Stardust

Solstice Holiday

Stardust:  Solstice Holiday

Jake Gallagher

    Have you ever wished that the sky was a window? That you could lay on your back in the warm grass of August, inhale the perfumes of summer and youth, and look deep into the sky to see someone else doing the same exact thing in another part of the world? And you just stare at each other and wonder about all the reasons that they have to be staring into the sky, and you wonder if they're searching for something just like you? And then you think about how infinite the sky is and how, at that precise moment, so many others are looking at it too? But then you realize that the sky is not a window, and you can't see all the other wonderful people in the world that stare at the sky and notice things, and you think it's strange that those people will never know that you wonder about them and how they look into the sky? Probably not. But I'd gotten into the habit of doing that. Staring at the sky, I mean. Ever since that night in the field with Skylar, I caught myself looking up all the time.

    It was warm outside. The grass was warm, too, and it wasn't just because I was laying in it. Every so often, there was a breeze that wove through the flower garden and sent a petal or two fluttering across my backyard. Jolly would dash after the petals with big eyes like they were the most fascinating things he had ever seen. Maybe they were.

    The scents of pumpkin and cherry pie were carried on the breeze. The kitchen window was open, and I could hear Mom and Aunt Nina giggling about how they used to make mud pies as kids. And I could hear Owen, Levi, and Nina's son Jackson playing video games in the living room. And I could hear my twenty-year-old uncle Nick insist that the boys play Call of Duty because that's what all the "cool kids" were playing. And I could hear Cassie whining from her highchair. And I could hear the doorbell, and Owen holler that it was Grandma and Grandpa with their famous stuffing and roasted vegetables. And I could hear Grandma fuss over her daughters' dry pie crusts. And then I heard Cassie scream a garbled Happy Thanksgiving! to our grandparents just as the phone rung and I knew it was probably Dad saying that he couldn't make it. As usual.

    I think it's important for me to point out that the entire house was festooned in banners colored in different variants of brown, framed images of pilgrims (since some family member of ours, whose name I didn't bother to remember on account of me dying of the mental affliction 'boredomitis' whenever my mother brought up our ancestry, came over on the Mayflower), plastic autumn leaves, and pictures of cartoon turkeys (much to the chagrin of Nick who just so happened to be a raging vegetarian), hence why I elected to be outside. You'd think, with Owen and Levi being of Indian descent, that Mom wouldn't be such a Thanksgiving enthusiast... You win some, you lose some, I guess.

    Despite the current state of decorative despair brought upon the household and the possibility that my Dad's seat would be empty for yet another holiday, I was OK with it all because I knew I'd be seeing Skylar later.

    After that night in the field, Skylar and I hung out almost every night. We just walked around town and he'd show me every place he'd ever been too. I liked that very much because it was like we were reliving his life. Since I wanted to know everything I ever could about him, I felt that there was no better way to do it than that.

    On one of our walks, Skylar told me that he'd never met his dad before. That made me incredibly sad because I couldn't imagine my life never knowing my dad. Another time, he told me that his mother had a lot of boyfriends, and I figured that that was the more polite way of saying that she sold herself just like he did. Skylar still hadn't told me why he tried suicide so many times, but I think it had a lot to do with his mother and lack of a father.

    Last night, after walking an hour and sitting together on a curb in front of Mark's Place Liquor Store, he told me he had a sister who was four years older than him. He never met her; Jackie gave her up for adoption because she was just sixteen when she got pregnant. Skylar said that if he could meet anyone in the world, he would want to meet her because it bothered him not knowing who she was or if she turned out OK. He liked to imagine that she was a straight-A student enrolled at Harvard, or that she was an aspiring actress who would make it big one day and be on every billboard and talk show. He wished the best for her, and I had never seen Skylar so forlorn. He described the feeling as missing someone that he never met.

    Thinking about Skylar made me miss him terribly. I wanted to talk to him or see him sooner than later. So, I felt around the warm grass until I found my cell phone nestled in its sprigs. I subconsciously pressed along the dial pad and listened to it ring as I watched a cloud sail across the sky. After a minute or two, the disembodied, strident, and painfully obnoxious voice of Brennyn howled something like, "What's up, my bitch?!"

