Ella Frank - Veiled Innocence

Over by my truck, I saw white material peeking out from underneath and knew immediately that it was her. I jogged over to where I’d parked and rounded the tail of my truck bed—and there she was. Sitting up against the huge tire on the driver’s side, she seemed so small and fragile.

As the loose gravel crunched under my shoes, she turned to see me walking toward her. She had her knees bent and pulled into her chest with her arms wrapped around them.

“Addison,” I whispered softly.

She looked like a trapped animal. Trapped inside her mind.

Her hair was a mess, probably from dragging her hands through it, and I could see her fingers tapping on her knee—one, two, three. One, two, three.

I kept my distance and crouched down until we were on the same level. “Addison.”

She raised her head and I had to clasp my hands in my lap so I wouldn’t follow my instinct to reach out and touch.

“Talk to me,” I coaxed gently.

Nothing. I got nothing from her. She’d withdrawn inside herself.

Pulling my legs out from under me, I planted my ass firmly on the ground and placed a foot on either side of her, careful not to touch.

“What’s going on? I thought—”

“What?” her voice was faint when she finally spoke up. Her eyes held me in place and for once, I felt at a loss for words. “What did you think?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I could make you feel better.”

She brought an arm up and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s make sure I’m better. God, now you’re thinking just like them.”

Before I knew what I was doing, I crawled over until I was kneeling by her side.

“No. I’m nothing like them,” I told her emphatically. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

How could I have ever thought she was what was wrong in my life? She was the only thing that made any sense, and when she was broken and hurting, so was I.

My dad was right—if I wanted her heart, I had to take it. If I was doing this out of love, it was beyond good and evil.

“Addison.”

She continued staring past my shoulder, so I took her chin in my hand and made her look at me.

“Addison, look at me.” As her eyes focused on mine, I repeated the same words she’d once told me. “Look at all of me.”

Her hand cupped my throbbing cheek, and as her thumb gently swept over the stubble and bruise I knew was forming, fresh tears welled in her eyes. I released her chin and brushed my hand over her hair, pushing it back from her face.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hmm?”

With a shaky breath, she finally admitted, “I’m broken.”

I shook my head. “No, Addison. Just perfectly imperfect. None of us are perfect.”

Her bottom lip jutted out, and as tears ran down her cheeks, I couldn’t help myself, I leaned forward and put my lips to them. Her cheek was cool and the tears warm as I lifted my mouth. I brushed my nose with hers and whispered what I could no longer deny. “I love you.”

She pressed her forehead to mine and replied so softly I almost missed it, “You shouldn’t.”

Her answer made my heart ache and my head swirl.

I knew she was right, it didn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t love her. It couldn’t end well, and I’d already lost the only other person who meant anything to me. This was just setting myself up for heartbreak. But as I took this broken girl in my arms and she crawled up into my lap, there was no way I could deny she had my heart firmly in her hands.

* * *

Present…

“I thought I might find you here.”

I turn to see Doc stepping into the library where I’m studying.

“Yeah, I needed to find a poet for the English portion of the test.”

“Oh,” Doc says as he pulls out the chair beside me and sits down. “Who did you decide on?”

I slide the book I’m reading over to him.

“Aleksandr Pushkin.”

“He’s Russian.”

“I never would have guessed,” Doc replies dryly. “Which poem? He has so many.”

I wait until he looks up from the page before I tell him, “I chose ‘Farewell.’ It seemed fitting.”

Doc returns his attention to the book and locates the poem. Before he has a chance to say anything, I clearly recite Pushkin’s words. I’m finally at peace with the decision to fight, move on, and perhaps even let go.

“It’s the last time, when I dare

To cradle your image in my mind…”

Doc closes the book as I continue the poem word for word, and when I finish, he says softly, “That’s beautiful, Addy. I’m proud of you. It is time to say farewell to the past. I’m glad you recognize that. Keep up the good work here. The big test is just around the corner.”

* * *

Past…

Crawling on to Grayson’s lap, I touched his hair and felt the pain in my chest intensify. I knew this was good-bye. I had to break it off here.

“I shouldn’t have started this. I didn’t know,” I confessed, and grazed his lips with my fingers. “I didn’t know it would be like this. That you would love…that…you need to walk away now. Forget about me.”

One of his hands smoothed down my back as he replied, “Probably.”

I was relieved that he seemed to understand what I was trying to do—until his lips found the corner of mine and he whispered, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

As a tear slipped between our lips, my tongue came out to taste it and found his mouth. Our lips connected and I lost myself in him.

I tangled my fingers into the shorter strands of his hair and held his head as I pushed my tongue deeper, hungry to find his. His hands moved to my hips, pulling me up against him, and as we disappeared into our own world, we recklessly forgot the one around us.

Until our two worlds collided.

“Grayson?”

As the voice penetrated the silence and I felt Grayson’s body freeze, I knew I hadn’t imagined the voice that was almost as familiar to me as his was.

“Addison? What…what are you doing?” the unbelieving voice asked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. I scrambled away from Grayson and back to where I’d been sitting against the tire.

This wasn’t going to end well, and as I looked at the slump of his shoulders, I knew he was aware of that too. But he’d known all along, hadn’t he? I’d been naive to think it could have ended any other way.

Getting to his feet, Grayson turned and stepped in front of me. He was protecting me from the woman standing between the two cars we had been hiding behind. Once they were face to face he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Helene.”

Present…

“Let’s go back to the photo you have on your wall of Cupid and Psyche.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“Venus plays an important role in that tale, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so, yes.” Curious where Doc’s going with this, I nod.

“She’s the reason Psyche is originally sent away and the reason she meets Cupid. Not to mention, the very person who ultimately brings them together in the end.”

“Yes, but only because she tried to have Psyche killed.”

Doc thinks about this a moment and then says, “But because of Venus, she is swept away by Cupid, who in the end, saves Psyche.”

Why is Doc trying to make it sound like Venus had done these two a favor? It was fate, not Venus, that had brought them back together. I consider him carefully, trying to understand his logic.

“Okay, so?” I ask, truly stumped.

“So do you want to tell me why you hate Helene so much?”

My face scrunches up as I question, “Helene? What’s she got to do with this?”

“Well, isn’t she who you imagine when you think of Venus in this story? That photo is how you see yourself, am I right? As Psyche?”

“So what if it is?” I ask, feeling surly as hell. Helene had taken everything away from me. First Daniel and then him.

“So it makes sense that she’s Venus in this story, and she set out to ruin you. Isn’t that how you see it?”

I guess he was right, but as I remember what happened that day and the days that followed, I shake my head.

“She didn’t set out to do it. She just did.”

* * *

Past…

“Grayson? What are you doing?”

Miss Shrieve’s voice cut through the quiet parking lot like a gunshot, and her aim was as accurate as a sharpshooter.

“Look—” Grayson started.

“No. What the hell do you think you’re doing with her?”

She gestured at me with her eyes wide as I got to my feet. It was as though the entire world was closing in. I felt the air being sucked out from around us until all that remained were tense questions.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Helene—” Grayson tried again, but he was quickly cut off as my furious coach stepped forward and pointed at him.

“You were kissing her!” she shouted, appalled.

I wrapped my arms around my waist and stepped up beside him to say something, anything, when Miss Shrieve turned to me.

“And you! Aren’t you in enough trouble? This…this is just unacceptable!”

Spinning on her foot to storm away, I was surprised when Grayson reached out and took her wrist, pulling her back around to face us. The shock was evident on her face as she looked down to where he was holding her.