Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  “You’re the one,” he tells her.

  Robbie’s hand tightens gently as I lean my head on his inviting shoulder. The screen fades to black and dim theatre lighting illuminates our row. We stay seated, relishing the romantic moment.

  “Amelia Cole,” he says.

  I turn to look at him, our faces just inches apart.

  “Robbie Wells,” I say playfully.

  His dark outline reminds me that my eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the light.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  I turn back toward the wall, lost for words in every respect. A million things run through my head.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I feel his expectant eyes burning into the side of my skull. I know I owe him some sort of response. But I can’t say it back . . . I just can’t. So I lean over the metal armrest between us and kiss his full lips.

  The memory ended as I came back to the present. I turned my head slightly and looked into Robbie’s familiar eyes. Lucid and blue, they gazed back in a way that made me feel special. Maybe this was the right choice all along. We were easy and far less complicated than Scarlett and I would ever be.

  But then he tried to kiss me, and I pulled away on impulse. Guilt overwhelmed my heart as I looked into his mystified eyes. I still cared about him so much, and in that moment, I knew that I needed to be completely honest. He deserved the truth.

  So I forced myself to talk about Scarlett. I told him about falling for her and everything else. It was difficult to keep speaking as I watched his awareness register. I imagined how hard it would be to receive this news myself. He asked the occasional question, but mostly just listened intently.

  After I finally got everything out, I took a deep breath. Robbie’s eyes were inscrutable.

  “Robbie?”

  We both sat motionless in the silence.

  “I came here to—”

  “To what?” I asked.

  “Never mind.” He shook his head and stood up.

  I watched him walk out of the café, leaving me behind as my feet tapped the crumb-covered floor. I felt like a real louse in that moment.

  “Miss? We’re closing now,” the barista said.

  I gathered up our cups and quickly returned them to the counter. Robbie faced away from me as I walked outside toward him.

  “Hey,” I took a deep breath and placed my hand gently on his shoulder.

  He turned around, kinder eyes lighting up his face. Robbie stared at me for a while before cracking a slight smile.

  “I can’t say that I’m not disappointed,” he said. “I guess I was . . . just off the boat.”

  “Robbie—”

  “I’m proud of you, Lia. I just want you to be happy.”

  I felt a tug on my heart when he said that. Robbie’s reaction gave me hope. Hope that other people might not judge us as harshly as Scarlett feared.

  “What about your parents?”

  “Haven’t told them.” I sighed. “They won’t understand.”

  “You don’t know that. It probably won’t be duck soup, but they do love you.”

  “I’ll tell them eventually,” I said, not knowing if I ever would.

  “And what about you and Scarlett? What are your plans?”

  “I—I don’t know. I can’t imagine life without her. But I’m supposed to go back to New York after next term.”

  “But you love her,” he said gently. “You have to fight for her.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “Not yet.” He smiled. “But I will.”

  My eyes met his, and I suddenly saw him in a new light.

  “Robbie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I really hope we can stay friends.”

  He pulled me into another comforting bear hug. His crisp scent relaxed me, and I let myself collapse into his familiar embrace.

  Chapter 15

  SCARLETT

  “How was London?”

  I can’t tell if he’s genuinely interested or merely gauging my level of affection for Lia.

  “Wonderful,” I say as I pour us another cup of tea.

  Will taps his fingers on my coffee table then leans back into the couch. He starts talking about this and that, but I’m not really listening.

  I interrupt him midsentence. “I’m going to tell her.”

  He looks at me with an unreadable expression. “We’ve been over this.” He sighs and rubs his temples.

  “You’re being selfish, Will. I won’t tell her about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I know that it’s illegal for men, and I would never ruin things for him.

  “That’s not the fucking point, Scar—”

  “Well don’t cast a kitten about it.”

  “It’s not the bloody point!”

  “Oh! Really? What is then?”

  “You want to tell her about our fake relationship, and—”

  “I just want to be with her!”

  “You have no idea what could happen.”

  “Christ, I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re homosexual. This is about me and Lia!”

  “But what’s the difference? It’s not like you can tell the world that you’re in love with a woman.”

  “And why not?”

  “You’ll get hurt, Scarlett.”

  I shake my head and look away. He’s wrong.

  “Don’t you remember why we started doing this in the first place?”

  I stare out the window as rain falls against smudged glass.

  “We want to make a difference. You think people will listen to us after they find out? We’ve made so much progress with the university board!”

  “Then I’ll wait until they give us a decision.”

  “What about your career?”

  “I can still act, Will.”

  “Who’s going to hire you after this is public?”

  I open my mouth, trying to form a response.

  “And what about Lia?”

  “I love her,” I breathe.

  “What about her life? Her dreams? If you really love Lia, you’ll think about her too.”

  “I love her,” I whisper again.

  That’s all I know for sure.