    I winced. "Can I talk to Sky?"

    "I don't even get a hello?" she snapped. "And what makes you think he's with me, anyway?"

    "Because you've been up his ass ever since he finally forgave you for being a douche," I huffed. "And, no, you don't get a greeting because you called me a bitch. Now, can I please speak to Sky?"

    I didn't mean to sound so harsh with her, but ever since Skylar started talking to her the day after our night in the field, she attached herself to him like a blood-sucking parasite. I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous that she was with him all the time and I only got him at night. And I would also be lying if I said it didn't feel like she was stealing him from me because that was exactly what it felt like. I knew it was pathetic; I never had and never would have any claim over Skylar. He was as free as the wind itself. Leah was his girlfriend, and she couldn't even keep a hold on him. Even if I did have some infinitesimal ownership of him, Brennyn had him first, and that alone superseded me entirely.

    The other end went silent. I was sure that she hung up on me until I heard a quiet, smoky, "Hello?"

    "Hi," I said. I smiled even though I knew it was impossible to see through a phone.

    I heard Skylar chuckle and my cheeks burned. "Sorry about Bre. Normally, she eats Bitchflakes, but she decided to have a huge bowl of PMS this morning."

    I laughed so loudly that Jolly's tail puffed as if he'd just been electrocuted.

    There was a muffled thud on Skylar's end and I heard him wince.

    "I guess she had a side of abusive sunny-side up, too," he muttered.

    "Enough of Brennyn," I chuckled. "What are you doin' around five?"

    "Shooting myself," he said. He spoke so nonchalantly as if he said things like that all of the time. Which he did, by the way.

I sighed. "Please don't joke like that. You'll give me a heart attack."

    "Hey, c'mon, you usually laugh at my jokes," he whined. "Don't turn into Brennyn."

    "The fact that you think I'm capable of turning into Brennyn is insulting," I said. "Anyway, I called because I wanted to see if you might want to have Thanksgiving dinner with me and my family tonight."

    I crossed my fingers, and I'm sure I would have crossed my toes if they were long enough. Then I thought of all the reasons he would have to decline the offer. Maybe he already had plans to eat dinner at Brennyn's. Or maybe he had to "work" tonight. Or maybe he was going to do something with his mom, although I didn't think that was very likely. Or maybe he was getting tired of me already. My insecurities insisted that it would be the latter.

    There was a scratchy groan from his end. "Parents don't like me."

    There was his reason. He was declining, but I was too needy and desperately pathetic to take no for an answer.

    "Mine will," I blurted very hopefully. "I promise. My parents will love you."

    He paused for a long time. So long that I began to count the seconds. I got to thirty-seven when I finally heard him speak.

    "Alright, it's a date," he declared with the slightest falter of a laugh. "Do I have to bring you a corsage?"

    My face felt very hot all of a sudden. "Oh, shut up and be here at four-thirty!" I exclaimed before flipping my phone closed.

    The smile that spread across my face was unable to be contained. I tried to bite my lip to stop it, but the joy only spread wider and wider until I was sure that I looked like The Joker. I actually didn't care because it was Skylar that made me look so goofy and I was completely OK with that. If it were any other person, I'd be burying my face in the dirt like an ostrich.

    "Jake, honey," Grandma Nancy called, poking her little gray-haired bun out of the kitchen window, "come help me with the turkey, will you? Your mother almost burned it."

    "Sure, Gram!"

☆   ☪   ☆

    It was four-twenty and I was impatiently waiting by the front door. The more I sat on the step anticipating that godawful ding-dong that would, for the first time since I've lived in this house, sound like Gabriel's trumpet knowing that Skylar was the one ringing it, the more anxious I got. But I wasn't sure what I would do if it did ring. Would I dart for the door like a madman to greet Skylar? Or would I play it cool and wait a minute before I answered? I can't recall how many times I'd reiterated how pathetic I was, so I think it's apparent by now that I would probably throw myself at the door as soon as it rang.

