Intaglio Dragons All The Way Down

chapter 18: The Darkness Between



There was a long moment after Cole said it... admitted to the anger he’d been feeling for years. Ava just stared at him in confusion. In the dim haze from the security light, the blue of her eyes was so dark it seemed almost black. Dreamlike.

“You’re angry at Hanna?” she asked, perplexed.

Cole sighed, shaking his head. It came to him that he’d never really said this aloud... not in years. Not since his mother’s funeral. Even then, he didn’t get to say it clearly. (His father hadn’t wanted to hear it.)

“No, not Hanna...” he admitted.

Ava’s expression shifted as the rest of the story appeared. He could actually see the moment she understood.

“Your mom.” This time it wasn’t a question.

The secret hung between them like the mist from their breaths.

Cole nodded.

“Yeah. You can’t believe how angry I was at her...” He stumbled. “...how angry I am at her.”

Ava reached for his hand. She was frowning like she was trying to solve a difficult equation without a calculator. Cole realized that though he had told her about the facts of his childhood, he really hadn’t said much about what he felt like when it was happening.

“You ever talk to Marta about it in your sessions?” she asked. “Or the ones with your dad?”

The suggestion was disconcerting and he choked, the cold air turning his breath into white clouds.

“Twice,” he muttered. “Dad freaked out.”

She nodded, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand. She chewed the inside of her lip, eyes unfocused, as if gnawing away at an idea. He had the urge to kiss her, here on the grated step of the fire escape. His heart ached with all the things he wanted to tell her... needed her to know and understand about him.

“What do you talk about in your sessions with your dad?” she asked gently.

He shrugged.

“Hanna mainly... Dad has lots to say about her.”

Ava's smile was pained, as if the thought hurt her. Somehow that made Cole feel better, that she wasn’t making light of this. He leaned in, kissing her chastely, then pulled back again. He hadn’t let go of her hand.

“How do you feel about Hanna?” she asked.

Cole made a low, whistling sound as he exhaled, his body growing heavier as he thought about her. Hanna’s memory had been with him for so long; until recently, Cole hadn’t known how to think of himself without the perspective of his older sister. (The person he wasn’t.) In the last two months of counselling, he’d come to realize that much of who he was had been shaped by Hanna Thomas. As a result, his perspective had changed about her.

“What is she to you?” Ava prompted.

His eyes drifted out to the snow-covered city beyond the steps, velvet black lit by golden pools of light, coins thrown atop an ink-soaked sheet. That, he realized, was how he remembered Hanna: individual bright moments lighting the darkness. The group were linked together in a chain of meaning.

“I dunno,” he began. “I used to kind of idealize her like everyone else, but in the last few months... writing about my feelings, and talking about it with Marta, that’s changed. The shit Hanna used to pull... always taking risks she shouldn’t have...” He shrugged. “You know, that stuff has consequences, but she didn’t really care. I guess I’ve come to realize that she was just a messed-up kid like me.”

Ava slid closer, her body tucked tightly against his side. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he talked.

“Everyone’s messed-up, Cole... everyone.”

He chuckled.

“Hanna was great in a lot of ways… an awesome sister. I mean, I miss her... I love her.” He slumped lower, his limbs like an anchor, drawing him down to that darkness inside himself. “She was the cool older sister who kept care of me. When I was a kid, I used to get so angry with being compared to her, but Marta and I have been talking about how that’s more my Dad’s problem than mine. I never really wanted to be Hanna. Ever. It was Dad’s thing. I’m okay with that now.”

Ava turned to look up at him, her hair brushing his cheek like a paintbrush on canvas.

“But your issue with your mom…?”

Cole’s smile disappeared, like the sun going behind a cloud.

“Yeah, Mom…”

His voice disappeared. He stared out into the night. As much as memories of Hanna were points of light, memories of his mother were darkness. The emptiness between.

“You’re going to need to talk about your anger with her sometime,” Ava said quietly. “You’re got to deal with it, or it’ll never go away.”

She turned his hand over, tracing letters into his palm.

I…L.O.V.E…Y.O.U…

Cole glanced down at her fingers, smiling.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I am. But it isn’t going to be good, Ava… it’s just not.”

She moved away from his shoulder to look him in the face.

“Why?”

He winced, trying to put it into words.

“Dad just... he has this thing about Mom. They might’ve divorced and all, but she’s a really sensitive topic for him.”

