The Tearsmith: A Novel

There’s a mystery in each of us.

It’s the only answer to who we are.

I always thought that Rigel was like the moon.

A black moon who kept his face hidden from everyone, shining in the darkness, eclipsing the stars.

But I was wrong.

Rigel was like the sun.

Limitless, burning, unapproachable.

He was blazing. Dazzling.

He scorched my mind bare, cast shadows inside of me that consumed all thought.

When I got home, his jacket was already there. I wished I could have said I didn’t care, but that would have been a lie.

Things were different when he was there.

My eyes searched for him.

My heart fell.

I could get no peace, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The only way to avoid his penetrating eyes was to stay shut in my room all the time, until Anna and Norman got home.

I hid away from him, but the truth was that there was something that frightened me much more than the cutting cruelty of his gaze and his cold, volatile temperament. Something that stirred inside me, even when we were rooms apart.

But one afternoon, I decided to set aside my concerns and go down into the garden for a bit of sun.

Around here, February was pleasant, grey and cool. Our winters had never been too harsh. For people like me who were born and raised in South Alabama, it was not difficult to imagine seasons so mild, bare trees and rainy streets, white clouds at dawn and, already, the scent of spring.

I loved to feel the grass between my toes again.

I was studying in the dappled sunlight under the apricot tree, savouring a moment of peace.

Then, a sound caught my attention.

I got to my feet, intrigued. But my high hopes were dashed when I found out what was making the noise.

It was a hornet. One of its legs was stuck in the mud. When it tried to fly away its wings made a loud buzzing sound.

Despite my usual sympathy for the plight of animals in peril, I found myself staring at it in terror. I thought bees were really cute, with their stumpy legs and furry little bodies, but hornets had always quite frightened me.

I had got stung quite badly a few years previously. It had hurt for days, and I didn’t want to relive that pain.

But he carried on thrashing about so uselessly and desperately that my sentimentality got the better of me. I approached cautiously, torn between fear and pity. Tensely, I tried to help him with a twig, but I jumped away with a sharp yelp when he started that furious buzzing again. I went back with my tail between my legs, distressed. I wanted to try to help him again.

‘Don’t sting me, please,’ I begged as the twig snapped in the mud. ‘Don’t sting me…’

When I managed to free him, relief flooded through my chest. For a moment, I almost smiled.

Then he took flight.

And I blanched.

I threw the twig away and ran like mad. I hid my face in my hands, squealing in a shamefully childish way. I tripped over my own feet and fell over. I only avoided hitting the paved driveway as someone caught me at just the last moment.

‘What…’ I heard a voice behind me. ‘Are you mad?’

I whirled around, astonished, gripping the hands that held me. He was staring at me, dumbfounded.

‘Lionel?’

I was surprised to see him here. What was he doing in the garden?

‘I swear,’ he said, embarrassed, ‘I’m not stalking you.’

He pulled me up and I brushed some dirt off my clothes. He gestured towards the road.

‘I live nearby. A few blocks that way…I was passing by and I heard you screaming. It scared the living daylights out of me,’ he said, scowling. ‘What were you doing, exactly?’

‘Nothing. There was an insect…’ I hesitated, casting my eyes around for the hornet. ‘I got scared.’

He looked at me with a furrowed brow.

‘And…you couldn’t have just killed it, rather than screaming?’

‘Of course not. How is it his fault I was scared of him?’ I frowned, slightly annoyed.

Lionel watched me for a while, surprised.

‘But…you’re all right?’ he asked, looking down at my bare feet.

I nodded slowly, and it seemed like he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

‘Okay…’ he murmured, staring at his shoes. Then he glanced up at me. ‘Bye, then.’

As he turned away, I realised I hadn’t even thanked him. Lionel had caught me as I was falling, he had rushed towards me to check I was okay.

He had always been so nice to me…

‘Wait!’

I saw him turn around. I realised I had rushed towards him a little too enthusiastically.

‘Do…do you want a popsicle?’

