Rewrite the Stars

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Rewrite the Stars Page 12

by Christina Consolino


  Creeping out the front of the center hedge, I traveled along the east side, found the thin space between two large arbor vitae, and glided in toward the center where a circle of wooden benches stood. There, Andrew stretched out on one of the smaller benches, hands behind his head, waiting for me to exit the maze. He opened his eyes wide when he saw where I came from and threw his head back in laughter.

  “I should have known you might not have the patience for that maze. You’re a practical woman with no time for trifles.” He wiped a single tear from beneath his eye as he patted the spot next to him on the bench. Such small bits of life made this man laugh to the point of crying. Being able to let yourself go, no matter the time, the place, the situation, was a characteristic I admired.

  “You’re right. I figured the shortcut was the way to go. Another time I’ll follow the rules.” My voice sounded tired and preoccupied, even to me. Did he notice? I folded myself onto the cool bench, as leaves still attached to the nearest maple tree fluttered in the wind. A few dry ones fell off, floated to the ground, and landed at our feet, where they’d be stepped on by numerous strange shoes and boots. Those leaves had lost their tether to life, and this time, a tear formed in my eye when I thought of Theo and us. Did he ever consider himself like these leaves? They described me sometimes, except...except when I was with Andrew.

  I looked his way then, to the shadows of the tree limbs dancing across his smiling face. He was close—close enough for me to smell the scent of his shampoo in the wisps of wind sailing by. His proximity unnerved yet calmed me, all at the same time. Again, the word free formed in my mind, and I knew I had to release that word from my vocabulary.

  “I could sit here for hours, pretending my life back home didn’t exist. Do you know that?” I still didn’t tell him exactly what that life consisted of; I had no plans to reveal any more of those details.

  “Yes, I do.” His gaze held mine. “It’s completely normal for you to want to sit and have peace. To not have to think about anything for a while—”

  I didn’t let Andrew finish his thought. “Kate says the best thing to do is to be honest, to do what’s right for me. And she has a point.” The words slipped out easily, no stutter or stammer in sight; a confidence had grown within me that hadn’t been there before.

  A line creased his brow, and he squinted with confusion. “Be honest about what?”

  A slight hesitation occurred then, only for a moment, because so much about life can turn on a dime. And what I was about to do, to say, could change things in unfathomable ways. The impact my words would have and the impact I wanted them to have encompassed the unknown. I teetered on another precipice of which I was aware, but what lay beneath? I had no idea. And yet, I recklessly swallowed my fear and plunged ahead.

  “That I look forward to your texts. That our random meetings make my day. That I asked you here because I want to learn more about you and...that I have feelings for you.” The words hadn’t gotten stuck in my throat like I thought they would. They poured forth freely. Shit, that word, again. I turned my head away from Andrew, this time before he glimpsed what lay inside me. There was no way I wanted to look into his eyes, as the bold confidence I had previously possessed fled. The swallows chirped, and the breeze danced as one moment went by and then another. How long could two people sit in awkward silence? And then Andrew moved a few inches, positioning himself so his entire being faced me. With a steady hand, he placed his fingers against my cheek and turned my chin toward his. So much emotion shimmered in his eyes I almost started to weep, for me, for him, for whatever might be but never would be.

  “That admission had to be distressing and exhausting...for you to say those words...And I want to be honest with you because you deserve it. You need to know how difficult it is for me to say this.” He paused, and I dropped my head toward my lap, which caused a few strands of hair to slip in front of my face, effectively shielding my eyes from Andrew.

  A burning stung my palms, and my stomach felt as if it had folded in on itself. What was he going to say? That he didn’t feel anything for me? As much as that admission might hurt, it would be the better option, the easiest thing for us both. If Andrew didn’t, I’d go on with my life, and he’d go on with his. Story over and no harm done.

  “Sadie.” His calming voice encouraged me to lift my chin. With a free hand, he brushed the hair away from my face as I scanned his, trying to find something unidentifiable. Again, Andrew paused, as if he was scripting the words before the wrong ones spilled out.

  “Yes?” Our faces were still so close. Had I leaned in a couple inches I’d taste the lips that hovered so near to mine. As it was, his cool breath fanned against my cheeks and tickled my insides. Andrew moved forward by mere centimeters and then stopped, as if he was troubled about what his next course of action would be or should be.

  “I’m going to do the right thing here. And I don’t want you to view me as a saint, because I’m far from it. But this isn’t right. This...this...you and me. It could be right, but it’s not right...right now.” He held my face for a moment longer and then placed his hand back onto his lap. Andrew broke any visual connection we had, squared his shoulders, and looked off into the distance.

  A sagging weight engulfed me, but I continued to stare at him, his touch lingering almost everywhere, even though he’d only had my chin in his grasp. Telling him the truth was easier to do than I thought, listening to Andrew let me down, telling me what I was doing was wrong, that in one word, I was again, being selfish. That’s what he meant when he said it wasn’t right, whether or not he used those words.

  And then he spoke one more time: “But I’m not going to lie to you. I feel something for you too.”

