As Far as the Stars

by Virginia MacGregor

  He smiles. ‘I’d be crap in a dress too.’

  I laugh and, for a moment, things feel kind of okay.

  ‘But you’re wearing those dresses to the wedding?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah. I guess it matters to Mom and Jude.’

  He nods and I know he understands: how it’s both the most insignificant thing in the world but how it really matters as well; how in the world Mom and Jude are living in right now, nothing else matters more.

  ‘Anyway, if I call Mom now she’s going to ask me a million questions and then I’m going to have to tell her that I don’t know where Blake is—’

  Christopher’s eyebrows knit together.

  ‘You really don’t have a clue?’

  ‘No. I mean, he could be in Nashville or he could still be in London – I don’t really know. Blake’s unpredictable.’

  I should shut up about Blake. And the wedding.

  He keeps staring at me, so hard that I have to look away. And then, after a few beats, he says, ‘How can you be so sure?’ he asks. ‘I mean, that your brother wasn’t on the plane?’

  My eyes burn.

  ‘He’s just not. Okay?’

  I think about all the reasons I could give him.

  That Blake shows up when it matters.

  That he’d promised he’d be there.

  That he was going to sing this special song for Jude and that he wouldn’t let her down.

  That the reason he was in England was because he was working on his dream of being signed by some big record label and living in London. And you don’t step onto a plane that crashes into the ocean when you’re working your dream.

  And, most of all, because bad stuff doesn’t happen to Blake. Which sounds crazy – I mean, why should one person be protected from the crap life flings at the rest of us, right? – but it’s true. Bad stuff doesn’t happen to Blake Shaw.

  ‘I booked his flight to Nashville,’ I say at last.

  ‘So why were you waiting for him at Dulles?’

  ‘I thought he’d got on the wrong plane. He sent me a message – when I was on my way to Nashville.’

  ‘A message saying he was getting a flight to DC?’

  ‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. Blake’s crap at organisation. He didn’t even know what he was texting. He must have got it wrong.’

  I’m beginning to regret talking to him about Blake and the wedding. It might have got his mind off the crash but now it’s churning me up.

  I stare out of the windscreen.

  ‘I’ve got to get to the wedding,’ I say.

  He still doesn’t say anything.

  I take a hand off the steering wheel and rub one of my eyes. I’ve been staring at the road too long.

  ‘Let’s take a break,’ I say.

  Then I turn off at the next exit, take a right and park on the edge of a field.

  It’s ugly. Burnt grass. Flat tyres. Empty soda cans. Cigarette butts.

  We sit in the car, looking out at the field, not saying anything. My eyes drift up and I feel grateful that, no matter how ugly the earth is, the sky stays untouched; the one thing we can’t mess up. Or not yet, anyway.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ I say.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘An idea?’

  I nod. ‘I’ll call my mom if you call yours.’

  He doesn’t answer.

  ‘You should give her some warning – that you’re going to show up.’

  He still doesn’t answer.

  ‘Christopher?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say to her.’

  ‘Tell her you’re coming for a visit.’

  ‘It’s not like that between us.’

  ‘Well, tell her something came up with your dad – that he’s had to go on another business trip—’

  ‘A business trip?’

  ‘Or whatever. Say that he’s been delayed and that you’re coming to stay for a few days.’

  He stares ahead.

  ‘And then, when you get there, you can talk properly.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Talk properly?’

  I guess that whether you’re close to your family or not, talking about this stuff is near impossible.

  ‘So, it’s a deal?’ I say.

  He shakes his head and kind of smiles.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re annoying.’

  ‘I’ve been told.’

  ‘Really annoying.’

  ‘FI,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fucking Infuriating. It’s what Blake called me. Which was kind of hypocritical.’

  ‘But kind of true.’

  ‘Hey!’

  He looks at me and then sweeps his hair off his forehead. He’s a weird mix, Christopher. Totally introverted one second – like it hurts him even to be in the same car as me – and then he’ll say something ballsy that makes me think that he’s stronger than he lets on.

  ‘Okay,’ he says.

  ‘Okay, you’ll call her?’

  ‘Okay I’ll call her.’

  ‘Good.’

  I get out of the car and stretch my legs.

  Leda jumps out beside me and does a big wee against one of the tyres. She must have been wanting to go for a while. I feel a wave of pity for her. I scoop her up in my arms and thread my fingers through her raggedy fur. She’s so skinny and light you’d think she could float away into the night sky. She thought we were going to the airport to collect Blake. And then we left without him. And, instead, we’ve got this English guy I’ve known for like five seconds travelling with us and she can probably feel it too – how every muscle in my body is strained, how I feel sick at the thought of turning up at the wedding and having to face everyone alone.

  I walk out to the middle of the field and breathe in the night air. In the distance, I can hear the highway, trucks and cars rattling past. Closer, the click-clicking of the Buick cooling down. And Leda foraging for something – probably one of those cigarette butts. And I can hear Christopher’s voice too, quiet and slow and deliberate. He’s kept up his side of the bargain.

  So I dial Mom’s cell.

  She picks up after one ring.

