I send him a text, wondering if he’s still at the hospital. There’s no response, but then I don’t really expect one. Exhausted, I shut my laptop and lie down.
When Mama shakes me awake a couple of hours later, it’s to remind me it’s laundry day. “Don’t forget your pillowcases this time,” she says.
I feel like death warmed over. “Okay.”
“Any word?” she asks. She was up, reading in the living room, when I got home last night. I had called her from the hospital, but it felt really good to unload when I saw her. The stress of the day, coupled with the need to be there for Rigel, shattered me, and she held me while I cried.
I touch my face now, remembering how swollen it had felt before bed. “No...not yet. I’ll call Jasmine.”
“You think she’s still there?”
“No, but her mother might be.” Jasmine’s mother pulls long shifts as a nurse in labor and delivery, so there’s a chance she’s been able to keep tabs on Orion. Camille says Natalie didn’t know about her daughter’s relationship with him, but I’m sure she’s figured it out by now.
Mama sits on the edge of my bed, touching my hand. “You okay?”
I rub my eyes. “Tired.”
“When did you go to bed?”
“Late. And then I couldn’t sleep.”
Concern darkens her expression. “Take it easy today, baby. I have melatonin if you need it for tonight.”
I sit up, stretching. “Are you still having problems sleeping?”
“It comes and goes. Usually happens when I’m stressed out, like when we first moved down here. I missed your daddy a lot.”
I think back to those early days. I’d cried a lot, missed my friends, hated the lack of air conditioning. I’d been so consumed with myself that I’d missed things, like the depth of my mother’s sadness and anxiety. Leaning into her soft, bathrobed side, I hug her with all I’ve got. “I still miss him a lot.”
“Me too. You’ll get to see him soon,” she says, rubbing my back. “Lucky girl.”
I close my eyes, inhaling her Mama-scent of coffee and cocoa butter. “But then I’ll miss you.”
There is something therapeutic about hard work, and, after stripping my bed and collecting every bit of laundry I can find, I set about vacuuming and mopping my room, moving on to Alex’s once I’m done. He protests loudly when the vacuum cleaner comes roaring in, but soon makes it a game, darting around it like a kitten.
After lunch, in an effort to occupy my mind, I join Grandpa Harry in the backyard. Alex trails behind with a beach bucket, amassing an armory of twigs and rocks. Just beyond Grandpa’s lime grove sit several mango trees, branches heavy with ripe fruit. Alex won’t allow me to touch his bucket so I grab one of my own to gather mangos, my mouth watering at the scent. Grandpa keeps a running commentary of the garden, explaining what blooms and bears fruit when. He’s sharing it with me like he wants me to know, but I sense he’s doing it for himself, too. To remind himself he still knows.
My phone burns a hole in my pocket. I check it all day, hating the knot in my stomach each time I realize there are no new messages.
Camille finally texts me. She’s with Jasmine, whose mother finally forced her to leave the hospital.
I’m guessing Natalie knows now?
Yes. She was not happy, girl. But she said she’d keep Jas updated.
Anything new?
Orion’s sleeping now. They’re going to move him to another room soon.
That’s good, right?
Yes. Want to come over?
I don’t, though. Rigel’s unexpected silence hurts, and I don’t feel like being social—even if it is with just Cam and Jasmine.
By nightfall I’m fed up with my own restlessness, so I take Grandpa Harry to Mass. He likes the Sunday evening services at St. Patrick’s, a historical Catholic church tucked into the hilly backstreets of downtown Frederiksted. We make our way up the aisle of the half empty nave, sliding into a row near the front. A lilting breeze blows through the open doors and windows of the chapel, wafting incense around.
Maybe I find it because I need it, but there’s peace here. It’s quiet, sacred. I sit still, listening to the priest and his patrons, and I pray for Orion and Rigel. And then, even though it’s rude and possibly sacrilegious, I send a text from the pews.
In church with my grandpa thinking about you.
His response is unexpected, making my heart jump. At the hospital with my mom thinking about you.
Rigel calls, finally, late in the night. Everyone but me is asleep, and I’m only awake because the book I’m reading has one cliffhanger after the next. And, maybe, because I’m waiting for a phone call.
Hoping my mother didn’t hear anything, I answer on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
I close my door quietly, leaning against it. “How are you?”
He pauses. “I’m okay.”
“Orion?”
“Better. Bullets missed vital organs and bone...he lost a lot of blood, though. Lots of tissue damage.” Voices rise in the background. A door slams—his truck’s, maybe. “He’ll be in the hospital for another day or two. Maybe longer.”
I have so many questions, but I don’t know the right one to ask. “I’ve been praying a lot.”
“It’s helping,” he says, voice dropping.
We’re quiet for a moment. It sounds like he’s driving. “Are you going to school tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “But can I come see you?”
“Now?”
“I know it’s late.”
“Hold on.” Leaving my room, I pad quietly down the hall. The strip beneath my mother’s door is dark, so she’s probably sleeping. Still, just to make sure, I peek in. Except for the fan, the room is still and silent. Tiptoeing back to my room, I return the phone to my ear. “Come through the kitchen door this time.”
