Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

11. Skylar

"Not recently."

"Skylar, you have to get over all that-- he's your dad, he loves you--"

"No, I won't get over it," I say, more loudly than I intended. "He left you. He made us all move back to England, made you quit your job in California, and then-- and then he left you, mum."

There's silence on the line, and I feel like an asshole. It's not as if my mum has forgotten for one bloody second that my father left her for another woman. She's never told me that's why things ended, but I know. And so, on her behalf, I refuse to speak to both my dad and the interloper with whom he's living.

"Skylar... you can't fight my battles for me. He's your dad," she replies softly, reminding me why she's my favorite person in the world. I'm not sure how she, the eternal optimist, managed to spawn a glass-half-empty daughter like me.

When I don't reply, she changes the subject. "Let's talk about something else, love. You seeing anyone special?" Her tone is hopeful, and I know that she's been dying for me to move on from what happened with Luke.

"Only if you count my anatomy textbooks," I reply. She senses that I don't want to get into it and, after a few minutes of more small talk, extracts a promise from me to visit soon and to get more sleep.

Just as I'm about to hang up, I hear her voice and put the receiver back to my ear. "Skylar, not every man out there is like your dad and Luke. There are good guys in the world. You just have to know where to look."

And, with that dose of wisdom dispensed, my mum tells me that she loves me and hangs up. I stand frozen for a moment, lost in thought until I hear the frantic bubbling of the water on the stove. I turn off the flame and turn to fumble around in the pile of papers on the counter. Finally, locating the paper for which I'm searching, I pick up the receiver and carefully dial the number.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

I'm just about to give up when I hear a voice on the other end.

"Hello?" A woman chirps on the other end of the line.

Shit. I rub my face wearily as I speak into the receiver.

"Could I spoke with Roger, please?" There's music in the background and what sounds like a few people chatting.

"He's not here at the moment," the woman replies politely.

"Oh-- well, do you know when he'll be back?"

"They're all in Australia at the moment," she replies. "I think they're back in... ummm...like a week from Tuesday? Something like that."

My face falls. I had completely forgotten that Queen were scheduled to play a few shows there. God, by the time Roger was back, it'll have been five solid weeks that I've basically ignored him. I doubt he even wants to hear from me at this point. In fact, he's probably off shagging a beautiful Australian woman right now.

"Well-- Well, could you tell him that Skylar called? Skylar Evans."

The woman on the other end of the line seems to perk up at the mention of my name. "Skylar?"

"Mmmhmm."

"It's Clare! Oh, um, Roger's sister. We met--"

"--at the wedding," I finish with a smile. What are the odds?

"God, I am so sorry for that mix-up. Roger was cross at me for weeks. He probably still is, just not enough so that he won't let me stay at his flat. Have you been here? His flat with Freddie was nicer, I don't love his choice of decor--" she continues to chatter away happily, making me grin.

"Clare?" I finally interrupt, realizing that I'm going to fall asleep standing up. "I have to run, but could you let him know I called?"

"I'm writing it down now," she replies cheerily.

I hang up and lean against the counter, closing my eyes. God, I've really mucked this one up. I used to be able to trust my instincts, but now that prospect seems like the worst idea in the world. If I'm honest with myself, I think that Roger is probably a good guy. But there's a voice in my head asking quite loudly if I can really trust him. And, as much as I try to ignore that voice, it keeps popping up and making me hesitate.

With a long exhale, I walk over to the stove and dump the water out. Food can wait. What I really need is sleep. Stumbling to my bed, my last coherent thought is that I'll figure this all out later.