As Far as the Stars

by Virginia MacGregor

  His face is flushed. A trail of sweat runs down the side of his brow.

  ‘I – I – I’m sorry,’ he says.

  ‘You’re sorry?’

  My fists are clenched and my jaw juts out. I try to relax my body but I can’t. Every part of me is shaking.

  ‘When I heard— When they released the names of the passengers—’

  My head spins. ‘They released the names?’

  ‘Not to the public. Just to the families.’ He pauses.

  He knows that Blake was on the flight to Dulles.

  ‘Did the airline call you?’ Christopher asks.

  I think about the missed call on my phone – the number I didn’t recognise.

  ‘I thought you’d want—’ he goes on.

  ‘Want what?’

  He doesn’t answer. He knows that there’s nothing he can say right now to calm me down.

  ‘If you hadn’t shown up like that, I could have kept singing,’ I clench my teeth. ‘You ruined everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he stutters.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be you!’ I say, choking on my words. ‘Not in DC. Not in the car. Not at Leda Springs. Not at Deer Ridge. Not at the diner. And not here.’ I swallow hard. ‘You’re not the one who’s meant to be here.’

  My words ricochet off the walls of the stairwell.

  Our eyes catch for a second and then he bows his head.

  We sit in silence for a beat.

  And I know it’s not fair. I know it’s really not fair. Blaming him like this.

  And I want to tell him that the song doesn’t matter.

  And that it wasn’t his fault that I stopped singing.

  That it’s my fault – all of it. That I put Blake on the wrong plane.

  But I can’t find the words to tell him that right now.

  I hear footsteps again. My eyes drift upwards; I see the shimmer of a white dress coming down the stairs.

  Christopher notices too. I hear his breath speed up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again.

  And then rushes down the stairs to the next floor and through the doors that lead to the elevator.

  Leda follows him and I’m about to call out when I hear more footsteps. A moment later, Jude’s standing on the step beside me, looking down. I can smell her perfume – crushed pink roses, to match the theme for the wedding.

  Why did everything have to be so damned perfect?

  Everything except me. And what I did.

  I can’t face her.

  I can’t face all the stuff that she’s going throw at me.

  I can hear her words already: All you had to do was to get Blake here…You messed up the song…You ruined the most important day of my life…You ruined everything, Air.

  And she doesn’t even know the worst of it.

  I look down at my feet. At my sneakers. I couldn’t even get the shoes right.

  There’s nothing more I can say or do.

  Jude sits down next to me.

  I want to get up and run but I can’t move.

  And then Jude puts her hands on my shoulders and I think she’s going to shake me in that way people shake those they’re really mad at. Like words aren’t enough.

  But she doesn’t shake me.

  And she doesn’t yell.

  Instead, she pulls me in close and whispers into my ear:

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you?’

  She nods. ‘It must have been really hard – getting up and singing Blake’s song like that.’

  I sigh and choke at the same time and squeeze her back, really hard.

  She’s thanking me? After everything I’ve done?

  ‘You were amazing, Jude – how you played.’

  ‘I don’t know about amazing.’

  ‘You were. Totally amazing.’

  She smiles at me. She looks tired but there’s a light in her eyes and I can tell she’s happy. That she knows she’s done the right thing: getting married to Stephen. And it’s not a compromise, not if it’s what makes her happy, not if it’s who she is. And playing in front of all her friends, on her wedding day, that made her happy too. If Blake had suggested it she would never have agreed; I guess that’s why he kept it secret. But it was perfect.

  ‘It felt good,’ she says. ‘To play. It felt good to perform with you.’ She lets out a light laugh. ‘Who would ever have thought, hey? You and me, up there. When we were kids, you never wanted to join in when we played – Mom, Dad, me and Blake.’

  ‘I didn’t join in because I knew I’d spoil it.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t spoil it.’

  Jude pulls away, takes both my hands and kisses my palms one at a time. Then she looks down at my feet.

