Where the Stars Fall

by Ana Simons

  I am not.

  Jimmy called me three or four times this afternoon and I chose not to answer. He’s supposed to be my best friend, and I couldn’t even talk to him. Plus, I caught a rerun of ‘Notting Hill’ on TV. Olivia loves it a lot, so I kept watching, feeling a bit emotional sometimes, giving a few hearty laughs too, rooting for an ending I already knew.

  Oh, sod. If I don’t manage to get it together and become somewhat functional again, I’m so bloody screwed…

  That’s why I called Jimmy back and ended up accepting his invitation to come over for dinner. Linda is showing their wedding film, absolutely thrilled about the whole thing. It’ll be a drag and I’ll hate it, but it might be better to get it over with, so we can all forget about that and move on with our lives.

  Help me, Lord.

  “These look lovely, thank you,” Linda says, putting the flowers I brought her in the vase. “It’s just that we haven’t seen you in weeks, and it’ll be nice to catch up a little. Here, now be a sweetheart and put them on the table, will you? I have to check on the oven.”

  “What are you up to there? Smells good. And where did Jimmy go, again?” I ask as I head to the dining-room.

  “Chicken Panzanella, my speciality. He should be arriving any minute.”

  I place the vase and study the table.

  One, two...

  Shit.

  The table is set for four.

  With quick, furious strides I head back to the kitchen. “Linda? I’ve seen four plates; mind explaining yourself? You’re trying to hook me up with one of your girlfriends again, is that it? Without asking me first? Seriously?”

  She rests her hand on my shoulder, smiling gently. “Easy, calm down. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “What is it then? I’m sick and tired of that. Why don’t you all just mind your own business and leave–”

  “It’s just another friend coming over, relax. What’s the big deal? You’re making a big fuss out of nothing, really.”

  “Your husband didn’t tell me someone else was coming and, frankly, I’m not in the mood for faked smiles and small talk. Maybe I should just go and–”

  She raises a scolding finger and looks sternly at me. “My dear, you fake it till you make it. That’s the only way! We all know pain is a bitch. But you take each day in your stride, and with time each laugh will come out less bitter, and pain becomes a far smaller bitch, trust me.

  “And you’d better start believing that sometimes things need to fall apart, so better things can fall together right after. And you go nowhere because Jimmy’s already here, just heard his car.” She comes closer and adds in a hushed tone, “And he’s not alone, so you better man the fuck up, you hear me? It’s time to stop sticking your head under the blankets and letting that bitch grind you down!”

  My chest goes tight. The cold and fierce force of her words hits me like a blow. She’s right. I need to step back and stop looking at memories that no longer matter. I have to stop examining every inch of my life, looking for a motive, asking myself if I didn’t give her enough attention, if I didn’t love her hard enough, if I–

  “Happy birthday, hon! Welcome to England, land of fish and chips, pints and lovely gals and perpetually cloudy skies!” Linda says effusively, at the doorway.

  I need to lean against the kitchen counter to balance myself.

  33 LEAP OF FAITH

  ‘Dear Brian,

  Either give up on us or still be here in the morning, when you return, to talk and work things out – these are my options, right?

  The truth is that I don’t know what to do. Leaving doesn’t feel the right thing, but I can’t stay either. All I know is that I love you, but I’m also too afraid to go into this downward spiral of hurt and mistrust again.

  You’re right, we should always leave the past where it belongs and not judge people based on our own bad experiences, letting anger cloud our judgement.

  That’s why I need some time apart. A breather to focus on myself, to clarify my feelings, to evaluate us. I’m not saying I want us to go our separate ways, at least not right now. I’m just saying I need some space, time to work things out on my own.

  Please try to understand and let me be for a little while, will you?

  Liv xo’

  LET HER BE.

  It had me going stir-crazy. I’m near insane, about to go into crisis mode, but that’s what I’ve been trying to do all this time – let her be.

