To Catch a Falling Star

by L. Duarte

  After faithfully training with Lucas every morning and eating Mel’s delicious meals, to my surprise, I’ve gained two pounds. I beamed when Mel complimented me on the way my skin has some color. I hope she didn’t notice how stupidly happy I was from her comment.

  Hiding the car issue from her family has become an ordeal and we have to wiggle—yes, lie, to avoid getting caught. Mel insists keeping it from her family. During a Sunday dinner, Ella almost spilled the beans. I diverted the conversation, saying I had been teaching her to play the guitar. Everyone accepted this as a reasonable reason for my constant presence at Mel’s house. Ella even performed the happy birthday song I taught her. I was incredibly proud of her.

  The autumn air started to get brisk and the leaves began to change. It might sound cheesy, but I feel a change inside me as well. But I’m not foolish enough to expect it to be a live-changing, aha! moment. Or one of those inner-self, soul-searching la-la things Dan always talks about.

  I tap on the kitchen door and enter before I hear an answer. Mel leaves it unlocked for me now.

  “Good morning, Mel.” I sit on the stool. A plate of food awaits me.

  “Good morning to you.” She smiles. “Let me go check on Ella, she is running late.”

  Knowing I’m also late this morning, I shovel down the food. I don’t want to miss walking Ella to the bus.

  When I take my last bite, Ella runs my way. I kneel down to hug and kiss her. “Good morning, sunshine. One of these days, I’ll just have to compose a song inspired by how bright you are,” I say and she beams. It melts something inside me.

  “Can I help you com-mi-pose? How do you say it?” she asks, donning her sweater.

  “Compose.”

  “Ella, where is the coin jar?” Mel opens and closes the cabinet’s doors.

  “It’s on the desk. I used it for my math homework the other night and forgot to put it away.”

  “Okay, honey.” Mel scrambles to put on her jacket and we walk to the bus stop. A sharp pain slithers inside me. This afternoon Mel gets her car back, so this is my last morning with them.

  I wrap my arms around Ella. “Have a good day, sunshine.”

  “Bye-bye, Uncle Tarry.”

  Ella hugs her mom, dashes into the bus, and then waves at us from the window. I feel bereft and, yes, very confused and disappointed to know I won’t have an excuse to come back tomorrow.

  We walk silently to the house. Mel strides to the locker and retrieves her gun. Yep, my dick gets painfully hard. As usual, I discreetly adjust my pants.

  “Just a minute and I’ll be ready.” She strides to the desk and fishes money from the coin jar. She counts the money and thrusts the rattling coins on her pocket. She fills her thermos with coffee, then we leave.

  Driving down Post Road Mel asks, “Can you stop at the Starbucks drive-through?” She points to the store.

  “Sure.” I glance at her thermos.

  “It’s not for me.” She shrugs, fishing her pocket for the coins.

  “Listen, I…”

  “If you say a word about paying for the coffee, I’ll get out of this car and walk the rest of the way.” She snaps, irritated. Wow, what’s gotten into her? Like the wise man that I endeavor to be when with a snappy woman, I oblige.

  “What do you want?” I say, collecting the coins from her hand.

  “Grande Café Americano with two sugars and extra cream.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful or snappy.”

  “No prob.” I order, and we wait in an uncomfortable silence.

  I hand her the coffee, and she tells me to continue ahead on the road, leading to a beat-up neighborhood.

  “This is where I usually patrol,” she explains. “Can you stop at the next plaza?”

  “Right there.” She points to a group of men loitering in front of a building. I park the car next to the group, curious of what she is doing. She opens the window.

  “Hey, Larry,” she calls one of them. An elderly man approaches the car, and it’s obvious that he is homeless. Immediately I feel uneasy.

  “Here is the coffee I promised you. Stay warm, the temperature will drop a lot tonight.”

  A sudden lump makes it difficult to swallow. I examine the old man’s face, as he cocks his head and flashes a toothless smile at Mel.

  “Thank you, sweetie. And after seeing your smile, I’ll be warm for days to come.”

