Wish Upon a Star

by Jim Cangany

  My keys were on the table. To my surprise, Annie snatched them up. "Now that the ice is gone, I'm taking the wheel."

  I rode shotgun and played navigator. While Annie complained about the lack of pickup and the wide turning radius, I bit my tongue and kept my grumbling about it being my car to myself. We made it downtown without incident, though. If you didn't count the stop sign Annie missed, or ignored.

  "What year is that car anyway?" Annie said as we walked along Pennsylvania Street to our rendezvous point with the Hurling Club.

  "It's a ninety-eight. Dad bought it for Mom after I wrecked her old car."

  Annie whirled on me. "You wrecked your mom's car so bad it had to be replaced? Good Lord, what'd you do?"

  The memory still sent a chill down my spine. "It was winter. I was driving home after going to a movie with some friends. Coming up to an intersection, I hit some ice, panicked, and spun out into a ditch."

  If Annie had still had eyebrows, I was pretty sure they'd be raised as high as possible. "Were you hurt?"

  "Nah." I shook my head. "The car was beat up enough that the insurance company totaled it, though. Took a long time to work my way out of Dad's doghouse after that one."

  Before Annie could ask me anything more, a group from the Hurling Club waved us over. While we waited for the parade to start, we visited with Club members, most of whom we hadn't seen in months. Between her glasses, stocking cap pulled down low, and her scarf, she looked nothing like the glamorous Cassandra Lawrence of a few years ago.

  It was hard to fathom how much Annie's appearance had changed in the year and a half we'd known each other. Only days before our paths had crossed, she'd still been sporting her trademark blonde locks that flowed halfway down her back. That had changed by the time we'd met on that fateful day in Chicago's Union Station. She'd been on the run from the colossal failure of her Broadway stage production and had cut her hair to mid-neck length and colored it almost black. A short time later, I learned the nearly raven shade was actually her natural hair color. And now it was gone. Every stand.

  With or without hair, Annie looked absolutely adorable.

  I'm still not certain who had more fun while we marched. Annie, who smiled, laughed and danced her way while passing out twice as much as candy as the year before. Or me, because I got to watch my North Star forget about her troubles for a while and lose herself in some simple family fun. The fact that it was windy and cloudy didn't bother us as all. For a few hours all the pain, all the heartache and all the fear had been left behind, like an empty bottle dropped in a recycle bin, to be dealt with another day.

  Her hug at the end of the parade almost knocked me down. "This was just what Doctor Furman or Doctor Hill would have ordered. I think I'm ready to go home though." She fanned her hand in front of her face. "I'm a little winded."

  "Given the fact you probably walked five times as far as me, with all the back and forth and all over the place, I'm not surprised." I laughed and kissed her stocking cap covered head.

  Annie insisted on driving home. "Now that the roads have cleared, I don't need you to chauffeur me all over the place. All that snow and ice made me uncomfortable, but I think I'm good now."

  "I don't mind."

  "I know you don't and I appreciate it. But there's no need for you to have to set your schedule around my transportation needs, now that spring's right around the corner."

  I had a vision of Annie driving us around Santa Rosa in her convertible BMW and took a look around the interior of my Buick. Instead of an mp3 port, there was a CD player that skipped if you hit a bump in the road. The driver's side floor mat had a hole in it. The back seat had a couple of sports drink-caused perma-stains. "You sure you don't mind being seen behind the wheel of this? It's not exactly up to Cassandra standards."

  She glanced at me with one of her heart melting smiles. "You're sweet. I think I've got energy for one pint in honor of your favorite holiday. I trust you'll join me, yes?"

  We enjoyed our drinks with a late lunch in quiet anonymity at Binkleys. Annie kept her hat on while we ate. When I asked her why, she said it was partly because it kept her head warm and partly to avoid any attention the lack of hair might bring.

  As much as we tried, there was no escape from this cruel reality.

