Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  I’ll stay with my father. It makes the most sense. I’m walking straight to his restaurant, a perfectly isolated place to sleep. I didn’t even bother to pack up my things—Joe will probably send a poor assistant to collect them. Usually I would take a taxi, but I like walking around here. The hot air distracts me from everything going on inside my head.

  I saw my dad just last week for dinner. James doesn’t know about him, of course. No one really does. He’s a treasure of a man, my father. I don’t want to subject him to the confusing secrets of my overcomplicated life. He missed so much of my childhood, and part of me still wants to be his little girl.

  He does know that I’m gay, though. It’s the one thing that’s really strengthened our relationship, his unconditional acceptance of me. I even told him about Lia. God, that was a tough conversation.

  I finally make it to the restaurant, drained and sweaty from the heat. The door feels heavier than usual when my tired hand pulls it open. I squint as my eyes adjust to the dim indoor light. There’s a woman talking to my dad. I walk toward them and don’t believe it. It’s Lia. My Lia.

  Chapter 35

  LIA

  We made plans to meet at Mac’s restaurant the following week. In the meantime, I kept exploring a new area each day. I was really starting to like Hong Kong. In a strange way, it reminded me of Scarlett: it was mysterious, charming, and unpredictable.

  No sooner had I walked into Mac’s than the owner himself greeted me.

  “Hey there, Michelle.”

  I looked at him sideways and opened my mouth.

  “Only kidding!” he said with a grin.

  “Oh.” I relaxed. “You got me!”

  We both laughed before sitting down at a two-seater.

  “Meeting Scarlett here, are ya?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “At four o’clock.”

  “She’ll likely be running late.” He shook his head. “They work my girl too damn hard. Always another scene to film.”

  I looked down at my watch and hoped that he was wrong. My last meeting with Mac had been awkward, to say the least, and I had no idea how much Scarlett had revealed to him about our past.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded. I must have looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

  “So, Lia.” He held my gaze. “I don’t want to pry. But I love my daughter very much. She told me about what happened all those years ago, and—”

  A clattering in the kitchen startled us both.

  “One of the clumsy busboys,” he said casually. “Anyway. I don’t understand how—”

  “The letter?” I chimed in.

  He nodded.

  “I guess Scarlett didn’t tell you that she and I met up in London. But that was almost twenty years ago . . .”

  Mac shook his head, looking entirely befuddled.

  “I never received her letter.”

  He looked even more confused now, furrowed brow and all. I wondered why Scarlett didn’t tell him the whole story.

  “My parents . . .” I sighed, surprised at how hard it still was to talk about. “They intercepted it because—”

  The confusion vanished, and Mac nodded with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, placing his wrinkled hand over mine.

  “I loved your daughter very much. I still do.”

  He squeezed my hand twice before releasing it to rub his scruffy face.

  I wasn’t sure what had changed, but my nervousness was gone. Maybe it was Mac’s kind smile, but all I could do was tell him the truth.

  Scarlett arrived hours late that evening, just as her father had predicted. “Sorry,” she called as she rushed in.

  I turned to take in the sight of her. Faded makeup with blond waves dancing over a pair of tanned shoulders. A cherry sundress highlighted her tiny waist before falling delicately around her hips. Behind her, the bright sun was setting, revealing a radiant night sky. It was the first time I’d really noticed the stars since arriving in Hong Kong. They were even brighter than London’s—light, luminous, and gleaming.

  I felt the familiar sensation of my heart beating too quickly.

  “You’re still here,” she said, beaming. “I thought for sure you would have left by now!”

  “We had a date,” I said, smiling.

  “We did,” she agreed. She set her wicker bag on an empty chair and pulled off a pair of gold clip-on earrings. “Hope you weren’t bored out of your mind waiting,” she said as she dropped the jewelry into her purse.

  “Actually, I had a nice conversation with your father.”

  A blend of surprise and disbelief marred her serene expression.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “He told me all of your embarrassing childhood secrets.”

  She laughed hesitantly. “So what did you two talk about?”

  “Us,” I said honestly.

  She nodded and sat down across from me. “My father is oddly accepting.”

  “I like him.”

  Scarlett tapped her red nails on the white linen tablecloth. I couldn’t help but notice that her wedding ring was missing. She was wearing it the week before, when we first met at Mac’s.

  As if sensing my revelation, she shrugged. “We ended it.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Divorce was a big deal.

  “Are you?” she challenged.

  I stared at her left hand and shook my head.

  We sat in silence until a group of British soldiers stumbled by, drunk and singing war songs. They peered into the restaurant as they passed, and I stiffened in my seat. I didn’t relax until the sound of their voices faded from hearing.

  “So,” I said. “What happened with you and James?”

  “Oh, the usual.”

  I didn’t know what she meant.

  “It got too hard to pretend,” she said flatly.

  “Do you two have any children?”

  “God no!” She let out a strident laugh.

  I felt relief rush through my core.

  “But you were married?”

  Scarlett stared off into space. Minutes passed before she spoke again.

  “It wasn’t real,” she whispered. “None of it.”