  Andrew continued to gaze ahead, saying nothing further. He blinked a couple times, and while I wanted to stay and see if tears welled in his eyes or if he’d reach for me or if any other endearing gesture would be forthcoming, it wasn’t the time. In the interest of self-preservation, I rose from the bench, pulled my coat around me, and walked away from him, from us, from a possible future. It might not have been the best response to his words, but it was the only one that seemed appropriate.

  As my steps beat a quick pace on the gravel, my curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced back over my shoulder, just once. He again sat with his legs stretched out, hands behind his head. His graceful and leisurely posture—did it belie what he was feeling inside? Due to the distance I’d placed between us, his face wasn’t clear. Could he make out the stain of tears littering mine?

  With a rumpled tissue that had seen better days, I swiped away my tears and forced myself to walk beyond the maze to find Brooke and the kids. Lexie and Delia ran up the path and charged me, each of them grabbing a leg.

  “Mommy! We saw a stick insect and a green worm!” Delia’s words rushed out while Lexie smiled up at me. Charlie sauntered behind, with Brooke and Andrew’s kids, but the brightness he exuded told me he was having fun. Seeing my children happy was something that made my heart burst every single time.

  “That’s great! What else did you see?”

  Before anyone responded, my phone rang, and despite my intention not to answer it, when Brooke offered to take the children again, I let her. A quick goodbye and a quiet whispering of “Andrew is that way,” in the event she wanted to return the children to him, and they were off once again.

  Brooke had been with us a long time. How observant was she? Who would she blame? Thankfully, those questions would remain unanswered because Brooke remained loyal to both her charges and to me.

  Without looking at the screen, and thinking the call might be Theo, I accepted the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Sadie, it’s me.” Kate’s voice met my ear and an irritation washed over me. Kate always had impecca
ble timing. She seemed to make a phone call at a time when I didn’t want to talk to anyone, usually when she needed me. I loved Kate and our history together, but at times, the relationship drained me more than it should.

  “Hey, Kate,” I said and mentally kicked myself for not checking who was calling. “Now’s not a great time. Can I call you back?” A mottled stink bug attempted to climb a thin stick balanced between a limb and a tree trunk. The poor insect tried in vain to cling to the stick, but it kept falling backward, onto the gravel, only to repeat the same, feeble action. Cocking my head, I leaned down to get a better look at the bug.

  “Uh, I guess so. Seems like it’s hard for us to catch up these days,” Kate said. The reserved tone of her voice indicated she wasn’t happy with me, but she’d pulled the same tactic on me before. We both had lives to lead; she and I knew it. And sometimes, those lives got in the way of catching up with friends.

  “I appreciate that. I’m in the middle of something right now.” I tried to lend sweetness to my voice that wouldn’t tip her off to anything. We’d been friends for so long, she read into my voice like no one else, but I had no plans to inform her I’d made no progress on the suggestion she’d made many Saturdays ago.

  “Yeah, well, sure. Call me back when you have a chance.”

  The phone dimmed, and I placed it onto my lap, surprised Kate had let our conversation, or lack thereof, go so easily. Kate had never let anything go so simply, ever, and despite my first thought, my mind wondered if she had an ulterior motive in not drawing out the conversation. What was she trying to tell me? Was she still annoyed about the last time we’d seen each other?

  That had been a month ago, long after she’d given me advice and at a time when she’d tried to push Theo into seeing a new therapist. Kate was into homeopathic means of relief and sometimes shunned traditional Western medicine. She felt if Theo admitted to a negative mindset, he’d be better able to resolve his issues. I’d often brushed aside what she had to say when it came to medical issues, but the day Kate told me of her negative mindset theory, I had exploded at her and questioned her credibility. We’d exchanged daggers—I’d accused her of making everything about her, and she’d done the same of me—and since that day, our closeness had waned.

  Her phone call reminded me to check in with Theo, who would be home from work already.

  You home? All okay? I texted.

  All good. Thanks. He replied.

  With the kids at the arboretum. Will be home soon.

  Have fun.

  I texted back a thumbs up.

  Between the tree limbs, the rays of afternoon sun streamed onto my shoulders, warming them, and the smell of the loamy soil filled my nose as I ambled along the empty path to find Brooke and the kids. November in the arboretum was lovely, thankfully, and the beauty and simplicity of the natural surroundings soothed my mind, which ached with unanswered questions about Andrew, about Theo. About me.

  But with the thought of Andrew, a giddiness erupted within me, my heart raced, and tingles broke out all over. All over. And while I was sure now, after his admission, we would go nowhere, the whole scenario was too much to deal with. The muscles of my back and shoulders tightened, and I twisted my fingers into the fabric of my skirt as I cursed myself for being in the same place I was back on Father’s Day. How was I in the exact mental place?

  If things had only been different, I thought, and stomped my foot against the damp earth. If Theo hadn’t gone to Afghanistan, then we’d be fine. If Theo didn’t have PTSD, then I wouldn’t be in the middle of what was supposed to be a divorce, and I’d never have noticed Andrew at the grocery store. If I cared about Theo, then I’d be doing more to help him get better. If, if, if. That’s all I focused on these days. I couldn’t live my life inside a bunch of if-then statements; I’d never been good with them anyway.