  The following Monday brought the first truly nice day of spring. Sunny skies and a southerly breeze had pushed the mercury in my patio thermometer almost to sixty. Annie interrupted my work on CassandraLawrence.net by throwing a cycling jersey at me.

  "Get out while you can. From what I understand, you might not get another day this nice for a while."

  "Got some Cassandra things I'm trying to take care of for you. You sure?"

  "Absolutely. Just promise me you'll go at least fifty. You deserve it."

  My eyes grew wide. Fifty miles. I'd gotten in a number of rides that distance when we'd been in California, but nothing anywhere near that since we'd arrived in Indy. I practically jumped out of my seat and kissed Annie on the cheek.

  "Sweet. What are you going to do?"

  "Oh, I have a couple of errands to run." She picked up the car keys and slipped her purse over her shoulder. "Have fun. I want to hear all about it when you get back."

  It took me a while to actually get out on the road. Given the time of year, when I'd gone out for a ride, I'd taken my mountain bike that I'd named the Truckster. The added stability from the Truckster's wider tires made navigating around icy spots and snow mounds easier. Today was a day for my custom road bike, the Fluid Druid. Since I hadn't ridden it in close to a year, I spent almost an hour tuning it up before hitting the road.

  The tune-up proved to be worth its weight in titanium. The ride was so smooth and light; it was like rolling on air. I let out a joyous scream as I flashed across the Eagle Creek causeway, simply joyful to be alive. The rolling hills around the perimeter of Eagle Creek Park let me know how far out of shape I'd gotten, though. While waiting for the light to change at 79th Street, I shook my head in mock shame when I saw how low my average speed was. That was okay. I was doing something I truly loved, which was all that mattered. I cruised home with Cassandra's "Rock Awhile" running through my head and a smile on my face.

  I pushed the front door open and wheeled the bike in. Annie was on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. "How was the ride?"

  "A little slow, but other than that, it was perfect."

  "Good, because I have a surprise for you." Annie popped off the couch. "Go get cleaned up then I'll show it to you."

  Practically the second I stepped out of the bedroom after my shower, Annie took me by the hands and told me to close my eyes. She led me from the bedroom to what I was pretty certain was the garage.

  "All right my love. Open your eyes."

  My guess about the garage had been spot on. I'd been anticipating a new bike or something like that. Never in my wildest imagination would I have expected to be gazing upon not one, but two gleaming BMW sports cars. The one on the right was a deep blue convertible with a vanity license plate on the front that read TRIATHLETE. The one on the left was a Kelly green hardtop. Its vanity plate read MANIC MECHANIC.

  I turned to Annie, speechless.

  "Surprise! I decided I needed a car and thought you deserved a new one, so..." She dangled a key fob in front of me. "The green one's yours, in case you hadn't figured that out." She dropped the fob into my hand. She was bouncing on her toes so rapidly, I was afraid she'd bounce up and hit the ceiling.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, took a step toward the green BMW and shook my head. "You shouldn't—"

  With a little huff, she stepped past me and opened the driver's side door. "Stop it. Check out your new wheels." She glided around the car and slipped into the passenger seat.

  When she waved me into the car, I finally moved. As I eased myself behind the wheel, the aroma from the leather seats filled my nostrils. My hands glided over the steering wheel and down to the stick shift. A chuckle escaped w
hen I noticed the four CD's placed in the console. They were all by my favorite artist, Cassandra Lawrence.

  As the shock from such an enormous surprise wore off, an unpleasant question popped into my head. "This car's amazing Annie. Thank you very much."

  She grinned and kissed me on the cheek. "You've done so much for me, it's my pleasure. I've been working on this for a couple of weeks and keeping it a secret's been killing me."

  "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

  "You can ask me anything, but whether I choose to answer is another matter, as you well know." She gave my shoulder a playful push.

  "Um, so what'd you do with Mom's car?"

  "The dealer didn't want it. No big surprise there given its age and mileage. But since I'm a preferred BMW customer, they took it anyway."

