He checks the nav system, which shows we're almost there.
"It's that one," I say, pointing to the rundown building. "My apartment's on the third floor."
He slows the car and eyes the building, like he's not sure he even wants to go in it. I felt the same way when I first saw it. The inside is a little better but not much. The walls are cracked and the carpet is stained and the whole building has a weird odor I can't identify.
Corbin parks the SUV, then hops out and grabs my crutches, meeting me at the passenger door.
"You good?" he asks, as I take a few steps with the crutches.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Let's go."
Once we're inside we take the elevator to the third floor.
"Right there." I point to my door and give him my keys. "Number 320."
He goes ahead of me to the door. He puts the key in but it doesn't turn.
"Sometimes it gets stuck," I tell him. "You have to jiggle it a little."
He does but it still doesn't work.
I'm beside him now and take the key. "There's an art to opening it. Took me days to figure it out."
Sirens blare outside, which happens all the time, day and night. It bothered me at first but now I'm used to it. Corbin apparently isn't because he seems to be getting more and more anxious the louder the sirens get.
"You all right?" I ask, still struggling with the key. "They're not coming to get you, are they?" I tease.
"No, but I think they're stopping at your building."
I pause to listen and hear, "Stop! Police!"
"Yep, they're here," I say. "But outside on the street."
"Some guy's probably stealing my SUV."
"More likely a drug dealer got caught."
He holds my arm. "You've got drug dealers living here?"
"I'm not sure. I'm just guessing. Doesn't it look like a place drug dealers would live?"
"Yeah, which is why you shouldn't be living here."
"I'm safe. I rarely leave the apartment, especially at night." I take the key out. "Something's wrong. It's not working." I bang on the door. "Moon? Are you home? It's Star."
I don't hear anyone inside but they could be sleeping.
"His name's Moon?" Corbin asks.
"It's what he goes by. I don't know his real name. His girlfriend is Sun. Well, her name is Sunny but she goes by Sun."
"So you're Star, and you live with Moon and Sun?"
I laugh. "I know. I thought I had a crazy name but then I met those two. My name is actually why they let me live here. They needed a Star to go with the Moon and Sun."
His brows furrow. "Are you sure you want to live with these people?"
"Let's go downstairs and find the building manager. He'll be able to get the door open."
Back on the first floor, we go to Larry's door and knock several times but he doesn't answer. He's got the TV blaring so loud he'll never hear us. I get out my phone and text him that I'm outside his door.
He finally answers, wearing a dingy white t-shirt and jeans held up by red suspenders stretched over his big belly. He's holding a bag of barbecue flavored potato chips, his fingers covered in orangish-red seasoning. He's old and only has a few strands of hair left on his head but he combs them over the top like he's trying to hide the fact that he's bald.
"What do you want?" he barks.
"I can't get my key to work." I hold it up.
He snatches it from me. "That's because it doesn't. And if you hadn't returned this one, you would've owed me ten bucks."
"What do you mean it doesn't work? Is the lock broken?"
"The lock is fine but it only works with the new key." He puts my key in his pocket, then digs his hand in the chip bag and shoves some chips in his mouth.
I glance at Corbin, who looks annoyed with Larry. I'm annoyed with him too but I have to be nice so he'll let me in the apartment.
"So can I have the new key?" I ask, holding my hand out.
"Not unless you live there." He munches on his chips while wiping the chip dust off on his jeans. "I gotta get back to my program." He grabs hold of the door to close it.
"Wait! What about my key?"
"I just told ya. You don't get a key. You don't live there no more."
"What do you mean I don't live there? You know I live there. I just had you up there last week to fix the sink. My name is Star. I live in 320."
"You used to live there. You don't now."
"I don't get it. What do you mean?"
Corbin nudges me. "Was your name on the lease?"
"No, but I was paying rent. I paid for two months when I moved in." I look back at Larry. "Are you saying Moon gave my room to someone else?"
"Moon ain't there no more." Larry stuffs more chips in his mouth. "Said he got a gig in New York. He and the girl moved out yesterday morning."
"Wait, what? They're gone? But why didn't they tell me?"
He shrugs. "Beats me. All I know is he's gone and I've got two new people living there. I gotta go. I'm missing my show." He shuts the door.
"I don't have an apartment," I say, staring at Larry's closed door. "I'm homeless."
Chapter Eight
Corbin
"Don't worry," I say to Star. "We'll figure this out."
"How?" she asks, sounding defeated. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a place to live in this city?"
"There are plenty of places. We just have to look."
"Let me clarify. An affordable place to live. Do you know how hard it is to find an affordable place to live? And by affordable I mean affordable for a person with hardly any money and no job?"
Police sirens start up outside, followed by the sound of a couple screaming at each other as they come down the stairs.
I take hold of Star's arm. "Let's get out of here. We'll find you something else. Anything's gotta be better than here."
"Wait." She knocks on the landlord's door.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"All my stuff was in the apartment. I need it back."