  ‘But don’t think I didn’t notice.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The sneakers.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘The dirty sneakers.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ My voice breaks. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  I try to steel myself to tell her. But the words won’t come.

  ‘I’m going to kill Blake for bailing on my wedding.’

  A hot, raw feeling pushes up my throat.

  ‘Jude…’

  ‘I mean, it’s my wedding, damn it!’ she says. ‘He could have at least tried to be here.’

  ‘He tried…’

  ‘I guess we can Photoshop him into the pictures,’ she says sarcastically.

  ‘Jude, listen.’

  Jude looks at me like she’s got her head around the fact that Blake’s late and that I ruined her song and that, somehow, it’s not the end of the world because she got to wear the dress and got to marry Stephen and the roses were beautiful – and, if she’s honest, she kind of thought Blake would mess up. We all did. Because ever since we were old enough to remember, Blake messing up has been part of our lives. And that, sure it’s disappointing, but it’s our normal. And like she said, she’ll give him a hard time for it. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.

  The way Jude looks at me, grateful and sad and relieved and pissed off at Blake but happy too – because she’s married and her wedding was beautiful – makes something inside me break.

  I’m going to have to tell her. I’m going to have to tell all of them.

  I choke and then I let out a sob.

  ‘He’s not coming back.’

  I feel her pull away.

  ‘Blake’s not coming back. Not ever.’ I swallow hard. ‘And it’s my fault.’

  Once I’ve told Jude – all of it: that Blake was on the plane to Dulles, the one that crashed, that there are no known survivors, and that he was on the wrong plane because of me, she just sits there. Then she tilts her head up, runs the pads of her thumbs under her eyes to brush away the smudged mascara, and says:

  ‘Let’s go back up to the roof.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘People will be waiting for us.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We need to do this, Air. For Mom and Dad. For everyone.’

  They say that at times of shock and tragedy, everyone resorts to their true selves. That either they totally fall apart or they do something amazing, something that no one expects. Out of all of us, I never thought my big sister would turn out to be the strong one, but in this moment, as she stands up and brushes down the creases in her long, white dress and holds out her hand to help me get back on my feet, I realise that it could be that she’s the strongest one of all.

  So, we go back up to the wedding.

  And we wait.

  We wait for the photos to be taken.

  We wait for her and Stephen to cut the cake.

  We wait for Dad to give his speech, which is kind of embarrassing and not really funny, even though he tries really hard for it to be, but he’s so obviously proud of Jude and so emotional about his little girl growing up, that everyone gets swept along and claps really loudly at the end.

  We wait for her and Stephen to have their first dance.

 
; We wait for her to change into her going away outfit, also made by Mom.

  We wait for her to kiss all the guests goodbye.

  And for all that time, somehow, I manage to keep it together.

  Jude was right. We needed to do this. We had to finish the wedding, right up to the end, because afterwards, when everyone finds out about Blake, it will be all we had to cling to. And we’ll never be able to go back.

  All through this, I wonder where Christopher is. And I realise that I shouldn’t have yelled at him. None of this is his fault.

  The small paper star presses into the base of my throat.

  I’m sorry, Christopher, I whisper. I’m sorry.

  ‘Let us know as soon as you’ve landed,’ Mom says, hugging Jude tight.

  She hasn’t said anything yet, about Blake not being here and about me messing up the song. I guess she’s holding out too, until the wedding’s over.

  I have to say something now.

  Jude holds Mom extra tight. ‘Thank you, Mom,’ she says.

  All of us know that this whole wedding, everything from the napkin rings to the rose petals on the tables, is down to her.

  Mom closes her eyes and rests her head on Jude’s shoulder. ‘Of course,’ she says.

  And then Jude takes Mom’s hand and Dad’s too and looks over at me.

  ‘Air and I have to talk to you guys.’

  Jude looks at me and our eyes lock.

  I thought I was going to have to do this alone. But Jude’s here with me now. She’s taken it on.

