Understanding the Stars

by Xela Culletto

Instead we went to a small café, where he ordered an omelet for himself, and an almond muffin for me. I had to admit it was nice going out with someone who knew me so well.

  While we ate, the weariness of staying up all night began to sink in. After a few moments I decided it was probably better if I went home. The clock said 10:10, which was probably late enough for me to miss the morning socializing.

  “Ready to go?” Ronan asked, as if he’d read my mind.

  “Yeah. Thanks for breakfast,” I said, looking down at my plate. I was surprised to see it was empty.

  We left the café and a little while later, we were pulling up to the house.

  “Well… Thanks again,” I said. I felt a little awkward. The exhaustion that had overtaken me didn’t help either.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “But I know this is family time. I don’t want to interfere.”

  I nodded mutely, looking down at my shoes.

  “And Alex?”

  I turned to him. He bent forward and kissed me softly, then said, “Sleep well.”

  Several hours later I woke up in a daze. I couldn’t remember anything for a moment, but was confused about somehow feeling simultaneously mournful and exhilarated.

  Then memory returned and I sank into feeling mournful. Even Ronan’s kisses couldn’t keep the bleakness at bay for long. I wished he was here.

  I could hear voices rising from the kitchen. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to keep to my solitude much longer (someone was sure to come check on me), I got up and pulled some clothes on.

  Bracing myself, I headed downstairs, where the majority of our houseguests were gathered.

  “Alex, you’re up.” Aunt Claire came over and wrapped a hug around me. “Are you hungry? The Nelsons just dropped off a dinner.”

  Dinner? I was surprised to see it was evening. I wasn’t hungry, so I shook my head.

  “In that case…. We were just going over some of the details for the funeral. Is that something you’d like to be involved in?”

  I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t really considered it.

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  “No, we can manage. But if you would like to say a few words, or if you have a song request, or anything like that…” she trailed off.

  “Um, no, I don’t think so. I think my mom knows mostly what he wanted. They talked about it.”

  “Yes, we have all that information. But just let us know if you decide there’s something you want to have added.”

  I nodded. I’d never even been to a funeral before. I didn’t really know what sorts of things were involved.

  Aunt Claire returned to her paperwork spread across the kitchen table. Although I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, it was nice that she at least didn’t avoid me like my cousins seemed to be doing. I’m sure they didn’t know what to say around me (frankly, I wouldn’t know what to say to me). But still, I didn’t like being made to feel awkward in my own home. All I wanted to do was be alone, or maybe with Mom.

  I found her sitting on her bed in her room. She looked pale and her eyes were downcast. When she saw me she patted the spot next to her, and I sat down.

  “Funny, isn’t it?” she said in a throaty voice. “That we’ve had months and months to prepare for this, and it’s still so… abrupt.”

  “Funny,” I said, although I didn’t think that was really the right word for it.

  “Your dad loved you, you know. So much.”

  “It’s hard to believe he’s really actually gone.”

  “At least he got to see you graduate. He was hoping so much that he would.”

  “I was so surprised to see him there—it never even crossed my mind that he would come.”

  “He got you a graduation present. It’s there on the dresser.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking at the small present wrapped in pale purple packaging.

  “You should probably open it privately.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you going to say anything at the funeral?”

  “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “It’s your choice, sweetheart, but I think he would’ve liked you to.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  The morning of the funeral dawned, and I still didn’t know what to say. I knew that I should, and of course I had wonderful stories about Dad that I could share, but now they all felt private.

  We rode to the funeral home in a black limousine. I’d always wanted to ride in one, but not like this. I barely noticed anything, except that sitting sideways while traveling forward made me sick in my stomach.

  We arrived and were shuffled into the chapel, which was full of people—way more people than I think anyone had expected, since they had to keep adding chairs. Everyone was speaking in hushed tones. The shiny wooden casket lay at the front with a modest bouquet of white flowers atop. It was closed, per Dad’s request.

  The ceremony got underway, and speaker after speaker went to the pulpit and shared their thoughts. Some recited poetry, some said what a great guy Dad was, and some even tried to lighten the mood with an amusing story.

  I tried to pay attention, but my focus kept shifting back to the casket. I didn’t really see the point of any of this. If we wanted to meet to praise Dad, wouldn’t it have been better to do it when he was alive? None of this meant anything to him now.

  I wished I’d told him. I mean, I had told him I’d loved him, and appreciated him, but I was sure I hadn’t genuinely expressed what he’d meant to me. And now it was too late.

  Suddenly, unbidden, my knees straightened and I stood up and made the short walk to the front, where the funeral director was just finishing his closing remarks.

  He looked a bit surprised to see me, but to his credit, carried on as if this had been planned all along.

  “But before we end, we’ll hear remarks from Calvin’s daughter, Alexandra.”

  I replaced him at the pulpit and looked out. There were a lot of people out there, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by how many lives Dad had touched. But I didn’t let the size of the congregation intimidate me. What I had to say was for my benefit, my peace of mind, not theirs.