  The tap of a woodpecker narrowed my focus as I wound around a copse of pine trees. A fallen log had formed a nice stopping point, a place where the kids and I liked to rest our weary legs. I sat hard, too hard in fact, and the usual tears pricked against my eyelids, which caused the torrent to begin. The droplets fell to the ground, splashing onto the debris, displacing dust. With nothing left in my heart, I left my head fall forward into my hands, and I sobbed.

  A quick beep from my phone alerted me to a text.

  Nothing urgent! A message from Kate, which included a smiley face.

  I should have asked her if she needed something. I should have apologized for my outburst about the “negative mindset.” Had she been right that day months ago—that I thought it was all about me? Another stink bug caught my eye. Had the one I’d seen earlier crossed from the stick to tree trunk? Was he successful in his quest?

  Having no way to know, I imagined he succeeded and crossed into his desired territory. If he could do it, so could I.

  Chapter 18: Theo

  I had always trusted Sadie to make the right choices, but when she surprised the entire family with her getaway idea, doubts plagued me. Big doubts.

  “All right, kids, we’re going on vacation!” Time seemed to stop in the kitchen as Sadie strode in with her arms wide open and cheeks bunched up from smiling.

  “What? What do you mean, Mom?” Charlie asked. He hurtled from his seat at the breakfast bar and planted his body in front of his mother. “What about school? Film club? Piano? I’m going to miss a lot...” He looked like I felt sometimes: defeated, his small shoulders slumping, almost imperceptibly. He’d been having fun with school and with everything after school—so I’d been told. It was possible the activity took his mind off everything happening at home.

  “Don’t worry, Charlie. Part of this vacation spans Thanksgiving break, so you won’t be missing as much school. If you don’t want to go, we won’t. But you’re a great student, and you’ll be fine.” She put away the few items she had picked up from the grocery store and opened the window an inch. The cool fall breeze slipped in and brought dampness with it. A second later, Sadie cranked the window shut again. Rejected the harshness. To be able to crank my life closed at times.

  The last few weeks had been ugly. In the morning, when it was time to get the kids moving and out the door, my usual “Let’s move it, kids! What’s wrong with you?” resulted in a resounding cringe from the kids and a “Really, Theo? It’s more than just your tone!” from Sadie.

  She tried to remind me whenever my “tone” was off, which happened most often when it was time for bed or if one of the kids needed help with their homework. My mood changes frustrated me, but I didn’t always control them. I should tell Doc about that fact.

  “If you’re angry, be angry with me,” Sadie would say. “Be angry with the PTSD. With the doctor. With yourself. But not the kids. And what about a change in meds? What are your thoughts?”

  “It’s hard,” I’d reply, answering only half her question. “It’s so damn hard.”

  And it was. Our situation exasperated me, and while I “turned inward”—again, thank you, Doc—much like Sadie would, it meant I spent too much time thinking about me, about us. The more I did, the more I had reservations about signing those papers. A simple signature would dismantle two decades of memories. Was I ready to be finished with all things Sadie? Doc’s lips would twitch if I shared my thoughts, and I might get a “nice touch, being more self-aware” comment too. Maybe Sadie was right about this vacation. It would be a good idea. But where—

  “And...we’re going to...Walloon Lake!” Sadie announced.

  “Yessssss!” Delia and Charlie cheered in unison and fist-bumped each other. The enormous smiles on their faces said far more than words: they were ecstatic to be heading to our haven, and school could wait. For Delia, who normally didn’t say much, a fist bump to her brother was a big
deal, and she looked over at me and Sadie, sheepishly, as if we’d caught her taking a cookie from the cabinet without asking. Sadie smiled at the two of them.

  “When do we leave?” Charlie asked and then spun around on his toes to grab Delia in a hug. “We need to bring the sand toys and our swimsuits and the raft and markers and the pool bag and sunscreen—”

  Charlie’s enthusiasm spread throughout the room: Delia twirled around the kitchen, continuing to list the items we’d need to cram into the minivan.

  “Whoa, hold up, kids. It’s fall, and the weather’s pretty cold. They might have had snow already. Not sure about the pool bag or the swimsuits.” My words might have deflated other kids. But ours? Not a chance.

  Charlie slapped his forehead, a smile dimpling his face. “Oh right. But we should bring the toys to make sandcastles. We can build a snow family and a snow fort and what about the lake, will it be iced over yet?” Charlie’s squint indicated he’d already started construction of the fort—complete with intricate, elaborate details—inside his head.

  “We’ll see,” Sadie said. “I’ve never been to the lake in any other season than summer, so this’ll be a new experience for us all. But I’ve heard good things, really good things about this time of the year up there. The trees, the leaves, the snow if there is any. It’s supposed to be gorgeous.”

  A huge grin, much like the sort she’d sported when I first met her and she’d serve an ace, spread across her face. That face. If I concentrated on it, I’d fall down a rabbit hole again. Getting away from this place might be a good thing.

 

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