Star Catchers

Peter Part 11

I got the news at 4:12am. They couldn't save her. When she got to the hospital she had lost too much blood and her heart was too weak. They wouldn't tell me any more information, only that I would be sent a notification in the mail if I am wanted at the funeral service. I don't know what to do but sit in my room and stare into the darkness. No tears come. All I can do is stare at nothing until light starts ruining my solitude around 6 o'clock, setting off my mind into a battlefield of thoughts that I was hoping to avoid today.

I feverously jump off of my bed and throw on a tank top and shorts. Before running out the door I slip on flip-flops and grab my keys from the bowl. In my car I speed down the streets of town that are deserted besides a few lonely cars. I don't know where I am going but I seem to be in autopilot.

I stop at a brick apartment building that I remember was her's. I want to leave but I feel like I need to do something very important. Sitting on the curb the sun I know I am being watched, but no one is around me.

Only the empty street and me. I get up and nervously pace up and down the sidewalk. Why are you even here? What do you think it will help anything? Go home! No just go away. No one needs you anymore. She is gone. What is keeping you here? My pulse quickens and I lean against the bricks, using their support. God you are an idiot! You need to go away. This won't happen if you go away. I promise it will all just go away if you leave. I promise you will get rid of everything you don't want. I promise. You should really go. I push my hands against the wall and clamp my eyes shut. I feel something touch my arm but I just ignore it. It happens again. And again. Over and over until I open my eyes to see a lean built boy with dark hair and pale skin. His cheek is bruised but other than that something is off about the way he smiles. "Hey, are you okay?" his voice tells me he is around ten years old. I shake my head and laugh, "Does it look like I am okay?" I sink down to my knees and to my surprise he sits right next to me. "Well I am not okay either," he laughs, the type of laugh that is thin and meant to cover up a broken voice, "Can we be not okay together?" I don't know why but this kid is getting on my nerves. "Kid, whatever you name is, I have real problems. I'm very sorry if your hot wheels car is broken, but can you just let me be in peace?" I may be a little too harsh but I am in high risk of losing it right now. "Do you know me? I know who you are. I have seen you around a lot. Every Saturday you come around and- um- drop off a very pretty girl. You never kiss her goodbye, but sometimes you hug. She never talks about you. But when she is in your car, she smiles. I haven't seen her smile in years. Not since Mom left. Thank you for making her smile, even if it was for just a little while," I could blame is voice cracking on puberty, but it is something deeper than that.

It doesn't make sense, I did drop Rachel off every Saturday, but I have never seen this boy in my life. She never spoke of a brother, or her family at all for that matter. We both had so many secrets, but we respected each others past and let it alone. This boy sounds so defeated, like someone.... Well took his sister.... I refuse to look at him, I know if we make eye-contact we will both cry. Still sitting stiff against the wall, I let my curiosity get the best of me, "What happened?" It is such a simple question but can open or close so many doors. "I wanted to ask her if she wanted to go out to dinner. We haven't been out for a while. Not for three weeks. I knocked on her door. She didn't respond. So I knocked harder. Again and again. I felt like something was off. She always answers. She always answers her door. She wouldn't just ignore me. She wouldn't," his words get panicked but he pauses to calm himself, "So I tried to bust the door in, but then I thought that I should just pick the lock. Indoor locks are so easy. So that is what I did. The door opened and she was lying there with her wrist bleeding over a trashcan, but some of it missed. I picked her. Wrapped the bottom of my shirt around her wrist, and carried her down five flights of stairs. I was so happy I didn't drop her. On the street someone called 911. I got to ride in the ambulance because my father wasn't around. He was drunk and asleep, still upstairs. At the hospital they hooked her up to a bunch of machines. The one that showed her heartbeat with the line was barely moving. All of a sudden her eyes open, locked on me, then closed again. She slipped into a sleep, not like death, her heart was still going. The screen showed her heart rate, it was really weak for awhile, then it spiked, but plubmetted into a straight line soon after," his voice cracks again, "Do you know what the weird thing was? When she looked into my eyes she didn't look scared, there was no form of passion, but I did see something, that gave me hope for awhile, because I knew she still had emotion so she had to be alive. I saw happiness and calm in them. But something else that I couldn't ignore; guilt."

It all makes sense; it doesn't even shock me, the opposite actually. Knowing the story calms my thoughts. I understand why she did it. She must have been gone already; she just couldn't leave until now. I was planning on leaving soon, but she beat me to it. We made a deal that she couldn't end up where I am going to go. Now I can't end up where she went, that would be forcing her to break her last promise to me. She never breaks promises. This one is no different.

We are both silent for a while then he talks again. "What are you doing today? I don't mean to be a bother, but it gets lonely around here," he says with a hopeful tone underlying his voice. "I was planning on being alone for the day," I pause and think if I should reach out to him or not, "You can be alone with me if you want though." I turn my head and a smile creeps onto his lifeless lips. "I don't care what we do, but I just don't want to be alone," he sounds like he is trying to convince me of something. I get up and walk towards the car, when I turn back he is still there, sitting against the wall. "Hey, bud! For you to spend the day with me you need to actually get up," I say with a light chuckle. He slowly gets up, but leans against the wall and closes his eyes and breathes heavily for a minute. I sit in the truck bed and just wait, knowing that he just needs time. His head shakes and he is magically better, I know better than to question him.

Once we are both in the car I roll down the windows and crack up the radio. Ironically "Only the Good Die Young" by Billy Joel is next on the track. I again don't know where I am taking us, but by the end of the song, I recognize the familiar road that leads to my beach. We get there and he immediately bolts out and runs don't the strip of sand. He doesn't just run, he sprints all the way to the rocks that separate my strip from the commercial beach. I can't even sprint that distance without stopping half way through. It must be about a quarter of a mile. I get out and jog down to him. Once I get there I find him lying on the closest road to the ocean, letting the water spray his shorts and tank top. I get closer and sit on the dry side of him. His eyes are closed, but not enough to not let the tears escape. Even though the water mists his face I can see two clear tear streaks running off the sides of his face. A wind blows and his bangs fall over his eyes. I don't know why, but his face being hidden bothers me so much. I lean closer and brush the hair away. My finger brushes his forehead and feels his ice-cold skin. This boy has been through so much in the last day, I feel so much pity for him, but it dawns on me, I don't really know him. I only know a small piece to an extravagant puzzle. I make a vow to myself that every Sunday morning, I will devote my time to this boy, and when he needs me, I will be there for him. I owe this to Rachel. I need to take care of him above all else.