To Catch a Falling Star

by L. Duarte

  “Why can’t we tell them?”

  “Let’s not ruin what we’ve got. Let’s just enjoy it.”

  “What time do you want to go back?”

  “How far are we from the shore?”

  “About an hour.”

  “We still have a few hours. Is that a hot tub?” she asks with a mischievous smile. I push my disappointment aside and grin. “Yep.”

  “Hmmm, I never used a hot tub in the open sea.” She bites her lower lip and it’s the most seductive thing I’ve seen in my life.

  BETWEEN FURTIVE KISSES, stolen hugs, and secretive stares, the trees become bare, the days get shorter, and the nights colder. Tarry proves to be infallible at the art of keeping me warm during the dead of winter.

  The holidays arrive and pass in a blur. Thanksgiving is fun. We serve at the homeless shelter, but Tarry doesn’t help. Portia thinks it would be too much publicity and attract paparazzi to the area.

  At Christmas, Tarry agrees to exchange small gifts. He gives me a pair of pearl earrings encrusted with diamantes, which had belonged to his grandmother. He claims I never specified small, as in price.

  I gift him a vinyl record autographed by Nina Simone. Yes, it cost me a small fortune.

  Tarry claims the rules don’t apply to Ella and he gets her a ton of toys. He also gets her front-row tickets and backstage passes to a Big Time Rush concert. She can even bring a friend. Needless to say, she is elated.

  I take each day as it comes. I resist the constant need to overthink what is happening between us. I know the day he will leave to LA is coming, but I block those thoughts and savor every single second we spend together.

  His counseling is going better than we expected. Dad has only praise when I ask about Tarry’s progress. Tarry will graduate from the counseling with Dad in the first week of January, which is also the same week he is due back in court.

  I’m proud of Tarry. He has gained weight, quit smoking, and his hair has grown long enough for me to braid it.

  Shaving Tarry’s’ beautiful face became my unspoken duty. He doesn’t say anything, but he gets a kick out of it. Men are silly creatures.

  We spend every night together when I’m not on duty. He slips in my bed late at night—we make love and he leaves before dawn. I know it’s a huge risk to have him spend the night with me. I don’t want Ella to know. However, I don’t have the will to deny him.

  Each night before falling asleep, we spend hours talking. Tarry tells me funny stories of growing up in a castle in France with his grandfather. His eyes became distant when he told me of finding his grandfather dead. He was five years old when he lost the only person who cared for him.

  Tarry is the most fascinating person I have met. His soul is kind and behind the persona of a bad-boy rock star hides a sad and lost boy. No wonder Portia is so protective.

  At times, Tarry tries to talk about our relationship. I divert the conversation, avoiding it as if it is the plague. He acts as if we are a normal couple who have a future. I’m a confident woman. But when it comes to Tarry, I’m a puddle of goo. In addition, I don’t believe for a second on a future between us. One glance at him and me, and anyone would agree. Tarry, besides being a rock star, is so handsome that it hurts to look at him. But more importantly, the reason I conceal us is Ella.

  When Tim died, I swore I would not become those mothers parading a stream of boyfriends before their children. It’s just not fair to the kids.

  I stare in the full-length mirror. The white dress is elegant and beautiful with sheer, glittery material that covers my shoulders. But I hesitate and wonder if I should wear it. The couture dress is simple, until you see the back, or the lack of a back. The fabric reappears at the small of my back. I think of Tarry’s consuming eyes, push away my self-conscious feelings, grab my jacket, and go in search of Ella.

  Ella also wears a simple white dress. She spins in front of me. “I’m ready,” she says.

  “Do you want lip gloss?” I ask.

  “Yes, Mommy.” She is perfectly still.

  “There, you look so beautiful,” I say after applying the lip gloss.

  “Our white dresses match. We are like twins, Mommy.” She smiles broadly.

  “Yes, Ella. Just like twins.” I hold her hand. “Let’s go.”

  We are going to Will’s for a huge New Year’s party. Nillie and her family are even in town for it.

  As I drive by the barn, I see the lights are out. Tarry has left already. My inside does its familiar somersault in anticipation of seeing him. Though we spent last night together, he spent the entire day with Nillie and Portia. I miss him like crazy.

  I park besides Mr. McGee’s black Mercedes and we walk to the front door.