  "So it's gone then."

  "Yep. I found the title in the little safe you keep in your closet. Signed, sealed, delivered. This is yours, baby."

  A ball of hot lead started to grow in my gut. I got out of the car and went over to a stool I used when I was working on my bikes.

  Annie opened her door a crack. "Well, come on. Don't you want to take it for a spin? It's yours, after all."

  "Why'd you give away my mom's car?"

  She stepped out, her brow knitted in confusion. "I didn't give it away. It's just the value—"

  "It doesn't matter what you think the value was. That wasn't your call to make."

  "Whoa, I just bought you a new car and you're angry with me? I don't understand."

  "Of course you wouldn't understand. You can't stand your mom." The hateful words were out before I could reel them back in.

  Annie drew in a breath and crossed her arms. "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Her icy tone dropped the room temperature thirty degrees.

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. All of a sudden, nothing was making sense.

  "Come on, out with it."

  While I'd closed my eyes, Annie had moved a foot away and was glaring at me. "I go to all this trouble to get you something really nice and special, and this is how you thank me? By acting like I've just run over one of your stupid bikes? Some show of gratitude."

  The tension between us was rising like a helium-filled balloon that had escaped from its owner. My hands trembled. "You don't understand." The force of the words practically bounced off the garage door.

  With wide eyes, Annie leaned away from me. "Don't you dare shout at me, mister. I don't take that from anybody, including you."

  I froze, the lead boiling in me turning to ice. My voice cracked. "I can't believe this is happening." I grabbed my hair with both hands and pulled. What was happening to me?

  "What's happening?" She reached toward me, stopping midway. "What don't I understand?"

  "I just..." I turned away from her and sprinted into the condo, unable to face the demon waging war with my soul.

  I'd been pacing back and forth on the patio for probably an hour or so when Annie slid the door open. "We need to talk about this E.J."

  "No we don't." I kept my focus on my shoes and away from her.

  "Yes, we do." There was steel in her voice that I hadn't heard since she'd dealt with a slimy promotions agent in London. It was a tone that didn't accept backtalk. I turned and looked at her. I didn't see the in-command rock star the world adored.

  I saw a young woman without a single hair on her head battling an insidious disease just to stay alive. At the same time, she was battling a stubborn jerk to keep our relationship alive. Her teeth were chattering and she was shivering, but she wouldn't release me from her gaze.

  Just like that, the anger-filled adrenaline rush ran out and was replaced with emptiness. "You're right." I followed Annie indoors, hoping I had the strength to fess up and release this demon once and for all.

  I slumped into the middle cushion of the couch and put my elbows on my knees. Annie placed her hand on my thigh.

  "E.J., honey, I love you. But we need to talk about what's hurting you. This isn't easy for me either. But if we're going to make this work, make us work, we have to communicate. So talk to me."

  I glanced at my North Star and then went back to staring at the tops of my shoes. "It's just that the car meant a lot to me. A lot of memories go with it. And then you just went and..."

  Annie took a deep breath, nodded and sat up straight. "All right. I accept that in my haste to surprise you, it didn't occur to me how attached you are, were, to that car. And for that, I apologize."

  "Thanks." When she remained silent, I went on. "And I know you weren't trying to hurt me. You were trying to make me happy."

  "Thank you. May I ask why that car meant so much to you?"

  The question made me bristle. "You know that."

  She put hands up in front of her. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

  I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. When Annie declined my offer to get her one, I popped bottle cap and took a long swig. "That was Mom's car. And since she's been gone, taking care of it's been one way to keep her memory alive."

  "She meant a great deal to you."

  "Of course she did. You've heard enough stories to know that."

  "And losing her the way you did. That was hard."

  After taking another long pull, I nodded. "Yeah."

  "Why?"

  Anger was starting to bubble up in my gut again. I slammed the bottle on the counter. "Do we really have to do this?"

