Sterling
"And you broke your nose...?" Patty questions before she downs her now third glass of wine.
Patty and I have wine night every Tuesday. We watch cheesy rom-coms and pretend they're the greatest movies ever to be made. They usually make me wanna shove a fork into my eye, but as I said: we pretend. I think it started because Patty's cat died, but if I'm being honest, I can't remember. I've had too many glasses of wine here since then. All I know is that we drink wine. And lots of it.
"No, Patty. He broke my nose!" I exasperate. "I know you see the band-aid. I know you see it, Pat."
"Star baby, I see the bandage," she shakes her head and pours another glass.
Star baby is what she calls me. Or Star. She only calls me Sterling when she's mad. She hates calling me Sterling. She tells me she treats me like her own, so she calls me what she would if I were her own. I guess "star" is close to the "Ster" in my name. Maybe that's part of the reason I took a liking to supernova. Just for Patty. I have other reasons, but in a way, Patty keeps my liking to it strong.
"My nose is broken, Patty," I hiss.
"My goodness, you are impossible tonight. Here I thought some alcohol would calm you down but it just gets you more riled up," she huffs. "Go to the roof and relax. Come back when you cool down," she waves me off.
I raise my eyebrows at her. "What?"
"Did I stutter, young lady? That wild man has your panties in a twist and not in a good way. I think it would be better if it was a good way, but you have too many sticks up your ass to count. You need to relax. I know the only male interaction you receive is with your colleagues and patients, but, my God, you need to take a breather. So go to that roof. Now!"
I hold my glass in my hand with my mouth hanging open. Patty bustles out of the room and I hear the TV click on and she begins to surf the channels. She just kicked me out. I am not heated about stupid Xavier Gonzales. I don't even know the man well enough to be mad at him like she thinks I am.
I fill my glass up more before I wrap myself tighter in my blanket and walk out the door. The hallway's carpeting is prickly even through my socks. I take a big chug of my wine. It's only 9 o'clock but the hallways are empty and silent. I head toward the end of the hall and step inside the elevator. I hit the roof button and the doors begin to close.
Until they don't.
I swear to God if this is-
"Floor girl," he says in a low voice and his presence fills the whole elevator as he steps in. I hate this man. It has been decided. I guess I can't hate him since I don't even know him. But as much dislike as I can foster for a stranger. How do you just show up so often at the worst times?
"What are you doing?"
He smiles. He has a nice smile. "I saw you and wanted to check up. You know, the whole nose thing."
I glare at him. "I'm great."
"I can see by the bandaged nose. Glad you got that checked out," he tells me.
I scoff but say nothing, hoping he will leave me alone.
The elevator dings and the door opens to the roof. "Your stop is the roof?"
Okay, he does not plan on leaving me alone.
"Yes."
"With a huge glass of wine?"
"Yes."
"And a blanket?"
"Yes."
"In the cold of October?"
"My goodness aren't you observant," I tell him sarcastically. I take a huge gulp of my wine. "Goodbye Xavier Gonzales."
I step out and only my face feels cold since the heavy blanket around me is keeping me warm. I breathe in the cold air while the sounds of cars roaring and honking from the streets below fill my ears. I waddle over in tiny steps to the lonesome chair that remains up here from the summer patio furniture. I plop down in it and look at the city.
The tall skyscrapers touch the clouds that hang low. I'm not sure if I've ever seen clouds that low before. They're wispy and look more like mist than clouds. It's foggy out. It must be going rain soon. The city gets foggy when it's going to rain.
In the summer, I come up here when it's raining. Maybe spring if it's warm enough. I can't see the stars, not even a little bit, but I like the rain. The warmth. Something about it makes me wanna lay on the concrete while the water hits my face. It's oddly peaceful. I feel content with my life and place in life. Just like I do when the stars are out.
Then my moment is ruined. Xavier Gonzales also sits down, only he sits on the ground since all the other chairs are put away. I always ask Harold, the owner of the building, to leave one out for me when he puts away the furniture. He always does.
I glare down at him. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting here."
I roll my eyes and adjust my stance. "I can see that. Why, exactly?"
He shrugs. "There's something curious about you."
I laugh at him. A full-belly laugh at that. Another pour of wine goes down my throat. "Curious, eh? Lord, you must've hit your head pretty damn hard.."
"You disagree?" he questions, cocking his eyebrow.
I face him and he's looking at me. He's intent and listening. He doesn't care about the city or the lights or the cold. Not how I do. It might as well not even be there. His attention is just on me. It's weird. I don't like it. I don't think. Maybe I'm just not used to it. I don't know. "Yes, I do."
He shakes his head and drops it while smiling. "There's a lot of curiosity to you. For starters, your name?"
I shake my head. "Not happening. I don't need you showing up everywhere I turn any more than you already do."
He nods slowly as if he understands. I'm surprised he doesn't pry more, granted he's been intrusive enough. His black hair falls in his face a little bit. It's not very long, but long enough to be in his eyes. Something about the way it falls in his face makes me want to reach out and push it back. "How long have you lived here?"
"Going on five years. I should be asking you that question. I've never seen you before," I tell him my genuine thoughts.
"A little over a year," he tells me and my eyes go wide.
"Is that a joke?"
