A Sky Full of Stars

by Melissa Josias

  “So, how long have you and Eric been together?” Bay asks, leaning back against the stove, recapping the bottle.

  I shake my head at him. “Oh. No, we’re not together. No.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “You’re not? My bad. I just thought that since he brought you here to meet his sister...”

  I shake my head again. “Trust me. You’ve got it wrong.”

  Bay nods. “So what are you two, then? Wait, don’t tell me.” He makes a thinking face, pretending to figure it all out. A sly smile manifests on his broken mouth. “Did you two take a tumble amongst the sheets?” he asks, winking at me. “Are you bumping uglies? Make sweet love?”

  “Okay,” I say, raising my hand at him to get him to stop. I don’t know if he’s teasing me or if this is just the way he speaks to people. “Not that it would be any of your business, but that never happened. I just came along for the ride.”

  Bay looks me over, with a light in his eyes that I don’t know how to explain. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. He meets my eye again, and pushes himself away from the stove. “Just along for the ride? I find that very hard to believe.”

  He walks to the front door, unlocks and swings it open so that we can see toward the driveway. I’m deciding whether to follow him or staying in the kitchen to wait for Eric when I hear an excited squeal coming from the road we’d driven up. I walk toward the doorway to see Eric and the girl I presume to be his sister racing each other up the driveway. Jodie is in shorts and a tank top, her hair tucked beneath a peak cap that casts a shadow over her eyes.

  They both fall onto the porch, Jodie winning by a second, and happily catch their breath while Bay and I watch them from the door.

  “You had an unfair advantage,” Eric says between breaths. “You had a running start.”

  Jodie giggles, kicking off her running shoes. Her legs and shoulders are tan and glistening with sweat. “What about every other occasion, Bear? You’ve never beaten me once.” She flicks off her hat, blonde hair falling into damp locks onto her shoulders.

  Bay clears his throat, and sits down on the banister of the porch, facing me. Jodie looks up and spots me, her brown eyes similar to her brother’s. She pushes herself to her feet, smiling. She wipes her hand on the back of her shorts and holds out her hand to me. “You must be Abby,” she says, as we shake hands. Jodie is beautiful in a way I’ve only known Californian girls to be.

  “You must be Jodie.”

  “I must be.” She pulls me into a hug, catching me by surprise. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She steps back and gestures toward Bay. “I see you’ve already met Bay. I hope he’s being nice to you. He gets cranky sometimes.”

  Bay shrugs, but says nothing.

  Eric stands, face still flushed, and hugs Bay long and hard. “You look like crap, man, but it’s good to see you.”

  “This one already mentioned how attractive my face is,” Bay says, nodding toward me. “I missed you too, buddy.”

  Jodie beams, but doesn’t say anything to them. I don’t know who Bay is to either of them, but clearly they have history.

  “So Bear tells me that you’re a very long way from home...” Jodie says, after Eric gets Bay to help him unload the Jeep and we walk back into the house.

  “I’m sorry. Bear?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. That’s what I call my brother. It’s this thing my mom used to do when we were younger. She loved to call him Care Bear, and I picked it up along the way.”

  I follow her into the kitchen, where she too picks a bottle of water from the fridge. “Jodie, your house is lovely.”

  She smiles. “Thank you! That’s really sweet. Bay thinks that it’s old-timey, but I love it.”

  “You do know that we have food and shops around here, right?” Bay says, walking in with the food we’d bought at the market. “This isn’t Alaska.”

  Eric follows, with my suitcase and his duffel bag. I take my bag from him and stand aimlessly waiting for instruction.

  “Okay, so you two are sharing a room. And a bed,” Jodie says, pointing to Eric and myself. I catch Bay grinning to himself as he pulls out an apple from one of the bags. “But that’s okay, right. I mean, we’re all adults here.”

  We follow her down the passageway toward the rooms. There is a bathroom to the left of the hallway, and another small passage to the right that breaks off into two bedrooms. The bedroom Eric and I are sharing is at the back of the house, facing the front door.

