Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  “Oh?”

  “I used to take roles for their depth and grit. And now I just take parts for parts. The industry isn’t exactly kind to its aging actresses. . .”

  I glanced at her, wondering if she was exaggerating. “I remember being at Oxford in that first play . . . the exhilaration that came with being onstage.”

  “I remember watching you act for the first time.” I smiled.

  “I remember you being there.” Her eyes lit up. “I was so proud.”

  “You’re a movie star, Scarlett,” I said matter-of-factly. “You made it.”

  “Then why am I so unhappy, Lia?”

  I felt my heart sink a little.

  “Why am I so unfulfilled with this career? This life?”

  She looked at me with inquisitive eyes. I wanted to state the obvious, but I didn’t know how. I wanted to propose that love was actually the answer to her unanswerable question. But instead, I stayed silent. Still, as the hushed air enveloped us, I got the feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  Chapter 39

  As December unfolded, I couldn’t help but think about home. The holidays, with the striking seasonal weather and festive winter decorations, were my favorite time of year. I loved spending time at my parents’ house during this time of year, stringing bright lights around places they could no longer reach, sitting by the crackling fire, and sipping hot chocolate, just like we did when I was a little girl. Being with my parents brought a certain comfort that only family could. And I missed them dearly. My dad and I had parted on good terms, but I hadn’t seen my mother since the restaurant incident. I wondered if she hated me. Regardless of what happened, I could never hate her.

  I closed my eyes and thought about being back in New York. Dad trimming the tree, Mom and I baking gooey cinnamon rolls in the kitchen as winter spices drift through the air . . .

  That was it, wasn’t it? Comfort. The one thing Scarlet had never given me. She loved me, yes. My time with her was always spontaneous and electrifying. But she never reassured me. Maybe the chase was what had kept me going all these years. I still loved her like I loved her then. But what if love wasn’t enough?

  I shook my head and opened my eyes. Warm rain fell softly against the dirty windowpane. Maybe I was just too alone with my thoughts. I considered going downstairs, but Mac was out fishing and the restaurant was closed for the day. Scarlett had told me she would be filming until sundown.

  I had actually been looking forward to some time alone, but now all I could think about was my failed plan. I had been there more than a month. Has anything even changed? I wanted to believe that things were different, I really did. But I couldn’t seem to convince myself of it.

  I wished so badly that I could go into town and talk to her, but of course I couldn’t go anywhere near the movie set—she’d made that crystal clear. I’d accepted it at the time, but now the thought was frustrating me beyond belief. She wants me cooped up here. It was Scarlett’s ideal setup: she got to prance around with her fellow movie stars all day long, and then come home to me. I was sure it was all very wonderful for her. But on my end, it was hell.

  Then I realized exactly where I was. I was in Wonderland. A secret little world where we could be ourselves, but only until the sun came up, and then we had to go back to pretending. She had even mentioned it when we were talking. Maybe this can be our Wonderland. Why had I brushed it off like an afterthought? Fear pulsed through me as I sat on my depressing twin bed. Why is this happening again? In the end, Wonderland burned down anyway.

  I looked out the tiny bedroom window and peered up into Hong Kong’s cloudy sky. It was nearly dark now, and a gray murkiness was moving slowly through the air. I sighed and pulled down the shade before drifting into a soundless slumber. I knew that no matter how long I waited, I wouldn’t find the stars that night.

  A thunderstorm woke me up the next day. I rolled over and pulled up the window shade, revealing a mass of intimidating dark clouds. It was probably after noon, but the obscure sky made it impossible to tell. Scarlett was already gone; a pile of couture clothes on her unmade bed clued me into a frantic morning. I smiled as I thought of her holding each piece up to her body, then frowning and tossing it aside, trying to find something that would make her look more stunning. She never realized that it was an unattainable feat. It was she who made the clothes look beautiful, not the other way around.

  I finger-combed my hair and pulled it into a messy pony-tail. Mac wouldn’t care how I looked, and I was too tired to fully get ready. I threw on a robe before tiptoeing downstairs.

  I entered the room cautiously, but my shoulders relaxed when I realized that no one was dining. The storm had probably deterred anyone from venturing out so far.

  “There she is,” Mac said before gulping down the rest of his black coffee. He was sitting in his favorite corner table near the kitchen, reading a tattered book.

  I smiled. “Hi.”

  “Haven’t seen you in years,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes and walked over to him.

  “You shoulda come fishin’ with me yesterday,” he said as I sat down. “Great catches out there.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I was tired.”

  He looked at me and tilted his head, ocean eyes duller than usual. “What’s goin’ on?”

  I broke eye contact and looked into the storm. “Just . . . tired. Maybe it’s the time change,” I muttered.

  “Nah, that’s not it.” He shook his head.

  I shrugged and tried to change the subject. “So you had a good catch yesterday?”

  He just stared at me. Mac rarely pried, but I could tell he wasn’t going to let this go.

  “I’m just . . . sad. I miss home, and—”

  “Is it Scarlett?”

  “No,” I lied.

  He remained painfully silent.