  “Is Noah here?” Ella asks.

  “Yeah, he is.” I’m surprised Ella remembers Nillie’s son. It’s been almost a year since they visited.

  Without knocking, I push the door open. I hear the buzz of conversation and scan the room for Tarry. He is nowhere.

  “Mom, I’m going to go find Dominick and Noah,” Ella tells me over her shoulder. A heady aroma of cinnamon laces the air. With this pregnancy, Portia has eaten nothing but cinnamon.

  I place a dessert tray on the kitchen counter and hug Portia, who is arranging shrimps on a platter.

  “Finally, we were getting worried,” she says. I can hear the innuendo at her voice, but I ignore it.

  “Sorry for being late.”

  “Well, help yourself to anything to eat. We’re eating buffet-style. The appetizers are on the table. Dinner will be served soon.”

  “What you need me to do?” I ask.

  “Absolutely nothing. Will hired more help than the number of guests.” She pats her enlarged stomach, “He doesn’t want me on my feet, and he wants you and mom to enjoy the night. So, go, have fun and rest, you deserve it after a twelve-hour shift.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Tarry… and Nillie, are in the basement playing pool. Please go down and teach them how to play. I wish I could go down and watch you, but I have a party to host.”

  “Where are Mom and Dad?

  “They are in the living room talking to Daddy.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll talk to them later,” I say.

  Eager to see Tarry, I descend to the basement. Before I reach the bottom of the stairs, I sense his eyes burning through the skin of my bare legs.

  The smile on my lips dies when I see a girl hanging from his arm, like a toy poodle tucked inside a handbag. I recover from the surge of jealousy and plaster a fake smile on my face.

  “Hello, guys,” I say and walk over to Nillie for a hug.

  “Mel, you look amazing! It’s so good to see you. Ella already has found Noah and they went upstairs to the playroom.” Nillie embraces me warmly. Throughout the years, we’ve become close. Nillie is one of those people you meet in life who is easy to talk to and you immediately wish was your best friend. Unfortunately, she lives on the opposite coast.

  Lucas hugs me and smiles. “Whoa, Mel, you’re smoking hot tonight.” He kisses my cheek. “Did Will see you in that dress yet?” He chuckles. “I want to see his face when he sees it. The man acts like an eighty-year-old man when it comes to his girls.”

  I risk a glance at Tarry in time to see him sourly peeling the arm of the bimbo from his.

  “Have you met Tiffany?” Nillie asks uncomfortably. Jeez, is it that obvious Tarry and I have something going?

  “Tiffany, this is Mel, Will’s sister. Mel, this is my sister-in-law.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  “My pleasure,” she says.

  “Mel, you’re just in time for a round of pool,” Lucas tells me and hands me a stick.

  “What are we playing, pennies?” I ask with a grin.

  “I’ll pass. I’ll go check on the kids,” Nillie says.

  “Come on, Nillie. The kids are okay,” Tarry says. The way he looks at her tugs at my heart. Whoa, their bond is stronger than I thought.
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  “Actually, I need to call Ray,” she says apologetically.

  “Yeah, you know Ray. Even though he’s in Japan, he wants her to check in hourly,” Tiffany says with disdain. I don’t like the bite in her voice. It’s almost as if she is patronizing Nillie.

  “Sure,” Tarry says with a taciturn attitude.

  “We can couple then. I’ll pair with you, Tarry,” Tiffany announces.

  “Mel, you’re stuck with me. We call stripes.” Lucas winks at me and arranges the balls.

  “Whose brilliant idea was it not to serve liquor?” Tiffany asks and then sips from her drink.

  “My brother has issues with alcohol,” I say, though that’s not true. I’ve become an unashamed liar. Though Will avoids drinking, he has never had issues with alcohol. It was drugs that he struggled with.

  “What’s the fun of New Year’s without booze?” she asks.

  “Well, some people don’t need booze to have fun,” Lucas says with a grin. “Although I wouldn’t mind a cold beer when we beat the crap out of you two.”

  “I happen to be good at this game,” Tarry brags.

  “Well, so maybe Mel has found her match.” Lucas starts the game.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding since Monique passed away?” Tiffany asks casually.

  “Yeah,” Tarry slithers away from her hand, circles the table, and stands opposite her, next to me. It’s almost obvious, but I don’t care. Inside I’m glowing with happiness.

