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“Because we had different childhoods?”
It was just the way things were. Foster homes weren’t known for being excellent, nurturing homes, at least not the ones I was forced to be a part of.
I shrugged and walked ahead, kicking a pebble out of the way. “What was your favourite fairytale?”
“Peter Pan,” he said without skipping a beat. No delay, no hesitation.
“What was so exciting about Peter Pan?”
“What wasn’t?” His voice pitched in excitement. “He had no responsibilities, no curfews, and lived the life he wanted under his own terms. He got to enjoy being a kid, with endless adventures, and no matter what happened, he always managed to defeat the evil Captain Hook.” He mimed having a sword and jumped forward to pretend to stab something or someone. “It’s the greatest story ever told.”
“Really? Would you say you’re more like Peter Pan or one of the Lost Boys?” I only knew of the story through a tv show that twisted fairytales into modern day stories, so I wasn’t sure how accurate it was. Pan, as he was called, was an evil little shit, and I was constantly rooting for the charming, and good-looking, Hook.
He gave his chin a scratch and victorious in his imaginary battle, sat on a toadstool. “Hmmm… I’d say more like one of the Lost Boys, but not really. Maybe more like Peter in the fact that I’ll never find true love.”
Except he was looking right at me, and a faint rush of heat blanketed my body as my blood pulsed double time. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find it one day.”
“Even if Wendy did like me, it’ll never happen. I can never get off the island. I’m forever trapped.” Scrubbing his face, he pulled himself to a stand and wandered away.
As he’d spoken, his face morphed from childlike joy into one of a heavy-handed seriousness, and his footsteps slowed with the deep weight of darkened secrets you can’t let the light shine upon. And I would know, I had a master’s degree in keeping secrets locked away.
But it opened the door to many questions I had but wouldn’t dare give breath too. It wasn’t my place to vocalize, as I wouldn’t want him poking and prodding into my life in return, however, I was curious about the island. We were headed to Vancouver Island – is that what he meant? Once he was there, he was trapped? Or did he mean it metaphorically? Like he was stuck in his life, which didn’t seem correct as he had everything he wanted and had planned for.
I gave my head a quick shake and caught up when he stopped a few feet away. Behind him was a giant treehouse. The biggest one in BC, according to the sign. And it was unlike anything I’d ever seen on tv or imagined.
“See?” A self-satisfied tone ribboned through the word, almost like an ah-hah. “Want to check it out?”
We stood at the base of the first set of stairs, beside artfully placed rocks, and bright, red-topped giant mushrooms. The first house we had to walk through on our ascent was only a dozen or so stairs above the path. After that, another narrower flight of steps curved around the tree, climbing to the second house. From there, a final set twisted higher to the third and topmost house, perched halfway up the impressively tall pine tree.
“Sure. Nothing like a little adventure.” Or a cardio workout.
By the time we ascended to the tiny, and empty room, at the top I was hot, and my sweatshirt stuck to parts of my back. How very unattractive. Absentmindedly, I pushed up the sleeves, exposing my arms. When I caught sight of Holden’s stare, I quickly dropped them down again.
“Can I ask?” His eyes stayed glued on my arms. “Twenty Questions style?”
My life experiences weren’t a game, but I understood his weak desire to ask. It seemed less threatening, although he wasn’t playing the game correctly. I looked up the rules a couple of hours ago. They were all supposed to be leading to one answer.
Oh. I hesitated with that realization. The one answer was why – why had I tried to take my own life? “Maybe, but note I may not answer.”
It was a gentle nod of affirmation, but he agreed.
“What do you want to know?” I leaned my butt against the railing and admired the view of greenery off the side of the hut. Some of the trees were leafy varieties but most were Christmas type ones, and I bet it smelled great over the holidays.
“One. Did it hurt?” He reached for my hand and gently turned it over, pushing the sleeve up and exposing my inner arm. Ever so gently, he avoided the thickest scab and ran his thumb over one of the faded yet raised scars.
Although I wasn’t cold, I still shivered at the tender touch. “No more than the loneliness.”
His other hand cradled my arm, and he trailed a soft finger down from the scar into the palm of my hand, making two little circles. “I’m so sorry. Loneliness is a bitch.”
“At least you have your family.” It came out with the wrong tone and even worse inflections, and immediately I felt awful for having opened my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand. And you’re right, I do have family. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to not have my sister around, as much of a pain in the ass that she is.” He laughed, and the sound of it settled my electrified nerves.
“Did I ever know her?”
“No. Myriam went to an all-girls school, since well…” He looked me in the eyes but didn’t break the hold he had with my hand. “I became an uncle at fourteen.”
My eyes widened. “How much age difference is there between you?”