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  Mac nodded as if he’d known all along, but said, “I thought you two were getting along great.”

  “We are. It’s not that. It’s—”

  A boom of thunder startled us both.

  “It’s . . .”

  “You want more.”

  I felt like Mac was reading my mind. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me. He reminded me of my own father, and there was something endearing about him. I felt like I could trust him.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Mac nodded again. “I understand. Scarlett isn’t exactly forthcoming with her emotions. Never has been.”

  I looked down as the rain grew louder.

  “She does have a big heart though, Lia.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” he said. “But you have to tell her how you’re feeling. She might not even realize how upset you are.”

  I looked at him and wondered if I should talk about what happened before she sent that letter. I wanted to tell him about our final conversation, about how Scarlett had so suddenly changed her mind. But I didn’t want to slight his little girl’s big heart. So I nodded instead.

  The afternoon dragged on slowly as sheets of rain plastered Mac’s restaurant. Continuous thunder ruined my plan of sleeping through the rest of the day. I kept thinking about Oxford and our relationship. Is it possible that I still think we’re something we can never be?

  I had no choice but to confront Scarlett when she came home the next evening. The sound of her footsteps startled me awake from my disorienting nap. I hadn’t left the room all day. The door swung open and there she was, dripping wet in a pair of shiny navy oxfords.

  “Hey!” she said cheerfully and set her wet umbrella on the squeaky floor. Her blond locks were matted with wind and rainwater.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  She walked over to me and kissed the top of my head. I wondered how her mere presence could wash away the doubts that had been festering in my mind all day.

  “How was everything?” she asked as she hung her olive coat up to
dry.

  “It was . . . fine.” I sighed. “How was filming?”

  She proceeded to tell me all about it. But for the first time, I didn’t hear a word she said. I sat there as Scarlett talked, observing her understated movements and smiling as she threw her head back and laughed. I watched the flicker in her eyes and the curve of her pink smile, the way she used her hands to emphasize a point. Why have I never noticed that before?

  “I’m going to shower off,” she called as she left the room.

  I nodded, still lost in Scarlett’s subtleties. The rain came back into earshot as I heard the familiar sound of thunder above us. Despite the doubtful cloud looming over my head, I was undeniably falling back into blinding love.

  Chapter 40

  Christmas arrived, and with it a break from Scarlett’s hectic film schedule.

  “We finish shooting next month,” she said contentedly as we assembled our makeshift holiday meal.

  Mac seasoned fish in garlic and basil while Scarlett and I roasted vegetables and rolled sticky dinner buns. We even baked a plum cake for dessert. It was the greatest thing I could have hoped for. In less than two months, they had become my second family.

  “That’s wonderful.” Mac beamed. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

  Scarlet leaned over and kissed his cheek before winking at me. “That means I’ll have much more free time, Lia.”

  My mind cycled through a thousand scenarios during dinner, each involving Scarlett. We might stay a while longer in Hong Kong before returning home. Or we could trek through Southeast Asia together before exploring another part of the globe. Maybe we’ll fly straight back to the States and divide our time between New York and London. The possibilities made my heart flutter.

  Scarlett and I offered to clean so Mac could go to sleep early. I hugged him good night before he grabbed his coat and went next door. Chilled wind rushed in behind him before we locked up.

  I lathered dish soap in my hands as I scrubbed each pot and pan. Scarlett dried them before putting every dish into its place. Our fingers brushed together as I handed her a pair of wineglasses, sending ripples up my forearm.

  After the place was spotless, we walked leisurely upstairs. I showered and changed into a satin nightshirt before returning to our shared room. Scarlett sat perched atop her wooden twin bed silhouetted against the window. I hung my damp terry-cloth towel over the door and looked at her.

  The scene was like a painting, low light with an actress sitting in front of the stars. Yes, stars. I’d only just noticed them. I stared through the window at their perfection. The callous storm had finally given way to a brilliant night sky, clearer than crystal. I wanted to paint everything and copy that perfect scene onto paper—preserve it forever. Scarlett and the stars.

  I thought back to our conversation almost twenty years before. You and I both realized that the world wouldn’t accept what we wanted, so we swore off stars. Believing in stars was like believing in the possibility of us. I’d never stopped believing, had I? Maybe she had sworn us off, but I never had.

  Scarlett came back into focus as my imaginary painting faded. I realized that although time could be cruel, it had been kind to our bodies. I was more toned than my younger self, while Scarlett’s perfect figure had only become more defined with age. I could barely resist her as I stared from across the room. She was reading her script with an unwavering focus that made me want to take it right out of her hands. I wanted her to look at me as she used to, with those seductive eyes and demure smile.

  She looked up from her lines and met my gaze. Startled, I looked away and tried desperately to find a worthy distraction. But it was too late. She set the script down and stood up, giving me the opportunity to admire every inch of her. My eyes traced each delicious curve, and I instantly wished that she would take off her sheer white robe and nightgown. Scarlett tilted her head with an unreadable expression, running her silky hands along her décolletage. She stood in place for what felt like eternity. Then, before I could say anything, she walked right over to my side of the room and stood above me.

