Xanny, Billie Eilish
March 31st, 2020
*****
That evening, the warm gardenia scented bathwater soothed her aching muscles. Its warmth seeped into her skin, a valiant attempt to chase away the chill that always followed Stella. While she felt warm, the pit inside her remained empty. With her headphones in, the familiar lyrics of Eminem's Lose Yourself blasted on repeat.
An island in the giant soaking tub, her mind refused to wander. Over top the song, Howie and Adam's conversation repeated.
What could she do to show him that she'd changed? Really, truly changed?
Coming home, days before he was comfortable with it, probably wasn't it.
If anything, it was stupid and impulsive!
It was four when she got in the tub. Likely, he'd finished work and gone home. And was on his way to pick her up.
Fuck.
I've got to formulate a plot, or end up in jail or shot. Success is my only mother-fuckin' option.
Her lips curled at the familiar lyrics. Em always knew what he was rapping about; she'd always be a fan for that reason.
The problem was, how could she succeed when she was her own worst enemy? Yes, she'd excelled at school; valedictorian had been her victory at every school she graduated from. She'd been in the ninety-fifth percentile when she took her MCAT's. She'd had to go to college for math and science in high school. She'd fought tooth and nail to become chief resident and then chief fellow. She planned to do the same to become director of a PICU. Then go higher, if she so decided she wanted to.
By all accounts, she was a successful, young woman. Financially stable, and thanks to more scholarships and grants than she knew what to do with, no large debts to repay. If she could do this, then surely she could show Howie what the rest of the world saw?
Except, Howie knew the history. She looked good on paper. Until you looked at her psychiatric history. Then she looked like some horrible, barely functioning monster. Stella was past those years – the past five were proof enough of that.
How to get Howie past them, too?
You can do anything you set your mind to, man.
A twisted grin spread at those words. Em was right, like always. She'd never failed at anything before; this time wouldn't be any different. She just needed time.
Stella closed her eyes, the sparkling white of her bathroom slipped into darkness.
Before her mind could drift, the music paused. It was replaced by the familiar ringtone of FaceTime. Howie's tone to be precise.
That was a pleasant surprise! Maybe Adam talked him down?
"Hey," she answered before leaning her head back against the wall. The lavender candle flickered; the shadow changed shape before settling back. "How was work?"
"Work was fine." His voice came through her phone, tense, as if he'd walked into something unpleasant. "I was looking forward to spending more time with you tonight."
"And I once wanted someone to love me." Fuck! If she could drown herself, she would. Death by inhaling gardenia – that would be a headline, alright.
They said drowning was peaceful.
Maybe she could ask Cole Pennhurst; he made a good try for that.
Cracking an eye open, her stomach fell out at the look on his face. "Fuck. Sorry. I know you love me plenty."
"Stell –"
"I didn't mean you. You do."
Howie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
She didn't need to be psychic to know what he was thinking: if she hadn't been so damned stubborn, they'd be siblings. Legally, anyway.
He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping forward with the movement. "Why did you go home?"
To show she's a capable, functioning human being? "I need to work on packing."
"And I see you're doing a fantastic job at that." His voice dripped in sarcasm. "What have you gotten done?"
Does getting in the bath count as getting anything done?
It really should – it was a step above lying in her bed, wrapped in the quilt Melissa made her, and hugging her teddy bear.
"Ordered boxes. I'm picking them up after this."
"You could have done that here!"
She closed her eye as she leaned her head against the wall. "My car's here. I need to pick them up somehow."
"That's bull! I could have taken you!"
She bit her tongue. The pain sent a white-hot bolt through the retort she wanted to say. "Howie." Her voice came out tired, quiet. Begging, almost. "I don't want to fight tonight."
"Then why did you go home?"
He didn't need to add against their agreement.
That they made when they moved into separate apartments.
When she'd been at her worst.
"Because I'm not a child!" She ended the call and threw her phone across the bathroom. It clattered to the floor with a sickening thud.
Fuck.
That definitely wasn't the best way to handle that.
Howie's ringtone cut through the deafening silence.
Looking at her hair, knowing she would very quickly regret her decision, she submerged herself. She could still hear the phone, now a distorted noise in the water. Her lungs screamed from their sudden deprivation; which served to help drown out her phone. Air bubbles escaped as she let out a silent scream, the water swallowed any sound that would have otherwise startled her neighbors.
