Release the Stars

by Harper Bliss

  Charlie couldn’t hold in her accusation any longer. “Because you met someone else!” Her voice was high-pitched and full of blame.

  Jo closed her eyes and shook her head, expelling a sigh. “My only hope for you, Charlie, was that you would have learned something from our breakup. I can understand—to expunge yourself from the biggest guilt—why you would fixate on that… fabricated truth, but I’d hoped you’d have come to your senses by now.”

  Charlie slammed the palm of her hand on the table. “For Christ’s sake, Jo. Facts are facts. Did you or did you not fall in love with a—” Charlie stopped herself from saying the word ‘man,’ “someone else while we were still together?”

  “Yes. I did. But have you ever really stopped to wonder why?” Jo planted her elbows on the table and curled her fingers tightly around the stem of her wineglass.

  “Clearly, it was because I had somehow become the most awful person on the planet.”

  Jo sighed. “Here we go again. You’re impossible to have a conversation with sometimes. You have such a big void to fill in your heart, you make everything about you. What about me? What about what I wanted?”

  “It’s very clear what you wanted.”

  “Fuck you, Charlie. If this is how you’re going to be—if this is still the person you are—I want nothing to do with you.” Jo pushed her chair back. “I advise you to take a long hard look in the mirror. The world is not against you, Charlie. All the other women on the planet are not here to plant a knife in your back, or to conspire against poor little Charlotte Cross who never did anything wrong in her life.” The feet of her chair scraped against the terrace tiles as Jo pushed herself out of it. “Nobody’s perfect, Charlie, least of all me. But neither are you.” With that, Jo yanked her bag off the table and headed into the house. A few seconds later, the front door opened and then closed.

  For several long moments, Charlie stared at the empty space where Jo had sat. It was familiar territory, after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Instead of looking at herself in the mirror, Charlie went up to the Griffith Park Observatory and stared at the Hollywood sign. Ever since she’d seen it on TV as a young girl, she’d felt that twinge of desire to be part of this mythical place. Now she was. Although the real reason why she’d come here—fled here—wasn’t very glamorous.

  It was late afternoon, and apart from a few bites of croissant, Charlie hadn’t eaten anything. She wasn’t tipsy, but she probably shouldn’t have driven anywhere. She sat in a secluded spot and just gazed, feeling exactly the same way she had when she’d first arrived. In awe of where she’d ended up, despite herself, and still so terribly out of place. But perhaps this city was where she belonged. If only for its reputation of inhabitants who attached much more importance to what lay on the surface than to what really mattered.

  Here, Charlie could pretend. Or at least try to pretend. But she’d ended up in the exact same position as before. Alone. And terribly, madly in love with a woman she had expertly chased away. She stared at the sign again. This was not how it was supposed to feel when all her dreams came true.

  She’d written Crying Rivers for Robin, who had also left her, and she’d cringed when Ava had wanted to read a paragraph out loud. Those few sentences she’d produced so long ago—and believed in so much—seemed so far removed from how she felt now. Charlie could only dream of being able to say those words out loud again and, along with it, experience the sentiment they evoked. Hope. Happiness. A sense of stability she’d lost since Jo left her.

  Because why did it always have to go exactly the same way? Why couldn’t Charlie be the Charlie she so desperately wanted to be—someone dependable. A woman secure enough in herself she didn’t have to worry about percentages, and succumb to self-destructive bursts of jealousy. She hashed over Liz’s words. “We all have many faults.” And whereas Charlie didn’t have the slightest issue cataloging most of her own, she was very adept at forgiving others theirs. Except when, as in Ava’s case, she could fabricate and mold them, and turn them into something she could use to refuse herself happiness.

  Charlie was well aware she was her own worst enemy. She hadn’t always been this way. And when she really thought about it and asked herself when she had last been so exquisitely happy, so reeling with joy because of something she herself had accomplished, as opposed to when she’d experienced happiness because of Ava kissing her on the beach, or bidding on her at the auction, it was when she’d typed ‘The End’ after finishing Crying Rivers. Charlie had prided herself on never craving any sort of mind-altering substance like drugs or alcohol, because she had something at her disposal with a much more powerful, a much more long-lasting, profound effect. She had writing.

