Chasing Stars

by Siler, Mercedes

  I brush past him as I walk away, going to my room, closing the door behind me. I pull my head phones out and start listening to music on my phone.

  I sit on my bed and lie back, covering my eyes with my arm.

  I went to see her at the diner last night and she took a break to sit with me in my car. It was the best ten minutes of my life and then she pulled out her mirror and reapplied her lip gloss, cleaned her smudges, kissed me and went back to work, smiling happily like it was no big thing that she kissed me from my neck to my dick and then blew me away. I can feel her mouth on me and how her face looked when she looked up at me.

  Marc’s right. Things are fucked up.

  I’ve had feelings for her from the start.

  There’s a knock on the door. I pull my headphones off and sit, pulling a pillow into my lap. I feel my voice shut off before I have the chance to think about saying anything as Marc lets himself in. He turns my desk chair around and sits in it, looking at me. He’s not confrontational this time. He’s just a dad. “Do you want to talk?”

  I let out a breath. Yes, I do.

  I nod slowly.

  “About Nikki?”

  I glare at him, hoping he gets the hint.

  “So I’m assuming you’re not your mama’s little boy anymore, right?”

  I let out another breath, mortified beyond belief.

  He shakes his head, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “You better thank your lucky stars your mama’s too busy with the other twin to notice. You know she thinks you’ll always be her baby,” he muses to himself. “Oh my God is this going to be hectic.”

  I may be living at home but I won’t be soon, and I am an adult. She should be able to understand I couldn’t hold out forever.

  She won’t though.

  Marc sighs and looks sad. He puts his elbows on his knees and holds his hands together. We look a lot alike. I could be his son if I didn’t look exactly like my actual father. Marc is young, only fifteen years older than us, and pretty good looking, I guess. But the best and worst part is he always knows what’s going on, even with Persephone. And he cares. He must care about us so much it hurts things are the way they are.

  He hangs his head sadly. “You know, more than anything in the world I wish I was your father,” he says quietly. “You don’t know how much I wish I could have been there to see you born or hold you when you were a baby or keep you from being scared when you were a little boy, as your father.” He shakes his head. “I wish I could have given you what you needed.”

  If only I could say all the things I want to say, like that he is my father, regardless of whose sperm happened to create me, or that I call him my dad as often as I call my real dad my dad, but I can’t and it sucks.

  If I didn’t look so much like my dad I would wonder if I was his.

  My earliest memory is Marc pushing me on a tire swing. The leaves of the tree were yellow and orange and red. And the swing was attached to a high branch so it had a great arc. There was never a time I didn’t know who Marc was and I was always happy to see him. It wasn’t until I was around five the whole thing started making me nervous. My mother packed us up and left our dad when we were nine and I didn’t see my dad again until I was eleven or so. But it was Marc who took us to see him. I remember Marc teaching me how to do the night bird hand whistle. He always kept me in sketchbooks and things to draw with. He taught me how to skateboard. When Marc started seeing my mom and coming over, it wasn’t weird. Moving here together seemed like it was always the goal.

  He would take me with him to work on the house as it was being built.

  It was bad for Persephone. But my dad bought her a horse. She named him Star. I hate that horse and he hates me.

  “So, what’s going on? Are you playing or are you dating or what? Are you being careful? Using protection?”

  I nod, so embarrassed out of my mind. God.

  “Good. That’s the last thing she needs. Oh, wait, you said it wasn’t Nikki, right?” He rolls his eyes.

  I don’t want anyone to know. As soon as they all know things will change. I like having her as a girl all to myself. If they all knew I’d be on lockdown.

  “Well, now that it’s done, was it worth the ensuing mayhem?”

  Was it worth it? Is it worth it? Not if it’s nothing but a good time and everyone finds out. But if it’s something and it stays something – which is what I want – then yes, it’s worth it. Eventually my mother will forgive her and my sister will forgive me and in the meantime I’ll have someone I can love and talk to and everything else forever. And I can do the same for her because she needs it and I know now.