  I’ve been reading the note she left me that morning every day, every single day during these past three weeks, already know each and every single line by heart, always wondering if that would be the day we’d get to the end of the long winding road we’re in.

  But it never was. Days and nights went slowly by and no sign of her. All I was left with was that letter and a brief sense of hope that quickly turned into bitter doubt. And the only thing I could do was wait and wonder how long it’d take for her to decide if she was ready to come back or if it was time to strike the final blow.

  And now she’s finally here, only a few feet away, and I can barely control the shock of adrenaline that hit my system like an explosion. I sure wasn’t expecting to see her today. Knowing the time has come, that I’m going to find out about her decision is almost unsupportable.

  “Brian?” A soft voice calls me from the kitchen door.

  It’s her, walking towards me with slow, hesitant steps, on her face a nervous smile and an expression I wish I could read.

  “Liv.” I force a smile too.

  “How are you?” Her words are barely audible.

  I shrug, I truly don’t know. “You? How are you doing?”

  She comes closer and I play my part. I pretend I’m a random acquaintance or someone she’s just met and give her a loose hug.

  But when I try to pull back, her eyes are boring into mine and her palms are pressing into my chest, which aches inside from this urge to pull her even closer and gather her in my arms.

  Reaching up on her toes, she gives me a long soft kiss on my cheek. And I don’t know what it means; I’m lost and confused, and it hurts again. It hurts like hell.

  “Jimmy’s just picked me from the airport. Oh boy, I can hardly believe it myself, that I’m actually moving here.” A shy little smile seems to brighten up her face. “I’m so excited.”

  And she’s nervous too. Her words have come out in a rush and she’s fidgeting with the tip of her scarf, twirling it between her fingers.

  “You are?” I try to sound natural and unaffected.

  A wave of relief washes over me, though I don’t quite know what that’s supposed to mean. It’s not that moving to London wasn’t in her plans already before us, so it could mean nothing.

  “Yes. It seems I’m sticking to the plan...”

  I feel like asking her about all the other plans we made, but I swallow it hard and try to maintain it casual.

  “That’s... that’s wonderful.” I say nervously, rubbing my temple with my pointer finger. Stupid tic, really. Now she knows the state of nerves I’m in. “Oh, and happy birthday! I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything, I had no idea we’d–”

  “You came, that’s what matters. Thank you for that.”

  I’m confused. “You knew I’d be here?”

  “I asked them to invite you.” She laces her fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

  “Oh, there you are!” Jimmy joins us with an open bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. “Here, let me pour you some wine. The finest reserve from Sainsbury’s petrol station!”

  In fact, it’s a fine Rioja, one of Olivia’s favourites, but she doesn’t respond to the small jest. She only shakes her head no and pushes back her hair in a nervous gesture.

  “Oh my God. No. No. Shit. Shit.” Linda storms into the kitchen, cussing while taking the roast out of the oven. “I can’t believe this! I get side-tracked five minutes and disaster happens! But did no one else here smell this?” She shoots a deadly side
glance at all of us.

  No sir, she’s not pleased. In fact, now that she mentions it, it does smell like someone might have to end up the night scrubbing a pretty badly burnt tray.

  “How bad is it, babe?” Jimmy rushes to open the window, waving the smoky air with a kitchen glove.

  Linda lets out a frustrated puff of air. “Rescuable, I think.”

  A huge commotion starts around the counter as we all, between loud laughs, do our best to save our dinner.

  “Hurry, let’s transfer this poor bugger to a clean pot! Linda, tongs! Jimmy, spatula!

  “Brian, hold the tray, add water to it.

  “Or don’t. Throw it in the rubbish bin and buy them a new one.

  “Guys, come on, come on. This looks like shit, we’re losing it… No, no, not on my watch, goddammit!”

  *

  “You sure you weren’t holding a grudge against me that day? Come on, admit it!” Linda squints inquisitively at me before throwing a pillow from the sofa where she’s half-sitting, half-leaning against Jimmy.

