A Sky Full of Stars

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A Sky Full of Stars Page 7

by Melissa Josias


  “Want a beer?” A voice suddenly comes from behind me. One of the guys from the group in the living room has snuck up behind me and is holding a bottle of beer in my direction.

  “Oh. Thank you.” I accept the bottle, but don’t drink.

  “Wait, you’re old enough to drink, right?”

  I smirk. “In my home country I am.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “I thought I heard an accent. Where are you from?”

  I know he means well, but I’m getting bored of explaining myself. “Somewhere in Africa.”

  The guy smiles, revealing a row of small teeth. “Very vague. I like it.” He wipes his hand down the side of his leg then holds out his hand to me. “I’m Aaron, Grace’s boyfriend.”

  “Hi. I’m Abernathy. Just call me Abby.”

  “Abby.” Aaron repeats. He has very sharp cheekbones and skin the colour of milky coffee.

  I look over at Eric again. Luna and Grace are gone, and he is making his way over to us. Aaron attempts to say something to me, but then from somewhere Grace shouts “Aaron, door!” and he excuses himself to let in more guests.

  “It’s not right that you got a drink before I did,” Eric says, pulling up the sleeves of his sweater.

  I hand him my beer, still untouched. “I saw that you sort of got ambushed over there.”

  Eric takes the bottle and takes a long sip, shaking his head. “Thank God for Grace. She pulled her away quickly.”

  “Grace is nice. Aaron is too, I think, although he was only here for a second.”

  He nods. “Yeah, they’re both great,” he says, dismissively. “Hey, is it just me or is it really hot in here?”

  I hadn’t noticed. Eric’s face seems flushed and he’s pulling at the neck of his sweater. I watch him surreptitiously.

  “Let’s stand out on the balcony.”

  Eric pushes through toward the sliding doors just as several other people are coming into the room, voices carrying toward us. We both ignore the new group of people and step out onto the balcony. The air is crisp. Eric pulls the door closed slightly behind him. We are concealed by the curtains, still part of the festivity but not quite. The voices still reach us, but we are separate from them, a private party of two.

  Fairy lights shimmer from the railing. The sun is setting quickly. Lights flicker on slowly on the outskirts, lighting up the busy streets of West Los Angeles.

  “God, that’s so much better,” Eric says, taking the left side of the balcony.

  I lean against the railing, facing him. “You okay?”

  Eric drinks his beer, almost finishing it. “Yes. It’s just been a really long day.”

  I observe him from my side of the balcony. His skin is illuminated by the glow of the sunset. It is hard for me to ascertain what he is thinking.

  “I’m going to get another beer. You want anything?”

  I shift my weight to my other foot. “A water, if there is any.”

  Eric leaves me on the balcony. I take his spot, hiding myself from the strip of light coming from the living room, and survey the street below. Back home, this is the time of night that always made me feel the loneliest, even when I was with people. Twilight always made me feel like floating away, like I wanted to be up in the air, standing outside of my body and observing.

  I close my eyes, the sunset still exploding behind my lids, and pray that this time it won’t happen.

  Eric comes back with our drinks and pulls the sliding door closed behind him. Without the clamour from inside, the air around us hushes and we listen to the sounds of the city.

  “What am I doing here?” I say, although more to myself than in conversation with Eric.

  “Sorry I had to drag you to this party. We can go in a little bit, I promise. I don’t think Grace will miss me before long.”

  “No. What am I doing here, Eric?” I say, gesturing out toward the streets. “In this place, in this city.” I look down at my hands. “I don’t know this place at all. This was a fool’s errand. This is exactly the feeling I came here to avoid. I don’t know anyone here.”

  Eric regards me from his side of the balcony. “You know me. Doesn’t that count?”

  “You know, I came here for a reason. To get out. To free myself from whatever it is that was holding me hostage.” Eric holds out the bottle of water to me finally, like he’s offering me redemption. “Now I’m here, standing on a balcony with a man who’s kind of beautiful, looking out over a city that’s as alien to me as my hometown, and I still can’t find any purpose. It still feels empty.” I laugh out loud, at the silliness of it all. “In a world filled with seven billion people, in a house crammed with human beings, how is it possible to feel so utterly and profoundly alone?”

  Eric puts down his beer and comes toward me. “Abby...”

  The sliding door opens and Grace sticks her head through. “There you guys are.” Her voice is excited and she looks happy. “Eric, come quick. Aaron’s setting up a slideshow of where we’ll be staying in Nepal. You will not believe the size of the bedrooms...”

  “Just a second, Grace. Abby and I were just –”

  I wave him away. “Go. I’ll be fine.” I say, shooing him off.

  Grace pulls at Eric’s hand, giggling with excitement and possible drunkenness.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Eric says, pointing to me as he’s being dragged away.

  “I’ll be here,” I assure him.

  He leaves the door open, and I can still smell him long after he’s gone.