    "Baby," Mom cooed, leaning against the banister beside me. I hadn't heard her approach, but then again that was because she forgot to put on her heels. She was wearing her perfect-fit green dress that she sported on every Thanksgiving, and on every Thanksgiving she always forgot to put on the matching heels. So, she walked around in her bunny slippers the whole day and cursed herself after dinner when she finally noticed the googly eyes that bounced around on the dual bunny heads whenever she took a step. "Dinner's ready."

    "No!" I jolted. "We can't eat yet! Skylar's not here! Do you know how rude that would be if he walked in and saw us eating already?! That's completely rude! Don't you know etiquette?!"

    Mom laughed very loudly. The googly eyes shook. "Calm down before you give yourself a heart attack, sweetie!"

    "Sorry," I pouted. I sat still, slumped over and my head between my knees. "I'm just really nervous."

    Mom squeezed herself beside me on the narrow staircase. Her hand found its way into my hair like it always did when I was upset or nervous or ready to map the nearest cliff. Her fingertips rubbed soothing circles into my scalp, and I recalled every time that put me to sleep as a kid. But, right now, I was too on edge to sleep or even breathe like a normal human being. My breath was short and I was utterly convinced that I was having an attack of some sort.

    "Tell me about him," Mom said. I could almost hear the smile in her voice. She lived for tales of puppy love and mushy romance. As much as I hate to say it, I do too.

    I tilted my head toward her and I couldn't help but blush. I had no problem with talking about Skylar in the company of myself because I liked the way it sounded when I rolled his name around on my tongue like a lost tooth, but this would be the first time that I had told anyone in detail about my affections for him.

    "He has eyes that make you melt," I muttered, "they're a light brown, like old sepia photos that have so many stories in them. Every time he looks at you it's like the first time, and his eyes let you feel like the single most important person in the universe. And when you look at him, you know he's that rare type of person that's hard to chase but so amazing to catch if you're lucky enough... And he doesn't have much, but if he considered you a friend and you were in need, he'd give you all of what little he has."

    Mom ushered me on with a widening grin.

    "He's a daydreamer, too. He's so caught up in his own head, but when he talks he says the most off-the-wall things that are so beautiful and philosophical. He gives you the feeling that he could change the world blindfolded and his hands behind his back," I gushed and I felt a flutter in my chest like I always did when I was with Skylar or when I thought about him. "He's a lover of astronomy. That's his favorite thing. He's always looking at the sky, and I think the term 'head stuck in the clouds' was coined after him... One time, I told him he should be an astronaut, but he said that man has no place in the stars because the darkness and ugliness of mankind's heart would only corrupt the beauty of the rest of the universe."

    I was blushing very deeply at this point, but Mom urged me on because she was the type of person that wasn't content. She was always curious and she needed to know things. I inherited that from her. That and my hair.

    "Honestly, there's no way that I could accurately describe him. He's just this gorgeous guy with a personality that's a complete paradox of him, and the most beautiful smile that gives the illusion that he's perfectly fine and he doesn't need anything from anyone," I said, "but it's rare that he gives a genuine smile, and it always looks like he's lonely instead of fine, so he forces a smile. You can tell it's not real because you can't see it in his eyes."

    "Why doesn't he really smile?" Mom asked. "Anyone should smile 'til their lips fall off with you around."

    "Thanks," I grinned, but the feeling faded. It was replaced by a deep heartache when I recalled everything he ever told me about his life and his family. The flutter in my chest recoiled into a steely patter. "He has a lot of problems with his family. Really, he only has his mom, Jackie, but she's not a proper mother, ya' know? They have financial issues, too. They're scrapping just to get by."

    "Aww," Mom cooed with a frown. "Well, when he gets here, I'll make sure to let him know that he's always welcome here. Anyone that makes you smile as much as you do when you talk about him deserves my generosity."

    "Well," I flushed, scratching at the back of my neck, "he's kind of already stayed here."