  I ponder what he has just said. Mel’s smile is brighter than a ray of sunshine. Damn, I’ve turned into a pussy, I even think like one. He nods to me and turns, going back to the group of men.

  “Thank you for stopping here. Larry hasn’t being doing well lately, his health has been deteriorating.”

  “Do you always get him coffee?” I ask.

  “Yeah, he hasn’t eaten much, but he’s always up for a good cup of coffee.” She smiles. Warmth swells in my chest. Yeah, I can relate to the comment Larry made about her smile.

  “How do you know him?” I ask.

  “From the shelter and from patrolling this area. Larry is a good man. A while back, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He’s never been married, has no children or close family. My guess is he has been waiting for death to take a claim, but it’s taking longer than he anticipated.”

  “Oh, I know the feeling.” I bite my tongue so hard it bleeds.

  “That’s why you OD’d?” She turns to stare at me.

  “Just forget it, I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t get your shrink hat on, I’m not suicidal.” I sense her tension. “Listen, my overdose was accidental. Maybe at some unconscious level I wanted it to happen. But I didn’t, nor do I, have any desire to end myself, okay,” I say softly. Though, at the time, I wouldn’t have minded if it had happened.

  “Oh, Tarry, I wish I knew the right things to tell you right now,” she sighs. “I wish I could make your pain go away.” She slouches on the seat, laces her fingers together, and stares at them. I hate my fucked up life a bit more. It becomes clear to me, how much it affects people around me.

  I pull over in front of the police station.

  “Mel, look at me.” I gently hold her chin and force her to face me.

  “Every single day you put your brave mask on and face your demands head on. You, alone, have created a happy environment for your little girl. It blows me away how strong and brave you are, Mel. It’s so damn good to see some parents give a shit about the well-being of their kids. You do a damn good job covering your track of sadness, so Ella has a chance at happiness. And that’s more inspirational than any set of words you can utter from that pretty mouth of yours.”

  My thumb lightly glides over her trembling lips. My gut clenches with the undiluted desire to lean over and kiss her.

  “I, um, thank you. I have to go.” She slides out of the car and marches away without looking back.

  Did I just scare her away again? We were making so much progress. A growl rises from my throat. Fuck. I should not have bared my soul to her. After seeing her giving, giving, giving, I just wanted to return some back to her.

  For the first time, I have a clear picture of Mel. She’s extremely generous. I heard someone say that the true measure of character is shown when a person does good deeds to those who can’t give anything in return.

  In my world, people are always doing something to others. The musical world is a perpetual exchange of favors. But that’s the difference. With Mel, there is no exchange. It’s a one-way deal.

  Today, I realize what has being hammering against my face for the last few weeks. Every minute I spend with Mel is a minute she captures a small part of my heart. The only issue is that even though Mel is altruistic, her heart is the only part of her she’s not willing to give away. No, her heart has unmistakably been given away so generously to Tim, that she doesn’t know how to get it back.

  AS I CROSS the parking lot, I sense Tarry’s intense eyes following me. My fingers tremble as I open the door to enter the building. I hastily march to the bathro
om and ignore the inquisitive eyes of some of my coworkers. Usually I’m friendly but, right now, my heart seeks a moment to recover. I’m hurting and need privacy to compose myself.

  Once inside the bathroom, I relax my tense shoulders muscles. What is Tarry doing to me? First, he tantalizes me with his flirts and kisses. Then, he behaves as a good friend. I’ve grown to enjoy his company. But today, when he said those things, he reached too deep inside my world.

  It feels like he crawled inside my chest and sat beside me, at the edge of my universe. With an ample view of the dark places in my heart, he now sees where I go when I hurt. He said I do a good job covering my tracks. How did he follow me there?

  With a new resolve, I exit the bathroom and look for Steve. I almost bump into him in the hall.

  “Hey, Steve, how are you?” I muster my best smile. It feels fake. I hope he doesn’t notice.

  “Hi, Mel. Have you gotten your car back yet?” Steve’s rugged features remind me of Connor Macleod from Highlander, one of Mom’s favorite movies from the eighties.