  “My dad was a wonderful man, as many of the people who’ve spoken have already shown. But he wasn’t infallible. He sometimes forgot to pay on my lunch account and he wasn’t shy about cursing out his sports team.

  “But he did have one trait that he excelled at—he was completely selfless. His concern for others always outweighed his concern for himself…. I don’t think there are very many people who are truly like that. And I hope,” my voice began to shake. “I hope that I can become even half the person he was.”

  My throat tightened, and I couldn’t speak anymore. I grabbed a tissue from the supplied box, and returned to my seat before the microphone could pick up on my blubbering. Mom gave me a hug as I sat down.

  “That was lovely,” she whispered.

  “I wish I could have told him,” I replied, whispering.

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “He knew.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t really believe her.

  Following the service, there was the procession to the graveyard, where my father was “laid to rest”, and following that, a wake was held at our home.

  Most of it barely registered with me. I was thinking about the legacy my father had left. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was a decent enough person, but I wasn’t the philanthropist he was.

  But suddenly I wanted to be.

  It could be a way to sort of keep him—or at least his beliefs—alive.

  As these thoughts circled my mind, I felt a small part of me reawaken. I didn’t just have to be a mourner—I really could carry on.

  As the gathering began to wane, I slipped up to my room. The gift my father had left me was sitting on my dresser. I closed the door behind me, picked up the small box, and sat on the bed.

  I removed the attached card, which had a picture of a bird flying high abo
ve the mountains on it, and read.

  Dearest Alexandra,

  Words cannot express how proud I am of you. You have grown into such a beautiful, intelligent, talented person. Your mother and I could not have asked for a better daughter.

  I want to remind you of your promise to find something you’re passionate about, and live for it. The world has too many apathetic people—don’t be one.

  All my love forever,

  --Dad

  I set the card aside, secretly wishing there’d been a little more. It was such a short note, to be the final words I ever received from him. But he had been so terribly sick, near the end.

  I picked up the present, and carefully peeled away the wrapping paper to reveal a plain white box. I lifted the lid to find a curious assortment of seemingly random items. There was a chocolate truffle wrapped in gold foil, a light blue mp3 player that had already been opened, a pair of beige cashmere gloves, a small bottle of almond extract, and a picture he’d taken of the Grand Canyon when we visited three summers ago.

  I’m not sure what I’d been expecting—jewelry, maybe, a locket or something—but it wasn’t this. Perhaps Dad had compiled this gift during one of his bouts of confusion.

  I pressed the earbuds in and pushed play on the mp3 player, thinking maybe he’d recorded a message for me. But instead of Dad’s timbre voice, one of my favorite instrumental pieces began. The anxiety I’d been clutching so tightly to, eased. I closed my eyes and let the music fill me up.

  The song ended, and I pulled the earbuds out. I placed it back into the box, refitted the lid and returned the package to the top of my dresser. I planned to treasure my father’s final gift.

  Rolling onto my bed, I let exhaustion overtake me.

  It was dark and quiet when I awoke. I felt disoriented, unsure of the time and what was going on. But my stomach demanded an offering.

  I slipped into the kitchen, which was deserted and darkened, and took a banana from one of the fruit baskets covering the table. The clock read 3:24.

  After downing the banana, I went after a bunch of grapes. Then I went for broke and took a pear in one hand and an orange in the other. It was like I hadn’t eaten in days. I tried to recall the last time I’d eaten anything, and I couldn’t. Maybe I hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Glad to see your appetite is back.”

  My stomach flipped as I whipped around. My heart pounded as my eyes searched the dark room frantically.

  “Ronan!” I hissed loudly. “How did you get in here?”

  The room was dim, but I could tell by his voice he was smiling slightly.

  “A deadbolt against the most advanced technology in the universe? I think I can handle it.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for his sarcasm.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude—not to mention illegal—to break into someone’s house?”

  He walked a few steps closer to me and held up his hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay, lesson learned. Don’t startle you in the middle of the night.”

  My heart rate began returning to normal, and I felt the adrenaline leaving my bloodstream.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked more civilly.

  “Just a few moments. I… thought you could use a friend.”

  A friend. Is that what he was? I wasn’t sure. My stomach did flips whenever I thought about his kiss, but usually I was too distracted by my grief to spend much time thinking about him. I realized I hadn’t been a very good friend to him.

  “Thanks,” I answered. “I probably could.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “About what?”

  “Well… you, your dad, your mom, the funeral, the future—anything.”

  Generally I didn’t want to talk about that stuff, but for some reason I didn’t mind with Ronan.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Do you want to sit down?”

  He nodded and followed me into the darkened living room. I hesitated a moment, eyeing the two recliners and one couch. His decision, I decided, and took a seat on the end of the couch.

  He chose to sit next to me—close enough that I could reach out to touch him, but not so close that it would raise eyebrows if someone were to walk in.