    "What?!" Mom exclaimed and the googly eyes on her slippers jiggled. But I could tell that she wasn't mad. She always had a soft spot for mischief; especially when she recalled all the borderline criminal activities that formed the foundation of her teen years. "When?"

    "Not too long ago," I said. "Jackie was out of town and he doesn't like being by himself, so he stayed over. He slept on the floor."

    Mom suddenly leaned in very close to my face. So close that I could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes and smell the mint on her tongue. I felt very uncomfortable and I'm sure my eyes were as wide as television screens. My breath hitched in my throat. Then, in the sleaziest voice she could muster, whispered, "Did you use a condom?"

    "MOM!" I squalled like a bratty child exiled to the time-out corner.

    My heart leapt into my throat. I mean, I'm no priest, so, yeah, I've thought about those things, but I didn't need my mother making me feel like a socially and physically awkward leper when Skylar could knock on the door at any second. I think she was trying to send me into cardiac arrest before he even got here.

    She cackled very wickedly. "Oh, cool it, hun," she chortled, "don't give yourself an aneurysm."

    "You give me an aneurysm," I huffed.

    I'm sure I actually did have an aneurysm when a high-pitched ding dong echoed throughout the house. Right in front of me, I could see a head of dark hair through the stained-glass window of the door. I felt myself stop breathing.

    "Honey, you're turning blue," Mom whispered. "Unless you're a smurf, I suggest you remember how to breathe. You've been doin' it since you were born, so get it together."

    I gasped as if I had been under water for hours and just came up for air. My head was swimming with emotions too chaotic to comprehend. I was nervous and excited and scared and manic and happy and hungry... I don't know where that last one came from.

    Mom compulsively combed my hair with her slender fingers.

    "Breath check," she declared.

    I deftly opened my mouth. She leaned close and sniffed twice.

    "Like a field of peppermint on a sunny afternoon in July," she giggled. "Now, go get your man!"

    I hadn't felt myself get up from the step, and I hadn't felt myself walk toward the door, and I hadn't felt my hand turn the knob, but I did feel my heart beating a thousand times a second, and I did feel my palms sweating, and I did feel my lungs clench when I started to open the door.

    I expected to see a smirking Skylar standing there with a hand running through his hair, the sun shining on him at the perfect angle, and that portrait of Kurt Cobain smiling at me from his t-shirt... You couldn't imagine how disappointed I was when I saw anyone but him standing there.

    "There's my boy!"

    I was engulfed in a tight embrace by that familiar Old Spice cologne and the brown leather jacket that I used to wear to school as a kid that was way too big for me. It was like I was tucked tightly into the sheets of nostalgia by the arms that fitted themselves around me in a warm hug.

    "Hey, Dad," I smiled, but my voice was lost in the shoulder of the leather jacket.

    I was bummed that it wasn't Skylar, but I had to admit that having my dad here wasn't too shabby.

    I stood on the tips of my sneakers, looking over his shoulder where that old rip was on the leather for any sign of Anessa and Jael.

    My brows furrowed. "You're alone?" I asked.

    He pulled back, but his hands rested on my shoulders. His short, brunette hair had gotten a little grayer since the last time I saw him, and there were more wrinkles by his green eyes when he smiled, but his dimples were still the same. When I was a kid, that was the first thing I looked for whenever I saw him. Mom said I used to stick my fingers in his dimples as a baby. I always wished I could have gotten them from him. Cassie did.

    "Yup. John, party of one," he sniggered. "Anessa and Jael are in San Bernardino to visit her family."

    "John?" Mom called from behind me.

    Dad peered over my head and his smile grew to clown proportions. "Nora, gorgeous in green!" he exclaimed.

    "Oh, you hush," Mom rolled her eyes, but I always noticed things, and even though it was subtle, I couldn't help but notice the way she slightly pushed out her chest when he stared.

    I elected not to believe what I noticed, and so I dismissed it as Mom just being Mom. Nothing more, nothing less.

