The Girl Made Of Stardust

One

One;

My ceiling seemed to just drift away. Stars and lights of all different colours swirled around my head as meteors flew past in the beautiful, magnificent thing we call our universe. It was magical; truly breath taking, my safe place, where I go to relax and a part of my world I kept hidden. I have had this happen in my room for as long as I can remember; the universe has always opened up to me and let me in; through my ceiling. Sometimes, it takes me to the moon, whole new galaxies and far off empty planets with greenery and beauty, planets not yet discovered.

“Nelly” a voice came from behind my door, “do you want breakfast?”

I wiped my hand across the ceiling, like a duster on a blackboard; the universe disappeared.

“I’ll get it dad.” I said as I pulled on my house coat. I knew that him asking really meant he wanted me to make it.

My dad sat at the dining room table behind a large newspaper taking sips of coffee that was so strong it filled my nose and made me feel buzzy. This was pretty much the only bad thing I had to say about my dad – other than him sometimes trying to talk ‘down with the kids’ and embarrassing me beyond peeing-your-pants embarrassed – I loved him. After my mother died, he really stood up to the mark and took interest in me and everything I did. He was my best friend, my hero and my greatest protector.

“Any plans today?” he asked over the brim of his glasses, his dark brown, worn eyes were hopeful.

“Not really.” I told him honestly as I began dishing up oatmeal. “Just the library.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his longish salt and pepper coloured hair. “Why don’t you go out with friends? It’s Saturday, go have fun.”

I smiled slightly as I slid over his plate and began eating. When I had finished chewing I thought of the right words. Any words would hurt admitting this out loud, hurt him and secretly myself. “I don’t have friends, dad. You know that.”

He coughed uncomfortably, feeling how I feel. He could always do that. “That’s not true you have, um, well, Bert from school that you’re always talking about.”

“You mean the janitor..?” I laughed slightly.

The pleased look instantly fell from his face. I could see him scrambling around in his brain for a name, any name I had mentioned over all my years of school. “Well, what about Terry?”

“Toby.” I rolled my eyes, taking our plates to the sink. “He’s not my friend dad just someone who goes where I go. Kinda like following me.

He chuckled. “Isn’t that what normal kids these days call ‘Hanging out’?”

I shook my head as I headed back for the stairs to get dressed. He would never give up trying to make my life ‘normal’, I wish he could be just as happy as I was (or thought I was) about how my life was going; no drugs, no sex, no rock and roll. Peace. 

As I rummaged through my closet, looking for weather appropriate clothes; I took a moment to admire the photograph of my mother that hung on the wall beside me. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, not just because she was my mother, but because she was. Her violet eyes smiled up at me through the framed glass as she sat on a swing in a place unknown to me, her glossy raven hair hung behind her in loose curls.

I was lucky enough to inherit all of those features, but somehow couldn’t pull them off as nicely. When I had settled on a sweater and jeans, I decided that would have to do. Kissing the photograph with a heavy heart I pulled on coat and made my way out into the streets of New York.