  Chapter 16

  LIA

  Robbie’s unexpected visit put me in a new state of ease. I begged him to stay longer—after all, he’d spent the past several days on a ship just to see me. But he said that he wanted to spend some time in London, the place where Ben died just a few years before. I almost felt guilty for not going with him.

  After he left, I felt even more in love with Scarlett. With New Year’s right around the corner, there was a sense of possibility in the air. But sneaking around was getting old quickly, and I felt uncomfortable whenever we were around Will. I realized that we needed to talk before we fell into a permanent pattern of secret visits and forced concealment.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked softly one night, nuzzling Scarlett’s neck.

  “Mmm,” she purred. “About what?”

  “Us.”

  She was quiet for a while. “I mean, Lia . . . you know that this can’t go any further . . .”

  “What do you mean?” I pulled back from our lingering embrace.

  “You know what I mean,” she said gently. “We could never—”

  “Never what?”

  “No one can ever know about us.”

  “Is this because of Will? But he cheated on you!”

  “This has nothing to do with Will,” she hissed. “It’s the world! Don’t you understand?”

  I told her about Robbie’s understanding reaction, hoping it might put her at ease.

  “Oh, Lia. He’s just the rare exception to a universal rule,” she said bitterly.

  I inched closer as she moved back.

  “I want to be with you,” I said unapologetically. “I’m in love with you.”

  “And I’m in love with you,” she cried.

  “T
hen what’s stopping you?”

  “I—I can’t,” she finally whispered.

  I felt unexpected tears welling in my eyes as her words sank in.

  “Scarlett,” I said, my voice strained. “Please.”

  For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of something pass through her eyes. But they quickly returned to their indecipherable state.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she responded sadly. “We simply can’t be.”

  I thought about our recent night in London. She was turning back into that scared, cynical person who didn’t want to risk telling the truth. I needed to change her mind.

  “I’m trying to fight for you, Scarlett. Don’t you see that I’ve transformed since being here? Since meeting you?”

  “I do.” She smiled through her tears. “You’ve really come into your own.”

  She was right. I was miles from the flimsy girl I had arrived as. I had chopped off my hair into a flapper bob, gained a sense of style, and learned how to apply makeup properly. But more importantly, I was stronger, bolder, and more confident. I’d found purpose as an activist, fighting for women’s rights and equality. All while falling in love with the woman sitting next to me. The total realization conjured up more tears.

  “Please, Scarlett,” I begged. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

  “You will always be the most important thing that ever happened to me,” she said.

  “If our love is so important to you then why aren’t you fighting for it?” Salty tears flooded my eyes as she averted her gaze. “And everything we’ve worked for! Was it all for nothing?”

  “You know it’s important to me. You’ve become my life, Amelia.”

  “Then neither of us can be happy unless we’re together,” I choked out.

  “That kind of thinking will only make you miserable,” she said quietly.

  She took me into her arms. “The world just isn’t ready for us, my love.”

  “But what about the stars, Scarlett?”

  Her only response was a slow, heartrending kiss. She didn’t need to explain; I knew exactly what she meant. The heaviness of it—the fact that it was bigger than both of us—somehow calmed me. We lay there in silence for a while, filled with a tacit understanding that we would have to endure, together or separately.

  Still, I tried to figure out how things could work, how we could work. The moment was pure and bittersweet: holding the girl I loved and trying to reassure her that everything would be all right, but crying with her because we both realized that it wouldn’t.

  Chapter 17

  SCARLETT

  It’s December 31, and the only thing keeping me sane is this party. Music blares as intoxicated college students laugh and dance between sips of cheap liquor and coffin varnish. It’s too loud to hear my own thoughts, but I prefer it that way.

  “Ten, nine, eight!”

  They’re shouting for the countdown.

  “Seven, six, five!”

  I set my cocktail down on a wooden side table and glance around.

  “Four, three, two . . .”

  My head turns dizzy as the countdown continues.

  “One!”

  And then it’s the New Year. Will grabs my shoulders and kisses me swiftly. We look like any other couple in love, though my lips are lifeless to his touch. After Will’s mandatory show of affection, he moves on.

  That’s when I see her across the room, holding two flutes of pink champagne and staring at me sadly. I walk toward her, struggling to swim though a drunken sea of warm bodies. Everything is blurred, a combination of cigarette smoke and my own wine-induced haze. When I finally reach the end of the room, it’s too late. She’s gone.

  Chapter 18

  LIA

  My decision to leave Oxford early was not an easy one. In fact, it was the hardest choice I’d ever made. At the time though, it wasn’t really a decision at all. I couldn’t even fathom the idea of being in the same place as Scarlett for another day, much less another term.

  As I stepped onto the slippery train platform, part of my heart begged me to turn around. The part that belonged, and would always belong, to Scarlett Daniels. But the piece that I kept for myself remained determined to leave. Our last encounter had irreversibly shattered my spirit, but I’d managed to salvage a tiny sliver from the wreckage. The rest was damaged, misplaced, and irrevocably in love.