    She lead Dad into the living room where Owen and Levi, who I thought wouldn't put their controllers down in the middle of an apocalypse, abandoned their video game to greet Dad. Then, I heard uncle Nick give a rough grunt of acknowledgment. It's safe to say that he and Dad were never on the friendliest of terms. Nick was only four when my parents, who were seventeen, decided to officialize their relationship. Nick and Mom were always close, with Mom being a matronly figure because of the age gap, but over the years Nick felt increasingly more like Dad was stealing her away. It's like when your parents break up and your mom gets a new boyfriend; the tension was so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw. Nick was pissed beyond belief when he found out that Dad left Mom to go pursue a relationship with Anessa. And when Nick was pissed, every volcano on the planet erupted like Mount Vesuvius. I was always afraid that the next time Nick and Dad met there would be a fight. Honestly, I couldn't give a definite answer of whose side I'd be on.

    I flung myself back on the step, gnawing on my thumb nail and staring at the door as if we were having a contest and I had a winning-streak to obtain. There was a lot of laughing and talking floating out of the kitchen like music notes, and a small part of me wanted to be in the middle of it. But, the larger part of me just wanted to be with Skylar in a field of stars and constellations talking about everything and nothing at all. Is that what being in love with someone is like? Ya' know, wanting to do nothing more than spend all of your time with that one person? I'd never been in love before, so I wouldn't know. The only thing I could compare my feelings for Skylar to was the relationship between my parents, but loving someone should not entail leaving them for the next best thing, so, really, I had no ounce of a clue as to what I was feeling, but I did know that Skylar meant a lot to me. More than could be conceived.

    A warm, furry something brushed against my arm. I looked over to find Jolly sitting beside me on the step. His green moons for eyes stared at me with delight, and he bumped his head into my arm again. My fingertips ghosted over his ears. He always purred really loud when I pet him. Actually, when anyone pet him, but I liked to think that I was special. If not to anyone else, than at least to my cat.

    I felt unsettled as I sat there, and I think Jolly noticed it because he crept further up the steps as I sulked. He didn't even like me anymore.

    I checked the time; it was three minutes passed five. Skylar was officially over a half-an-hour late. I called him at one o'clock, and I knew from experience that the walk from Brennyn's house to mine wasn't anymore than thirty minutes at a leisurely pace. My family was getting more starved, fervently stalking around the dinner table like vultures to a carcass. Owen and Levi looked ready to shove an apple in my mouth and roast me if my plus-one didn't show up in the next twenty seconds. Honestly, I wouldn't blame them if they did. I'm not even sure if I'd put up a fight at this point. I'm too embarrassed.

    There was a muffled bang, a pop and a thud from the second floor. The stairs beneath me quaked with each noise and my brows furrowed along with them. Jolly zipped down the stairs like a bat out of hell. He lacked the curiosity of a normal cat, and so I knew the clatter couldn't have been from his doing. I glanced in the kitchen; my family was too deafened by the howls of their stomachs to have noticed. It could have been Norman Bates breaking in to shank us all, and they wouldn't have given him the time of day, and so, since no one else would, I hauled myself up the stairs making sure to grunt as loudly as I could as I did so. I had a guest to greet (if he even showed) and yet I was the one stuck with the duty of ghost-bustering whatever paranormal activity was taking place up stairs.

    When I reached the landing, the only thing out of order was the slight swinging of my bedroom door from its creaking hinges. Great, Peeves the poltergeist is in my bedroom, I thought.

    I stomped down the hall where a cool draft slithered from my door. "Alright," I declared, "whatever supernatural being is screwing around in my room, I banish you from this residence!"

    I shoved my bedroom door open and nearly pissed my pants at the sight. I had to cling to the doorway to steady myself or else I would have fell flailing into the carpet and cursing for embarrassing myself in front of Skylar.

    There he stood, the sunlight dancing across him from the open window, that cheeky smirk on his face, a hand in his hair, and Kurt Cobain staring at me from his torso.

    "Hey," Skylar chirped, "sorry about your desk."

    One of my desk's legs was laying like a shriveled up log on the floor at least a foot away from the rest of the desk, but I was too enraptured in Skylar to care.