  I didn’t understand. “Scarlett—”

  “Oh, Lia. I can’t act like I don’t still have feelings for you . . .”

  Those words exhilarated me. I looked up and met her emerald eyes. “Then don’t.”

  WE fell into a comfortable routine after that. I stayed with Scarlett in the spare room upstairs and Mac slept in his apartment next door. In the mornings, we would sip jasmine tea and talk about our years apart. There was so much we didn’t know about each other.

  Then Scarlett would leave for filming and I would help Mac in the restaurant. I was wrong about business being slow. On the contrary, the place was pretty crowded from morning until early evening. People came in every day, each one ordering dozens of egg tarts and shrimp dumplings. I got to know a few of the regulars and really started to feel at home, as strange as that sounds.

  We all ate together when Scarlett returned home, usually around sundown. Mac tried to stay out of the way as much as possible, bless his heart. He probably thought that she and I were picking up where we left off. But the truth was, our shared room had an invisible line drawn down the middle. Scarlett liked her space, and I didn’t want to overstep.

  It was nice to have her back as a friend—though after a few weeks, I started to wonder if we were just that: friends. Aside from our conversation weeks earlier, she’d never said anything about her feelings for me. I was growing impatient, despite my best attempts to give her enough time. What are we doing? Where are we headed?

  I often found myself awake at night, afflicted with doubts. I’d look over and see Scarlett sleeping soundly across the room. All I wanted to do was crawl into her bed and lie next to her like I used to. Maybe then I would sleep peacefully. Instead, I turned over and wondered what dreams were dancing through Scarlett Daniels’s head.

  Chapt
er 36

  It was a particularly hazy December morning. Heavy fog swaddled the restaurant as regular customers slipped in and out. After peeling onions until my own hands started to peel, I went upstairs and showered, then slipped into a maroon swing dress and black Mary Janes. I even applied an expensive lip-stick my mom had gifted me the previous Christmas. As I glanced in the floor-length mirror on Scarlett’s side of the room, I smiled. My style was a far cry from thirty years ago. I ran my fingers over my loose pin curls and strutted back downstairs.

  Mac whistled as I passed the kitchen, sending me into a laughing fit. I told him that I was going to explore for the rest of the day. “Be careful,” he said in a serious tone that caught my attention. I got the sense that he knew what I was really up to.

  After my feet got tired, I hired a rickshaw to take me the rest of the way. Xiu was a slim man, but extremely strong and fast. It was an incredible way to see more of the area. I looked up instead of straight ahead as we raced through a cobblestone square. Afternoon light spilled over the tops of the hotels and apartments towering over us. The rush of thick air tickled my nose, and my eyes began to water.

  Xiu quickly turned the corner and a multihued market came into view. Bright pink flags fluttered between aqua tents as clumps of people pushed their way through craft stalls and food carts. He called back and told me it was a holiday festival. I made a mental note to go back another day. Before I could ask him more about it, we arrived at my destination: Scarlett’s film set.

  I watched in wonder as Scarlett became her character. The last time I’d seen her act was 1919. I’d never quite been able to bring myself to go to the theatre to see her movies after we parted. Seeing her on that set in Hong Kong was like reading my favorite book. Her ivory dress billowed in the wind as she strolled down the busy cobblestone street. She stared off into the distance, humming softly, until someone yelled, “Cut!”

  At that Scarlett visibly relaxed and turned back to her co-star. He said something inaudible, and she tossed her head back in laughter. Then she reached down to adjust her silver bracelet. I recognized it and immediately thought back to her story about Lucy. I stared at her fingers, watching them trace the scripted L, as a woman wielding fluffy powder brushes applied extra makeup to Scarlett’s already flawless face.

  Then I looked up from her hands and our eyes locked. My heart skipped two beats as I searched her expression. Her eyes looked different than they used to. I remembered them being bright and sparkly when I fell in love with her. Now they were deeper, like the sea, but still as vivid green as ever.

  She didn’t return my smile, and though her face remained calm, I quickly realized that she was upset. With the slightest shake of her head, I was cast off. I stood there, lost in a mass of excited onlookers. As I turned to leave, I thought about what she’d so assuredly told me the previous month. No one knows me in Hong Kong. I had a feeling that was about to change.

  HOURS later, I was back in the restaurant at a lonely table, sitting in the same clothes I had so enthusiastically picked out earlier. The dress still looked flawless, but my wind-rustled hair, smeared makeup, and puffy eyes ruined the effect of the ensemble.

  Mac was still busy in the kitchen; groups of soldiers had been trailing in and out all day.

  “You all right, miss?” a nice-looking man asked.

  I continued to stare despondently into my teacup, examining the saturated rouge smeared along its rim.

  After another failed attempt, he sighed and moved on.

  “Good-bye, then.”

  I didn’t even notice the light outside fading to dark. All I could do was replay Scarlett’s actions in my head. Why was she angry? I stayed in that consuming zone until a familiar voice pulled me out of it.

  “There you are!”