  A Brief History Lesson – 18 Months Ago

  Once, during a family gathering, amongst aunts and uncles, cousins that I didn’t really know that well, I felt myself slipping away. It had been happening on a regular basis at that point, and I wanted to tell someone – badly – that I was not okay. My older sister, Claire – who floated around the party like a magical being, joining in on conversations that had nothing to do with her – was the person I wanted to confide everything to. She handled life with grace and stoicism, and always knew what to say to me when I didn’t know how to continue.

  At the end of the evening, when everything had started to wind down and most of our family was starting to say their goodbyes, Claire and I sat down in the backyard and took in all the mess that someone would have to clean up. Claire still had a glass of red wine in her hand and was talking about all the things she had to do at work the next day, and I was waiting for my lungs to stop rattling around in my ribcage like caged monkeys.

  Claire, I thought about saying. I want to disappear. Or self destruct. Either will do.

  I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to take her hand, professing how I thought that certainly there was something wrong with me. I imagined telling her that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was too far gone, that I had this inarticulate longing for something my entire life. I could never pinpoint the feeling, never figure out what it was that I needed to feel like a whole person. It was like chasing the moon or waiting for something you weren’t even sure was actually coming.

  I wanted to ask her if she felt it too, to decipher if maybe it was in our bloodline, a poisonous heirloom handed down from generation to generation. Perhaps we could figure it out together, prevent it from ever occurring again. And if she didn’t feel the way I did, I wanted her to tell me that it would be fine, that I would be fine. She would help me get through this. She was my big sister; she’d helped me through so much in our short lives.

  But of course I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to be seen as broken, as weak. I didn’t want to risk her looking at me with sad eyes, spreading the news of my sickness to our parents, our family, Ben.

  I didn’t want their attention. Not for this.

  So I forced down the words, asked her if the wine was good, and struggled through until the end of the night.

  When she walked inside to find her car keys, I sat down on the grass, the stars winking at me overhead. I sunk low onto the ground, on my back, arms stretched out
and whispered to the sky.

  “Help,” I pleaded, the dew from the grass seeping into my clothes. “Help me.”

  I waited. No one came. Nothing happened. I was alone.

  Chapter Five

  By ten o’clock, the party is in full swing. I leave the confines of the balcony to join the other guests, even though I hardly feel like being around other people and trying to make conversation. I discover that Eric’s friends are fun and rowdy, especially with drinks flowing. The music had been turned up, and we either had to shout to hear each other, or lean into one another to speak directly into the other person’s ear. Aaron keeps making sure that I have something to drink, despite my protests, and at some point I am roped in by Grace to help with heating meatballs in the oven and serving them with random accompaniments.

  Eric seems to be having a good time with his friends, laughing and drinking, alternating his drinks with bottles of water so that he can drive home later. He stays close to me the entire night, but disappears when he and Aaron have to make a chip and salsa run, and while he’s gone I keep myself busy by joining in on the conversation about police brutality, which leads to a debate that becomes so heated I have to excuse myself from the crowd and seek cover in the bathroom.

  I get my breath back in the small space, doing my breathing exercises. When I exit, I approach the guy who reminds me of Jason Segal and ask if I can borrow his cell phone.

  “I won’t be long. Promise,” I say, trying my best to look cute and innocent.

  He winks at me and offers up his cell phone. “Sure. Go for it.”

  I calculate that it is early the next morning in Cape Town, and my best friend is probably already awake, getting ready for work. I stalk the apartment, looking for a quiet place to call Ben. The balcony is occupied by Grace’s friends and the bathroom doesn’t have a lock on it. The two bedrooms are in a high traffic area, people passing in and out of them constantly. I settle on a closet at the back of the apartment that looks big enough to fit me. I slip in quietly, hoping no one spots the out-of-place girl disappearing into an apartment cupboard.

  The storage space is filled with coats and boots and smells infinitesimally musty. I squeeze my way in between two pairs of shoes and pull the door closed. The air vacuums out of the closet, but settles around me softly after a minute or two. I can hear the voices from the other rooms, the music now softened to a reasonable volume.

  Through the slats of the cupboard doors I can see people walking by, oblivious to me in my clandestine viewpoint. I take deep breaths, ones that smell like cotton and fading perfumes and worn leather. I fill my chest, breath by breath, trying to convince myself that I am alive.

  I block the caller I.D. on the phone, dial Ben’s number and wait.

  The phone rings for a long time. I count the amount of rings, thinking that I’ll hang up when I reach ten. Ben picks up, morning voice husky, on the ninth ring.

  “Hello?”

  My heart somersaults in my chest.

  Benjamin is quiet on the other end of the line. I listen to him breathing. We stay connected in silence for what seems an eternity.

  “Abernathy, is that you?”

  I stay quiet, trying not to breathe at all.

  “Abby?” His voice is pleading. Seconds pass. “For the love of God, please say something.”

  I squeeze my hand over my mouth to keep from giving myself away.

  “Are you okay?”

  Silence.

  “Can you tell me where you are?”

  It becomes difficult to breathe. I don’t know if it’s because of the small space or because of Ben. I want to hang up again, go back to the party, having gotten my fix. But I don’t think it would be fair to Ben. He doesn’t deserve to be tortured like this.