  “When are you going back to London? Rumor has it you have a new tour next month? I met with Nola, right before she retreated to your castle in France. She told me she wanted to abstain from the wild life of LA for a while. Spiritual reasons, she said,” she says and misses the shot.

  “Nine on center,” I call, bridge my hand and hit the center of the strike ball. The ball slowly rolls. Tormented thoughts reel in my mind. The cue ball hits the center of the nine. Though I really enjoy a game of poll, it feels like I stepped into purgatory. The nine ball bounces, rolls, and lands in the pocket. Did she say tour? Nola? I know Tarry is going to LA, but he never mentioned a tour. Is it in Europe? Is he meeting with Nola?

  “Fifteen,” I call. Unable to focus, I miss the shot. Tiffany asks Tarry for guidance. She pumps her ass up toward his face. It’s sickening to see. However, I can’t pay attention to anything any longer. My mind reels with the words London, tour, Monique, Nola, France, LA. I feel dizzy.

  At the end, we win. Barely. Even I crave a glass of wine.

  “Wow, Mel. You keep on surprising me,” Tarry says.

  “Tiffany, Ray is on the line. He wants to have a word with you,” Nillie announces from the top of the stairs.

  “I’ll be right up,” she responds with a frown of disappointment.

  “Here, I’ll walk you up.” Lucas guides her to the stairs. He looks over his shoulder and shoots me an all-knowing smile. I wonder how bad of a job Tarry and I are doing disguising our relationship.

  Ignoring Lucas, I gather the balls. “Do you want to play a game of one-on-one?” I smile. It’s a feeble attempt of me trying to cover my inner turmoil. Moving fast and smooth as a leopard, Tarry stands behind me. I’m bent over the table arranging the balls. Tarry’s long fingers grab my hips, and he pulls me to his erection. My breath hitches.

  “Tarry, someone…” His tongue, warm and tantalizing, strokes the bare skin of my back.

  “Goddamnit, Melody. Do you want to torture me before I die a slow death?” His lips find my ear and his breath is so harsh it ignites flames in me.

  I want to stop him. I want to ask him the questions rotating around in my overactive brain. I’ve always taken pride in having self-control. However, since meeting Tarry I have lost my self-control to lust. I grind my ass against his superb masculinity. He growls.

  I turn and with needy, clumsy movements, we kiss and paw each other. Kissing, we start walking in tandem to the bathroom.

  Once inside, I latch the lock as Tarry pins me against the door. His strong body presses against me. I feel as though he wants me under his skin. He knows how to turn me on. Not that he needs to do much.

  His hands ravish my body. I wrap my legs around his hips. He glides his hands under my dress, finding my bare ass.

  “Fuck, Mel. No panties,” he says with a haunting voice as he notices that I’m going commando.

  “It saves precious ti—”

  His mouth assaults mine. He bites my lower lip. His hand finds my throbbing core. I need a release, here, now. Tarry carries me and places me on the floor facing the sink. He unbuckles his pants and they drop to the floor. He lowers my chest to the sink. His hard-on presses against my flesh. With my dress bunched around my waist and my ass exposed, I have trouble breathing. My need for him is too urgent.

  “I want to look at your ass as I come, Melody.” Oh, his husky, harsh voice saying my full name serves as an aphrodisiac. I moan in anticipation and desperation. I grind my ass against him. Tarry lowers and bites me. In the ass.

  “Still,” he admonishes me. His tongue caresses where he just bit me. I’m panting now. The sharp bite stings, he blows on it, and my hands grip the edge of the marbled sink.

  “Your ass is so perfect,” he says. My skin sings as his tongue works it magic.

  Tarry stands tall behind me, his build so strong against my vulnerable position. His penis finds my core and he pounds in it. I moan loudly. Immediately, I cover my mouth, a distant and fairly small part of my brain worries someone will hear me. But I’m far too lost to this man consuming me. The penetration is fast, greedy, and deliciously urgent. I’m throbbing in desperate need. I want to be one with Tarry.

  Tarry’s hand holds my hips in place and he says, “Hold on tight, Melody.” He sets a fast pace. It’s an uncomfortable position, but I push myself toward him, meeting each thrust.

  I soar to an endless world of pleasure. My body tightens. My core throbs.