    "Did you climb in through the window?" I asked, gawking at him as if he had just sprouted three heads. "Why did you climb in through the window?"

    "I like to make an entrance," he grinned. He brought the hand that wasn't in his hair from behind his back, and held out a yellow dandelion that shone more brightly than the northern star. "Here. I couldn't spring for a corsage, but I got you a flower."

    I laughed so hard that I snorted, coercing a laugh from him as well, and I said, "That's a weed."

    His brows pinched together very comically. "Just 'cause it ain't a flower doesn't mean it lacks feelings. Don't discriminate."

    He had only been here for less than five minutes, but my cheeks already ached from the extremity of my happiness. "You're so weird," I snickered.

    "More like a modern-day Romeo," he asserted.

    I plucked the dandelion from his warm hands, and I held it close to my chest. When it died later and I could make a wish on its cottony sprigs, I wished that I could see Skylar like this, breaking into my house or otherwise, everyday for as long as he stuck around because I knew one day that it was inevitable that he would blow out of my life just as quickly as the breeze he rode in on even though I tried not to think about that too much. I had been toying with the idea of having more substantial feelings for Skylar than just a simple infatuation, and it was with that dandelion that I realized that I had grown even fonder of him. My heart was full and warm and it always fluttered with a threat to burst when he was around. I didn't know what is was, and I had nothing to compare that feeling to, but I no longer felt like I needed a comparison. I just knew that my feelings for him existed and that they wouldn't be as fleeting as a childish crush. For the first time, I didn't think I was pathetic and I wasn't apologetic for how I felt. I felt like I really existed and there's no other way to explain it.

    "C'mon, Romeo," I said, clasping a clammy hand around his wrist, "it's time for you to meet the family."

    It was only after I had a hold of him that I realized we were actually touching. Skin to skin. No layers in between. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from squealing like a preteen girl with pigtails at her first Backstreet Boys concert.

    He snickered. "Whatever you wish, Juliet."

    My whole face burned like the cherries of Skylar's cigarettes. He might have said it in a joking manner, but that fact that he acknowledged me as his other half still had to count for something. To me, it was everything. But then the thought occurred to me that Romeo and Juliet were star-crossed lovers and their entire relationship was marked with tragedy from the start. I liked to believe that I wasn't that dramatic of a person, but I couldn't help but to think of all the ways Skylar and I's relationship could fail before it even began... If it even began. I didn't even know how Skylar felt about me. I had been spending so much time fathoming a relationship between us that I didn't even consider the reality that Skylar was with Leah and they were happy. Even if Leah weren't a part of this disgustingly complicated equation, it's unlikely that Skylar would want to be with me. It felt like Skylar was this big magnificent galaxy with all of his shiny contents, and I was just a measly half-dead star that he didn't even know existed. Of course, I existed to Skylar, but as far he knew my feelings for him didn't, so I might as well not exist and be sucked into some black hole in the corner of the universe never to be seen again.

    When we reached the kitchen, every head of my family shot up like little kids' on the fourth of July. The monstrous howls of their bellies and the rivulets of steam radiating off of the food no longer mattered. Their eyes were busy devouring Skylar, and I'm sure that was how I looked whenever I saw him.

    "What's up?" Skylar chirped with an unabashed smile.

    I envied how confident he was. I practically combusted into a million flecks of dust whenever more than three people were looking in my general direction at once, let alone when ten sets of scrutinizing eyes were staring at me. Skylar looked into all of their eyes with ease.

    Grandma looked pleased as she stared at Skylar. Then again, Grandma was too nice not to be pleased. On the other hand, Grandpa's lips were curved downward so sharply that it gave him a new set of wrinkles. I followed his coke-bottle lenses to Kurt Cobain dashed across Skylar's torso. Grandpa always said that that kind of music ruined today's youth.

    Mom was smiling so wide that you could almost hear her skin cracking, and Dad looked as if he had something to say. Not a bad something; just something that tickled the back of his throat until it worked its way up to an itch on the tip of his tongue. Nonetheless, he kept his lips drawn together, but I could see a slight movement that suggested he was scraping his tongue against his teeth.