He laughs. "No, I'm just hardly home. I travel a lot for work. Lately it's been dying down so I'm home more."
I nod. I don't ask about work because I don't want to know. I can see him eyeing me, expecting to ask. I don't. This little moment probably won't go past this night. It's just small talk. I hate small talk. I also hate him.
"How old are you?"
"24, almost 25."
"What do you do for work?"
I sigh and lean my head back. "You are unbelievably nosy. It's almost painful."
"Painfully nosy? Not quite what I was going for, but sure. It won't kill you to answer you know," he nudges my knee.
"Maybe I don't want you to know about me. Ever think about that?" I ask him and take another drink of wine.
"What's the harm in knowing?"
I swallow and shake my head. "There's always harm in knowing someone. Especially if you know them too well."
He's quiet for a little while. It makes me uneasy. I don't look at him though. I don't know why but I don't want to. I just look at the city. He looks at me, no, he stares at me. Like he's searching for something. I don't know what he could be searching for in me out of all people. Maybe he expected to find something when he came up here. I'm not sure what.
"Okay. I won't ask you any more questions then."
I raise an eyebrow and look at him sideways. He has a blank expression, but not like he's bored. It's like he's letting me know he doesn't need to hide anything. This was his idea to find out about me, and now he's just surrendering. He doesn't put up much of a fight. I think that's the one thing I like about him.
I didn't think it would be that simple.
"You can ask me," he offers.
I don't want to ask him anything. I drink my wine.
"Come on," he nudges my knee and the small gesture makes my skin go hot. "I know you're curious."
I purse my lips. He's right. I'm more than curious. I sigh. "Are you from here? Chicago, I mean."
He shakes his head. "Nope. I moved here around six or seven years ago. I grew up in Oregon. Just me and my mom and siblings."
"What happened to your dad?" I felt that question was pushing it, but I was curious like he said.
"He died," he says and it hangs heavy. He doesn't have a sad expression on his face. He seems...content almost.
"I was 7. He was a firefighter. There was a really bad house fire. Four blocks from our house. My dad was on call that night. He wasn't supposed to be, but he picked up the shift for one of his buddies. His wife just gave birth to their first daughter. Kinda ironic. Lose a life, gain a life. He got to the house and everyone seemed to get out. Except for their 7-year-old son. I guess my dad felt compelled to save him. Half of his team told him there was no chance he could make it in and out. My mom thinks it was because he would run into a burning building for me. He couldn't get back out in time. They both died there. The kid and my dad."
There's a pit in my stomach as he tells the story. I don't know what to say or what to do. I feel bad. Terrible even. Losing a parent is never easy. Especially a good one. "I'm sorry."
He smiles. "Don't be. My dad was a good person. I'm glad he died being one," he assures me.
I want to smile back at him but for some reason, I can't. Next question then. "And your siblings?"
He chuckles and shakes his head as he does. "Older brother and sister and a younger sister. My mom was pregnant with her when my dad died."
Another pit. It feels heavier almost.
I'm not sure what I was expecting from him. He was still a nuisance to me. I guess I just respect him more. He's not just a nuisance. He's a nuisance with a past. One that I'm oddly curious about. But I also don't want to know about it at the same time. Knowing people makes things dangerous.
"Are you close with them?"
He smiles and nods again. "Extremely. My sister named her first son after me. Middle name, that is. My brother and I are about 18 months apart. My mom didn't intend on having me. I was genuinely an accident and my mom thinks it's so funny. She swore off kids after my brother because he was such a handful when he was born. Then she got me. My sister was pissed it was another boy so she got pregnant again and voila, there is my little sister."
I smile slightly as he talks about his family. He loves them a lot. Even a stranger could tell just by the way he talks about them and the expression on his face. I wish I could say the same.
"I don't get to see them often though. It sucks because I have nieces and nephews and I love them. I wish I had all the time in the world with them. Everyone stayed in Oregon though," he says and I can hear the sadness in his voice.
I feel sympathetic toward him and it makes me want to run away and scream and hide. I hate getting close to people. I hate it more than anything in this world. Closeness always results in pain.
"It's getting late," I announce, standing up and wrapping my blanket tighter. "I should probably get to bed. I'm a bit chilly too."
Xavier nods. He stands up with me and walks in silence to the elevator. We get inside and face the door. Xavier doesn't try to say anything. We both just stand there. The elevator dings and we both step out and begin walking down the hall. My apartment comes first. We stop and I turn to look at him.
Xavier has his hands shoved in his pockets and he's smiling at me. Not grinning, but a small close-lipped smile. "Thank you for tonight."
I nod slowly. I don't know why he's thanking me. This wasn't even planned, he just followed me like a stalker. A bad one, at that. I pull out my keys and unlock my door. The door swings open and I step inside. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Floor Girl," he coos with a small smile.
Just as I'm about to shut the door, I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh. God damn, you. "Xavier?" I call down the hall and take a small step out of my apartment.
I watch him look back. If he was closer, I know his blue eyes would be piercing me, like small swords. His face is puzzled from what I could see. His stance is tall and strong. He's waiting for me to say something.
"Sterling."
He cocks his head in confusion.
"Sterling. Sterling Whitlock. That's my name."
Now he smiles. His teeth showing and blinding me even from down the hall. He drops his head.
"Goodnight, Sterling Whitlock."