  Tarry and I come together—perfect synchrony. I feel like I’m watching a display of a thousand shouting stars crossing the wide sky in the countryside. The stars burn so brightly they are blinding. Tears pool in my eyes. My heart drifts from its anchor, threatening to explode. A deep part of me is painfully aware. Not only have I fallen in love with Tarry, but he has branded me his. He has branded my soul, my heart, my mind. I’ll never be the same. I’ll never be complete, unless he is with me. But I know he is leaving and when he is gone, the shooting stars so bright in the sky will fade away.

  I fail to understand that Tarry was the brightest shooting star I’ve seen. However, a shooting star is an untouchable speckle of light that shoots brightly and briefly across the sky.

  It’s funny, but I’m learning that nothing that seems real is real. In movies or romances, people have the perfect postcoital emotions. But inside me, my heart is breaking. It’s that feeling when your heart swells and you sigh so deeply that it feels that not even the blue sky mantling earth can hold you from floating away. That’s how I feel at this moment. I breathe deeply. Then, I exhale and look around. I realize I’m still on the ground, wrapped inside Tarry’s arms, and his masculinity is still hard inside me. But the pain is also inside me, inside my soul. So I take turns between inhaling and exhaling. The sequencing calms me and, after what seems a lifetime, my breath is normal again. But I know that I’ll never be the same. His mark inside me has changed the landscape of my soul.

  Tarry caress my exposed behind and withdraws from me. He retrieves a small cloth, wets it, and wipes between my legs. He is silent and focused on the task. As if he is my owner and I’m his prized possession. I want to succumb to the tears. His gentle but possessive gesture reassures the fact that my heart has a new master. If I’m a prisoner, I can’t ever leave. He helps me up and lowers my dress.

  “Are you all right?” he asks and knits his brows together.

  “Yeah.” I kiss his lips.

  “You sure?” he asks and fixes a strand of my hair.

  “You look adorable with a just-fucked
face,” he says with a smile on his lips.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I say, attempting a smile. My hand finds his erection. Jeez, he remains hard.

  “I’ll come over later,” he says suggestively. “I need shaving…” He rubs his scruff chin along my cheekbone. I love shaving him. It’s personal, sensual, and gives me an exclusive part of him. He kisses the tip of my nose. The kiss has my body coming alive again. I’m reminded that soon I won’t have him any longer, just a pocket full of memories.

  “I’ll leave first,” he says with a sigh. To my surprise, I had forgotten we were having sex in the bathroom at my brother’s house. And dozens of people were merely feet away from us. That’s how bad I am around Tarry.

  He must notice my angst. “What happened, Mel, did I hurt you?”

  “No.” A suffocating need to ask him to stay pounds inside my chest and begs to come out. “I’m fine.”

  “Is this about Tiffany? She doesn’t mean anything,” he says.

  “No, baby. I’m tired. It was a long and intense day. People do crazy things this time of the year. It is a busy season for us.”

  “Okay,” he says, sounding unconvinced. He fastens his pants and leaves.

  I turn to face the mirror. Yeah, it’s not just a just-fucked face. I feel as if I grew a third lung and the only air that matches it is the same air Tarry breathes. The feeling makes me helpless. I don’t regret falling in love with Tarry. I don’t. However, I don’t fool myself into thinking that he will stick around. See, Tarry’s nature is to be of the world. Trying to keep him with me would equal my clipping the wings of an eagle. Wild birds are meant to soar high in the sky. I knew from the beginning he would leave. I just didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Also, it pains me to think he might go back to Nola. We never talked about her. I blissfully ignored Tarry’s relationship with Nola. Now, how do I even approach the subject? Do I say, “Hey, Tarry, sorry but I forgot to mention. I’m a prude who doesn’t do threesome. So please choose between us.” Are they even together? Well, for someone who overthinks every blessed thing, I certainly neglected one catastrophic aspect of Tarry’s life.

  An anguished sadness courses through my veins, intoxicating my blood. For a second I wish that Tarry would not recover and would continue to be so broken that he needs me and needs to stay. Tears roll down my face. I feel like the scum of the earth for thinking so selfishly. I can barely recognize myself. Maybe I’m an awful person who hides under a cape of righteousness. I spray cold water on my face and wipe away my tears.