"Star, I—"
The landlord yanks open the door, a bottle of beer in his hand. "Now what?"
"My stuff," Star says.
"What stuff?"
"My clothes and my iPad and all my other stuff. Where is it?"
"Hell if I know. The place was empty when they moved out."
Her shoulders slump. "Empty? Are you sure? Maybe they put my stuff in a closet. Could I go check?"
"Not with new tenants living there." He takes a swig of his beer.
"I only need to be in there a minute. Or you could go in and check. I just need to know if there's anything left."
"Trust me, kid. There was nothing in there. I checked every closet, every cupboard. The place was cleaned out. "
"Star, let's go," I say.
The guy closes the door and clicks the lock shut. The volume on his TV rises, making it clear he doesn't want to be bothered again.
Star collapses back against the wall. "My stuff. It's gone. It's all gone. You know how long I saved to buy that iPad? And now it's gone, along with all my clothes and shoes and whatever else I had."
"I'm sorry this happened, Star, but you really should've gotten to know those people better before moving in with them. You should've at least been on the lease so that—"
"You're seriously lecturing me right now?" She rights herself on the crutches and hobbles as fast as she can to the door.
"Star, wait!" I catch up to her and block her path. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I sounded like my father just now, lecturing you when I should've been trying to help." I take a deep breath and let it out. "Okay, so here's the plan. We'll go back to my place and get on the internet and find one of those apartment search places. Then we'll—"
"Hold on."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out what you said."
"What did I say?"
"I'm not sure. You kind of mumbled it when you were taking a breath
."
Damn, did I say that out loud? I didn't mean to but I must've if she heard it. Now I have to explain, which is embarrassing.
"Oh. That." I laugh it off. "Forget it. It's just something I do when there's a lot going on and I need to refocus."
"What was it? What did you say?"
"It doesn't matter. Let's get going. We have a lot to do." I walk to the door but notice she's not beside me.
"Happy little trees," she calls out.
Shit. She DID hear me.
I turn back to her. "What about 'em?"
"That's what you said, isn't it?"
"Forget it. Let's go."
"Happy little trees," she repeats. "Why does that sound familiar?"
I walk back to her. "Bob Ross. The painter. He had a show on TV. I watched reruns of it all through college and med school. Whenever I was feeling overwhelmed it calmed me down and helped me refocus."
"That was one of his phrases, right? Happy little trees?"
I smile. "It was one of my favorites. He had several good ones but I always liked the tree one the best. When I say it I imagine Bob at the canvas, talking in that calm, quiet voice, focusing on one part of the painting at a time. The mountain tops, the clouds, the shadows on the trees. It reminds me to do the same. To calm down and focus on one thing at a time."
"Hmm. Maybe I should try that."
"Go ahead." I fold my arms over my chest and wait.
"Right now?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Okay." She takes a deep breath, and on the exhale she quietly says "happy little trees." She smiles, then laughs.
"Feel better?"
"Actually, I kinda do. I'm still feeling overwhelmed but that did help a little."
"Keep saying it, along with the deep breaths. The more you do it the better you'll feel."
Lauren hated it when I did that. She told me I sounded ridiculous so I trained myself to think the phrase and not say it out loud. But just now I let it slip. Is it because of my lack of sleep? Or because I feel comfortable around Star? Because I knew she wouldn't judge me or ridicule me for it the way Lauren would?
We leave and when we get outside I immediately check to see if my SUV is still there.
"You really thought someone stole it?" Star asks.
"In this neighborhood? I wouldn't be surprised."
Star looks up and down the street, then yells, "My car! It's gone!" She hobbles down the street, searching for it. "It was parked down the street and now it's gone!"
"Star, slow down! You're going to fall!"
Just as I say it her shoe gets stuck on a piece of broken sidewalk and she trips and falls to the ground.
"Star!" I kneel down in front of her. "Are you okay?"
"I think so."
"Let me see your knee." She puts her leg out and I carefully lift her pant leg up to expose her knee. "The stitches are still intact. It's just a little scraped up. I'll clean it when we get home. Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, but it's not bad." She reaches for her crutches. "I might need some help getting up."
I lift her to standing.
"So your car is gone," I say with a sigh.
"The way things are going I shouldn't be surprised."
"You think it was stolen?"
"I don't know why anyone would want it. It was a rusted-out piece of crap that kept breaking down. I'm guessing it got towed."
"Then we'll call all the tow lots and see if it's there. But first we need to get you back to my place so you can rest and I can clean up that knee. You okay to walk?"
"Yeah, but give me a minute."
"Why?"
She doesn't answer. Instead she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and exhales while whispering 'happy little trees', then opens her eyes.
A smile spreads across my face. If I didn't love her before I do now. Well, not love in a romantic sense but love as in love her as a person. She's so different than what I'm used to. Maybe that's why I like spending time with her. I never know what she's going to do next. She intrigues me and makes me smile, and I'm not one who smiles a lot. I'm usually much more serious.
"Better now?" I ask.
"Better enough to keep myself from having a complete meltdown."