  We’re watching their wedding film and, against my initial expectations, we’re having a very pleasant evening together. Dinner didn’t go horribly wrong and we did save it. Sort of. At least we cracked a few good laughs during the crazy rescue mission we set for ourselves when Linda panicked, and Olivia had to lead the delicate procedure that took place in the improvised ER kitchen.

  Back to our evening – Linda is right. I was looking rather annoyed that day. No excuses, but at the time I was pissed off at life in general, and at events where I’m asked about a hundred times when it’d be my turn to tie the knot, in particular.

  Olivia points at the large screen and begins to laugh insanely, inadvertently tapping on my leg. “Look at you! You look like the three stooges!”

  It’s Jimmy, Simon and I talking to my father before the ceremony. We’re all making these weird faces, she’s right, we look like three perfect morons.

  Fast-forward, please.

  “Get a grip, woman! You’re laughing like a crazy hyena!”

  “Shut up!”

  My eyes look down and find her hand, still resting on my leg.

  I lay mine on top of hers.

  She doesn’t take it away.

  A feeling of warmth invades me, and my heart begins to pound faster. I brush my thumb gently against her knuckles.

  A trace of a smile comes to her face.

  I try to focus on what’s playing on the screen. It’s the DJ, announcing the floor now belongs to Linda and to the first man she fell in love with, her father. A soft and slow ‘I’ve Had the Time of My Life’ quickly turns into a vibrating ‘Everybody Dance Now’ and a long medley of other cool and funky beats. Everyone breaks out into crazy laughter.

  Olivia opens her fingers slightly.

  Mine slide through hers.

  Next, the newlyweds are now having their first dance. Linda is beautiful and gracious, the face of happiness, Jimmy is trying not to mess up the steps he’d learned that very week.

  It’s our turn now, it’s us dancing on the screen. Olivia’s dress is floating, her body moving, spinning and dipping, her hips swivelling, her quick steps following mine, my eyes following hers until we end up slow dancing in the middle of a frenetic crowd.

  Her fingers interlace with mine.

  I hold them tightly.

  She squeezes them even tighter.

  I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and find a flicker of a smile on her lips. A feeling of relief mixed with hope rushes through me and without conscious thought, I lift my hand to press my lips against hers.

  She smiles, a soft but nervous smile, and then leans closer to whisper against my face, “We need to talk.”

  My heart sinks.

  We-need-to-what?

  These fours words invariably only mean one thing and we all know what it is.

  “Can we go outside? Please,” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “It’s kind of rude to leave now, no?”

  We both look at Linda and Jimmy. They’re so caught up in each other and in the film, they’ve already watched for the thirtieth time, I’m certain they wouldn’t notice if we left, but it’s okay.

  “Right after this,” I keep whispering, “can we go out and have a drink?”

  She shakes her head. “I came straight from a 24-hour shift, I’m sorry. I need to get some sleep. I can hardly keep my head upright on my neck... I might even have dozed off for a few seconds already.”

  She has. Twice.

  “I was thinking, breakfast tomorrow? Maybe at your place?” she suggests.

  “You serious?! You want me to wait another night?”

  “What I have to tell you is really important,” she says under her breath. “We’ll need quiet and time and–”

  I catch her eyes with my gaze and force her to look at me. “You want me to go insane, is that it?” The sound barely leaves my throat.

  She breathes out a faint ‘I’m sorry’.

  “If it’s that important and you already know what you want to say, I really don’t see why you can’t do it right now!” I’m trying to make my voice as quiet and low as I can, but inside my head, I’m screaming.

  “I’ll be there before eight, I promis–”

  “Come with me.” I don’t even wait for her reaction, I stand and pull her to the kitchen.

  “No, Olivia! I’m done waiting. I can’t continue like this, day after day, not knowing what the hell you want to do with our lives!”

