She Dims the Stars (15 page)

Their voices are hushed, but I can hear them as they discuss me by the small fire they started after I fell asleep. Sometime in the night, they got up to talk, leaving me by myself, probably thinking the episode would have knocked me out. But I didn’t take my nightly pills, so the insomnia caused by the morning ones has caused me to wake up suddenly, very alert.

“She had a really big day. The jump and everything.” September’s voice is quiet.

“Don’t forget riding Elliot’s dick earlier.” Cline’s voice is not quiet at all.

“I’m not going to tell you again that we didn’t have sex. We didn’t. Not that it should matter to you or that it’s any of your business, but we didn’t. And even if we did, that wouldn’t be part of this equation in any way.” My heart skips at the sound of Elliot’s voice and the thought that he feels like being with me might have had something to do with this.

“It could be any number of things or it could be nothing at all. These things aren’t by the book. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks—they happen for a lot of reasons, and they happen in a lot of ways. But if you guys are going to be traveling with her for the next week or so, you’re going to have to know how to handle it if she has another one,” September outlines for them.

“That’s what I was trying to look up when she saw my laptop. That’s why she freaked out.” Elliot’s explanation is making my heart race again.

“You should come with us. Just in case.” Cline is asking September to stay for his own reasoning but using me as justification. I should be pissed, but I’m not. I like her. And I like him when he’s with her.

“I’ll think about it. You only have a couple more stops before you go back to Tennessee, right? If that’s the case, I can put off going back home for a little while longer.”

The chatter begins to die down, and I hear them say goodnight. The zipper opens, and Elliot steps back inside as quietly as he possibly can. He slips back into the makeshift bed with me and pulls my back to his chest, securing me to him with his arm over my stomach.

I listen to him sleep for the next six hours until the sun comes up and I have an excuse to get up and go take a shower. My reflection mocks me with puffy eyes and tangled hair. This nagging voice in my head that sounds irritatingly a lot like Miranda expresses to me me that I’m not good enough anyway, and I should just let Elliot go. I’m tainted and wrong and broken, and he can’t fix me. This trip is a waste. I’m hopeless.

And for the first time in a very long time, I nod in the mirror and think that maybe I am lost cause. Maybe I finally agree.

I just won’t let any of them know yet.

I’ve had my shower, taken my pills, and had a cup of coffee. All of those earlier thoughts are scattered, and I am focused on cooking our last breakfast at the campsite. Bacon and eggs on Elliot’s dad’s old skillet, plus biscuits from a bag. I’m not a gourmet cook, but I can work with what I’ve got.

I’m slicing some apples when Cline emerges from September’s tent.

“Whoa, you want some help with that?” He asks, hands raised and eyebrows drawn in concern.

I frown. “Are you afraid of me having a knife? Really, Cline? It was a panic attack. I should shank you just for being a dickhead.”

He nods and shrugs a shoulder. “So, you’re okay, then. Good to see you’re back to normal, Byrdie.”

I don’t even flinch at his use of my old nickname. I just hand him a cup of coffee and point to the bacon. “Save some for Elliot. That man loves his bacon.”

“Since when is Elliot a man?” Cline asks as he shoves a piece of pork in his mouth.

“Since he made me come in under a minute.”

“Damnit, Audrey, I’m trying to eat!” Cline slaps the picnic table and shoots me a disgusted look.

“What’s going on?” Elliot steps out of the tent, his dark hair standing up in all directions, his eyes still half closed with sleep.

“I was telling Cline about your super powers, and he’s all jealous and stuff.”

“Shut
up
, woman!” Cline makes a move like he’s going to get up.

“Able to hit a g-spot in three-point-five seconds!” I yell, just to piss him off. I’m successful, and he takes his plate of bacon, stomping off back into the other tent. I smile at Elliot and offer him a plate. “Hungry?”

He takes it and sits down across from me, eyeing me warily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great. Sorry about yesterday. I think it was just a lot of excitement and emotions. Everything should be okay from now on. I promise.” Lying to people about being fine has become such second nature that I don’t even know I’m doing it most of the time. I do right now, though. Elliot doesn’t deserve to be lied to. I just can’t shake the voices in my head from earlier and the thoughts they planted there, even if they’re quieter now than before.

“If it was my fault …”

“No. None of it was. You’re great. You’ve been great and you’re amazing. We’re going to Alabama next. Then Mississippi. Then back to Tennessee. After that, you’ve got the rest of your summer to do whatever with. And hopefully you’ll have everything you need to make a kick ass game and become a billionaire. I’ll get a magazine with your face on it and tell my friends you had your hand down my pants once. It’ll be my claim to fame.”

“Audrey …” His lips are pulled thin.

“What?” I laugh and stand up again, stepping away from the table. “Besides some merchandise with my cookie shitting unicorn—”

“Stop.” He gets up, too, and comes around the table to stand toe to toe with me. With a gentle tug, he pulls me with him back inside the tent. It’s starting to feel like home, and that’s exactly why we need to take it down immediately and get back in the car to our next destination. “When this trip is over, I don’t plan on just walking away from this. Whatever this is.”

“This?” I ask. “We made out. It got weird. We slept in a sleeping bag together a few times. We can go back to being friends and stuff.”

“I don’t want to, though.” His hands are on my hips, and I can’t even look him in the eye.

“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 fuck 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.”