"I have to say, you're taking this really well."
"Only because you're here helping me. If I was trying to figure this out on my own, I'd be sitting outside my apartment crying right now. Maybe not crying. I'm not much of a crier, but I'd definitely be a mess right now."
"We're going to figure this out, Star. I'll help you get back on your feet. I promise."
We return to my SUV and I turn on the heated leather seats after noticing Star shivering. It's spring and the days alternate between warm and chilly. Today it's chilly.
On the way to my apartment I glance over at Star. She's staring straight ahead like she's deep in thought.
"What are you thinking over there?" I ask.
"I'm not really thinking anything." She lowers the visor to shield her eyes from the sun.
"Liar," I say, putting my signal on to turn.
The car gets quiet, the only sound being the ticking of the blinker. I never liked that sound. It reminds me of being a kid in the car with my dad. He wouldn't let us listen to the radio so we had to sit there and listen to the sounds the car made, like the annoying tick of the blinker.
Glancing at Star again I see her chewing her lip. She's worried. She has no job, no apartment, no car, and she's injured. And it's all caused by me. I need to help her. I need to make her feel better.
"You need the dark in order to show the light."
My words wake her from her thoughts and she looks at me. "What?"
"It's another Bob Ross quote. You need the dark in order to show the light. He was talking about painting but it applies to life too."
She pauses a moment. "You really think that's true?"
"Definitely. If everything was great all the time you'd never know it was great. Great would become the norm. Or if you were never sad, would you really know what it felt like to be happy?"
"I guess not."
"So in a way, you're in a good spot right now."
"Meaning what?"
"You're in the dark, which means there's light ahead."
"Or more darkness," she mutters.
"Maybe, but realistically, what else could happen? You got hit by a car, lost your job, lost your apartment, your car, all your possessions. There's not much more that could happen."
"You'd think that, but the way things are going I wouldn't be too sure."
"Trust me. Things will get better. They already are. You met me, right?"
"Only because you hit me with your car."
"True," I say with a sigh. "Bad example."
"I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. I just meant that if it weren't for the accident, we never would've met. But I'm glad we met."
"You are?" I ask, glancing at her.
"I wish we'd met under different circumstances but it is what it is. And if anyone was going to hit me with a car I'm glad it was you."
I chuckle. "I'm not sure that's a compliment but I'll take it."
"I'm serious. Other people would've just had their insurance deal with me. They wouldn't have even checked if I was okay. But you stayed by my side the whole time. And you're still here, helping me when you really don't have to."
"I'm not going to just leave you with no place to live. I caused all this and now I need to fix it."
I stop at the light and notice Star looking around.
"You live in Cambridge?" she asks.
"Yeah. A few blocks from here."
"In an apartment?"
"I guess you'd call it that. My grandfather owns the building. I live in the top floor and he rents out the rest. There's a coffee shop on the street level."
"Does he make you pay rent?"
"No. He doesn't need the money. He made a fortune investing in real estate. Made way more than he ever made being a surgeon."<
br />
"Does he live here?"
"He has a home here but spends most of his time traveling with my grandmother. They're currently in Dubai."
"How long have you lived there?"
"In the building?"
"Yeah."
"Since college. Well, med school."
"Let me guess." She smiles. "Harvard?"
I nod. "My father went there too. And my grandfather."
"What about undergrad?"
"Columbia."
"So you're really smart."
"In some things, yes. In other things, not so much."
"Like what?"
"You're really going to make me admit my weaknesses?" I shoot her a smile as we wait for the light to turn green.
"Just one or two. I'd like to know what doctors aren't good at."
"Okay, well, for one, painting."
"Like Bob Ross painting?"
"Any kind of painting. I tried painting my bedroom and had to get it fixed by a professional. The guy said it was the worst paint job he'd ever seen."
"That wasn't very nice."
"He wasn't trying to mean. He was just being honest. I did a horrible job. And don't even get me started on my attempt at painting landscapes. No amount of Bob Ross instruction could make my trees look happy. They turned out looking like sad sticks that'd been burned in a forest fire."
She laughs. "So you'll never be a painter. At least you have the doctor thing to fall back on. What else aren't you good at?"
"I don't like this game. Can we quit now?"
"C'mon. Just one more thing."
I take a moment to think. "Pasta."
"Pasta?"
"I either overcook it or undercook it. I set a timer and it still doesn't come out right."
"I can help you with that. Pasta's cheap so I eat it all the time. I've become an expert at making it."
We approach the gate of my parking garage and I swipe my key card to open it. The building I live in is old but kept up. It has great architecture and beautiful stonework, which is what drew my grandfather to buy it. That and the fact he knew it'd increase in value given the location.
"Maybe we'll make some tonight," I say as I park in my reserved spot.
"Make what?"
"Pasta."
I give her a smile, trying to put her at ease. She's still stressed from everything that happened today. But we'll figure it out. She can stay with me tonight, or all week if it takes that long for her to find a new place.
Lucky Star Page 7