She Dims the Stars(39)

“You know how Miranda treated me. You remember. Then I find out that not only did I kill my mother during childbirth, but the guy everyone thinks is my dad, isn’t? On top of that, I’m … drowning. Just drowning. I don’t have anyone to turn to, because the entire town thinks I’m this person … this baby who they helped save and raise, but it turns out I’m not even related to Patrick Byrd at all. My grandma hates me. Miranda hates me. And the only person who knows me has no clue who I really am, because I have no clue who I really am.”

“So you ran away,” he states it and clenches his fist, wanting so badly for it to be true.

I shake my head. “I tried to disappear.”

“What does that even mean?” His voice is barely above a whisper and I can’t bring myself to look at him when I continue.

“I’d been feeling that way for months. Maybe longer. I don’t know. Like, maybe if I just disappeared, everyone else’s life would just be better. I would think of scenarios where I never existed in the first place. My mom would still be alive—all that. And it just became so clear that the problem was me. Miranda had been telling me … but for the first time, I really understood that if I wasn’t there, then things might be better for everyone. So after she went out with her friends and Patrick went to bed … You know that detached garage where we parked the cars?”

“Don’t, Audrey.” He takes a step forward and I stand firm.

“You see it in the movies. It’s like going to sleep, I guess. I just didn’t count on Miranda coming home so soon and finding me. She was so pissed. Thought I was trying to get Patrick’s attention. They took me to a hospital outside of town where no one would know and then made up the story about me running away. I got a shrink. I got these meds. I got a girl who calls me every Tuesday to check and make sure I’m still alive. I got fat. And I lost everything I ever knew … including you. Because I couldn’t face reality. And I didn't want you to think it was your fault.” Finally, with sweaty hands and a heart that is beating way too hard in my tightened chest, I allow the feelings to rush in.

Tears begin to prick my nose, and my throat closes a bit as I stare into the face of the one person who meant more to me than anyone else in the entire world. “It wasn’t your fault, and now that I’ve told you, I know you’re going to look at me differently again. More than you did before. And that’s okay, because what I was supposed to do here was ask you to forgive me for not telling you the truth sooner. I’m sorry I cut you off and didn’t believe you’d still be my friend if you knew. Maybe you wouldn’t have, but I never even gave you the chance one way or the other. So, I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault …” I can’t form words anymore because I’m crying so hard.

Telling the truth is supposed to set you free. It’s supposed to give you a new beginning. For me, it simply feels like every last thing I thought about myself is true, and now that I’ve said it out loud, I’ve given it life. I’ve relived it and made it real instead of letting it stay on a movie reel inside my mind.

My knees begin to shake, and I reach out to support myself on the inside of that hollowed out tree, but I’m met with the strong arms of my former best friend as he pulls me to his chest for the first time in over six years. There’s comfort there that I’ve sought after for so long that it knocks the wind out of me. I find the strength to wrap my arms around him, too, when he assures me, “It’s not your fault, either, Byrdie. I’m so sorry for my part in it. I had no idea.”

He makes a strangled sound, and I pull away to look up at him through my tears. “Are you crying, too?” I ask, wiping the wetness from my face.

Cline’s eyebrows are drawn together, and his face is sweaty as he shakes his head back and forth. “No. There’s a bug crawling up my leg, and it’s getting really close to my boxers. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but another two inches and it’s gonna be on my balls.”

I push him away and crouch down, folding over as I laugh and cry at the same time, listening to Cline let out a scream like a little girl as he unbuckles his belt and turns his back on me to run out of the tree and drop his pants outside. I don’t care that there are bugs on my feet and legs. I don’t care that I’m alone laughing through my tears. I don’t even care that I’m covered in sweat from telling him everything I’ve been holding inside for six years.

I did it.

I did the scariest thing in the entire world: I told my truth.





There’s something to be said about seeing your roommate run out of an old haunted-looking tree, dropping his pants and screaming like a woman while a beetle is heading straight for his nut sack. On my list of Hilarious Shit I’ve Seen, this ranks in the top five. Watching September run to his rescue, catch the beetle off of his manhood, and carry it away, though? Completely priceless.

Cline is sweating and pulling up his pants, breathing hard and staring after her as I walk up next to him, unable to hide my laughter. “What? Were you not covered in bugs in there? Am I the only one because I’m taller than you? Is it my musk?”

“I don’t think height has anything to do with it if they were coming from the ground, so, no. And I had a few ants, but they were worth it.” I clap a hand on his shoulder while we watch the beetle being set free a hundred feet away.