  ‘Why don’t we go down to the lobby?’ Jude says.

  ‘But, that’s not how we planned things,’ Mom’s voice is strained and tired. ‘You and Stephen were meant to say goodbye up here. You’re meant to throw your bouquet—’

  Jude takes Mom’s hand gently. ‘Mom, please go with it, just this once.’

  ‘It would be nice to see you off from downstairs,’ Dad says. ‘Let’s do that.’

  I shoot him a grateful look.

  ‘Okay,’ Mom says, still a bit wary.

  We all get in the elevator. Mom doesn’t stop talking about the wedding, how perfect and beautiful everything was despite me being late and wearing sneakers and having a tear in my dress and breaking down in the middle of the song. Despite Blake not showing up at all.

  And that’s when I lose it. Cooped up in that elevator with my family, with the people who trusted me. As soon as the doors open, I run out through the lobby onto the street.

  ‘Air!’ Dad calls after me.

  Tears are running down my cheeks now. I can’t face them. I can’t.

  ‘Air!’

  When I get outside, I look up at the dark sky, at the billions of stars, and my legs buckle. I slump down onto the steps of the hotel and sink my head into my knees.

  Dad sits down next to me. He puts his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘It’s all been a bit much, hasn’t it, my love?’ he says.

  And that makes me break down more.

  He thinks that I’m upset because I’m tired. Because the wedding’s all been too much. Because Blake messed up his plans. And that just makes me feel worse. He hasn’t got a clue how bad it is.

  My shoulders are shaking. And then every part of me starts convulsing, like I don’t have the strength anymore to live in my own body.

  ‘Oh, Air…’ Dad says.

  I shake my head. ‘You don’t understand, Dad.’

  ‘So, tell me.’

  ‘I can’t… I can’t… Not this time.’

  I tilt my head up to the sky and let hot tears rush down my cheeks.

  ‘He said he’d always be here,’ I choke out the words. ‘He promised.’

  ‘Air?’

  ‘He said I’d feel it – that even if he was gone – I could look up at the stars and see him. Know he was with me. But he’s not here, Dad. I just feel empty.’

  He rubs my back gently. ‘You’re going to have to start at the beginning, Air.’ He draws me in and kisses my cheek. ‘Start from first principles.’

  It’s something he always says when I’m upset and he’s trying to comfort me – Start from first principles. And usually, it steadies me, trying to talk things through like they’re a logical equation.

  But not this time. There’s nothing logical about what’s happened.

  My brother’s died. And it’s my fault.

  My throat tightens. I feel like I’ve forgotten to breathe.

  Dad takes my hand: ‘Breathe in slowly, Air…take your time.’

  He breathes in and out, trying to get me to follow him. I try but my breath comes in and out of my body in jagged gasps.

  ‘I can’t do this, Dad…’ I blurt out. ‘Not without him.’ I look down again.

  Dad takes my face between his hands and makes me look at it him.

  ‘Whatever it is, Air, you can tell me. You can always tell me, you know that.’

  I bite my lip and nod and try hard to get myself back into a place where I can talk but I’m still shaking and I’m still crying and I don’t know how I’m ever going to get through this. How am I meant to live when he’s not here? And when I know what I’ve done.

  I guess Dad senses that it’s too hard for me to talk. That somehow, this is different from the other times when I’ve come to him upset. He places his hand behind my head and draws it into his chest and we sit there for a while, my whole body leaning into his, his hand stroking my hair. And he doesn’t ask me anymore – about what’s wrong or what I’m so upset about or why I’m falling apart on him like this. He just waits with me, in the silence, and lets me cry. After a while, our eyes drift up to the sky and I wonder whether he feels it too, even without knowing why; that nothing’s ever going to be the same again.

