At the Stars(45)

My heart is racing now. Racing faster than that RX-7 can go down a straightaway. As determined as I am to finish, I don’t know if I can. I can just see him lying there on the mat, and I don’t want to feel Cassie pull away when I say the words.

So it takes me by surprise when she pushes closer. “I guess it didn’t work out like planned.”

“God. No.” Finally, that ball of air leaves my lungs. “He went down.” My hand slaps the grass. “Fuck, I was so fucking thrilled, Cassie. I thought we’d pulled it off. This guy had nailed it. He stumbled and went face down on the mat like you read about in the papers. No way would anybody buy it for an act. He was gonna be home free to go off and raise his baby girl.”

“But it wasn’t an act,” she whispers.

All I can do is shake my head against hers. I’ve said more to her about Davidson’s death than I’ve said to anyone, and now my tongue feels heavy and numb.

“Did you get in trouble?”

I shake my head again. “You sign waivers. Death is a risk of the sport. Still...”

“It’s terrible.” I can feel her tears against my cheek. I don’t know why she’s crying, but it makes it hard for me to keep my own in and I’ve been doing that for a long fucking time. “You tried to help him,” she murmurs in my ear. “You tried. You didn’t do anything wrong. You have to know that.”

I wish I did.

She rolls over onto her back, scooting until her shoulder is pressed up against me. “Hey the stars are coming out,” she says.

“Yeah. I see.”

She sighs, super long and loud. “You know, my mom used to say this thing. A quote from I forget—Oscar Wilde, I think?—about how we’re all in the gutter but some of us are still looking up at the stars. Do you get that?”

The moon is shining on her face, making it shiny and golden. I don’t think I ought to, but I prop my head on my hand and I let myself run a finger over the dampness of her cheek. “I’m not sure.”

She glances over. “I think what it means is that all of us have been knocked down in some way or another, but some of us are still looking up at the possibility that things will get better. I think my mom, and your friend, it’s...” She sniffs and swipes over her face with her sleeve. “It sucks that they aren’t around to try again. You and I are still here though, and as long as we are, we owe it to ourselves to keep looking up.”

She shivers, and without thinking, I reach my arm out to pull her close. I don’t want her to be cold. Neither of us should be cold tonight.

I take a breath and think about what she’s saying. I’ve been treading water for years. I’ve missed talking to my dad and seeing my sister grow up. I’ve missed letting anyone get close to me or even bothering with an education. Not that I don’t like my job, but the point is I didn’t even try. I didn’t try, because I didn’t deserve more.

What if Cassie’s right? If Davidson had been the one to survive that fight, he would have gone on to get a college degree and raise a family. Those were his plans. Me, I just stopped.

Slowly, I realize something important: “You don’t think it was my fault.”

“I told you I didn’t.” She slides her fingers into mine, and I let her. I know she’s leaving soon, but it feels good to hold someone’s hand. I haven’t done that—really held onto another person—since high school.

“I know but...” I heard her, but it didn’t sink in. “Thank you.”

She pulls my arm tighter around her. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Funny, right then I’m not sure how I ever didn’t. “Yeah. Sure.”

I have to be honest, I kind of love it when her nose rubs against mine. “You wanna look at the stars with me some more?”

Actually, I do.



Cassie

When I told Jake I’d do the open mike night at Joe’s on Thursday, I forgot that Thursday was the start of Founders’ Day weekend. Apparently, it’s a huge celebration in this little town. Super huge. Ginormous.

Most of the businesses close up their doors and set booths up on Main Street, and there are crafts and tag sales and kids running everywhere. The whole of downtown is closed to cars, which means Jake is off work from the auto shop. I guess no cars means no customers for them.

I’m helping Delia set up a display of muffins and breads to sell when his tall shadow looms over me. I’ve learned his smell and the rhythm of his boots on the pavement when he walks, so even though I haven’t looked up yet, my pulse is on overdrive.

Every time he gets near me, this ridiculous hope shoots up like fireworks in my chest. It feels like crazy, dangerous hope, but I can’t make it stop.