  Chapter 19

  Wonderland, January 1920

  SCARLETT

  It’s a dark, starless night in the woods, and part of me wants to turn around. There’s so much energy inside my head— transitory thoughts and heavy regrets. The ache worsens as I make my way through the towering redwoods. I want to take it all back, the words and their cruel repercussions. But I can’t . . . and I can’t turn back now.

  I strike the match before tossing it far in front of me, a split second of doubt and nothing more. With the simple flick of my wrist, one tiny golden spark transforms before my eyes. Beautifully ominous flames abound in seconds. Even if I did want to take this back, it would be far too late. The grounds are already brilliantly ablaze with inferno and chaos.

  I walk quickly as my paranoia proliferates into a beast of its own. I’m jogging now, treading on the shrubbery I’ve passed a thousand times or more. It’s so dark that I can’t see my own fingertips, much less what’s in front of me. But it doesn’t matter. I know every fraction of this forest—every branch of every tree.

  I’m far away from the fire now, but its blaring roar convinces me otherwise. I stop running and feel the sharp air mount in my chest, a piercing pain exacerbated by the cold. The sting makes my eyes water as I attempt to catch my breath. Moments later, I turn around to face the amber glow.

  I feel numb as I stare into the flames ahead. She’s gone. Because of me. Bittersweet memories of our time together flood my mind until the fire has wholly consumed the building. We ended because of me.

  And just like that, Wonderland is no more.

  Chapter 20

  New York, September 1922

  LIA

  It was my final year at New York University. I never expected to finish college, much less in a city so close to home. But I was proud of myself for going back to school despite my mother’s concerns. Mom was worried that I’d be wasting money and “getting into trouble” in New York. It’s strange and a bit funny to think about what actually happened . . .

  After leaving Oxford, I worked in my parents’ restaurant for a few months. The benefits were twofold: I made some extra cash while being distracted from Scarlett and my Oxford heartbreak. My mother encouraged me to stay in Brooklyn indefinitely and find a nice man to marry. She didn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to settle down and have children; didn’t I want someone to take care of me for the rest of my life?

  My dear mother’s plan was flawed for a couple of reasons. First, I’d actually have to find someone looking for that kind of commitment. Second, and more important, I had no intention of ever settling down. That didn’t sit well with her, of course, and became the inevitable base of our never-ending argument.

  In the middle of a particularly slow closing shift at Selena’s, I overheard two students chatting about class. I couldn’t help but listen to their conversation, and it reminded me what I was missing out on. That was the night I decided to go back to college.

  SO there I was, a university student earning good marks in almost every class. I was staying in a spare room in Robbie’s city apartment, located in the heart of artsy Greenwich Village. Despite his generous original offer—a free stay, no strings attached—I paid Robbie regular rent with the money I’d saved from working at my parents’ restaurant.

  Our neighborhood was eclectic and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Dynamic poets performed on street corners and local painters created vibrant street murals. I loved walking through the village and watching different artists work. I had always been more analytical than artistic, and it was freeing to see tha
t there was another way to be.

  Once the fall term began, I started hanging around at a local coffee shop called Sally’s. It was quiet and homey, a good place to read and study. I’d lay my books out across the table and scribble notes on scraps of paper. It was usually empty, and nobody seemed to mind.

  There were a few regular customers that started to recognize me, though. An older man sat in the back booth and chuckled every time I walked in with my crowded book bag, shaking his head as I sat down. It didn’t bother me because I assumed he was as lonely as I was. I’d smile at him and give a little wave. The difference between us was that I had books to keep me company.

  Usually I’d just order coffee so they wouldn’t kick me out. Money was scarce, but the hot liquid and free refills warmed me up. I didn’t dare ask my parents for help; I knew their finances were just as strained as mine.

  I had the same waitress almost every time I was there, a young woman named Rebecca. She wore a blue collared dress with a frilly white apron and black Mary Janes, and had a nice smile and dark eyes.

  “Coffee with cream?” she asked me one day with a wink.

  I looked up from my notes and smiled. “Yes, please.”

  She came back moments later and set a porcelain mug in front of me. “What are you working on?”

  I was surprised. Rebecca hadn’t said more than a few words to me over the past month.

  “It’s a project for my political studies class. I go to college at NYU.”

  “That’s neat,” she mused. “A university girl.”

  “Something like that.” I smiled.

  Half an hour later, Rebecca came back with a fresh pot and asked, “What do you do for fun then?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I mean, how do you clear your head after all that studying?”

  “Um.” I laughed. “I guess I just go back to my apartment and sleep.”

  “That sounds . . .”

  “Boring?” I finished her sentence.

  She nodded and we stared at each other for a moment. Rebecca tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. Her wavy red mane was pulled back into a messy braid that reminded me of my own. I grew out my chic London bob right after leaving Scarlett—the hairstyle reminded me of her and our time together.