    Aunt Nina was smiling just as wide as Mom. Like sister, like sister, I suppose.

    Nick had a single crease between his brows. He looked as if he was concentrating very hard, but I knew Nick, and I knew that that was the face he made when he was given the burden of introducing himself. He never did like meeting people.

    I caught Levi asking Owen who the guy was on Skylar's shirt. Owen said it was Jesus. He was being sarcastic, but Levi was the type that took things literally, and so his eyes widened and I'm sure he was trying to remember some things the pastor said the last time we went to church. Jackson was sitting beside them, and he just looked indifferent.

    Cassie, sitting between Mom and Dad in her yellow high chair, had large eyes and her mouth was in the shape of a perfect circle. There were two reasons as to why she would look like that: either she was excited, or she pooped. Probably both.

    "You're pretty!" Cassie garbled. She kicked her feet so rapidly that her high chair rocked back and forth, knocking against the floor, until Dad put a hand on it so she wouldn't flip over.

    Skylar gave the biggest grin I'd ever seen on him; one that would make the sun jealous of its golden glow. Even though I wished I had been the one to cause it, I still felt happy seeing him smile.

    Then, Skylar chuckled. "And you're handsome."

    Everyone's faces, even the stoicism of Nick, cracked into smiles that pratically illuminated the entire house. Grandma clapped like she just won a bet at the race track.

    Mom jumped from her seat. Like the homemaker she tried so desperately to be in the face of company, she pulled out a chair for Skylar. "We're so happy to have you over for dinner, Skylar," she said. "I've heard so much about you!"

    "Like what? If it's about the lawsuit, my lawyer's barred me from discussing the details," Skylar smirked, "but I heard that you're Jake's mom. How's that working out for you?"

    The room overflowed with a current of laughter so strong that it drown my head. I was laughing as well, but my voice was lost within the others, and I couldn't distinguish which one was my own.

    "You're being sued?!" Levi exclaimed, mounting his hands on the table as if to launch over it. "For what?!"

    Skylar's eyebrows pinched together. "He takes everything seriously, doesn't he?"

    I nodded.

    "In that case, I'll just call him Mr. President," Skylar declared.

    Levi, in all the same infallible seriousness that he took to every situation, asked, "President of what?"

    Skylar shook his head with a grin. My lips twitched and I grinned too. It was contagious.

    And that was how Thanksgiving dinner went. After the greetings and Mom practically having to pin Nick to the table so he wouldn't escape introducing himself, the food was shoveled around until everyone had enough to fill a crater on the moon, courtesy of Grandma, and talk flooded the kitchen like a hurricane. Most of the conversation of clashing voices was about Skylar. Mom or Grandma or Nina would ask him a question about himself, like what he wants to do when he grows up, and he would answer as best he could between fork-fulls of turkey and mashed potatoes. Then Grandpa or Dad would comment.

    "I think I've reached the pinnacle of my growth," Skylar chuckled, his voice slightly muffed by a swallow, "but I don't know what I want to do yet... What I do know is that I'd rather be workin' for a paycheck than waitin' to win the lottery."

    "Hardworking... I like it," Dad smiled.

    Grandpa nodded in approval. "More kids your age need to have that get up an' go. I admire that in you."

    I don't think anyone had ever said something like that to Skylar before. He wasn't the type of person that people would generally say they were proud of or admired, and so he just kind of stared at Grandpa with this odd, crooked look on his face. It was only when a slow smile spread across every inch of him like a burning fuse that I noticed he was happy. Genuinely happy.

    "Thank you," Skylar whispered.

☆   ☪   ☆

    I wasn't sure if Aunt Nina slipped vodka into the turkey (everyone knew how much she loved her drink), but my entire family and Skylar were absolutely drunk. Food drunk. Well, everyone except me, and Nick the raging vegetarian. I was never a big fan of turkey, and so I picked at the salad and cranberries while everyone else stripped every morsel of meat from the bones like savages.