He looked at me, dumbfounded.

‘In…winter?’ he asked, but I nodded, keeping my face expressionless.

He scrutinised me for a long time. Then he seemed to understand that I was being serious.

‘Okay.’

—

‘Popsicles in February,’ Lionel remarked while I happily licked mine.

We were sat on the sidewalk. I had given him one that tasted like green apples.

I adored popsicles. When Anna had found out she bought me the ones with gummy animals frozen inside and I had stared at her as if struck by lightning, unable to express how much I adored her.

I chatted a little with Lionel. I asked him where he lived, if he had to cross the bridge with all the shouting workmen.

He was easy to talk to. Every now and then he would interrupt me, but I didn’t really mind.

He asked me how long I had been here, how I liked the town, and as I replied, it felt as though he was stealing glances at me.

At a certain point he asked me about Rigel. I felt the tension rising, like it always did when he came up in a conversation.

‘I didn’t realise he was your brother at first,’ he confided, after I had vaguely explained that Rigel was a relative. He stared at the gummy crocodile in his palm before eating it.

‘What did you think he was?’ I asked. I tried not to dwell on what Lionel had called Rigel. Every time I heard him described as my brother I felt the irrepressible urge to scratch something with my fingernails.

Lionel snorted and shook his head.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he evaded calmly.

He didn’t ask me anything about my childhood. And I made no mention of The Grave. Nor of the fact that the boy inside the house wasn’t really my brother.

It was nice to pretend I was normal. No institutes, no matrons, no mattresses with springs poking through.

Just…Nica.

‘Wait, don’t throw it away!’ I stopped Lionel quickly as he started to break his popsicle stick. He looked at me, perplexed, as I took it from him.

‘Why?’

‘I’ll keep it,’ I said quietly.

He gave me a look that was halfway between amused and intrigued.

‘What for? You’re not one of those people who build scale models in their spare time, are you?’

‘Oh, no. I use them to splint the sparrows’ wings when they get hurt.’

Lionel was speechless. Then, he seemed to decide that I was joking and started laughing.

He watched me thoughtfully as I got up and brushed the dirt off the back of my jeans.

‘Listen, Nica…’

‘Hm?’ I turned and smiled at him. I saw the reflection of my ocean grey eyes in his. He was transfixed, unable to utter a word. His lips parted and he stared at me, utterly bewildered.

‘You…you…your eyes…’ he stammered. I frowned.

‘What?’ I asked, tilting my head to one side.

He shook his head hastily. He lifted a hand to his face and glanced away from me.

‘Nothing.’

I watched him, not understanding, but I forgot about it when it came to saying goodbye. I still had homework to finish.

‘See you tomorrow at school.’ I headed towards the walkway and Lionel seemed to grasp that it was time to go.

He hesitated, then looked up.

‘We could swap numbers,’ he blurted out all of a sudden, as if it had been on the tip of his tongue for some while.

I blinked. He cleared his throat.

‘Yeah, you know…that way if I miss class, I can ask you for the homework.’

‘But we’re not in the same class,’ I reminded him innocently.

‘Y…yeah, well, we are for labs though,’ he stressed. ‘I might miss some important dissection…You never know…Then again, who listens to Kryll…But it doesn’t matter, no worries if you don’t want to…You just have to say…’

He continued gesticulating wildly, and I couldn’t help but think he was a little strange.

I shook my head, to stop his torrent of words. Then I smiled.

‘Okay.’

—

That evening, Anna got home earlier than expected.

There were just a few days to go until the pest control conference, and she had asked me if there was anything I needed her to buy me.

‘It’ll just be a day trip,’ she told me. ‘We’ll leave at dawn, the flight’s an hour and a half. We’ll get back after dinner, probably around midnight. Your phone is working okay, right? You’ve been making calls all right? If you need anything at all…’

‘We’ll be fine,’ I reassured her gently. I didn’t want to ruin an important event that Norman had been building up to for years. ‘We’ll manage, Anna, you don’t need to worry at all. Me and Rigel…’

But I froze. His name stuck in my throat like a shard of glass.