  The hickies are worth it.

  Her smile is so pretty and she’s so soft. But last night she was rough. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so many different things at once. It’s like she’s a mystery bag and everything in the bag is refreshing and good. She’s like a chai latte, which is a weird thing to compare her to.

  “Ares, I don’t want to see you think about it!” Marc says, disgusted.

  She’s all I think about.

  “Have you been treating her good? Taking her out to dinner? Flowers and candy?”

  Not really. Because she doesn’t believe it should be anything more than sex. It is for me but she has her doubts.

  “You should ask her out on a date so she knows it’s not just a sex thing.”

  I shake my head. We live in a small town and I know a lot of people and for some reason people always tell Persephone my business.

  “No what? Date?”

  I nod.

  “Don’t want to?”

  I shake my head. I want to. I want to see her all the time.

  “Can’t?”

  I nod.

  “Because of Persephone?”

  I nod. And Nikki’s mother. I don’t want to put her through any more grief from her mom. I don’t even know what their relationship is like except for what Nikki has alluded to.

  “So it is Nikki.”

  Fuck.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell on you. But you have to promise me some things.” He looks me in the eye. “You will not jump into anything you are not ready for, you will not get her pregnant, and you will not break that girl’s heart.”

  How do I promise that? They’re not all in my control.

  “You don’t want to get her pregnant!” he says, concerned.

  Definitely not.

  “You’re nineteen and entitled to make mistakes, which is why you shouldn’t make huge commitments. Nikki is a good girl. I would love to have her in our family. But you are both young and have family issues yourselves. Don’t make mistakes that will hurt your chances of living happily ever after later when you’re both ready for that commitment. That’s why God invented marriage, so there’s a safety net in case things happen. Like having babies. If you wait until you’re ready to commit, you’ll be ready for everything that comes with it.”

  That’s reasonable.

  “You should ask her out on a real date. That’s what good guys do. I want you to be a good guy and treat her good.” He stands, looking at me.

  I want to be a good guy.

  “Okay. You should tell your mother, but don’t worry about your sister. You know she’s too self-absorbed.”

  I shake my head. She’s not. She would know if she saw us someplace together.

  “Who cares? Lie your ass off ‘til it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Sage advice from the original homewrecker himself.

  “Okay. Remember what I said. Break her heart I’ll break yours.” He points at me and sees himself out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nikki

  I had to cover someone’s six hour shift at the fabric store and then do my eight hours at the diner which I closed last night. And everyone’s had something to complain about.

  Too bad I can’t be happy to be home.

  I move through my crappy house looking at the mail, taking off my purse a
nd putting my keys on my vanity.

  Bills, bills, bills.

  My jacket and shoes come off and I think my feet came off with them. I can’t wait to lie in my bed and zonk the hell out.

  But there’s a prickling crawl up my spine and I pause, listening. The vibe in the house is different. Goosebumps break out on my arms and legs and dread sinks like a brick in my belly.

  There’s no music.

  I can smell her perfume. There’s a drip, drip, drip from the shower in the bathroom. I smell clean laundry and burning candles.

  Things are slightly out of place.

  “Annika?”

  I jump out of my skin and reach for my keys, gripping them with the points between me and her. She’s wearing makeup and her hair is done up. She can pass for normal to anyone else. If I told people all the things she’s done to me they’d never believe it. She looks like a regular, young mom. She’s thin and beautiful. Her clothes are new. I swallow the sick feeling crawling up from my stomach.

  My heart is thumping and the prickles have turned to sweat.

  “Annika, zolotske.” She smiles, the warmth in her lips not quite reaching her eyes. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re looking at a ghost. I’m here. I’m alive, myshka.”

  I fist my keys.

  “Do you hate me?” Her smile falters and her eyes look uncertain.

  I’m paralyzed, waiting.

  “I know it’s been rough. With my broken heart. But I’m ready now. Come sit with me.” She sits on my bed and pats the space next to her. “Tell me you don’t hate me?”