  “Yeah, I’ll get it today. Listen, the Italian place you mentioned the other day. Have you checked it out yet? I’ve been craving some good food lately.” God, I feel the flow of blood concentrating in my face. My lame ass can’t even ask a guy out.

  “Um, sure. I mean, no. I didn’t go yet.” He runs his hand over his copper hair. “Wow, Mel, what I’m trying to say is I would like very much to take you out to dinner,” he says in one breath.

  Thank God, he doesn’t seem to be doing much better on the pre-dating conversation.

  “Wait, there’s one problem. I’m on the evening shift duty for this weekend and next. How about two weekends from now?” He suggests nervously.

  “Sounds good.” I forge a smile.

  “Wow, yeah. Can’t wait.”

  “Okay, bye, Steve.”

  A twinge of guilt grips my chest. I unmercifully choke it down. I’ve been considering a date with Steve for a while. He has been asking me out for three years. It’s time I give the guy a chance.

  Under a haze of deceptive relief, I go about my day. At noon, I park in a deserted lot to eat my lunch. My cell phone rings.

  “Hello,” I answer knowing it’s Brenda, one of the detectives.

  “Hey, Mel, I hear you finally gave in and will be going on a date with Steve?” Brenda asks immediately.

  I cringe. “Oh, God, how do you know that?”

  “It’s the talk of the day. Steve boasted to Mark this morning, which is equal to advertising in the New York Times,” she says with food in her mouth. Brenda eats like there is no tomorrow. Her ass is as skinny as a pole, which I secretly hate and resent her for. Bitch.

  “It’s just dinner.”

  “Oh, it’s never just a dinner, Mel, especially with a hot guy like Steve.”

  I hear the patrol radio and end the call with Brenda.

  A dispatcher interrupts my lunch, sending me to check a teenager’s suspicious activity near the high school.

  “Ten-four,” I answer to Caroline, re-stow my lunch, and steer the patrol car out of the parking lot.

  THE TEENAGER’S ACTIVITY keeps me busy for the remainder of the day. Stoned teens invaded a vacant house and were using it for a prostitution spot and as a sell point to other kids in the nearby high school. I had to write an extensive report. This is one of those complicated cases. Also, it’s one of my least favorite parts of my job, where I see firsthand the destruction of drugs on teens’ lives.

  It’s five fifteen when I open the door to exit the police department. A cold wind embraces me. My eyes scan the parking lot until they find Tarry. He perches against the red Jeep, smoking a cigarette. My pulse races in anticipation of hearing his husky voice caress my name when I approach him.

  He must have sensed my presence even before I step out of the threshold of the building, because his eyes glance up. He drops the cigarette and stamps on it. I stride across the lot.

  “Hi, Melody.” With a flare, he swings the passenger door open.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had an ass of a day.” I sink in the passenger seat.

  “That sucks. Do you want to get your car tomorrow instead?” He asks. I glance and see a flash of hope crossing his face.

  “No, I’ve bothered you for long enough. Truth is, I don’t know how to ever pay you back for what you’ve done. It would have depleted my funds to rent a car.”

  “Do you like Indian food?” He asks, changing the subject.

  “I do.”

  “Okay, here is the plan. We’ll pick up Ella and I’ll drop you off at the car shop. You head home and I will go pick up some Indian food from where Portia always gets takeout from.”

  Too tired to disagree I just murmur a thank-you.

  “Damn, Mel, you look like shit.”

  “Busted some teens involved in drugs and prostitution. Plus, I have as ass of a headache.”

  “I’m sorry. It must suck to do your job, sometimes,” he says softly, almost in a whisper. And I find my uptight nerves calming under his soothing voice.

  “Yeah,” Unsure of how to react, I stare out of the window.

  Every minute I spend with Tarry seems to stir up emotions that have been in a long hibernation.

  After getting Ella, I finally get my car back. Thanks to a junkyard part and Tarry’s generosity of driving me to and from work, the dent on my finances was minimal.

