Under The Stars

16

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Look, It’s tiring having to play the damsel in distress all the time to get your attention, Chase. What happened to you, anyway? You have a serious hero complex.”

Bile rises up my throat. Has she been manipulating me this entire time? My phone vibrates in my hand.

Jax.

I point my phone at Lindsay. “Get the f**k out of my sight.”

Her face turns down, lips puffing out like she expects me to take back my words. I watch as she grabs her things and leaves before I answer the call. “Jax. Thank f*****g God, dude. Listen, I can explain.”

The line stays silent. I pull the phone away from my ear, looking down to make sure it’s connected. “Jax? You there?”

“I’m here.” His voice is flat.

“Look, I know this seems bad, man. Do you know why Goldi isn’t answering her phone? Are you with her?” Usually, the resentment would rear its ugly head when I think of them together. But right now, I welcome the thought.

“Yeah. I’m with her. No, you can’t talk to her.”

“Jax, come on, man. This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

He laughs, the sound hollow. “A misunderstanding? Seems to be a lot of that with you, lately.”

My temper flares. “Put Goldi on the f*****g phone, Jax. I need to talk to her.”

“You are one selfish son of a b***h. You know that? Not everything is about you.”

My fingers rip at my hair in frustration as I pace a hole through my floor. “I never said it was.”

“You didn’t have to. Alina’s mom was dying in the hospital last night, and instead of being here with the girl you claim to love, you were with that snake Lindsay. Again.”

I stop pacing. My heart bangs violently against my ribs, like it knows if it stays with me it’s bound to break. I roll his words around in my head. “What did you just say?”

He exhales heavily. “Look. Alina needed you last night, but she doesn’t need you now. Don’t come back here. I won’t let you get near her. I’m done letting you rip her to pieces.” He hangs up.

The icy tendrils of dread creep up my back and wrap around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

Jax is right. I’m a selfish son of a b***h.

16

Alina

Eighteen Years Old

I’ve decided I hate sound. Sound reminds me the world is somehow still spinning. People are still living. Time is still moving. Like nothing has changed. Like Heaven didn’t just steal a piece of my soul.

I hate sound.

So today, I pick silence.

Lying in the middle of Mama’s bed, the pillow that still smells of her catching my tears—I choose to be still. At least here, I can freeze time. Just for a little bit.

I pretend I don’t hear when the door creaks open, the tap of shoes walking across the wood floor. I close my eyes when Jax’s warm body sinks down behind me, cradling me in his arms. He’s silent. He knows what it’s like to hate the noise.

It’s impossible to explain this feeling. No words to express the pain of losing the one person who loved you most in the world. No way to describe the devastation in knowing no one will ever love you that way again.

If you’ve never lost a parent, you won’t understand. But Jax does. Because Jax has. I stay strong in the face of everyone else, but for him, I can break. And I do. Over and over, I break.

My tongue darts out to moisten my lips and catches on the rough, chapped edges. I swallow down tears, the burn from my scratchy throat making me flinch. A physical reminder that I can, in fact, still feel.

“Alina,” Jax whispers. “We have to go soon, do you need help getting ready?”

I shake my head, but I don’t move from my spot. I don’t open my eyes. Once I do, time will start again. I’ll have to wear my black dress and wave my white flag of surrender. Pretend to give a damn when people cry crocodile tears over Mama’s casket. If I open my eyes, I’ll have to watch them bury Mama six feet underground. I’ll have to hear the strongest man I know sob because half of him is gone forever. I’ll have to taste the bitterness knowing it took Mama’s death to bring my brother Eli back to town.

So, I think I’ll just keep them closed.

The service is beautiful. Yellow Chrysanthemums and pink tulips line the pews. White stargazer lilies surround her casket. Bouquets and baskets sit on the floor in front of her picture. Altogether, it’s a moving image.

I’m numb.

While Becca’s daddy preaches about the restoration of innocence for the departed and God’s love, I sit in the front row with my head down. My hands wring my handkerchief so tight my knuckles turn white. Jax is on one side, his hand on my knee. Becca is on the other with her palm on my back. Pillars of support holding me up while my family crumbles beneath my feet. I feel their touch.

Still, I’m numb.

The service ends, and I stand between Daddy and Eli, lost in thoughts of who the masochist was that thought up the idea of a receiving line. My sweaty palms grasp a hundred different hands as they whisper their condolences. I keep my head bowed as I mumble my thanks. But then a different hand grasps mine, a flicker of static running through my fingertips. I don’t look up right away. But eventually, I do.

Chase’s face is relieved. Like being in front of me is all he needed to feel whole again. Lucky for him—how that’s still a possibility. His hair is a knotted mess, the strands fighting over which direction to lay. Yet, he’s nearly perfect, of course. He always is. But his beauty doesn’t move me.

“Goldi.”

I blink.

“Goldi, I am so...” His voice cracks with emotion, lower lip trembling as he wipes his hand over his mouth. “Your mom. I can’t even—”

“So, don’t.” The words come across as flat as they feel rolling off my tongue.

He swallows harshly. His eyes bounce to Eli, then Daddy, until they land back on me. He takes a deep breath, his free hand sliding through his dark, silky hair. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But, f**k… I just want you to know I’m here. Take all the time you need, but baby, I’ll be here.”

Laughter bubbles up inside of me, and as inappropriate as it is to laugh in the middle of a receiving line, I can’t stop it from spilling out. It’s brash. The sound echoes off the walls, reverberating, mocking me with its tone.

“I don’t really give a f**k where you’ll be, Chase.”

His eyes grow wide at my curse.

I drop his hand. “Are we done here?”

Daddy doesn’t even look at us, too busy taking sips from his flask of whiskey. Not that I blame him.

Chase stands still as I walk away. His hand rubbing his chest and his eyes glassy. I should probably feel somethin’ after leavin’ him there that way. But I don’t.

I feel nothing.

I drive aimlessly around town for what feels like hours. Until the sun disappears and darkness blankets the ground. Eventually, I find my way home. Tonight is the first night I’m sleeping at my own house. Ten days of avoidance, not wanting to surround myself with the memories, choosing to hide in Jax’s shadow instead.

I go straight to my room and lay in bed, staring up at the glow ‘n stick stars on my ceiling. They make me think of Chase. Anger licks at my insides making me gasp. I’ve found comfort in the numbness. The rush of fiery emotion is a jolt to my system.

How dare he come to Mama’s funeral.

I grab on to the rage, marveling at how it grows inside me. Jumping out of bed, I pull my desk chair to the middle of the room. My shin hits the leg as I clumsily climb to stand on the seat. I reach up and rip a star off the ceiling, watching as it falls to the floor.

I repeat the action. Fingernails tearing as I dig deep into the plaster. Again and again.

Rip. Watch. Repeat.

Breathing heavily from exertion, I collapse onto the ground. A graveyard of stars surrounds me.

I smile.