  I sit next to her, the sick feeling settling in my stomach.

  She looks me over. “We could be sisters. If only you could stop eating you could be as pretty as I was when I met your father.”

  Two years ago I would have been crying. Five years ago I would be so happy she was back and I’d have a mom again. My throat burns with tears I can’t let her see because I know then she’ll have me. This year, I will not let myself look at her like she’s anything less than a monster who’s stolen everything I have ever loved away from me except Dex. He’s the only thing left because she knows if she touched him I’d kill her with no remorse.

  “Why won’t you say anything?”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Have I been so bad to you? Have I been so bad that you won’t even talk to me?”

  I can barely breathe.

  “You think I’m bad. You should have seen the things they did to me. You would be happily wrapping your arms around me, thankful that I was your mother.” She reaches out and touches my hair. “You were always such a spoiled little girl. Your father gave you anything you wanted. What could I do with you after he was gone? You were so rotten.”

  It’s not true. I was a good kid. And even if I wasn’t, I was just a kid.

  “I have been so busy today. I have two performances already booked. You can sit and watch me sing like you used to when you were a little girl. You used to sit under a table and annoy the customers with your little off-key voice. Do you remember that? You cost me so many gigs but it was adorable to watch you try to be like me.” She grins and gets up to get her guitar. “I wrote a new song.”

  I stop her. “I have to go to work.”

  Her eyes narrow. Her face falls but she catches it with a smile, pretending she understands and not that my refusal was an act of war. “You can take the night off for me. They’ll understand. And don’t you want to come tour with me? I just have to play a few local gigs and we’ll be on our way. That’s better than what you’re doing, yes? Jiggling your boobs at men for tips?” She laughs and shimmies, mocking who she pretends I am. “Well, that’s ok. I have so much to do. I won’t even know you’re gone.” She bites her lip. “I’ll see you when you get home.” She looks at me from the doorway.

  “It won’t be ‘til late.”

  “Well, I know you’ll be home sometime because I didn’t raise you to be a cheap whore that’s out all night with nothing but rags to show for it.” She raises an eyebrow like a threat. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

  I shower, change clothes, and leave, my heart and throat burning. I text and call Persephone but of course she doesn’t ever answer when I need her.

  It would be better to die than to go through this one more time. I can hardly breathe. My chest is so tight. She’s going to ruin everything. I finally feel like a real person. And now I’m back to being a scared little girl with no one and nothing but her because she won’t let me have anything else. I only have Persephone because she never let me have excuses. She’s the only one who’s ever believed me. She was my friend when everyone else thought I was just the weird girl.

  And she gave me Natalie.

  I can’t do this.

  There are worse things than death and I don’t want it ever again.

  I open my eyes, hearing something on the edge of my exhaustion.

  I fell asleep in my car at a park. How terrifying is that?

  My eyes are swollen and achy from crying.

  It must be my phone I heard.

  I grab it out of my purse and answer. I hope it’s Persephone because I could use a lot of drugs and alcohol. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  More tears sting my poor eyes. Dammit. I need somebody. “Hello?”

  “Hey. Do you want to go out to dinner with me?”

  I frown and look at the number, confused from sleep. It’s Ares. “What?”

  “Can I take you out to dinner?” There’s a shy smile in his voice.

  I close my eyes and thank God it’s somebody to keep me from cutting my own heart out so it won’t hurt anymore; for hearing my prayers even though I do everything wrong. Everything. I wish it didn’t have to be him, but I have never been good at not being desperate for anyone to just get me away. “Okay. Like now?”

  “Yeah. Are you okay? Are you busy?”

  “No.” I wipe tears away and sniffle. I need him. I need the rush that comes from being so close to a man. I need man smell and man arms and man skin and sweat. I just need someone to hold me together and make me feel like nightmares are just nightmares and I’ll be okay. I want someone to make me feel loved, like that worshipful look on their faces after you’ve blown their minds with the one thing you’re good at. That’s what I need right now.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to….”