  ‘Ariadne!’

  ‘Mom—’

  She bursts into tears. It makes me want to cry too, hearing her like that. But I’ve held it together this long, I’m not going to lose it now.

  ‘Why haven’t you been answering?’ Mom asks.

  ‘I’ve been driving.’

  ‘Driving where?’

  ‘To Nashville.’

  I hear her suck in her breath. ‘What do you mean, to Nashville? You’re in Nashville.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  I hear her sigh.

  ‘You’re not making any sense, dear.’

  I pause.

  ‘Ariadne?’

  ‘I thought Blake got on a plane to DC. So, I turned round to pick him up from there. But it turns out I was wrong.’

  ‘So, Blake is in Nashville?’ Mom asks. ‘And you’re in DC?’

  I can’t cope with all these questions.

  ‘Ariadne?’ Mom says again.

  I hear some frantic whispering through the phone. And then Jude’s voice speaking to Mom, ‘Is that Air? Where the hell are they?’

  ‘Air’s in DC,’ Mom says to Jude. Her voice is far away, she’s moved the phone from her ear.

  ‘I’m not in DC,’ I say, so loud I hope she hears.

  ‘In DC!’ Jude’s voice is manic. ‘What are Blake and Air doing in DC?’

  Jude probably thinks that we’ve done this on purpose: that Blake and I have taken off somewhere and are leaving her out again. And that it’s my fault. Because things are never Blake’s fault. I want to tell her that I’m sorry – that we’ve let her down in the past. But that we would never mess up her wedding. That all of this is out of my control.

  ‘I’m not in DC!’ I yell down the phone again.

  ‘You promised you’d be here.’ Jude’s voice is shaky now.
r />   And I had. I’d promised that we’d be there: me and Blake.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know.’

  ‘So you’d better hurry up.’

  Her big sister tone. Which under normal circumstances would totally trigger me. Like she thinks she can tell me what to do just because she’s five years older.

  There’s a pause and some shuffling sounds.

  ‘Air?’ It’s Dad.

  Thank God.

  ‘Your mother’s a bit anxious,’ he says.

  Understatement of the century.

  ‘What’s going on, my love?’

  It makes my eyes well up, the way he says my love and the way he asks me, like he’s waiting me for me to tell him about another Blake fuck-up that we’re going to have to sort out. The way he doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on. And how bad it is this time.

  ‘Just tell Mom I’ll be there for the wedding,’ I say.

  ‘Well, that’s the main thing,’ Dad says.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the main thing.’

  There’s a pause.

  ‘I love you, Dad.’

  ‘I love you too, Ariadne.’

  God, I don’t know how I’d survive without Dad. He’s the one sane person in our family. The one person who makes my blood pressure go down rather than up.

  ‘Everything all right, Ariadne?’ Dad asks.

  Something comes loose under my ribs.

  I don’t know what to say. I’ve never lied to Dad. It’s one of our family rules: the truth, no exceptions. Plus, Dad and I are close. Really close. He’s easy to talk to. He doesn’t judge me, even if the stuff I tell him is really screwed up.

  ‘Not really,’ I say.

  I want to tell him. About everything. About the mix up with the planes and not knowing about where Blake is. And about Christopher, who I met at the airport, whose Dad was on the plane that was cancelled and then went missing, and then the images of the wreckage on the sea, and how I feel like I’ve got to help him because he doesn’t have anyone else. And because I like him. Him being here, with me.

  Because Dad would understand. It’s Dad’s thing. Understanding confusing stuff like this. Understanding me.

  God, I wish we were sitting in his study in DC, just the two of us. I wish there was no wedding and no airplanes. Sometimes, I wish there was no Blake to worry about. Because it would be easier than this – having a bit of my heart walking around somewhere outside my own body, totally out of my control.

  ‘Dad,’ I start.

  ‘Yes, my love?’

  ‘Hand over the phone!’ Mom’s voice blares through.

  There’s a scuffle. I picture her actually wrestling the phone from Dad’s hands and Dad not giving her any resistance because he’s totally not into force, even if means he gets walked all over.

  ‘Just get here safely,’ Dad says, his voice so warm and kind I want to cry.

  ‘I will,’ I say.

  And then, before Mom comes back on, I hang up. I bow my head and stare down at the burnt earth and the burnt grass of this God-ugly field.

  When I get back to the car, Christopher’s got into the back with Leda. They’re both looking up at the sky.

  I get in next to him and lean back too, following his gaze.

  It’s a clear night. We’re far enough from any major town not to have too much light pollution.

  ‘How did it go?’ I ask him.

  He shrugs. ‘Okay, I suppose.’

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘She’s expecting me.’

  ‘How did she sound?’

  ‘Surprised. That I got in touch.’

  ‘Did you tell her about the plane?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I thought it was better to wait – until I saw her.’

  ‘She thinks you’re just coming for a visit?’

  ‘I told her Dad was busy with work and that I had some time in the States before heading back to England.’ He pauses. ‘And that I’d like to see her.’

  ‘That must have meant a lot to her – hearing that.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He kicks at some stones on the ground.

