Page 52 of Never Tell Secrets
“Because you aren’t everyone else.” His reasoning made no sense to me but I decided to leave it alone.
So far, the night seemed relatively calm, but I could feel the energy thrumming in the air. A promise of things to come. A waiter arrived with a drink for each of us and I took mine gratefully. Alfie took his but I noticed he didn’t drink it.
“Do you want to get something else to drink?” I nodded at the alcohol, knowing that he wasn’t going to touch it. He leant down to whisper in my ear.
“This isn’t a soft drinks kind of place.”
I caught Keira out of the corner of my eye heading off to explore with Damien hot on her heels. I was about to go after her before I stopped myself. I didn’t know Damien but Alfie trusted him, and tonight was all about trust, so I guess I had to trust him too. Besides, I had no doubt that Keira could handle herself.
Alfie was watching me closely, trying to gauge my reaction to the clubhouse. It was stunning but right now I was too distracted to really take it in. I looked up at him, engaging in a silent communication. We both knew why he wanted me here tonight and I wasn’t about to party it up with a giant elephant in the room. I leaned up to whisper in his ear so no one could overhear us.
“It’s time, Alfie.” I felt his body stiffen, fear creeping over him, but he didn’t balk like I expected him to. He took our drinks, returning them to a passing waiter’s tray.
He held his hand to me. Uncertain, I took it, following as he led me upstairs, guiding me into the further reaches of the house. The hem of my dress swirled around my ankles, his grip tightening the further we went. He was scared. So was I. I’d seen Alfie interact with his demons before and it always ended with him broken in my arms, his mind so far away from me I couldn’t reach him. I was afraid for him. So much of me still hated him but there was a part of me that would always want to protect him. I didn’t want him to hurt and this, this was going to hurt.
A giggling couple passed us, eyeing Alfie with wide, high-as-a-kite eyes.
“Hey, did it ever occur to you to maybe do this when the house wasn’t full of people?” I whispered, wondering why Alfie, the most private man I knew, would risk exposing himself so publicly.
“I never liked being here when it was quiet.” Finally, after another staircase and another turn, he stopped at a door. The guests had faded to a faint hum. We were alone now, no need for pretense on his part. He placed a hand on the handle but didn't turn it. His palm was sweating, his grip painful on my hand.
“You know, ghosts aren’t real, right?” I whispered. “It’s just a room.” With a determined look, he stepped inside.
I followed. The room felt colder than the others, unused, as if the revellers knew instinctively not to go in there. Ghosts weren’t real. But memories were and memories lived forever. I should know, I felt my mum with me everywhere I went. Alfie stopped, looking around the room, an unreadable expression on his face.
“What are you thinking?”
He frowned into the darkness. “I’m thinking it’s just a room.” I watched his gaze move over every inch of the room that had haunted him for twelve years. His expression grew frustrated, angry. I knew that look. I stepped in front of him, bringing his attention back to me.
“It’s okay to be okay in here, you know. You don’t have to feel guilty.” Predictably, his eyes narrowed on me.
“What do you know about it?” I’d known that was coming. I was taking a mallet to his walls, of course he wasn’t going to like it.
“We don’t have a lot in common, Alfie, but in this we’re in the same boat. I blamed myself for my mum’s death for a long time.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“And this wasn’t yours,” I said, “your brother was a psychopath.”
“And I killed him,” he snapped, his jaw clenching as fear and guilt grew inside of him. Pain emanated from him so thick it could smother both of us, drowning us in his tar.
“The same way I left my mother to drown.” I met his gaze head on. “We don’t decide the fates, Alfie. I didn’t make that driver drink, the same way you didn’t make your brother an insane person.”
“No, but you were a child, blameless. I was?—”
“You were a child too,” I cut him off. “You might have been twenty three but the part of you that dealt with your brother was still a child. Just like a part of me will always be that twelve-year-old girl. Trauma is like a cryo tank. It freezes you in the momentthat you experienced it. Your body keeps growing but a part of your mind stays there and when you’re confronted with more trauma, it’s that part of you that reacts. You’re still that scared boy from your journals and that was the part of you that fought your brother that night. You weren’t a grown man plotting to hurt anyone, you were a little boy defending himself.”
This was why he needed me to be with him for this–he needed me to guide him through. To be his lighthouse. He stood there, frowning, his eyes cold, distant. I slipped my hand into his. “Let’s get some air.” I tilted my head at the balcony behind me, the balcony he’d thrown his brother's body off of. Alfie didn’t budge.
“I don’t want to go out there.”
“I know.” We stayed there for long minutes, my hand in his as I waited for him to make the decision to move forward. Eventually, he did. I walked with him to the doors and out onto the balcony, his grip crushing my hand. I could hear the party raging below, and I could make out parts of the beautiful gardens I was desperate to explore, but that would have to wait. We stood together, the breeze teasing my hair.
“Do you still feel guilty about your mother?” he asked, his voice tight as if he was scared to speak and disturb the ghosts.
“I used to. For years I felt guilty about leaving her, but over time, I grew up and came to understand it wasn’t my fault. The guilt went away and made space for a new kind of guilt. I felt guilty for not feeling guilty. For being happy or moving on with my life, like I didn’t deserve to be happy. But I do deserve to be happy, and so do you, but you have to choose it.” I looked up at him, at the man that had caused me so much pain because of his own. “I think that you’ve been trapped in this room for the last twelve years. I don’t think your brother is the ghost here, you are. It’s time you freed yourself, Alfie.”
“I don’t know how.”