  I exhale and find my voice. “I’m sorry, Benji.” My words come out jagged and raw.

  Benjamin takes in a really long breath. “Abby.” He says, the syllables rolling from his mouth like honey. “For fuck’s sake.”

  Hot tears spring into my eyes, stinging.

  “Where the hell are you? People are going crazy looking for you.”

  I feel guilty, but still don’t say anything.

  “Tell me where you are, at least.”

  “I can’t, Ben.”

  “Please. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. No questions asked.”

  “I’m fine right now, Benji. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Don’t worry about you? Are you serious right now? Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Something breaks in another room and drunken people cheer. I hear my name being called. I panic. “Ben, I have to go.”

  “Abby, I swear to God if you hang up on me I will die.”

  I sigh. I imagine him standing with the phone to his ear, his head resting against a wall or something like he does when he’s stressed. “I really have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “No. Wait.”

  I wait. We breathe together.

  “Do you promise that you’re okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “And do you promise that you’ll call me tomorrow?”

  I smile weakly into the phone. “I promise, Ben.”

  Ben sighs. “Okay. Just be safe...wherever you are.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  Benjamin hesitates, prolonging our time together. “Bye, Abs.”

  I clutch the phone to my heart, letting the memory of Benjamin’s voice seep into my skin like body oil. I hear my name being called again and a few moments later someone walks by the closet, footsteps fast and intentional. I can tell that it’s Eric by the way he moves and I watch as he disappears from sight and out of the room. I hope he’s looking for me. I want to be searched for, even though I had gone missing on purpose.

  After half a minute, Eric comes back and almost passes the closet again but then stops and turns to face the closet doors. My heart skips. Eric reaches and opens the door, and light falls halfway onto my face.

  Eric half smiles, seemingly amused. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  I stay seated, hidden. “You found me.”

  He looks down one end of the hallway, then the other, and then makes a point of looking over the closet space. “Why are you sitting alone in a closet?”

  “I’m hiding.”

  “From who?”

  “Just about everyone.”

  He frowns. “Even me?”

  I shrug.

  “I guess that’s what I get for leaving you alone with those people.” He nudges my foot with the toe of his boot. “Is there any room in there for me?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never sat in a closet before. Well, maybe when I was a kid and playing hide and seek. Can I come in?”

  I make myself small, squeezing a little further back to give him as much room as I can. Eric manoeuvres his body into the small space, making it drastically smaller. His knee knocks against his forehead and he sort of falls into his spot, mumbling a curse word that makes me laugh. His left leg ends up halfway over my lap; heavy, unobtrusive and warm.

  We are quiet for a few minutes. I am trying to get used to the unfamiliar feeling of being in a semi-dark space with another human being. It’s strange having him so close. I can hear him every time he breathes.

  “Well,” Eric says finally. “I don’t like this at all.” His voice carries over to me quickly in the cramped space. There are lines of light on his face, his one eye now a lighter brown than the other. “I think this experience might have made me claustrophobic. Can you breathe?”

  I chuckle.

  “Is this a common occurrence for you, Abby? Sitting in closets?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. This would be my first time. I just needed a small space to get back to myself.”

  “So am I intruding?”

  “Intruding? Definitely,” I say, tapping his foot. “But it’s an intrusion that I do not mi
nd.”

  He smiles at me. “Are you feeling any better? I mean, since you’ve been in here?”

  I take a deep breath. This time all I can smell is Eric’s skin, his clothing, his air. “Just a smidge.”

  “Do you still want to die?”

  I close my eyes, recalling the image of myself lying on the floor in the motel room, waiting for time to pass. Eric’s question catches me off guard. It wasn’t anything I’d expected him to ask. We hadn’t really talked about it since that night. I don’t feel ready to get into it with him, either. Not right now. Not in this space. The closet suddenly becomes exceedingly claustrophobic.

  “Let me up,” I say when I can look at him again.

  “What?”

  “I need to get out.”

  “Abby, I didn’t mean –”

  “Just please let me out!”

  I push his leg off me, dropping the cell phone and struggle my way out of the closet. I whizz past Luna and Grace and exit the apartment before they can ask me anything. I run down the hallway to the elevators, pushing the ‘Lobby’ button repeatedly, hoping the elevator car will take me down before Eric comes after me. If he comes after me at all.

  I make it out to the street into the open air, gulping in the cool night like I’m dying for breath. The darkness surprises me. A group of men passing the building give me strange looks. I can hear the music from Grace’s apartment wafting out from the sliding doors.

  “Abernathy!” I turn to see Eric exiting the building and running toward me. A few people are peering over Grace’s balcony to watch us.

  “What’s the matter?” Eric asks, pulling at my elbow as I try to walk away from him.

  This is stupid, I want to say. All of this. Everything. He is searching my face for answers and I can’t look him in the eye. I let out a breath, and it sounds like a failed attempt at a scream.

  “It’s okay,” Eric says, stepping out in front of me every time I try to get away from him. “It’s alright. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”

  I stop trying to get away from him and hug myself. I hang my head, wishing I was someone else. Wishing that Eric didn’t have to see me this way.

 

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