as I had been since I came in. I had wet cheeks and blurred vision but I was smiling at all of the things that I remembered made home. And I was so glad that I hadn't lost those memories. Because it hurt so much but we had a beautiful life, the three of us, we did. Our home was brimming with love and I was blessed. Blessed with great parents and a home life that some kids could only dream of. I had a lot to be grateful for.
I gripped the door handle. I wanted to go in. But this was more their space than any other room in the house. And whenever I tried to twist the handle, I lost the airflow to my lungs. I seized up and I couldn't do it. I wasn't ready. So I went a few steps further and pushed open the door to my bedroom. Of course, it was just as I left it.
The window bench on the far side of the room still had a blanket haphazardly sitting on it. I remembered that I threw it off me that morning. The morning that my parents were killed. I'd been late for an appointment at the college. So I threw it off and ran to the closet. Which wasn't closed. The gap in the door had a hoodie sleeve slipping out of it. There was another set of clothes scattered on the ottoman at the end of the double bed, which wasn't made. The sheets were lazily pulled up but the pillows were half hanging off the bed. No one had been in here or touched a thing since that day. My mirror and vanity sat in the corner, covered in make up and curling irons. Small butterflies decorated the wall above my drawers. Framed photos of friends from high school, ones that I no longer knew, were hanging beside the door and my single small shelf of nail polish was neat and organised. There wasn't much else special about the room. I'd loved the window seat from the first moment that I could remember sitting there, dreaming about a future that included cooking and a wonderful husband. Perhaps a few kids and pet.
Once again though, I didn't know what the future held. I wished that I did. Even back then, I wished for a more secure knowledge. Something that I could be certain of. I'd been carefree and happy. No doubt about that. But I had plans in place. Those plans included a career, falling in love and having it all work out. Just like Mom promised. I needed to know that I wouldn't make a wrong turn at some point and end up with no job and a loveless life.
But of course, I'd made a lot of wrong turns. I wanted to think that it was because I didn't have Mom and Dad to guide me. But at some stage, I had to be responsible for the mistakes that I had made alone. I couldn't keep blaming other people for the fact that I'd married a psychopath.
I'd done a lot of growing since I was a teenager. I'd changed a lot. The things that I'd been through helped with that I supposed. It was sort of as if I was in a strangers room, viewing her choices and taste in decor as someone else. I wasn't that girl now. That much was evident in the pictures from teenage times. There was too much make up, the crimped hair and halter tops were terrible. But the smiles were so genuine. That girl didn't have a clue about pain. It was written all over her face. That was a happiness that I would never know again. No matter how much I loved Aiden. No matter how much he made me laugh, smile or feel, nothing could erase the heatings, the verbal abuse, the manipulation, the. . . rape. Time heals wounds. But I wish that I'd known that those moments were fleeting. I wish I'd known how short lived that sort of innocent elation really was.
I sat down on the bed and cried for a little while. How much I wish I could have gone back to a time like that. A time where I didn't have the weight of the world on top of me. Where it was just Me, Mom and Dad and we were happy. But I could never have that again and it was the knife twisting a little harder.
When I eventually tried to calm down, I sat up and wiped at my face with my sleeve. I was smoothing my shirt out when I heard a familiar sound. The sound of the doorbell, followed by a firm knocking.
______
I don't know why, but I somehow ended up writing a poem about their current situation. So don't mind me. I haven't written a poem since high school. But I thought that I'd leave it there 🤷🏻♀️ also, I'm literally so asleep right now. I keep startling awake. But I'm dead. There will be mistakes. Sorry. Haha
Also you probably found this so boring. But I wanted to give Arian a little bit of history. ♥️
I was so lost and alone.
But when we met, a person not a building is what I called home.
Your soul, it shone so bright.
One look was all it took to ignite
Now I'm standing on the front line, prepared to fight.
For your love
Because it would tear me apart to tell you goodbye.
In my heart, it'll always be you
It's not out of fear
I know that no other could ever compare.
So gone or here
Inside, you'll always be near.
Sending my love, I'll blow a kiss to the air
Catch it in the stars
Baby, you put the beat in my heart.