The Sun Is Also a Star(25)

I consider calling my parents to tell them about this new development, but then I don’t do that either. I have no new information to share. What would I say? A man I don’t know has sent me to see another man I don’t know. A paralegal, who is not a lawyer, whom I also don’t know, says everything might be all right. What’s the use in getting all our hopes up?

The person I really want to talk to is Daniel, but he’s long gone to his interview.

I wish I’d been nicer to him.

I wish I’d gotten his phone number.

What if this immigration nonsense resolves itself? If I get to stay, how will I find him again? Because no matter how much I pretended it didn’t exist, there was something between us. Something big.





HANNAH HAS ALWAYS THOUGHT OF herself as living in a fairy tale where she’s not the star. She’s neither the princess nor the fairy godmother. Neither the high, evil witch nor her familiar. Hannah is a minor character, illustrated for the first time on page twelve or thirteen. The cook, perhaps, presiding over crumpets and sugarplums. Or maybe she’s the handmaiden, good-natured and just out of view.

It wasn’t until she met and started working for Attorney Jeremy Fitzgerald that she imagined she could become the star. In him she recognized her One True Love. Her Happily-Ever-After. This despite the fact that he is a married man. Despite the fact that he’s a father to two young children.

Hannah never believed he would love her back until the day he did just that.

That day is today.





JEREMY FITZGERALD was crossing the street when a drunk and distraught man—an insurance actuary—in a white BMW hit him at twenty miles per hour. The blow wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to make him consider his eventual death and his current life. It was enough to make him admit to himself that he was in love with his paralegal, Hannah Winter, and that he had been for some time now.

At some point later today, when he returns to his office, he will wordlessly take Hannah into his arms. He will hold her and wonder, very briefly, about the future that loving her will cost him.





Area Teenager Chooses Poorly

My mother, the pacifist, would kill me dead if she knew what I’d just done. I rescheduled my interview. For a girl. Not even a Korean girl, a black girl. A black girl I don’t really know. A black girl I don’t really know, who might not even like me.

The woman on the phone said my timing was perfect. She’d been about to call me to reschedule as well. The only appointment I could get is for late in the day, 6 p.m., so here I am in the lobby of the building where I left Natasha, reading the directory and keeping an eye out for her. Most of the tenants of this building are lawyers (J.D., Esq.) and accounting types (CPA, CFA, etc.). I’ve never seen so many degree abbreviations in my life. Daniel Jae Ho Bae, FB (Foolish Boy), DTF (Doomed to Failure).

What appointment could she possibly have in this building? Either she’s an heiress with money to invest, or she’s in trouble and needs a lawyer to help her.

Across the lobby, the elevator doors open and she walks out.

When I was rescheduling my appointment, a part of me wondered if I was being ridiculous. A girl I’ve just met isn’t worth jeopardizing my future over. It was easier to have that thought when I wasn’t looking at her, because now I can’t remember why I hesitated at all.



Of course she’s worth it. And I can’t explain it.

Yes, she’s pretty. The combination of her big hair and bright black eyes and full pink lips is undeniably cute. Also, she has the nicest legs that exist in the known world (I moved them up to number one from number three after careful study—I’m being objective here). So yes, I’m definitely attracted to her, but there’s something else too, and I’m not just saying that because she has the nicest legs in the known universe. Objectively speaking.

I watch as she makes her way across the lobby. She’s looking around, trying to find something or someone. Her shoulders literally sag when she doesn’t find it. She’s gotta be looking for me, right? Unless she met another potential love of her life in the thirty minutes she was away from me.

Outside, she does a slow 360 one way and then a slower 360 the other way. Whoever she’s looking for is still not there.





HE’S NOT IN THE LOBBY, and he’s not outside in the courtyard. I have to admit that he’s not here and that I wanted him to be. My stomach feels a little hollow, like I’m hungry, but food is not what I want.

The day’s gotten warmer. I take off my jacket, fold it over my forearm, and stand there trying to decide what to do next. I’m reluctant to leave, and reluctant to admit to myself that I don’t want to leave. It’s not that I think we were meant to be or anything ridiculous like that. But it would’ve been nice to spend the next few hours with him. It might’ve been nice to go on a date with him. I would’ve liked to know if he blushes when he kisses.

This is the last place I saw him. If I leave, then I have no chance of seeing him again. I wonder how his interview is going. Is he saying the right things, or is he letting all his doubt and existential angst shine through? The boy needs a life coach.

I’m about to go when something makes me take a final look around. I know it’s not possible to feel a specific person’s presence. More than likely my subconscious spotted him as I was walking through the lobby. People use poetic language to describe things they don’t understand. Usually there’s a scientific explanation if you only look for it.