  “No, it’s okay. I know I look hideous, though.” I look in the mirror. Shit. “Where are we going?”

  “Fast food or restaurant? How hideous do you look?”

  I smile. “Fast food. I’m wearing jeans and a flannel.” I sniffle again and wipe my nose on my sleeve.

  “I’ll meet you at The Greek?”

  “Okay. Bye.” I look in the mirror at my red, puffy face. I try my best to do the eyeliner and mascara thing and put on some lip balm.

  He parks next to me at the hamburger place. I’m sitting on my trunk smoking my third clove. I can’t make myself smile without wanting to cry.

  He gets out and walks over to me. The wind is blowing and I’m wearing a flannel over a shirt so I’m freezing.

  He pulls his phone out and takes a picture of me so he can paint me later. I’ve gotten used to it. He’s been doing it forever. I don’t mind as long as they’re not naked ones.

  He comes to me and stands between my legs.

  I rub on him as I slide to the ground. I touch him through his pants and put my arms around his middle inside his warm jacket, laying my head on his chest, closing my eyes, breathing in his warm, comforting Ares smell. I feel his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his breaths, matching mine to his.

  He holds me to him with his arms around me, holding my head to him with his hand in my hair, gentle and tender. He kisses the top of my head and now stiffens like it was something he did without thinking and it freaked him out.

  I pull away to look at him. I can feel the sex all over my face. I know it’s the sluttiest thing, to want sex to make you
feel better, like medicine. But maybe I am a slut. No matter how I feel in the morning, I know tonight I’ll make it out alive if I just get it. I just want to be held and worshipped. “You smell good,” I flirt.

  He looks at my eyes with concern. “Have you been crying?”

  My heart sinks and tears blur my vision. He won’t let me do it. He wants me and everything that comes with it, not the slut me.

  I nod.

  “Why? Who made you cry?” He pets my hair gently and tucks a loose strand behind my ear with a frown.

  “I’m exhausted by life.” I wipe tears away. “I warned you I looked hideous.”

  “Yeah, but this is a little beyond hideous. I would’ve hit the drive-thru and gone to the woods where it’s dark if I’d have known it was this bad.” He looks me over, worried.

  I give him a black look. I know he’s teasing and trying to make things light, but my heart is heavy.

  “That doesn’t make it better.”

  I shake my head, more tears falling because I know he’s not serious but she’s ruined my confidence and self-esteem tonight and it stings. “You’re going to make me cry.”

  He hugs me again. “Don’t do that. Is your brother okay?”

  “Yes. He’s at his friend’s house.”

  “Did my sister say something to you?”

  “No. I haven’t talked to her in days.”

  “Work okay?” he asks, pulling my head back to see my face.

  “Yep. Work is work.”

  “Your mama?”

  I close my eyes.

  My lips tremble.

  I’m losing it.

  I’m lost.

  He nods, concerned. “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

  He kisses my forehead, more comfortable this time, and turns with me at his side, arms around him. He keeps his arms around me as he orders. He’s playing with my bra strap and stroking my back with his fingers. He’s being so nice to me. Affectionate. No boy has ever treated me like this.

  I’m standing here in his arms, feeling so comforted without anything bad and I’m realizing I’m in love with him. I love him.

  I gasp quietly and it’s like a water balloon full of Icy Hot has burst in my core and spread throughout my body. It wasn’t supposed to be an in love thing. It was an experiment thing. I was curious. I liked him, he’s gorgeous, but to fall in love is heartbreak waiting to happen and heartbreak hurts. Being left behind hurts, and there’s no way around it with him. He’s good. He’s beautiful and smart and he has a good family and he’s going places and I am so selfish to want him when I am nothing and nobody. I am the daughter of Crazy Ass and Sensitive Artist and my little brother is a bastard with no one. And I have no self-control and I’m going to let myself be head over feet for him anyway and I’ll die when my heart breaks.