It was only then that I realised I would have to stay home with him for an entire day. With only his presence to fill the silent rooms. With only the sound of his footsteps and his intense eyes…

‘Wh…what?’ I roused myself.

‘Could you go and call Rigel?’ Anna repeated, putting a few packets of passata on the side. ‘I want to speak to him about this too.’

I tensed. The idea of going to fetch him, of going near him, or standing again in the threshold to his room immobilised me from head to foot.

But she looked up at me. I pursed my lips.

I’ll be good, a voice inside me whispered.

Anna knew nothing about the twisted relationship between me and Rigel.

And that’s how it had to stay.

Or I’d risk losing her…

I moved almost mechanically, and without uttering a word I did as she asked.

I discovered that Rigel was not in his room. The door was ajar, but he wasn’t inside.

I looked for him all over, peering into every room in the house, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. Eventually, reason led me outside.

The last few glimmers of the sunset lit up the gardenia flowers. Dark branches stood out like arteries and capillaries against the beautiful orange light.

I walked along the porch, my bare feet kissing the wood. I paused as my gaze fell on him.

He was in the back garden.

He was half-turned away from me, the twilight bathed his clothes, making his dark hair glint unexpectedly, like blood.

I only glimpsed a sliver of his face. He was surrounded by such a perfect silence that I felt like I was intruding. I stayed there watching him from afar like I always had, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he was standing there.

There, right there, in that quiet, with his hands deep in his pockets and that jumper that was a little bit too big around his neck, his soft shoulders and the slight breeze brushing against his wrists…

You’re watching him too much, I chastised myself. You shouldn’t.

But before I glanced away, a fluttering caught my eye.

A white butterfly was flying about the garden, dancing here and there. It slipped among the leafy tree branches then suddenly landed on Rigel’s jumper.

It had landed over his heart, innocent and brave. Or maybe just crazy and hopeless.

My eyes rushed back to his face, and I stared at him with an urgent concern.

Rigel tilted his head. His eyelashes brushed his prominent cheekbones as he lowered his gaze to her, her wings unfurled in the fading sun, fragile and unaware.

Then he lifted his arm, and before she could fly away, he closed his fingers around her.

My heart plummeted.

With a tightness in my chest, I waited for him to crush her. I anticipated how he would suffocate her, as I’d seen many of the other children at The Grave do.

I was so tense that it felt as though it was me he was holding in his palm. I waited and waited and…

Rigel unclenched his fist.

The butterfly was still there. She crawled up his hand, innocent and carefree, and he stayed there watching her with the sunset in his eyes and the breeze tousling his hair.

He watched her fly away. He turned his face up to the sky and before my eyes, something happened that I’d never seen before.

I stared at him. He had always suited shadows and black pits, bruises and darkness, and so I was surprised to see him look so good enveloped in that warm, bright light. I had thought that darkness was almost perfect for him – an exiled angel, a beautiful Lucifer condemned to curse paradise for ever more.

But at that moment…

Watching him in that brightness, in such warm, soft light, I realised that he had never looked so magnificent.

You’re watching him too much, my heart murmured. You’ve always watched him too much, but he destroys and he scratches and ensnares. He’s the Tearsmith, he’s the ink the tale’s written in. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t. I clenched my fists, squeezed my arms, became tense all over. I was about to break apart at the sight of him.

‘Rigel.’

He lowered his eyelids. He turned and his dark eyes probed deep inside of me.

My skin burned and I regretted all the time I had spent watching him. I regretted that I wasn’t able to hold his gaze without feeling like he was possessing some part of me.

‘Anna’s looking for you.’

You’ve always watched him too much.

I rushed away, fleeing from the sight of him. And yet it felt like a part of me stayed there, trapped forever in that moment.

‘He’s on his way,’ I told Anna before leaving the kitchen.

I was a victim of ill-defined emotions that I couldn’t shake off.