  I don’t know how long we sit there. Maybe for a few seconds or a few minutes. Maybe longer. But as I lean into him, feeling held for the first time in days, it starts to fill up again, the emptiness that I’ve been feeling ever since I found out that Blake was on the plane that crashed. And I know that the emptiness is never going to go away, not completely. That it’s going to be inside me for ever. In all of us. Because nothing will ever be able to fill it – to make up for the huge hole that Blake has left in our lives. No matter how much we love each other, no matter how much time passes. But I know, too, that I’m not alone.

  When Dad and I get back to the lobby, Jude, Mom and Stephen are sitting on a bunch of armchairs in the corner.

  I exchange a look with Jude; I guess she found a way to keep Mom waiting inside while Dad went after me.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Mom says, standing up.

  Jude opens her mouth to speak.

  And then I interrupt her. Because it’s on me. I have to tell them.

  ‘Something’s happened, Mom,’ I say.

  ‘Shall I give you guys some space?’ Stephen asks, standing up.

  Stephen knows how intense our family can be. Because we’re so close. Because we’re all kind of crazy. Because of Blake. But he never minds. It’s part of what persuaded me that he’d be good for Jude. Good for all of us.

  ‘No, stay,’ Dad says. ‘You’re family now.’

  It surprises me – how Dad takes control like that. Usually it would be Mom who stepped in to make the decision. It surprises me like his calmness did earlier. But when he looks straight at me and gives me a small nod I know that he’s going to be strong for me, no matter how bad things are.

  I hear the lift ping and look up. It’s Christopher. He walks out, Leda following him. When she sees me, Leda dashes over and comes to lie at my feet. He brought her back to me.

  Christopher catches my eye for a second.

  He walks over and takes the telescope off his shoulder and places it at my feet beside Leda.

  I can feel my whole family staring at him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says.

  And then he walks off down the lobby and out through the hotel doors.

  ‘Who was that?’ Mom asks. ‘And why did he have you
r telescope?’

  She’s flustered. She hates not knowing what’s going on.

  ‘Christopher,’ I say.

  ‘Who’s Christopher? And why was he at the wedding? And how do you know him?’

  Christopher wasn’t part of Mom’s plans for the wedding. He wasn’t part of my plan, either.

  I press my hand over hers.

  ‘It’s not important, Mom. Not now.’

  Then I look up at Jude and Dad and Stephen.

  And I think about Blake. How he should have been the one who messed up, not me. That that’s why I didn’t even bother to check the flight details. Because I never get stuff like that wrong. Infallible-Air he’d called me once. And I’d laughed. But I went with it. Because he was right. If Jude was the beautiful one and Blake was the charming, loveable one – then I was the reliable one. A sure thing.

  Only no one’s infallible, right?

  ‘He was on the wrong plane,’ I say.

  Mom looks up.

  ‘You said that already.’

  ‘No, Mom. This is different.’

  Jude chokes. Her shoulders slump and she starts shaking. She’s been holding it all together for too long.

  ‘Jude?’ Mom says, startled. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Stephen puts his arm around Jude.

  Jude’s sobbing now. Big, loud gulps that don’t go at all with the Jude who’s wearing a beautiful dress with perfect hair and make-up.

  ‘So, where is he?’ Mom asks.

  I look over at Dad. He looks at me too and we hold each other’s gaze. And usually his gaze is steady. He’s going to help me. He’s going to make sure they’re okay – Mom and Jude and Stephen and all the guests up there, and all those people who are going to fall apart when they realise that Blake’s not coming back. I don’t have to do this alone. And right then all I want to do is go to Dad and bury myself in his arms, like when we were outside – and stay there, until all this goes away.

  But I have to face it. I owe it to them. To Blake.

  I straighten my spine.

  ‘It was my fault,’ I say.

  Mom’s head snaps up.

  ‘Your fault?’

  ‘I was the one who booked him onto the wrong plane.’

  I want to make excuses:

  Blake was meant to have booked his own plane.

  I booked the same flight I always do: Heathrow to DC. I was so used to booking that flight path that I didn’t even think.