  First and foremost, Charlie was a writer and nothing—nothing!—came close to that indescribable feeling of committing words to paper, to creating a world that hadn’t existed before she dreamed it up, to the magic sensation of words, sentences, and paragraphs, as they flowed from her fingers and onto the page. And, if she was completely honest with herself, she missed it so much, because it was such a large part of who she was. As exciting as Hollywood could be, as thrilling as it had been to sign that television deal for Underground, it also profoundly disturbed her equilibrium. Charlie, she could see now, had lost herself. She hadn’t allowed herself to heal after the breakup from Jo. Instead, she’d run away to this glamorous city, where she spent the better part of her day in a room with other people. It was not who Charlie was.

  She thought about Crying Rivers again, the book that had changed everything. About that particular paragraph that had summed up her journey and the words she craved to be able to apply to herself once again.

  Charlie didn’t need to read them from a page. She knew them because the words were still in her heart somewhere. But, after all this renewed heartache, she still hadn’t managed to learn from her mistakes. Maybe it was time.

  She closed her eyes, the sight of the Hollywood sign now almost too heavy a burden, and images of Jo storming off, and Ava saying that if Charlie left now, they’d be well and truly over, combined into an unbearable storm of guilt in her mind.

  Charlie wasn’t so obtuse she couldn’t see the truth in what Jo had said. But it was hard to admit, because if Jo was right, that made the rules Charlie had made up and lived by obsolete. Complete and utter nonsense. That a woman like Ava had even given her the time of day after Charlie had mentioned it was almost unfathomable.

  Then Charlie allowed herself to remember another something Jo had said. On that day she’d confirmed Charlie’s suspicions about her and Christian, and had left her.

  “When will you realize you’re worth it, Charlie? That you’re just as worthy of being loved as the next person. When will you stop ruining your relationships because you’re convinced that you’re not lovable? When will you snap out of that destructive self-fulfilling prophecy?”

  When Charlie opened her eyes and looked into the brightness of a Los Angeles Sunday afternoon, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she had two urgent matters to attend to. She had to apologize to Jo. And she had to send a clear message to Ava.

  She dug her phone out of her pocket, wiped most of the tears from her face, and switched on the camera function. She had dark circles under her eyes, and the eyes Jo and Robin had always praised as the most beautiful blue were filled with regret, fear, and, most of all, sadness she’d caused herself. It was time to stop clinging to silly rules and giving in to unfounded jealousy. She needed to look past her own woes and pay more attention to what others wanted.

  Charlie couldn’t compete with Ava’s grand gesture of turning up at the auction and declaring her interest in Charlie so audaciously. But she knew what she could do, what she had to do. She took a deep breath and started reciting the words she hadn’t been able to say or hear out loud since Jo had left her.

  * * *

  Charlie stopped at an In-n-Out Burger on her way back to WeHo. It reminded her of how Ava could
display such joy while eating, and how very un-model-like and un-LA she was about food. So many things about Los Angeles didn’t agree with the view she’d had of the city for the longest time. For once, she didn’t fail to see how she’d made a habit of indulging in thoughts like that, sometimes for the perceived sake of self-protection, but more often than not out of sheer stubbornness and her desire to cling to ideas she had believed in for so long.

  She parked outside of her house but didn’t go in. Instead, she called Jo, who didn’t pick up. Charlie left a message with a brief apology and a request to redeem herself for her outburst earlier. Instead of going inside her home—a place that represented a loneliness Charlie still couldn’t face—she walked to Lux. With luck, some of her softball team members might be hanging out.

  “You’re back early.” Liz checked her watch. “Are you that excited about tomorrow that you took an earlier flight?” She quirked up one eyebrow.

