She Dims the Stars(30)

“But I do.”

“You’re a terribly bad liar. Is this because of last night? I can handle last night. If you’ll just talk to me about what’s going on with you—all of what’s going on with you, then—”

“I don’t even know what’s going on with me, Elliot. Okay? That’s the truth. All this shit up here? I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t know the source, so I don’t know how to fix it. If I can’t fix it, you can’t fix it. So all I’m going to do it mess up your life and everyone else’s life just like I did for my mom and Patrick and Miranda. Granny Ruth. And this other guy? Who is he? Who the hell knows what happened to him. I’m a human stain. Cline’s right. You should run as far away as you can, because I’m just gonna f*ck everything up for you.”

“Holy shit. That’s what you think? You think because you get sad sometimes or you do weird things to cope with feeling overwhelmed, or you have panic attacks, that you ruin people’s lives?”

I’m silent, because I know the answer and he does, too. I expect that this is the moment he grabs his stuff and walks away. Or tells me to get another ride home. Instead, he laughs.

“This is really going to suck for you.”

“What is?” I ask.

He leans in close so that his lips are right next to my ear, and he whispers, sending goosebumps down my neck and arm, “You’re going to find out that I’m not going to give up on you over something as stupid as that. Then you’re going to realize you’re worth fighting for. And I’m going to be the one to prove it to you.”





Jumping from the cliff takes my breath away, a rush of excitement flowing through my arms, up around my sternum into my chest cavity where I can feel my heart almost explode out of my chest. The water is chilly as I land and slice through, arms extended, breath held, eyes open. Everything is green and white, bubbles from my lips and nose rising to surface as I begin to exhale.

My mother is staring back at me from beneath the water, smiling, her hair long and swirling around us both.

It shocks me and I inhale, suddenly aware that I should be choking, but I’m not. I can breathe. I can breathe underwater?

I try again, and once more, I am breathing but still submerged. She’s still there, treading along with me, smiling with encouragement, and I reach out to touch her, but my hands are balled into fists. I can’t unclench them, and I watch, panic stricken, as I begin to sink, unable to extend a hand to ask for help, but I am still breathing, watching her disappear as I sink deeper into the darkness.



“Audrey, we’re making a stop.” Elliot’s voice pulls me from my dream, and I wake with a start in the front seat of his car, covered in summer afternoon sweat. My feet are bare against his dashboard, and there’s a kink in my neck that reminds me that I am very much alive and most likely not a mermaid that can breathe underwater. This is both a good revelation and something that makes me sad at the same time.

I’ve never dreamt of my mom before, and it’s left me a little shaken.

The gas station isn’t very busy, and after I’ve gone to the restroom, I spend a few minutes walking the aisles to see if there’s anything I’d like to eat. Maybe a treat I’d like to get for Elliot to say thank you for just … being himself. There’s a large display of mega-sized Rice Krispy Treats on an end cap, and I grab one, bringing the wrapper to my nose and inhaling to see if I can smell it.

It’s faint, but the aroma is there, and for a moment, my heart clenches as memories of Patrick bringing plates of them to our little hideout in the backyard come rushing back. Cline could never have just one. He always had one in each hand like his mom could catch him at any moment and he’d have to shove them both in his mouth in a desperate attempt to have one last sweet before going back to the land of juicing and dehydrated fruits.

I don’t even hear him approach. I can feel him standing behind me before I open my eyes to acknowledge that he’s there. “Do you remember the last time we had these?” I ask.

Cline reaches over my shoulder and takes one of the packages in his hand, turning the bright blue wrapper around. “Probably when we were twelve. My mom found out your dad had given them to me because they were stuck in my hair.”

I turn and regard him with a laugh. “Were you trying to save some for a snack later?”

The look in his eyes is anything but amused. He’s sizing me up like he’s deciding whether or not to ask a question. I’m hyper aware of everything in that space in time. The smell of the store. The crinkle of the wrapper in my hand. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights. How unfocused my eyesight is as I become lightheaded waiting for him to speak.

He clears his throat and looks down at his hands and then back up at me, a tick in his jaw alerting me to the seriousness of the situation. “Did you run away because of me? Was it my fault, Byrdie?”

Every last thing that I’ve ever wanted to say to him builds up inside of my throat, and the pressure in my chest expands until I’m sure I’m going to pass out. This isn’t the time and place for it, though. I have a plan, and it does not involve standing in front of the beer refrigerator of a Chevron gas station. I wait a few seconds and gather my thoughts before I speak, even though I can sense that my silence is giving Cline more of an answer than a simple yes or no would.