Trailing Stars (Trailing Stars #1)

Chapter 5

"You can jump right in if you want to," he says, "but sometimes I think it's better to take it slow and write down some ideas first." I guess that makes sense. I indicate for him to go on. Nathan opens the journal to a blank page and picks up a pen. "What's an emotion you've been feeling lately?" I know exactly what my answer is, but I can't share it with Nathan and Clara... can I? They notice my hesitation. Clara props her head up to look at me, and Nathan says, "It makes the poem more powerful if you're being honest with yourself."

I swallow, tightly clasping my hands in my lap. "If I have to be honest..." Where am I going with this? Not the real answer, that's for sure. I settle with, "Loneliness." It's a close second.

Nathan's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't comment. He writes my answer down before glancing at me again. "And when you think of loneliness, what do you associate it with? It can be an object, an idea..."

"A room." Again: not the first thing that comes to mind, but it's close enough.

"Describe the room."

I shrug, looking down at the table. "I don't know... it feels empty. There are spaces I can't fill."

I feel both Nathan's and Clara's eyes on me. Clara opens her mouth, but she jolts before she can say anything. She turns to glare at Nathan. He glares back. Clara closes her mouth in the end and puts her head down on the table again. Even though she's not looking, Nathan gives her one last glare before he scribbles down what I said. He asks me a few more questions, and I try to avoid all the real answers as much as I can.

He finally slides the journal and pen over to me. I let out a breath, feeling the knot in my chest loosen. I place my hand on the journal, but Nathan doesn't let go. I meet his eyes, and I have to fight the urge to look away. But I have a feeling Nathan knows that I'm not comfortable because his expression softens.

"Is that all?" he asks.

I swallow. "Yeah. That's all."

He nods. "Even if it is, you can always write more than you want to say aloud."

He sits back, letting me take the journal. I stare down at the page, forcing myself to pick up the pen and write. There are a lot of unceremonious pauses where I stop writing altogether and glance around the room. Clara is asleep by the third time, but I prefer that over Nathan not taking his eyes off me once. Does he realize this only makes me more nervous? If I have to write about something I've tried not to think about for almost a year, I'd rather not have people watching me while I do it.

I manage to finish eventually. The moment I set the pen down, Nathan takes the journal from me, and I have to stop myself from snatching it back. I clasp my hands in my lap, digging my nails into my skin. I watch his eyes move back and forth across the page. His expression is mostly controlled except for a few scowls and confused looks he couldn't hide. Even then, I probably wouldn't have seen them if I hadn't been looking.

"It's not bad," Nathan says, setting the journal on the table. Clara lifts her head at the small disruption. She pulls the journal towards her and starts reading as Nathan continues. "But I feel like you're not saying everything you want to say."

"He's not wrong," Clara agrees. "It doesn't feel finished."

Nathan nods in agreement. "And like I said, the reader interprets the poem in any way they want to. How I see it can be completely different from what you see, so there's no need to hold back."

Maybe. But wanting to say something is easier than actually saying it. "I'll think it over."

Clara yawns, stretching her arms out above her head. "At least you're agreeing to try again."