  ‘You okay?’ I ask.

  He shrugs and I get that I shouldn’t push it.

  After a while, he looks up at me, his eyes, shiny and dark under the night sky.

  ‘How about you?’ he asks. ‘What did your mum say?’

  ‘She’s pissed – that I’m late and that I’ve messed everything up. Jude yelled at me down the phone: she thinks I’m doing this on purpose. Then Dad came on and it was good to talk to him but it also felt crap because I couldn’t tell him the truth.’

  ‘About Blake being missing?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I swallow hard. ‘But at least I called, right?’ I catch his eye. ‘At least we called. It’s all we can do for now, right?’

  ‘I guess so,’ he says.

  I lean back and look up again.

  Leda comes and sits on my lap. I rub the soft spot behind her ears and she leans into my hand.

  We sit there for a really long time; I guess we’re trying to process it all – what we’ve heard on the news and speaking to the people who are waiting for us and how we haven’t got a clue what’s going on and what we’re going to do when we get there. And that, in a few hours, when we get to Knoxville, we’ll be going our separate ways and probably won’t ever see each other again.

  And I know we’ve got to get back on the road. That he has to get his bus and I’ve got to make it in time for the wedding, but, right now, there’s something else I want to do.

  ‘Want a view that’ll blow your mind?’ I ask.

  I don’t wait for him to answer. I pull the telescope out of the footwell, along with the tripod, drag it out onto the burnt grass and set it up, bang in the middle of the field.

  Christopher stares at me.

  ‘You coming?’ I ask him.

  Leda jumps out and then Christopher follows.

  I move back from the telescope.

  ‘You want to take a look?’ I ask him.

  He nods and comes to stand beside me.

  ‘We’re getting close to September, so we should be able to get a good view of Altair – the brightest star in the Aquila constellation.’

  ‘Right.’

  He keeps standing there, awkwardly.

  ‘You’ve never looked through a telescope?’

  He shakes his head.

  For a second – once my incredulity has subsided – I feel kind of jealous. That he’s going to have his first taste of seeing the night sky up close.

  When Blake saw how psyched I was by our trips to the planetarium, he bought me my first telescope, a kids’ one that made everything look blurry. But it was still amazing.

  ‘You need to crouch down.’

  Christopher kneels in front of the telescope and puts his eye into the viewfinder; the telescope bashes against his glasses.

  He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. Then he puts them back on and shakes his head.

  ‘I’m blind as a bat.’

  ‘Bats aren’t blind.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a myth,’ I say. ‘The bat blindness thing.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You’re short-sighted, right?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘So, keep them on, it’ll be fine.’

  He nods and puts his right eye back to the viewfinder, closing the left one.

  ‘You can keep both eyes open,’ I say. ‘Otherwise your open eye will vibrate and everything will look fuzzy.’

  ‘Oh – right.’

  He opens his left eye.

  ‘See anything?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Here, let me.’ I push him gently to one side and look through the telescope. I focus the telescope until Aquila comes into focus. Then I step away.

  ‘You should be able to see it now.’

  He positions himself again and puts his eye to the telescope.

  And then he sucks in hi
s breath.

  ‘Wow.’

  He keeps staring.

  I sit next to him, so close that I can hear his breath speeding up as he takes it all in. And my breath speeds up too, like I’m seeing it for the first time, with him.

  ‘Wow,’ he says again. ‘It’s like they’re—’

  ‘Falling?’

  I remember that’s what I thought too, the first time I looked through a telescope. That the whole universe was rushing towards me. Or like I was being dragged up into the sky.

  Yeah, my breath’s definitely speeding up. My heart too.

  ‘No,’ he says.

  ‘No?’

  He keeps looking. ‘It’s like I’m flying. It’s like my feet have left the ground and – and the world’s falling away.’

  My body relaxes. I feel myself smile.

  ‘The world’s falling away. I like that.’

  Like, when you look up at the sky, nothing else matters but this one moment. This one, good moment.

  ‘Except you…’ he says under his breath.

  ‘Except me?’

  Our eyes lock.

  ‘You don’t fall away. You’re still here.’ He gulps. ‘In a good way, I mean.’

  I can feel him blushing.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  Which is a pathetic answer. What I really want to tell him is that I feel the same: that everything’s falling away apart from him and how that feels good. Except I guess I’m a coward. More of a coward than him.

  So, instead, I lean in close and say, ‘Can you see Altair, the brightest?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He pauses and I can feel him concentrating. ‘Yeah, I can see it.’ He reaches his hand out towards the sky.

  Then he sits back down on the burnt grass. My body shifts back until it’s aligned with his, until our legs and arms are touching. And now we both look up at the sky, just with our naked eyes. It’s really clear tonight. Even without the telescope, we can see loads of stars up there.

  ‘Cool, hey?’ I say.

  He turns and looks at me, his pale eyes filled with light. ‘Yeah, cool.’

  We stare at the sky some more.

  ‘They felt so close – the stars. All of them. But they’re millions of light years away, right?’

  ‘That’s the big question.’

  ‘The big question?’ he asks.