  “I’ll sleep on the sofa if you want,” Eric says softly to me, so that Jodie doesn’t hear.

  “I’ve seen the size of that couch. You’ll never fit.”

  Jodie pushes open a few windows in the room, her long legs graceful. Warm air drifts in from outside. “Abby, make yourself comfortable. Eric will show you where everything is.”

  Eric throws his bag down by the side of the bed and cracks his neck.

  “I’m going to hit the shower,” Jodie says, waving at her armpits. “Excuse me while I make myself smell better.”

  She leaves us in the room, saying something to Bay as she passes him in the kitchen. I take the room in. It seemed smaller when Jodie was in here with us, but with her gone it seems a perfect fit. The bed is made with crisp white covers; the pillows a light grey. It’s a stark difference from the rest of the house. I sit down on the wicker chair near one of the windows.

  “This place is nice. How long has Jodie lived here?”

  Eric is already unpacking his bag, folding clothes into one of the drawers. “She moved here three years ago.”

  “Why did she leave Venice?”

  “She wanted to escape LA, I guess. But she could never bring herself to leave California.”

  “What’s so bad about LA?”

  He half-smiles. “I have my reasons, but you’re going to have to ask her for her own.”

  “Your sister is really nice.”

  Eric pauses to look at me. “Yes, she is.” He closes the drawer. “You’re okay, right? I mean, I didn’t mean to disappear like that. I forgot to warn you about Bay. He can be a lot, sometimes.”

  I shrug. “You weren’t gone that long.”

  “Okay.” He says, getting to his feet. “If you don’t want to live out of your suitcase, there’s still tons of space in here,” he says, gesturing toward the dresser. “You have free rein of the house. Jodie’s very laid back so just make yourself at home.”

  “What about Bay?”

  “What about him?”

  “He lives here too?”

  Eric nods. “He does.” He’s just about to offer up more detail when Bay calls to us from the kitchen, pots clanging together.

  “Hey, do you guys want anything to eat? I’m making eggs and whatnot.”

  I’m not hungry so I decline, but Eric opts for the eggs and whatnot. I excuse myself and walk out toward the deck to explore. I slip off my boots and walk across the warm planks of the dock, the wooden slats smooth and shiny from years of use. A small breeze sweeps the smell of the lake toward me and travels all the way into my muscles. I have the sudden urge to take off running down the dock and throw myself into the water with reckless abandon. I resist, pulling against my need to dive in and float away.

  I walk to the end of the dock and curl my toes over the edge. I take a breath, and it tastes like water and pine trees and sun.

  The lake laps against the side of the dock, spelling out my name. The back of my neck is burning. I rub at it listlessly, wishing Benjamin were here to see it all. He would have loved this.

  “Sure is something, isn’t it?”

  I turn to find Bay standing next to me, looking out over the water. I hadn’t heard him walk up. He is still barefoot, and holding a cigarette between his fingers.

  “I thought you were cooking,” I say.

  “Apparently, Eric doesn’t like the way I scramble eggs. That guy’s anal retentive sometimes.”

  I snicker.

  Bay chews on his upper lip, still peering out over the water.
“I spent most of my first day here standing in this very spot too. I had trouble convincing myself that it was real.”

  “That what was real?”

  He takes a drag on the cigarette, and arches his lips so that the smoke blows away from me as he exhales. “My life.”

  I frown at him, not knowing where he is going with this.

  Bay offers his cigarette to me. “Want a puff?”

  “No, thank you,” I say, and he puts it back to his lips. “How long ago was that?”

  “A little over a year.”

  “Oh,” I say, scratching at the inside of my elbow. “So are you and Jodie girlfriend and boyfriend?”

  Bay laughs, wincing at the stretch of his lips. “Girlfriend and boyfriend? Do people still say that?”

  I give him a look.

  “No, we’re not. I grew up with Eric and Jodie. We actually lived a few houses apart.”