“Your bed’s warm,” says Rigel, touching the sheets. “Did I wake you up?”
“No.” I lie beside him, looking up at my twinkle lights. “I was reading.”
He nods slowly, closing his eyes.
“You okay?”
“Just thinking,” he says, leaning against the headboard. His hair’s so long it’s almost always pulled back in a knot now. “About the past couple days.”
“That’s all I think about.”
He shakes his head, scrubbing his hands over his face.
“It felt like you were blocking me out,” I say.
“I wasn’t.” He pulls me close, and I rest my head on his chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t see past my brother.”
I get that. It’s logical; it makes sense. There’s nothing logical about feelings, though, and right now I feel insecure and clingy. It’s different from when I wanted him, and different from loving him. This is needing him, and the thought of losing him does terrible things to my stomach.
“Isla.”
“I understand. I just…” I close my eyes. “I wanted to be there for you.”
“I know you did.” He slides down so we’re sharing a pillow. “Everything happened so fast. The worst case scenario happened. And I didn’t know what to do.”
I put my hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat.
“I’ve been angry at him for such a long time. Even when nothing was wrong, things just didn’t feel right between us, you know? I felt like he was choosing that life over my mom, my family. Me.” His voice cracks. “And then, just like that, I almost lost him. And none of that other shit mattered, even though it was the same shit that almost got him killed.”
“Like it clarified things.”
“Yeah.”
“I was so scared,” I say. “I don’t know how you drove to the hospital.”
“I don’t either. I was freaking out.” He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. “It was that same crew, Isla. I should’ve been with him.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
“That morning...he
said he might pass by Rainbow while we were there. But he wanted me to come down to Dorsch Beach, too. He never said it, but I know one of the reasons he came back was to fuck up the dude who messed with me.”
“Have you gotten to talk to him yet?” I ask. “Like, really talk?”
“Yeah. Soon as he woke up. We talked for awhile.”
Larry barks from somewhere in the house, and we freeze. I wonder if Rigel’s listening to my breathing the way I’m listening to his. “I’m so glad he’s okay.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I should’ve called you,” he whispers, easing on to me. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t want Rigel’s apologies; I just want him. I wrap myself around him and then it’s endless, soft lips and tongues, deep down and dark and good. These are the types of kisses that flow one to another, building until we’re pulling at each other’s clothes. There’s no hesitation tonight, no discussion. We kiss until kissing isn’t enough, and then we slip under the covers.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” he says afterward, kissing the space between my breasts.
“Why not?”
Sighing quietly, he pulls the sheet over my chest.
“Isn’t that why you came over?” I tease, trailing the backs of my fingers over his flushed cheek.
He grabs my hand. “You know it’s not like that, right?”
“Sometimes I want it to be like that,” I say, gratified by the renewed hunger on his face as I touch his man-bun. “I love this, by the way. It’s sexy.”
“It’s a little out of control. I’ll probably cut it before classes start.”
I nod, because he’ll be competing at a different level in college and little things like hair can be a nuisance. “I’ll still love you.” I don’t mean to say it, not like that.
Maybe part of me does.
Rigel’s eyes widen fractionally, and then he melts into a smile. Swear to God, even after what he just did to me, it’s that smile that makes my heart thump. “Yeah. I love you too, Isla.”
On Monday, at school, Orion’s all anyone can talk about. The Palms is a tight-knit community of families, and the Thomas kids have been a part of it for years. Rigel’s noticeably tight-lipped about it all morning, using his senior privileges to visit the hospital during lunch.
“How is he?” I ask, once he’s back.
“Okay. In pain, still.” He turns his attention to the window beside us. It looks like it might rain. “They want him to stay for another couple of days.”
On Thursday, at final bell, Rigel finds me at my locker. “Orion’s moving to Miami.”
I twist the combination on my lock. “Miami, huh? Jasmine will approve.”
“Why do you think he’s going? She hasn’t left his side since this went down.”
I’ve heard as much from Camille. “Maybe he’ll stop being such an idiot and treat her properly.”
He adjusts his backpack. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Is he being released yet? I’d like to see him.” The last time I saw Orion, he was bleeding out in the back of Rigel’s truck. I need desperately to replace that memory with him healthy and whole.
“Yeah, my dad’s bringing him home this afternoon.”
I watch Rigel carefully, noting the faint smudges beneath his eyes. He’s older than he was last week. “No more staying with Junie, huh?”
“Nope...the prodigal returns. Mom’s making lasagna, his favorite.” He pauses, yawning. “You should come.”
Now that the yearbooks have been published and distributed, my afternoons are free. I leave campus the second last bell rings, impatiently joining the queue crawling out of the parking lot. On the way home, I stop at the bakery to load up on treats. I’m not sure what Orion likes best, so I buy a little of everything.
Several cars are parked in front of the Thomas house, Rigel’s truck among them. Raymond and the kids are in the living room, watching TV and doing homework. Rory jumps up to hug me while Leo waves shyly. Rigel brings me to Orion, who smiles weakly from the couch. “Hey, Isla. Looking good.”
