Where the Stars Still Shine(66)

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Kat squeezes my hand. “Completely.”

I edit out the nightmare about Frank, but tell her everything else, including my fight with Greg. Including the fact that my mom is still somewhere in town. “She’s waiting for me, so we can leave.”

“But you’re staying, right?” Tears fill her eyes and my resolve crumbles.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Please, don’t go.”

“I don’t belong here, Kat.”

“You’re wrong. Just look.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the main part of the trailer, gesturing at nothing and everything all at once.

My laptop is propped open on the table with the GED book beside it, the orange-slashed pages held open by the highlighter that did the slashing. My growing collection of books is lined up alphabetically on the shelf above the refrigerator, and taped to the fridge door is a drawing Tucker made of a stick-figure girl—you can tell she’s a girl by her triangle skirt—with tons of squiggles radiating from her head. Me, and my hair. Hanging on the wall at the foot of my bed is a snapshot of Kat and me, wearing our Tarpon Sponge Supply Co. T-shirts on my first day of work. And the last thing I see every night before I go to bed, pointing down at me with its gnarly fingers, is the sponge from Alex.

“Before you got here, the Airstream was a storage shed for Christmas decorations, but you’ve made it your home. You’re trying to convince yourself you don’t belong so you don’t hurt your mom,” she says. “But if you leave … Callie, you’re going to break Greg’s heart again.”

“No matter what I do, one of them gets hurt.”

“So maybe you need to stop thinking about their feelings and decide what’s best for you,” Kat says. “What do you want, Callie?”

She hugs me as if this is good-bye, and I cling to her, wishing I didn’t have to make a decision at all.





Kat and I are selling dive-tour tickets out in front of the shop the next morning when my grandma’s car pulls up alongside the curb with Alex’s mother in the passenger seat. Kat lights up and runs into the street to hug Yiayoúla, who gives me a pointed look from over Kat’s shoulder. As if she knows I don’t want to take up my role in this performance. I step forward to open Evgenia’s door.

“I didn’t know you were coming today,” Kat chatters as Yiayoúla pops the trunk. “Let me help you with that wheelchair.”

Alex’s mom babbles something at me as I help her from the car. She pats my hand, which makes me think she’s saying something nice, and I smile at her vacant face. It must be terrible to be trapped inside her uncooperative body, knowing what she wants but unable to vocalize it. Evgenia shuffles forward just enough for my grandma to position the chair behind her. The disease has progressed since I last saw her, and it makes me think maybe Yiayoúla is right. Alex needs to see his mom.

He comes through the side door of the shop wearing his traditional Greek costume and it steals my breath away. Until the smile I know is meant for me slips away, replaced by a flash of anger in his eyes as they meet mine. His smile returns as he crouches in front of the wheelchair to Evgenia’s level.

“Hey, Ma.” His voice is low and tender, and he’s so good that I almost believe him when he tells her it’s nice to see her. Her hands tremble as she reaches out to touch his face, and her words are nothing more than a tangle of sounds. The whiteboard is on her lap, but he seems to understand without her writing it down. “S’agapó, ki ego, mamá.”

I love you, too, Mom.

Yiayoúla gives my elbow a squeeze that telegraphs her hope. I should feel happy about this, but I don’t. Alex is hurting, and it’s my fault. I try to catch his eye as he stands, desperate for him to know how sorry I am for my part in this, but he doesn’t even look at me.

“It’s not every day I have such a special guest,” he says, leading the way up the ramp to the boat. At the top, he scoops Evgenia into his arms. She looks so small and fragile as he gently places her on a bench in the shadiest part of the boat. “You get the seat of honor.”

Yiayoúla takes her place beside her friend as I wheel the chair back down the ramp, where Kat is waiting.

“What the hell is going on?” she whispers.

I fill her in quickly as the rest of the passengers board the boat.

“God, Callie, this is a train wreck,” she says. “Alex looks miserable, but Mrs. Kosta’s condition is going downhill so fast. Yiayoúla Georgia has a point. He might be pissed now, but not as much as he’ll be with himself if he doesn’t get a chance to say good-bye.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“I’ll do it,” Kat says.

“What?”

“I don’t have anything to lose,” she says. “I’ll take the blame. I’ll tell him I was in on it instead of you.”

She runs up the ramp before I can protest and slides onto the bench beside Yiayoúla as the boat swings away from the dock. Kat’s willingness to sacrifice herself is probably more than I deserve, but when Alex looks back at me there’s no relief, only hardness, in his eyes—and I know letting her take the blame has made a bad thing worse.