    Grandma and Grandpa packed up their share of leftovers and gave wet kisses to everyone's foreheads before scurrying out of the house cackling like drunken madmen with arms full of foil and containers so packed that the lids kept popping off.

    I found out that Nick moved in with Nina and Jackson last week because he had to quit his job. He couldn't find the balance between work and college, and so Nina opened up her doors to him. When she was helping me wash the dishes after dinner, she whispered to me about how she was afraid that she would never be able to get Nick to leave now that he had gotten so comfortable on her couch. Nick heard us. He and Nina ended up having a spat like an old married couple when they departed with their tray of leftovers that Nina hollered about Nick devouring like he did her entire refrigerator. It got pretty hilarious when she whacked him over the head with a stick of French bread. After witnessing that tiff, I hoped I wouldn't have to house Owen or Levi one day when we're older. I'd probably end up having to move out in the middle of the night if I couldn't get rid of them.

    Owen and Levi were so inebriated from the turkey that they crashed on the couch immediately after they licked their plates clean. Their heads were at opposite ends of the couch, and every so often one would kick the other in the face, but they were too tired to move, so they slept with their toes in each others' noses.

    Cassie slumped over in her high chair halfway through dinner, slurring a string of inconsequential baby talk as she did so. Dad had to carry her upstairs and tuck her away in her crib beside Jolly. As soon as her little blonde head hit the sheet, she was out like a light.

    I knew Skylar was hazy after dinner as well, despite how good he hid it. I think Mom knew it to because she gladly declared that he was spending the night, leaving him no room to protest. I don't think he would've anyway. God only knew what Jackie was doing at the trailer, if she was even there. I think Skylar was relieved that Mom said he could stay because he muttered a quick thank you before dashing up the stairs and crashing in his designated corner on the floor of my bedroom.

    I felt like a creep watching Skylar sleep, but who could resist gazing at him? He was so quiet and beautiful. He never looked more content than he did when he was asleep or in the field. He could abandon all of his problems and everything he'd ever been through when he slept or when he spent all those hours in that rolling plain beneath the constellations. I'm sure if he was given the opportunity to sleep for the rest of his life in that field, he would take it in a heartbeat. I only wished that he would take me with him if he did.

    I was afraid he'd wake up and catch me gawking like some psycho stalker preparing an elaborate plan to kidnap him, and so I crept downstairs hoping to find someone awake to occupy my time until I was tired. I thought maybe I could wake Owen or Levi to watch TV or play a video game, but they looked so happy as they slept, despite having their toes up each other's noses, and so I left them be. I pulled the duvet over them, and I swear it was like they started snoring even louder than usual. Nina must have used a lot of vodka.

    I wasn't hungry, but I decided that I'd have what little nibble of turkey was left because I had nothing to do. I thought that I might as well go to sleep and I knew the turkey would help get me there.

    I tiptoed passed the couch where tendrils of Z's were practically floating over the boys' heads. I heard a ruckus in the kitchen, like someone shoving a silverware drawer closed and the contents inside clinking against each other. I remembered that I hadn't seen Mom or Dad in awhile. I hoped it was them because I didn't get to talk too much to Dad over dinner and I wanted to catch up with him before he left for San Bernardino to reunite with Anessa and Jael.

    I swung around the archway to the kitchen with a greeting on my tongue, but I swallowed it and nearly choked on it as the dim light of the kitchen danced off of the two mingling, groping bodies against the counter.

    I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't just ignore the fact that my parents were enthralled in a heated makeout session right in front of me. Dad had Mom pushed up against the counter, her thin legs wrapped around his waist. They were snapping at each other's lips with a passion so intense that it rivaled the flame of lovebirds in their teens. Mom's hands were in his hair, and Dad felt up her chest, biting down her neck as he did so.

    I felt really dirty, like how you would feel being groped by a pervert three times your age. Then I felt the violent urge to vomit, cry, and curl up in the fetal position. Not necessarily in that order... And even though she didn't know it yet, I felt the breaking of Anessa's heart in my chest.

☆   ☪   ☆