“Hey, Orion.” I bend to kiss his cheek, leaving a brown paper bag of sweets in his lap. Seeing him this way puts a lump in my throat. “Wish I could say the same of you.”
“Ouch.” He smiles as he searches the bag. “Coconut fritters? Guava tarts? Hold onto her,” he says to Rigel, pointing. “Don’t fu—mess it up.”
“Watch your mouth, Orion,” Diana says, passing by.
“I’m watching it, Mom,” he says, winking at me.
Rigel snatches the bag, emerging with a fritter. The crinkling attracts Phoenix and Leo, who linger nearby until Rigel relinquishes the bag.
“I’d tell them not to ruin their appetites, but these kids eat like horses,” Diana says wryly. “Anyway, we’ll be eating around six. You want anything, Isla? Juice? We have passion fruit.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
She disappears again and I turn to Orion, studying him. “So. How’re you feeling?”
“Like I been shot a heap of friggin’ times.”
Rigel sucks his teeth. “Ey,” he says, jerking his head toward the younger boys.
Orion sighs loudly. “I’m sore. And very, very happy to be out of that damn hospital. You get no sleep in there. None.”
I nod sympathetically, knowing from stories Mama has told that’s true.
“Mostly,” he says, serious now as he brings his eyes back to mine. “I’m just happy I’m alive.”
After dinner, once we’ve helped clean up and Orion has been put to bed with plenty of pain medication, Rigel walks me to my car.
“I didn’t want to ask in there, but, has there been any progress in the case? Do the police have any leads?”
He leans against the trunk of my car. “They have somebody in custody.”
I lean beside him. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I just found out; I guess they brought him in this afternoon.”
“Oh. Wow.” I exhale slowly—relieved, but still unsettled. “That’s good. Will Orion stay for the trial and all that, then?”
Rigel nods. “And then he needs to get the hell out of here for awhile. It’s good he has Jasmine and Miami.”
“Are you afraid of retaliation?” I ask. “Or just that he’ll keep on living this life?”
“Either; both.” He gazes up at the sky. “This is why I wanted out. The night I got caught with Orion, I had a choice. It would’ve been easy to stay on that path, you know? But I didn’t want to live my life constantly watching my back, always having beef with somebody.”
“And it’s a small island.”
“Too small,” he says.
“It is too small, but...I’m really going to miss it when we’re gone.”
“Me too. But I need some distance from all of this.” He pulls me into his arms. “And so does my brother.”
Daddy’s been on island since graduation. We still haven’t sold the house in Inman Park, but once we do, he says he wants to come to St. Croix. It’s not clear if he, Alex and Mama would get a place close to Grandpa, or if Daddy would be in an apartment of his own. He and Mama are still Figuring Things Out.
Weird, but I’ll take it. At least he’ll be around for Alex.
The day before he heads back to Atlanta, we drive to the South Shore. Despite the rain we had earlier, the sky is clear now. In fact, the sunset looks like it’s going to be spectacular.
“I was hoping it would be like this,” I say, snapping a couple of shots with my Minolta.
“Rainy days usually have the best sunsets,” Daddy comments, plopping down onto the sand beside me. “As long as it stops raining.” I drag my fingers through the sand. It’s still warm from the day.
“I wonder why that is?” I muse, gazing out at the horizon. A pod of pelicans drift past, skimming the surface of the water with their wings.
“Maybe it clears the air,” he says.
“That makes
sense, actually.”
“Good a guess as any.”
Daddy reaches into the paper bag at his side, retrieving jars of cookie butter for each of us. He hands me a plastic spoon and we eat quietly, watching the sun sink.
“Might have a buyer for the house,” he says.
“Really?” We’ve had a couple of potential buyers, but nothing has panned out.
He nods.
An ache settles into my chest, but then, like clouds on a windy day, it blows away. “I’m really going to miss it.”
“Me too.” He sighs, gazing out at the sea.
“Would you really move down if it sold?”
“I miss your Mama, Isla girl. And Alex. I need to be here for them.”
“Yes. You do.”
Sighing, he thumbs a tear from my cheek. “You’ll be alright.”
“I know.” I stare at the sand, giving myself a second to pull it together. “I was afraid you guys might not get back together.”
“I was afraid of that, too. But you know your mama’s my reason.”
The sun sets. I lean close to my father, bumping his shoulder. “Okay, watch for it...these conditions are perfect…”
“I’m watching.”
“But don’t, like, stare right at it. Rigel says you’ll get retinal fatigue or something.”
“Isla, honey. I—oh!”
Tonight’s green flash sparks like a tiny supernova, the brightest one I’ve seen yet.
Five months later
“Isla?”
I know that voice. Looking up from my phone, I meet the surprised gaze of Benson Reid.
“Benny!” Grinning, I give him a quick hug. “Long time no see!”
“No kidding. You look good,” he says, blue eyes soft as they take me in. I step back and he lets go, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You’re so...tan. Wow.”
“Well, I’ve lost some of it now, but yeah. Island life was good to me.”
Looks like life has been good to him, too. He’s even taller than he was, trendy and cute in a beanie, jeans and flannel. “Heard you’re at UGA.”
Heavenly Bodies Page 29