  She looks up at me, pale as if she might faint, and says in a small voice, “Brian, it’s not that simple.”

  I grab both her arms, making her look at me. “Of course, it’s simple! You either love me or you don’t. You either want to be with me or you don’t. You either take that leap of faith or you don’t. You either believe that I’m more than ready to commit to you or you don’t!”

  With trembling hands, she takes something out of her jeans back pocket and hands it to me. “And for this? Are you ready for this too?”

  I look down and my heartbeat flies up into my throat.

  34 INFINITY

  HOLD THE BABY? I can do that. Check.

  Prepare bottles? Check.

  Feed and burp the little guy? No problem. Check.

  Ready for the wild ride? Huh...

  “How much longer are you going to stand there and say nothing?” Olivia asks, her eyes fixed on mine, looking for some reaction, nervous fingers fidgeting with her scarf again.

  But I keep staring at the pregnancy ultrasound photo she’s given me, half overwhelmed, half in shock, trying to put together the many thoughts spinning around in my head.

  Change nappies? Sure, I’m a pro by now. Check.

  Install baby seat in the car? Easy. Check.

  “Brian? Please...” A warm hand touches my face.

  I should have taken her into my arms already and let her know I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the mother of my child, but I haven’t yet. I’m frozen. After these past three weeks my nervous system was already on the fritz – and now this?

  Just give me another ten seconds.

  Until it all sinks in.

  Or I collapse and begin to cry.

  For some reason, I can’t bring myself to look at her. I suspect she’ll come up with some emancipation theory and then wants me to have little to no involvement in it all, and the idea is simply daunting.

  “Sorry. It’s just that you caught me completely by surprise and... and nothing. Of course, I’m ready for this, Olivia.”

  She steps back and looks sternly at me. “But you feel stuck now. It feels like a burden, doesn’t it? And if you had the choice, we wouldn’t go forward with it?”

  I take one step forward. “And you say that because?”

  “Because look at you! You look like this is some sort of karmic punishment or something. The universe has just screwed you up and now you don’t know what to do.”

  “What? No!” I pull her to me, leaving a
long kiss on the top of her head. “Of course, I’m ready to sign up for this. As ready as I can possibly be. I mean, I don’t think anyone is ever actually ready, but the idea of nappies, bottles, your hormones going ballistic 24/7 and being thrown into a huge galactic loop doesn’t send me into a dreadful cold sweat!

  “I’m ready to be there, at your side, to listen and help. Because you’re tired, your feet are swollen, your nipples are sore. The bloody stretch marks don’t go away, your old shape doesn’t come back, I don’t know. Apparently, the list can be quite long, just ask my sister. All I know is I’m willing to do my best, so I guess that makes me kind of ready.

  “And if you don’t shut me out, I’m ready to be part of it all, to be there at the birth and take care of you when you come home. You’ll probably think your life is over, that I’m the ultimate jerk and you’re a bad mother, and all you want is to cry. And it’s okay, I’ll look after both of you and it’ll pass.

  “And I’ll learn to walk straight at three in the morning. Or I won’t. But I’ll still stumble to the crib because he’s crying, and I’ll walk him until he falls back to sleep. Or I do. And when half of my sanity is already gone, I’ll check on him too, in the middle of the night, several times, not because he’s crying, but just to check if he’s breathing...

  “I’m ready to be awake for a month straight and just doze standing or sitting up and go fully mental in the process – like everyone else does.

  “But that’s not all bad news; apparently, they mostly seem to survive. And we will probably fight sometimes, mostly out of exhaustion, but we’ll also make it work because the little fella is ours and he was made with love.

  “Now, am I scared? I am. I’m scared stiff. Shit, he’s just a tiny, little thing and it already feels I’m heading down a roller-coaster!

  “What am I not ready for... is to lose you. Again. That’s the only truth.”

  She stares at me for several beats, then asks, “Why do you keep saying he?”

  I just bared my soul and poured out my heart, and this is her reaction?!