  I looked up for the first time in hours. Scarlett had barely cleared the doorway, gray leather purse in tow. Her ivory dress fluttered as she marched towards me. “I’ve been looking everywhere. But of course you’d be here!”

  The remaining diners quickly cleared out, probably frightened by her fuming tone.

  I sat still, not saying a word.

  She dumped her purse by the stairs and marched over to me. “So. Why did you come to the set?”

  “I . . . wanted to see you.”

  Her face softened. “Lia . . .”

  “I didn’t realize that you would be so upset.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder and sat down next to me. “I went to see Will recently.”

  I looked up from my tepid tea.

  “Yes,” she said. “Will Masterson, from Oxford.” She picked up the teapot and poured herself a cup of oolong. “I went to visit him earlier this year, before I flew to Hong Kong.”

  I wasn’t sure why she was telling me this.

  “But he wasn’t there. I contacted his parents and they . . .” She set down her cup and stopped talking.

  “What happened, Scarlett?” I couldn’t fill in the pieces myself.

  “He was . . . lobotomized.” She sniffled.

  “Oh god,” I said, stunned. “Why?”

  “They told me where he was, and I went to see him. He was this bright, funny, intelligent man, Lia. And now he’s sitting in a padded room, lifeless.”

  I had so many questions. Lobotomized? I wanted to comfort her, but we had only just started talking again. I was afraid of scaring her off before she fully let me back in. I reached for her hand, expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. So we sat there in silence, holding hands, mourning Will together.

  Chapter 37

  SCARLETT

  We’re in the middle of filming, but I’d rather be anywhere else. I can’t stop thinking about her, especially now that we’re both living above my father’s restaurant. My lines are memorized to the point where I can deliver them while thinking about Lia.

  The director yells Cut! and we finally take a break. My famous costar makes a poor joke, but I force myself to laugh. After all, connections are everything in this industry. You’re only celebrated until you become irrelevant.

  I turn my head and see her standing there, fifty yards away. She’s wearing a striking maroon dress and heels. My jaw drops open as a makeup artist begins reapplying rouge and lip color. She doesn’t notice me staring until after the artist moves away.

  Our eyes lock and I subtly shake my head. She looks so hopeful standing there. But what the hell is she thinking? We can’t be seen together in public, much less on set. It’s just too risky. Poor Joe is still reeling from my breakup with James.

  Before she leaves, her eyes fixate on my silver bracelet. I’m sure she remembers the cuff I used to wear in remembrance of Lucy. But the thing is, this is a different bracelet. I had it made shortly after I left Oxford. The L stands for Lia.

  Chapter 38

  LIA

  It took another week for the film set incident to fully blow over, during which time there was more silence between us than usual. And then, one day, Scarlett finally started talking again.

  “Lia,” she whispered one morning as I woke up slowly.

  “Hmm?” I rolled over and rubbed my tired eyes.

  “I just didn’t want anyone to see us,” she said in a hushed voice.

  It seemed so out of the blue. The sky was still dark and I was half asleep.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I do,” she insisted. “It was wrong of me to ignore you.”

  “Scarlett.” I could barely see her face. But maybe that was how she wanted it.

  “Please, Lia. Let me explain.”

  I nodded and sat up.

  “I want to see you,” she continued. “I do.”

  “I know, Scarlett.”

  “But Clyde Martin is my director. He’s . . . very strict. And if anyone ever saw us—”

  “I get it,” I said firmly.

  “I don’t know if you do,” she whispered. I felt the bed shift as she sat down next to me.

  “I want to be with you.”


  Those words were espresso for my heart. I sat up straight and looked at her in the darkness.

  “I really do, Lia.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “I know that I’ve given you mixed signals.” She sighed. “But I’ve been scared about—”

  “People seeing us.”

  “Yes.” She exhaled and moved closer.

  I glanced out the tiny bedroom window next to us. The sun was starting to come up. Heavy clouds parted to expose a pale sherbet sky.

  “Maybe this can be our Wonderland,” she whispered.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. If I thought about it harder, maybe I would have understood. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to accept whatever she was proposing. I craved the connection we used to have. I wanted to take yards from the inches she had given me. So I stopped thinking, and I kissed her in the smoky sunrise.

  It was hesitant at first—respectful, even. Scarlett’s lips received mine cautiously. But then she kissed me back, and it became a kiss so bold and passionate that I wondered if maybe we really had gone back in time. We were those two girls again, our fiery hearts beating for each other in love and lust.

  The rest of the day was magic. Scarlett had time off from filming, so we took a boat ride around Middle Bay. The driver was unfazed by our giddy laughter and girlish behavior, although we probably looked quite foolish as grown women. I didn’t care, though, because I hadn’t felt so alive in years. We didn’t even hold hands, but it reminded me of what a real date with her might feel like. I wanted more.

  “So,” I asked over breakfast the next morning. “What exactly is your film about?”

  “It’s an adventure with a bit of romance,” she said dryly.

  “Sounds exciting,” I said, beaming. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  She didn’t even look up from her tea. “The thing is,” she finally said, “I’m not very impressed with the script.”