With a gasp, she broke through to the surface. The cold air of her bathroom swirled around her face, raising goosebumps where it touched. She undid her now soaking braid and let the tendrils of waves float around her. She did not miss the sound of Howie's ringtone. It'd be too soon if she heard it again.
The upbeat tune that signaled his call echoed throughout the room again.
She took out the plug, letting the bathwater drain. The sound of it didn't do much to cover up the noise.
After pulling herself out of the water, she walked over to her phone and declined the call.
That still wasn't the best way to handle this.
But she needed space, goddammit. Couldn't he see that?
Her phone rang again – this time Adam's. She sent that to voicemail too; it was probably Howie trying a different tactic. Just in case, she sent both of them a quick text. Assuring them that she was alive and well. Just pissed. Not that it did any good; another call lit up her phone.
This time she put it on vibrate, placing it on top of a towel to silence the noise. She used another to wrap around her body.
Looking in the mirror, her hollowed-eye stare looked back at her.
Was it any wonder he couldn't let her have space?
Her eyes, a vibrant green, stared vacantly back at her. Cheeks, on the verge of looking sunken, held no color. Despite all the time she spent outside, she never gained any color – red or tan. Her collar bone jutted out, a reminder that it was near impossible for her to gain weight. And her hair, despite her efforts, hung limp even when wet.
Well, at least she could do something about that. When was the last time she went to a salon? Last year? Maybe it was time for a change.
Yeah, it was definitely time for a change.
She took her phone off the towel, noting that Howie stopped trying to call her.
Fuck.
He was probably on his way over this time.
She pushed thoughts of Howie out of her head and found a number for a nearby salon. They scheduled her for the following day.
That taken care of, she dried her hair the best she could and dressed. She might as well go pick up those boxes she ordered.
Grabbing her wallet, she looked at her daily pill container.
It couldn't hurt to take that with her. Tonight, it might be better to stay away from Howie. Taking a second to turn off location services, she left the apartment.
After a short drive to go pick up her moving boxes, she sat back in the front seat of her Jeep. Howie still hadn't texted her – he might believe she went to go pick up her boxes. She had no doubt that he was at her apartment, though. Stella closed her eyes; it wasn't difficult to imagine him pacing her studio, just waiting for her to come back.
He'd read her the riot act.
Remind her why they agreed to this.
She'd only done it to get him to move out.
To move forward with his life.
At the time, she thought he'd ease up. Get over it. See that she was alright on her own.
Her lips trembled, a dam weakening against the onslaught of emotion.
When was the last time she went star gazing?
The thought came out of nowhere.
To do that, she'd need to get out of the city. The light pollution would destroy everything. A quick check of the clock told her it was too late to drive to her favorite spot. Besides, she had to be back in the city tomorrow. A four-hour drive tonight, then again tomorrow, was probably a bit more than she should take on.
But there was another place. Closer. An hour's drive.
She could come back, tonight. If she wanted.
But she had a blanket in her car.
And there were trails there.
So, what if she was wearing sneakers?
The promise of a night full of freedom and exploration beckoned to her. Her soul lightened in a way it hadn't in, she couldn't remember how long.
A night to herself.
A quiet night to herself.
Underneath the stars.
She could sleep in her car. Take the roof off.
It'd be perfect.
Mind made up, she put her Wrangler into gear and headed out of the city.
Hours later, she found herself watching the stars. Her blanket smelled a bit musty and her arms did not make for the most comfortable pillow.
The way the white dots painted the night sky made those points moot. She could imagine them, locked in their eternal dance. Music, that human ears could not hear, directed their motion. When she was a young girl, she used to imagine dancing with them. Then, her mother would be there, showing her the world. In those fantasies, her father would join too. They'd live in a castle, among the planets. Her mom would make them dinner and keep the house clean. Her dad would come home from work and play with her. She'd tell them about her day at school.
The mundane fantasies got her through some of the worst places she lived; group homes included. She couldn't remember, now, when she stopped imagining a normal life for herself. When had she given up thinking she could have a family?
The answer eluded her, distant as the stars she now watched.
Did it matter these days; that she'd given up that dream? It didn't seem to.
Somehow, she had a sister. Luna was probably the closest she'd ever have to a child. Their mother made sure of that much. She'd call the young girl tomorrow and see what Luna wanted to do with their weekend.