  “So how did you end up living here?”

  He sucks on his cigarette again. “What is this? Twenty Questions?”

  “I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer me.”

  He nods. “I had to get out of the city for a while. Jodie was nice enough to let me live here rent free. I couldn’t refuse. A while turned into a year.”

  I sit down cross-legged on the dock, facing the water. Bay sits down too, surprising me. He puts out the cigarette on one of the planks and sticks the butt in the pocket of his shorts. He slings his feet over the edge and dips them into the water.

  “How long were you in hospital?” I ask.

  “For the accident?” he asks, even though it’s the obvious thing. “A couple of days.”

  “Was anyone else involved?”

  “Just the drunk driver in the other car.”

  “The one who died?”

  “Yep. I got my face all jacked up, a broken wrist and a couple of fractured ribs.” He lifts his shirt to show me. Most of the skin on his abdomen is fair, with tiny golden hairs catching the sun, but the left side has multiple cuts and bruises. They appear like dark angry clouds gathering below his ribcage, a private thunderstorm. I want to reach over to touch his skin and trace them with my fingers, but I hold myself back.

  “That looks like it hurts.”

  Bay laughs carefully. “Only when I breathe.”

  “How did you hold the kayak above your head like that?”

  “It’s not so bad really. I’m good with pain.”

  A flock of birds pass overhead. I watch as they circle and dance in the afternoon sun and then fly out of sight.

  “I actually just wanted to give you a heads up.” Bay says, picking up the oar he had left after his trip on the lake and leans it against the wire fencing. “Eric and Jodie are going to do this thing where they talk a lot. With each other, I mean. They sort of latch onto each other after they’ve been apart for a while.”

  I look toward the house, although I can only see a part of the deck from where we are.

  “And they get really cheesy too. They break out board games and make hot chocolate. They may even forget that you are here for a little while.”

  “I feel like this may have happened to you a few times.”

  “Once or twice. I’ve learned not to take it personally,” Bay says. “I would love to stay and keep you company but my shift at the hospital starts in thirty minutes.”

  “The hospital?” I ask, glancing at him. “What are you? Some kind of doctor?”

  Bay pulls his feet out of the lake. Water drips onto the boardwalk, soaking into the thirsty planks almost immediately. “Hell, no. I work in the cancer ward. I take care of the terminal patients.”

  I didn’t see that coming at all. “Wow. That’s sort of morbid.”

  “Why?” he asks, standing. He looms over me, making me feel self-conscious so I stand to meet his stance. “Everyone dies. It’s part of being human.”

  “So what do you do exactly?”

  “I bathe them, make sure they’re comfortable. So when they pass, at least it’s with some dignity and aplomb. I talk to those who know I’m there, maybe read to them. Sometimes I just sit with them. No one deserves to die alone.”

  “Alone? Don’t they have families?”

  “Sure they do. Some of the families don’t make it in time,” Bay says. His face falls, like this saddens him. “Other families don’t make it at all. These people are really sick. I sit with them and make sure that at least someone is there with them when they pass.”

  I offer him a smile. “That’s very admirable, Bay.”

  He side-glances at me. “That’s not why I do it.” He stands against the breeze, the sound of the wind making its way through the trees softly. I don’t know if I should say something else, but when I look at him I see that his eyes are closed and his face is turned up toward the sun. He takes in a few breaths, his chest expanding and deflating.

  “I better get going,” Bay says finally, turning to walk back down the dock. “Are you going to stay out here for a while?”

  I consider what he’d said about Eric and Jodie. I think that maybe Eric might need his sister’s guidance with regard to Luna and that maybe I should give them some time to be alone. But I also don’t want to stay on the dock all afternoon, either.

  “I think I’m going to take my chances with them up there.”

  “God speed, then,” Bay says as we make our way back to the house. “We can exchange battle stories when I come back.”