  Annie rose. "I know this hurts, honey. But please, yes we do. I think deep down, even farther than you realize, you're hurting. You have been for a long time. Longer than you can imagine. And we need to get down there." She took a tentative step toward me. "Please trust me on this. I understand."

  I studied her. She was the one with cancer. She was the one who was in constant discomfort. She was the one who had lost her hair and was losing weight. And she was the one who was making the effort to make me better.

  She was the strong one.

  "I guess the hardest thing was watching Mom slowly slip away, day by bay, a little bit at a time. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. All I could do was watch. And that really, really sucked big time."

  Annie took my hand. "You were there for her. You gave up your career to be there for her."

  "Fat lot of good that did."

  "But you made the effort. You sacrificed a lot. I'd wager not a lot of people would have done that."

  With a shrug, I took another drink. "I guess."

  Annie settled onto one of the barstools and motioned me onto the one next to her.

  "But you did. And now I have another question for you. Why did you stay home?"

  The way Annie kept digging deeper into my past, unearthing a little bit at a time and sifting through memories before scooping another shovelful must have meant she saw something I didn't.

  My index finger tapped out a steady rhythm while I pondered Annie's question.

  "I was just trying to be a good son. I mean, I sure as hell hadn't planned on taking the next four years off after Dad died. I was just going to get Mom back on her feet. But things kept going south."

  "So it was four years between losing your Father and losing your Mother."

  "Closer to three and a half. Took another six months to wrap up her estate."

  "Point taken. But your mom wasn't bed-ridden that entire time. I mean, from what you've told me, while she wasn't on her A-game, she was still pretty independent for a while, yes?"

  In response to my nod, Annie gentle pressed on with a tender tone. "So after you wrapped up your father's affairs, you could have rejoined the bike team, at least for a year or so."

  It was a statement, not a question. Nor was it an accusation. She was merely laying out the reality of the situation.

  "Yeah. In hindsight, I could have. It wasn't until she fell and broke her hip that looking after her became my main focus. But at the time, I just couldn't. I couldn't leave her."

  "I understand you couldn't. It
was an admirable thing to do. At the time, why couldn't you?"

  I leaned on the counter, my chin in my hands while I revisited those troubled days. I thought of my conversation with my boss when I told him I wouldn't be returning to the team. I recalled my beers with Paul and Dave to fill them in on my decision. Digging through my past like this was excruciating. It made a century ride with all one hundred miles through the Shenandoah Mountains feel like a stroll to the mailbox.

  "I was scared. I was afraid something might happen to Mom and if I was halfway across the country, by the time I got back, it'd be too late. I couldn't go through that again."

  Annie nodded. "Again. Like what happened with your father?"

  "Yeah, I mean by the time Mom called me about Dad, he was already gone. There was nothing I could do."

  "Do you think you could have done something?"

  "Hell, Annie, I don't know. Maybe if I'd been here, things would've been different. Maybe someone could've gotten to him in time."

  "You feel responsible for his death." Again, another statement.

  "Yeah."

  "Why?"

  "Seriously?" I glared at her, but she held my gaze, her lips curled up ever so slightly. Her dark chocolate eyes compelled me to mine even deeper. I licked my lips. "I don't know. I just do. It's like if I'd been here, I could have done something. But instead, I was halfway across the country being no help to Dad, or Mom for that matter. They'd both given me so much, and when it was on the line, I'd let them down."

  "So let me make sure I've got this right. Your father had a stroke, and you blame yourself for the fact that he didn't survive it because you were away from home and you couldn't be at his side when it happened. Even though being on the road was part of the requirements of your job."

  When she put it that way, it made all of my angst and regret sound silly. But thinking about it still made it feel like Satan was squeezing my heart with barbed wire.

  "Let me ask you this. Were your parents proud of you? Of what you did?"

  I drained the last of my beer and rose to get another one. "Mom was. Dad, well at first he thought it was a dead-end job. But when he saw the contacts I was making in the industry with folks at Park Tools and Specialized and places like that, he'd begun to warm up to it."