And now a father, too. The memories from their lunch still tied her stomach in knots. How could he do that?
How could he expect her to know? Had he even tried to reach out? Did Will - no Billy - expect her to know?
Not that she'd know. Stella deleted the app without checking a single damned thing.
But, there was nothing stopping her from downloading it again.
With that thought, she ripped her eyes away from the twinkling sky. Rolling over, she reached into the front seat. Her phone should still be in the center console – yes, there it was. She downloaded the app again, tapping her fingers off the back of her phone as she waited for it to download. Shouldn't phones be able to do it instantly, these days? She had enough data!
After torturous seconds, the app finished downloading. Without a second thought, she opened it and logged in. Her finger hovered over the option to see the breakdown of her results, below that featured matches, showed distant relative. Where was the message option? There – upper right. Three notifications.
The acrid taste of bile filled the back of her throat – she swallowed it. This wasn't the time or place!
Well, throwing up in the middle of the woods wasn't horrendous. She'd certainly found worse places to do that.
She opened them, all from Billy.
The first, which arrived while she was in Alaska:
Um, wow. I didn't know I had a daughter. Do you want to talk? I think I recognize you from somewhere.
Another one, the day she came back from Alaska:
I do recognize you! You were Cole's doctor. Do you want to meet up?
And one, from yesterday:
I'm sorry about lunch earlier. I really thought you knew. I thought that's why you agreed.
Stella rolled back over, staring at the stars again. She tracked a lone shooting star, watching the meteor burn out. She hadn't responded to his messages, so he reached out to her place of work?
Who the fuck did that?
Billy, apparently.
What did he want from her?
Eyeing her phone, she knew there was only one way to find out. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent him a message:
What the fuck do you want from me?
Catching herself staring at the screen, she chided herself. It was almost ten! He was probably in bed. Didn't those high-level executives keep a rigorous schedule? It wasn't like he was staring at his phone, waiting for a message. She put the phone down next to her, easing her hand off of it. It wasn't like it would explode if she let go of it!
The phone rang, the sudden noise shattered the silence. Her heart leapt into her throat, before settling. FaceTime. And not Howie's ringtone. She picked the phone up, the name Pretty Boy on the caller ID.
"Hi," she said as she answered it. To her surprise, it was not Keith on the other end of the video chat.
It was a black ball of fuzz, who was currently rubbing her head against the phone. "Ink!" he scolded. "You wanted nothing to do with me today!"
She giggled as a hand encircled the small kitten. Inky mewed, pulling at heartstrings, as she was lifted away from the camera. "How are you?" she asked.
"Fine," he responded as he settled Inky on his shoulder. "There, be a good cat for once." Keith stroked the kitten, a loud purr exploded from the small ball of black fur. "How are you?"
The late spring chill left goosebumps on her exposed skin and filled her lungs with fresh air. Crickets chirped off in the distance and the sound of wildlife in the forest surrounded her. "Good." It came out with a smile, a sleepy slowness to it. "What'd you get up to today?"
"Just work, nothing special. How about you?"
She recognized the dark look that crossed his face – it was the same one Howie wore after a bad day. She could usually cheer Howie up with something sweet, take out, and watching a Harry Potter movie.
The things she did for him.
So, how did she help Keith feel better? A few ideas crossed her mind but those were much easier to execute in person. Well, she could start by responding to him, anyways. "Signed a new lease, get the key Saturday. Fled the city in need of some fresh air and nature."
"Where'd you end up?" He flinched when Inky nipped at his ear. "Alright, alright," he grumbled as he scratched her ear.
"Near Spruce and 10th. It's a nice loft, two bedrooms."
"I meant where are you now?"
"Oh." Her face colored. "There's a park a little over an hour from the city. Has some campgrounds. Really good view of the night sky. Few people." For now, anyway. When schools let out in another week or two, she knew it would be packed with families celebrating the start of summer.
"You're by yourself?"
"I have a can of bear mace in the glove box." The response came easy. It was true – she kept it on hand for days when she just needed out. "I'll put it next to me when I go to sleep." Whenever that was. Even if she wasn't facing them now, she knew the stars danced behind her. Their luminous beauty provided security in ways she could not name.
"Let me know you're safe in the morning?"
The note of concern that laced his voice struck a chord within her. Stella both wanted to tell him to fuck off, she was alright on her own, thank you very much and wanting to cry, just a bit, because he sounded genuine. "Yeah. Sure." She settled for letting out a shaky breath. "Do you like sweet things?" she asked as an idea struck her.