  Chapter Nine

  As it turns out, Bay is right about everything. When we get back to the house, Eric and Jodie are sitting on the couch together, facing inward toward each other like they are busy telling secrets they couldn’t hold onto for a second longer. Jodie has changed into a summer dress and has her dark blonde hair combed out onto her shoulders. Her skin is glowing and she smells like cocoa butter.

  The siblings take only a slight interest in Bay and me when we walk in, but go back to talking and laughing right away. I pretend to do something in the bedroom while Bay eats and gets ready for work, eavesdropping on the bits of conversation I can hear. Jodie’s voice is sweet and mellifluous, while Eric speaks in a husky tone that I have become familiar with over the past few days.

  Eric and Jodie only break away from each other when it’s time for Bay to leave, and we all congregate on the porch to see him off. A silver car had pulled up without my knowledge, waiting for Bay at the end of the driveway. Jodie waves at the driver from the porch and gets a honk in return. Bay kisses her on the cheek, the first sign of affection I’ve seen between them, and drives away while we watch.

  I manage to take part of the conversation when Eric and Jodie resume their chat, marvelling at how they both seem to make everything seem normal. I’m not sure if Eric had mentioned to his sister about why I am with him or how we’d met, but after sitting with them in Jodie’s open living room for half an hour, the sun moving from east to west, bringing out new shadows, I feel suddenly far removed from their conversation. Their voices become muted, like I’m listening to them underwater. I want to hold onto Eric, to make him remember that I’m here and that I still have an ache in my chest, but Jodie is so much more compelling than I am.

  I excuse myself and head to the bathroom, where I slap water onto my face and breathe in the cool air coming from the lake. Inside the bathroom, previously unnoticed, there is an oval, claw-footed tub, and I eye it with increasing intent. It’s gleaming and looks so inviting that I can’t bring myself to think of anything else, to want to be anywhere else but in that bath.

  I start to salivate at the idea of soaking in the tub, the water covering my skin and steaming up the room. I imagine soaking my aches away, all the unease from my body melting. I am still standing there, mesmerised, when Eric walks past and notices me.

  “What’s happening?” he asks, peering into the bathroom.

  I point to the tub. “Would it be okay if I used that?”

  Eric looks at the bath and then back at me. “You mean take a bath? Of course
. Let me get you some towels.”

  I get fresh clothes from the room and find Eric setting a towel on the basin.

  “I haven’t had a bath in years,” I say.

  Eric laughs, and the pebbles splash down again. “That sounds really wrong.”

  “I shower.”

  “Of course.”

  I stew in the bath for several glorious minutes. I let my bones soften, letting go for a moment. My eyelids grow heavy. Everything is quiet. Just the slow slush of water as I move. I close my eyes, resting my head against the side of the bath, giving in to the temptation to abandon common sense.

  For a split second, I fall asleep.

  And then promptly drown a little.

  The water travels up my nasal passages, forcing me awake, circling around the top of my brain, stinging. The bathwater, still lukewarm and soapy, comes back out of my throat, causing me to choke and cough and sputter.

  I try to do it as covertly as I can. I don’t want Eric or Jodie busting through the door to try to save me from my own stupidity. I am embarrassed, even though no one has witnessed my foolery.

  Done with the bath, I get dressed, taking my dirty clothes with me, and exit the bathroom. Eric and Jodie are still talking, their voices carrying down the hallway and into the bedroom. I catch the mention of my name, but the bath has made me lazy and I don’t have the strength to listen or ask what they’re talking about. My heart feels heavier than usual, like it too is in a stupor from the soaking in the bath. I lay down on the bed, the sheets cool and light on my skin. I breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Over and over.

  Despite my lethargy, it feels good to be on the bed. I don’t know why, but I feel inexplicably safe in this room, this house. I feel like I can lay like this forever, half-listening to conversations between a brother and sister, the lake rippling outside the window, concentrating on breathing.

  I’m thinking about doing exactly that for the rest of the day when Jodie walks into the room, announcing that she is going to make dinner. Time has passed since Bay left, and the sun is getting lower in the sky, the air cooler.