Ava shrugged.

“Maybe it’s because they divorced.”

“Maybe...” he answered, voice wavering. There was something else there. Cole had sensed it for years, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know about the thing in the darkness that no one spoke of.

Lost in his thoughts, Ava’s voice startled him.

“You need to push the issue, Cole,” she said firmly. “Tell him how you feel. Make him talk!”

He wondered for a moment where she got the strength to not give a damn about the consequences. Cole had spent his whole life running from conflict; Ava was always running toward it. He closed his eyes, imagining what would happen if he did tell his father about his feelings. If he pushed the issue as Ava’d suggested. His chest tightened at the thought.

There would be consequences.

“You have to,” she insisted.

He nodded.

Ava tipped her head to the side like a bird examining a crumb, her face losing the seriousness of seconds earlier. She winked and brightened.

“Your dad’s not so bad some days, you know... I’ve told him off and still walked away from it.”

Cole made a scoffing sound.

“Yeah well, Dad’s a little soft on you for some reason.”

She poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Maybe that’s because I call him on his shit and no one else does.” She raised an eyebrow. (It was the look of someone who’d just walked out of the candy store with their pockets full of candy.) “You ever think of that?”

Cole smirked.

“Yes, actually, I have.” He leaned closer. “I told Marta about it.”

Ava’s expression softened.

“You did...?”

“Yeah, in my sessions... not the ones with Dad.”

Ava watched him, her lower lip caught in her teeth, a wrinkle of concern between her brows. Cole chuckled, his smile widening.

“Of course I did. Why?”

She ducked her chin into the collar of her coat, looking away with embarrassment.

“I dunno... just seems, serious?”

Cole could see she was blushing, a line of pink rising up her neck. He reached out, touching her chin so that she turned back toward him. She looked scared.

“We are serious,” he whispered. (It felt too important to say aloud.) “I’m sorry, Ava... about accusing you—”

“Cole,” she interrupted.

“No,” he said, taking Ava’s fingers with his left hand, and slinging his right arm around her shoulder, “No, I need to say this. I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have assumed anything... and you don’t have to tell me what you were doing.” He shrugged. “I wish you had... but you didn’t have to. I do trust you.” He shook his head. “Yes, I know I’m a jackass sometimes, but when it comes down to it, I really do trust you. This is my issue. Not yours.”

She smiled at him.

“Thanks for understanding, but the blame goes both ways....” she tightened her hand around his. “I should have tried harder, but I just... I had to do it myself, Cole. Can’t explain it better than that. I couldn’t even tell my dad.”

Cole nodded, then leaned in, kissing her lightly once more. This time Ava's lips moved under his, and their embrace grew more charged. Like a night with a storm brewing, the smell of ozone sharp in the air. Their mouths slanted together, growing rougher, all the pent-up emotions of earlier rising to the surface. He bit her lower lip, tugging her mouth open, and she gasped. Her hands slid around his neck. Legs numb from the cold, she tugged him down, pulling him against her.

The kiss dragged on. They were divers refusing to surface. This here, this now, was all they needed, both of them fighting to stay together, refusing to be the first to let go. Teeth and tongues and mouths slid together, nails scraping on cold-stiffened jackets until finally – breathless and lightheaded – they fell apart. Their emotions churned like the rush of turbulent water still pressing against them.

“Missed you,” she panted.

Cole laughed raggedly.

“Me too...”

He was about to lean in and kiss her again, but Ava reached out for his chest, pausing him.

“Cole, if you don’t mind... I had something I wanna do.”

“Okay...?”

“I though... maybe... you’d want to be part of it.” She frowned, dropping her eyes. “Can I ask you something? Like a favour?”

Cole could see she was nervous; her face was guarded.

“Sure.”

Her lashes settled closed, chest rising slowly and falling. He waited. When she opened her eyes, the fear was gone.

“Could we have a bonfire the next time we go out to your place?”

He grinned, not quite understanding the request. It seemed like a pretty easy thing to make happen.

“Sure, I guess. But why?”

Ava turned to the side, staring out into the dark. In profile, her face was suddenly tired and sad, and Cole felt the urge to wrap himself around her. To protect her from whatever was dragging her down. He watched her throat bobbing as she swallowed back tears, her knuckles coming up to rub angrily at her eyes.

“I’ve got some paintings I want to get rid of,” she said roughly. “And my mother’s ashes.