  I looked up at her familiar face—a face that I had once memorized, caressed, and kissed with abandon—and stood up slowly, relishing our physical closeness. I could hear every breath Scarlett took and smell her enchanting body. That sweet scent I used to love ignited something deep within my being. I reached out for her and she came closer. To my delight, she moved the same way she had when we were younger. Her graceful limbs entangled with mine as we began to make love.

  I was more confident than I had been the last time. Instead of second-guessing everything, I touched Scarlett exactly the way I wanted to. She swayed beneath me as I kissed every part of her, head to toes and back again. It felt like we were making up for lost time. I was entirely consumed in that overwhelming moment, solely aware of the woman I loved.

  Chapter 41

  SCARLETT

  It’s Christmas night, and from the beginning of the evening I’m immediately thrown back into love and lust with Lia. It’s everything, from the way she speaks sweetly with my father to the way she kisses me good night. I even catch myself smiling at the way she sips tea after breakfast. Of course I never stopped loving Lia, but this is entirely fresh.

  Hong Kong really is the perfect place. I never would have chosen it from a world map, but this city’s become my favorite. I don’t dread things here like I do at home. Lia and I can actually go places together without paid photographers documenting our every move. I was paranoid that day on the set, and she’s proven me wrong since then.

  We can actually be together here, unrestricted dates and all. The lack of secrecy between us is thrilling. She still has the same free spirit, but she’s also an absolutely different person. The way I love her now is nothing like the way I loved her then. I know what I want. I want us to stay here forever.

  Still, I can’t stop thinking about Will. The way his parents found out . . . how they tried to “fix” him . . . how the doctors sucked the life right out of him. He’s alive, but he’s not really there.

  I shake my head and try to stay here, in the present moment. Those threatening thoughts are the worst at nighttime, anyway. I look at Lia, laughing uncontrollably at something funny my father has just said. Her infectious smile begins to dissolve my fear, destroying it slowly, taking it apart at the seams.

  I hope I didn’t scare her when I told her about Will. She was surprised, yes. But hearing about something is nothing compared to seeing it. I have no doubt that the image of Will— lobotomized Will—is permanently etched in the darkest corners of my mind. It reminds me of what can happen to people like us. People like Lia. Like me.

  Chapter 42

  LIA

  The next morning was languid and pleasant. I woke up gradually as the sun kissed my face and Scarlett’s hair tickled my neck. Her warm body pressed up against mine in our newly shared twin bed. I watched her chest rise and fall as she slept.

  I was tired enough to fall back to sleep, but I kept myself awake. I wanted, needed to enjoy every precious moment of this time with Scarlett. Her guard was down for the first time in ages. I would soak up every second of this bliss until she woke up.

  Eventually, she did. By then the daylight had fully flooded our room with orangey hues. Although we couldn’t exactly hear the kitchen, smells of Mac’s morning baking wafted in through the pipes. I felt my stomach grumble as the sugary scent of custard tarts overtook our surroundings.

  “Hungry?” Scarlett looked at me with wide eyes and a sweet smile.

  “A little,” I said, grinning.

  She adjusted her nightgown and cuddled up closer to me. “Happy Christmas.”

  I looked down at her and shook my head playfully.

  “I meant Happy Belated Christmas,” she joked.

  “You’re cute,” I said candidly.

  “I still have red wine in my system from last night,” she said with a wink.

  We laughed, and I stroked her golden hair.
>
  “I can’t wait to be finished,” she confessed.

  “With the movie?”

  She nodded and sat up slowly.

  “What will we do then?” I rolled onto my side.

  Her emerald eyes lit up. “Let’s stay here forever,” she purred.

  “I wish.” I laughed.

  “I’m serious, Lia.”

  I sat up so that we were face-to-face. “Scarlett . . .”

  “What?” Her expression was completely sober.

  “You know we can’t. We have to go back and face the real world.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It will be tough at first, but we’ll get through it together,” I assured her as I reached out to caress her face.

  “Christ, Lia. We can’t go back there and be together . . .”

  She pulled away, and I felt our previous night’s affection quickly evaporate. I looked at her for a lingering moment, hoping desperately that she would say something else.

  “But I thought—”

  “What?” she scoffed. “That we could live happily ever after in New York or London?”

  “Well, not exactly like a fairy tale, but—”

  “You just don’t get it!”

  Her words detonated my composure. This scene was all too familiar.

  “My God, Scarlett. It’s like nothing has changed!”

  “I don’t understand why you think that people will suddenly change their minds and accept . . . this.”

  “This is you and me. We’re in love,” I whispered.

  “That doesn’t mean that we can show and tell everyone,” she said bitterly.

  “You don’t even want to try!”

  “I have other things to think about—”

  “Right. Like your fucking career. I guess love takes a back-seat to fame.”

  Her face fell. “You know that’s not true, Lia.” She turned around, and wild blond waves tumbled over her shoulders.

  “God, I’m so stupid,” I cried. “It’s like we’re back at Oxford and I’m still that naïve girl whose heart gets broken again and again.”