  “Oh, Lizzie.” Charlie pulled up a chair. “Why have you never told me I’m such a navel-gazing asshole?”

  “Because you’re not, you silly woman.” Without asking, Liz poured Charlie a glass from the pitcher of beer on the table.

  Charlie greeted a few other team members. Josie sat at the adjoining table, her hand draped over another girl’s knee. If Josie noticed her at all, she didn’t show it.

  “How’s life in the land of grand gestures and glamorous TV hosts?” Tiff asked. “I thought you’d be done playing with us now that you’ve slept your way up to the big leagues.”

  “Lay off, Tiff,” Liz said.

  “It fucking sucks,” Charlie replied, even though Tiff was just teasing. “I missed you ladies so much, I climbed down from my high and mighty pedestal to drink humble beer with you.”

  “Words are not enough,” Tiff said. “I want to see you at practice on Wednesday and in a team jersey on Sunday.”

  “At your service, boss.” Charlie saluted Tiff military-style. “I may even try to actually hit a ball next game.”

  “Big words, Charlie, big words,” Tiff said. “Way to raise expectations.”

  A few more girls joined in on their gentle verbal sparring match, and Charlie sank a bit deeper into her chair, safe in the knowledge that she was among friends.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Charlie didn’t feel completely at ease having to conduct this conversation in front of Christian, but she had to accept him as a part of Jo’s life at some point, so she may as well start now.

  “I want you to see, Charlie,” Jo had said, “that Christian is not the devil reincarnated. He didn’t steal me from you. He is, in fact, an awesome dude, whom I think, if you’re in any way serious about apologizing to me and having me in your life, you should make an effort to get to know better.”

  Eleven months of apprehension don’t just dissolve because of good intentions, but Charlie decided to make the effort instead of indulging in her irrational disgust with straight guys. It was true that she didn’t know Christian and that, in her head, she’d only ever allowed him to grow into more and more of a monster as time passed.

  Christian was a bearded man with a booming, confident voice. He wasn’t overly tall, but had broad shoulders that tapered into a slim waistline. Of course, he wore skinny jeans. The first few months after the breakup, Charlie refused to refer to him in any other way than “the fucking bearded hipster.” Heavy emphasis on the f-word every time.

  He and Jo lounged on the sidewalk terrace of one of WeHo’s many coffee houses. Despite the pair of them being full-blooded New Yorkers, they looked as though they firmly belonged. Jo had tied her unruly mane of curly hair together in a lush ponytail, and it occurred to Charlie as she sat down opposite them—ready to nail herself to the cross for her mistakes—that they looked good together. As though put on this earth for each other.

  The realization stung.

  For weeks, Charlie had fallen into a miserable sort of half sleep with nothing but images of Christian’s big man hands all over Jo, his beard chafing her soft cheeks.

  He pushed himself lightly out of his seat as Charlie sat down, like the gentleman Charlie refused to believe he might be. He’d gone after someone who was already taken, after all. He extended his hand, and this time, Charlie shook it without prompting.

  “How was the big love shoot?” Jo asked, after pecking Charlie quickly on the cheek. “Nick told me all about it.”

  “It was something else.” Charlie looked into Jo’s dark eyes and remembered how she’d based the physical appearance of the Underground heroine on her ex.

  “Is this how you want me to look?” Jo had asked once, when Charlie described Aretha as having a very muscular frame. “Is this your way of telling me I should spend more time in the gym?” They’d laughed about it then, and Charlie had stroked Jo’s biceps and told her how perfect they were and how she shouldn’t try to match up to fictional characters. Charlie had started writing Underground not long after she and Jo had gotten together.

  “So Aretha, who, we both know is entirely based on me,” Jo said, a silly grin on her face, “is portrayed by Elisa Fox. I suppose I could have done worse.” She jabbed Christian in the upper arm.