  “What have—“

  “I thought—“

  We both began talking at the same time.

  “You first,” I said.

  “I was just going to say that I thought what you said at the funeral was very thoughtful. Everyone was touched.”

  “You were watching?” I asked, a little taken aback.

  “Of course. It makes me…anxious when I’m not. Besides, how else was I supposed to check on you?”

  “Call, text, email—you know, the old-fashioned, human way.”

  “You haven’t replaced your phone, and you haven’t even been on a computer since you returned home.”

  I hadn’t? It was kind of like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in my face. Was I really that out of touch that I hadn’t even noticed my absent phone?

  Dad wouldn’t like that. The thought came, and I was sure it was true. I made a mental note to mention my phone problem to Mom tomorrow. And maybe check my email.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “But I wish you wouldn’t do that. I’m never going to be able to relax if I think you’re in my head.”

  “Okay, I understand,” he said politely.

  “So you won’t do it anymore?”

  “Not unless it’s an emergency.”

  “…There’s not going to be any of those, is there?” I asked, alarmed. “I mean, I thought the Kema’dor couldn’t track me anymore.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine. But I have taken a few precautions. Nothing you need to worry about,” he said quickly when he saw What precautions? on my lips.

  I wasn’t very satisfied with that, but I really didn’t want to talk about homicidal aliens. Not when that all seemed so far away, sitting comfortably here on my living room couch with Ronan.

  “So what have you been doing? You know, when you’re not spying on me, or ‘taking precautions’?” I made little air quotes with a smile.

  “Not much,” he said evasively. “A little of this and that.”

  I tried to glare him into a more thorough answer, but he changed the subject.

  “Did you like the gift your father left you?”

  “You saw that? To be honest, I didn’t really understand why he gave me so much random stuff. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but…” I trailed off.

  “You didn’t understand the context.”

  “No. Do you?”

  “I think so. Do you remember what he wrote at the end of the card?”

  I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

  “He encouraged you to enjoy your life. I think the gift was tied to that sentiment.”

  “So, I’m supposed to enjoy one piece of chocolate, a picture of the Grand Canyon, and a bottle of almond extract?”

  “I think he was intending to indulge each of your senses.”

  “Oh!” I said, as it clicked. “The chocolate was for taste, the iPod was for hearing, and so on.” I mentally ran through the gifts, and laughed inwardly when I realized the almond extract was supposed to “indulge” my sense of smell.

  Years and years ago, my father had found me crouching in the pantry scraping at my tongue with my fingers, and sniffling. He came to find out that I’d been inspecting the pantry when I came across a bottle of almond extract. It had smelled so good, I couldn’t help but try a taste. I ended up nearly in tears as my tongue began to sting. He had scooped me up and given me a big glass of water, and told me to restrict myself to just smelling the things in the pantry.

  I was a little relieved to discover the symbolism of the gift, that it really did have a purpose and a message.

  “You know,” Ronan said, interrupting my thoughts. “The watcher can give me a lot of data, but I haven’t been able to figure out what your plans for the future are.”

>   “The future?” I echoed. “I…m not sure. The only thing I know is that I want my future to not be just about me. I want to help others, like my dad did. Maybe that sounds dumb, or sentimental, but that’s how I feel.”

  “No, no. It sounds just like you. You’ve never given yourself enough credit, Alex.”

  As he said those last words, he took my hand in his.

  I was glad for the darkness so he couldn’t see me blush.

  Then, hesitantly, he slid his hand up through my hair and cupped my head. Gently pulling me forward, I yielded to the pressure and suddenly we were locked in a gentle but searing kiss. He scooted closer to me and wrapped his free arm around my waist.

  “Ahem.”

  Startled, I jumped and pulled away.

  My mom was standing there in the kitchen, holding an empty water glass and wearing a white bathrobe.

  “What on earth is going on, Alex?” Her voice was perplexed.

  “I, um,” I fumbled. “Well, this is Ronan.”

  The shocked look remained on her face, so I added, “He came over to…check on me.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Blackwood,” Ronan said, standing. “I apologize for startling you.”

  “Ronan?” My mother said, and I could see she was trying to mentally place him—had I ever mentioned him; had she ever met him? She must have decided it didn’t matter because then she said, “Never mind. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Alex, back to bed. Ronan, I assume you know where the door is.”

  Taking the hint, he looked at me and smiled a secret smile, said, “Of course, ma’am,” and went quietly out the front door.

  I was too embarrassed to say anything. Just went up to my room and into my bed.

  Chapter 15

  Directive to The Explorer

  -Kema’dor continue to hunt watchers

  - 37 experimental Homo sapiens whereabouts unknown

  - Will continue search

  - Gamafor

  The next morning Mom let me sleep in until ten o’clock, then dragged me out of bed to grill me about Ronan. But she seemed to have mellowed some overnight and wasn’t too hard on me. Mostly she just wanted to know who Ronan was, how we’d met, and how serious it was.