I tried to remember how he had destroyed the rose, how he had kicked me out of his room, how he had warned me to stay away from him. I remembered how he had always looked at me with scorn, harshness and contempt, and I got scared by emotions that, despite everything, gave me no respite.

I should have hated him. Wished he would disappear. And yet…and yet…

I couldn’t stop looking for the light in him.

I couldn’t give up.

Rigel was enigmatic, cynical, and as deceitful as the devil. How much more proof of this did I need before I would give up?

I spent the rest of the day in my room, tormented by my thoughts.

After dinner, Anna and Norman suggested a walk around the block, but I declined. I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy their company, nor behave as cheerful and carefree as I wanted to, so I watched them leave with a hint of melancholy.

I wavered on the steps before deciding to go back upstairs.

I was climbing the stairs when suddenly, angelic music filled the air.

My legs froze and my breath caught in my throat.

A bewitching melody came to life behind me. Everything else became background for that music which accompanied the slightly frantic beating of my heart.

I turned towards the piano.

I was caught in a net of invisible spiderwebs. I should have been sensible and gone back upstairs. Instead…my feet carried me to the doorway of the room.

I found him there, his back turned, his black hair haloed by the lamplight. On top of the piano there was a beautiful crystal vase in which Anna had arranged a bouquet of flowers. I glimpsed his pale hands, moving fluidly and deftly across the keys, the source of that invisible magic. I was entranced, aware that he hadn’t noticed me.

I had always had the impression that he was expressing something through his playing. That despite being so silent, this was his way of speaking. There was a wordless language in the music that I had never been able to interpret, but now…I wished I could understand what his notes were saying.

I had never heard him play lively or joyful pieces. There was always something inexplicably heart-wrenching in his music.

After a while, Klaus leapt onto the piano. He approached Rigel and sniffed him, as if he thought he knew him.

Rigel’s fingers slowly came to a stop. He turned to face the cat, then lifted him by the scruff of the neck to put him on the floor. But suddenly, his shoulders stiffened. His fingers plunged violently into Klaus’s fur. The cat wriggled and hissed, but it was no use. Rigel stood up and threw him away. His claws scratched the piano keys and he knocked over the vase of flowers, which crashed noisily to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. The violence of the scene in front of me made my heart leap to my throat.

I was scared witless. That moment of peace had been torn to shreds by blind fury. I stumbled backwards, overwhelmed, and fled up the stairs.

Panic came over me in waves, my thundering heartbeat clouded my mind, bringing back a faint, distant memory…

—

‘He frightens me.’

‘Who?’

Peter didn’t reply. He was shy, skinny, scared of everything. But this time there was something different shining in his eyes.

‘Him…’

Even though I was only a little girl, I knew who he was talking about. We were all scared of him, because Rigel was strange, even by our standards.

‘There’s something wrong with him.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked uncertainly.

‘He’s violent.’ Peter trembled. ‘He hits and hurts anyone, just for the fun of it. I see him sometimes…tearing up fistfuls of grass. It’s like he’s out of his mind. He scrapes at it like an animal. He’s savage and angry, all he knows is pain.’

I swallowed and looked at him through the strands of hair that had come loose from my braids.

‘You’ve got nothing to be scared of,’ I assured him in a little voice. ‘You haven’t done anything to him.’

‘Why you, then? What did you do to him?’

I picked at the edges of my Band-Aids, not knowing how to respond. Rigel made me cry despairingly, but I didn’t know why. I just knew that every day, he seemed more and more like that bedtime story.

‘You don’t see him,’ Peter whispered in a ghost-like voice. ‘You don’t hear him, but me…I’m in the same room as him.’ He turned to look at me and the expression on his face frightened me. ‘You don’t know how many things he’s torn apart for no reason. He wakes up in the dead of night and screams at me to get out. You see how he smiles, sometimes? You know that sneer of his? He’s not like other people. He’s crazy and cruel. He’s evil, Nica. We should all stay far away from him.’