"I, yeah?"
She blushed as the implication of what she was about to say hit her. "There's a really good bakery near her. At least, I hear it's good. My friend swears by their pastries." Stella bit her lip, a failed attempt to calm her pounding heart. "I could," she stopped, trying to force the words out. "I could bring you one for breakfast." Despite having said her piece, she found her words could not stop. "I could be there at, like, seven. They open real early and there's almost no traffic that early in the day."
"Stella," he cut in. "Look at me."
She took her eyes off the floor of her Jeep – when did she even look away - and drug them to look at Keith. The smile he gave her calmed her, just enough.
"Breakfast sounds good. I'll supply coffee?"
Her heart slid out of her throat before it settled back in its proper place. It eased itself into a calmer rhythm. "Yeah, I'll see you in the morning, then."
They exchanged smiles, silence settling between them. Studying his face, she noticed how warm it looked. Tanned skin, likely from hours spent in his garden, gave his skin a particular golden hue that spoke of his inner glow. The charcoal grey eyes, the same ones she'd found herself swimming in numerous times, crinkled with his slight smile. The way they twinkled belied the positive attitude he carried around him. And yet she knew his life hadn't been what she'd call easy. In some ways, his life had been harder than her own. He, too, carried the physical scars. Reminders of a past that didn't seem to weigh him down.
What was it that let him live like this?
He'd seen some fucked up shit – you don't go to war and not see that.
"What's your family like?" the question was out before she knew that she thought it.
Fuck, stupid question to ask. There was no way his family wasn't perfectly normal.
"What brought that on?" He blinked at the question, perhaps a bit of surprise, and scratched Inky's chin. The cat, to her satisfaction, looked rather smug with the situation.
"Family's just been on my mind a lot lately."
How could it not? Luna. Chyou. Billy the bastard. Or was she the bastard? She had been born out of wedlock. But, had he really deserved to have her explode like that?
"What do you want to know?" There was something steady in his voice, something that made her think of mountain climbing.
Everything. Did he have siblings? What about his parents? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins? Grandparents? Did he get along with them?
"What's it like, with your dad?"
"We get along alright, now. Where's this coming from?" His eyebrows knitted together, creating a deep furrow between his eyes.
Could she tell him? About Billy? Yesterday? Fuck, was that a possibility? She felt acid rise at the thought of it. And yet, in some ways, the thought of telling him, despite the shaking and nausea, was somehow freeing. And, it was time to grow up wasn't it? Show Howie that she could take care of herself? Didn't some of that mean letting others in?
"I took a DNA test a while ago. I was just curious, you know?" She closed her eyes, a single tear escaped. She felt the scar, years old, reopen, a new hole in her heart. "And I kind of connected with my," she paused to swallow the lump that formed, "b-Billy." Calling him her biological dad was a little too much right now. "Sperm donor. Guy who knocked up my mother. Fuck, whatever the hell he is."
His face remained stoic, no inner thought escaped.
When she thought her heart would beat out of her chest, perhaps run off into the night sky, he spoke.
"I wish you were here now."
"Huh?"
"You look like you need a hug. I can't do that through the phone."
"Tomorrow, then." The warmth that flooded her, despite the chill, forced her lips into a smile. "So, what are things like with your dad?"
The ice broken, Keith told her about how they didn't get along when he was younger. How he blamed his dad for his parent's divorce. His anger, most of which was for his mother, was directed at his father. After her death, how being forced to live with him only encouraged him to run away. That it was the reason he dropped out of school, joined the Marines, settled for this GED. How his near-death became the reason he started to forgive both of his parents and was able to start having a good relationship with his dad.
They found themselves talking into the night about his family. When they said their goodnights, it was almost midnight.
Before setting an alarm for the early morning, she sent a text to Howie to assure him that she was alive and well. She didn't bother to read the fifty-plus messages he sent her, or check the voice messages. She knew her disappearance sent him out of his mind with worry. But he had to stop this. He had to see that she was alright.
That taken care of, she rolled over to look at the night sky. Despite her alarm, she had no plans to sleep. The sky beckoned her, a place for her thoughts to run wild. Yet, somehow, she did. Her dreams that night were non-existent, and for perhaps the first time in months, she slept soundly.