  “I never got the chance to congratulate you on all of this, Charlie,” he said, as if that prod against his arm was Jo’s cue for him to say this. But Charlie had made a few wrong assumptions about Jo and Christian before, and decided to not get on her high horse yet. He was complimenting her, after all.

  “Thanks. It’s a bit surreal.”

  “A bit surreal? Isn’t it what you’ve always dreamed of, Charlie?” Jo said. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

  “Yeah well, I guess I can’t screw everything up.” She gave them a shy grimace. This was as good a time as any to launch into that apology. “I’m sorry about the other day, Jo. I should have been more… open-minded. I see that now.”

  “Charlie,” Christian said. “I really need you to know that nothing happened between Jo and me until after you’d broken up. We were friends for a long time before…” Thankfully, he stopped there.

  “Hey, Charlie Cross,” a woman’s voice came from behind Charlie. “Where’s Ava Castaneda? Way to go, girl!”

  Charlie turned to the side to find a woman in her early twenties giving her the thumbs-up. Charlie nodded and looked away. Luckily, the woman went on her way and left Charlie alone.

  Jo stretched her arm over the table and found Charlie’s hand. “That must make you so uncomfortable. I know you, Charlie. You’re dying a little bit inside right now.” Jo’s gesture was so sweet, so Jo, and such a throwback to their happier times together, Charlie did, in fact, crumble a little on the inside. Not because she was mortified about being recognized as Ava’s girlfriend when she no longer was, but because Jo’s heart was on display.

  She shrugged. “I’m sure the news that it’s all over before it even began will spread soon enough.”

  Jo didn’t say anything, and Christian scooped some milk foam out of his coffee cup. Charlie took it as an open invitation to tell them what had happened, but she could only deal with one heartbreak at a time. “I screwed that up as well, but I’m trying to make amends there, too.”

  Charlie hadn’t heard from Ava since she’d sent her the video two days ago. No acknowledgement of receipt. Nothing. For all Charlie knew, Eric had gotten his way and had made a successful move on a hurt and angry Ava. Although she tried very, very hard not to let her thoughts wander in that direction too much.

  “I don’t need you to apologize to me,” Jo said. “I just need you to see that you and I drifted apart long before our relationship ended.”

  Christian shuffled in his chair nervously, then pushed it back. “I’m going to find the bathroom,” he said.

  Jo nodded and followed him with her gaze as he made his way inside. “He didn’t really want to come. I made him. More for moral support than anything else, I guess.”

  “I do see.” Charlie pulled her hand from underneath Jo’s and started tug
ging at her fingertips.

  Jo put her hand back on Charlie’s. “I’m not sitting here with the illusion that one conversation can instantly turn us from estranged exes into friends, but I’m going to be in LA for a few more months, and I would like to use that time to make things better between us. I need for that to happen. You aren’t just a memory for me, Charlie. We had so much between us…” Her voice cracked.

  Charlie’s throat swelled with sudden dryness. She could only nod.

  “I know you’re too smart to really believe we broke up over a guy,” Jo added. “It was over long before I met Christian.”

  Charlie stopped a tear from dropping from the corner of her eye. “For the longest time, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, Jo… My thoughts oscillated between being convinced you left me because you weren’t into women in the first place and thinking that I must have really done a number on you to make you go off women and flee into the arms of a man. Even though I know now I was just fooling myself with both assumptions.”

  “You’re in your head so much of the time. You make a living out of making things up.” Jo curled her lips into a small smile. “When are you going to write something new, by the way?”

  Charlie grabbed a napkin. “Maybe it is time for a follow-up to Crying Rivers.”

  “Make it a happy one.” Jo leaned back a bit. “I can’t take another tearjerker like that.”

  “There was so much truth in that book, though. No wonder I avoided any mention or thought of it after you and I parted ways. Underground being picked up also gave me the perfect excuse to pretend I wasn’t who I was.”

  “I think you should do it, Charlie. Write the book.”

  “My getting-over-you book?” Charlie attempted a grin. “Are you jealous because Robin has one dedicated to her and you don’t?”