  Driving again should make me feel ecstatic. I can finally go grocery shopping for Pop. I’ve neglected him for the past two weeks. However, I already miss Tarry coming over in the mornings. Watching him devour each plate of breakfast I placed in front of him warmed my heart. Stupid, but my heart clenches at the thought of his absence.

  “I wish you didn’t get your car back, Mommy,” Ella whines as we enter the house.

  “What?”

  “If you didn’t have a car, Uncle Tarry would come over every morning.” She echoes my thoughts.

  “Honey, Uncle Tarry has a busy life. He can’t be driving us around,” I explain.

  “Yeah, I guess not, huh? I wish he could,” she says quietly.

  “Let’s go take a shower, Ella. Uncle Tarry will be here soon with Indian takeout.”

  “Can we light candles and eat on the living-room floor, like we do when Auntie Portia orders Indian food?”

  “Sure, honey.” We climb the stairs.

  “Mommy, we should offer Uncle Tarry to be part of our family. He’s all alone at the barn,” Ella says as I strip her clothes. My hand stills. I know what Ella is thinking, and I don’t like it.

  “Ella, Uncle Tarry is just staying here for a little while. Soon, he’ll go back to his own home.”

  She clambers inside the tub, but a crease on her forehead indicates her disappointment.

  “Where is his home, Mommy?” I sit beside the tub, and watch her bathe.

  “London. It’s in a different country, far, far away from here.”

  “We could offer him to stay with us. Maybe he doesn’t like his home that much.”

  “Honey, Uncle Tarry will not live with us. It doesn’t work that way.”

  WHEN SHE FINISHES her bath, I tell her to go get dressed. “I want to take a quick shower.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  I scramble out of my clothes, turn the water to hot, and climb under the stream. Leaning against the tile wall, I think of Ella’s attachment to Tarry, an additional reason to place some distance between us. The water burns my skin, but it relaxes my knotted muscles.

  After a few minutes, I reluctantly step outside, dry my hypersensitive skin, and wrap the towel firmly around my body. I stride to my room, knowing Tarry will be here soon.

  I change into my floral thermal shirt and yoga pants, then start to search for Ella. I smile. She is already downstairs, waiting for Tarry.

  I tread downstairs and find her waiting for me with a box of matches in her hands.

  “Finally! I was waiting for you. Can we light the candles now, Mommy?”r />
  “Yeah, honey. Thanks for waiting for me. It’s very important that you don’t use matches without my supervision.” I take the matches from her and we light candles. Though it’s still relatively early, it’s getting dark outside already. The air is crisp and I decide to light the fireplace.

  As I finish lighting the fireplace, I wonder if Tarry is going to get the wrong idea. Shit, I just created an incredibly romantic setting.

  “Where is he? He is taking too long, right, Mommy?” She lights all the candles surrounding the living room. I walk to the kitchen and gather plates and utensils, placing them on the coffee table.

  I hear a soft tap on the kitchen door and see Tarry strolling inside the house. God, I’m going to miss him more than I should.

  “Wow, nice,” he comments on the candles and places three bags of takeout on the coffee table. His eyes glimmer under the flickering fire.

  “It’s a little cold, and I have a rule of only turning the heat on after Halloween,” I quickly explain, attempting to diffuse any wrong impression from the intimate environment. Noticing my discomfort, he shrugs.

  “Oh, my God, Tarry. How much food did you get?”

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a variety.” He has a mischievous smile on his face.

  I walk over to my iPod dock. I scroll through my music in search of a relaxing playlist.

  We sit on the floor. Tarry opens the paper bags and pulls out containers of food. The variety includes my favorite, the samosas. For dessert, he bought rice pudding with cashews and dried fruits. I make a mental note to double my workout.

  As we eat, there is this ethereal feeling to the evening. Also, there is discomfort. I constantly have the nagging feeling that I’m betraying Tim. I know it is illogical, even sickening to think this way. But Tim and I did this so many nights, of course without Ella.

  I stare at the hearth, where we made love so many nights and then fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  I glance at Ella and pain slashes through my soul. She’ll never have a single memory of her dad. If I forget him, it will be as if he never existed.