She Dims the Stars (17 page)

“Please stop saying nice things to me. I don’t know how to take compliments. They make me feel awkward,” she says and begins to pull at the dress.

I stand and walk over to her, taking her hands in mine. “You just say thank you and move on. Try it.”

Her chest blossoms bright pink, and she breathes heavily as we hold eye contact. I swear I can see tears begin to form in her eyes before she looks away. “Thank you.” Stepping back, she pulls her hands from mine and reaches into the plastic bag on her bed, pulling out two hats. “I bought one of each. Wasn’t sure who you wanted to represent in this neck of the woods. We are a house divided today, Mr. Clark. Are you going to yell Roll Tide?” She extends the burgundy hat my way then scrunches her face up and shakes her head. “Do that thing where you make the bill less flat. That thing boys do. It’s a magic power I don’t possess.” She stands there, staring at the hat with a dubious look on her face then flops it in my direction with a silent demand for me to fix it.

I laugh while I bend the brim and wait for her to get the rest of her stuff together before we leave. From the corner of my eye I can see her rummaging around for another couple of orange bottles, and then she takes a quick swig of water before turning to me like nothing has just happened.

“The Lovebirds should be waiting for us downstairs. Are you ready to experience deep fried butter?” She asks, holding her hand out for mine.

“I’m going to pass on that,” I say, holding the hotel room door open for her and allowing her to pass through before me. “I want to live past the age of twenty-two. Death by calories wouldn’t be my suicide of choice.”

Her hand is gone from mine in an instant, suddenly fidgeting with a pin in her hair. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “It was falling.” But she doesn’t give me her hand back on the elevator ride down.

Cline and September are waiting for us by the doors, and Audrey has a smile plastered on her face by the time we reach the both of them. She extends her hand in offering, giving Cline the Auburn Tigers hat as a gift. He appears surprised for all of two seconds before finding his composure and taking it from her. The bill is broken in by the time we’ve made it to the fairgrounds, and the awkward moment in the hotel hallway is long forgotten under the sounds of kids screaming and yelling on rides. The smell of fried food hangs heavy in the air, and my stomach rumbles with want.

The sky has been light gray all day, but as night begins to fall, the clouds are drawing closer and deepening to a darker hue. The air feels thick with humidity, and my arms are coated with wetness within a few minutes of being out of the air conditioning of my car.

September has her hair pulled up into a bun, pieces escaping around her face and sticking to her forehead as she stares up at the giant Ferris wheel while Cline and I buy ride tickets. Her dress is strapless, and she’s wearing boots, effortlessly pretty and comfortable in her own skin next to Audrey who is twisting her hair into a knot and letting it go, over and over again. The difference between the two of them as they stand side by side is glaringly obvious.

I come to stand behind Audrey and lean into her ear. “Want me to put your hair up for you?” Even in the warmth of an Alabama summer, the feel of my breath on her neck causes goosebumps to arise, and instead of answering me, she pulls a ponytail holder from around her wrist and offers it to me. Her attention goes to the aluminum bracelet around her wrist again, and I wish for once she could find some semblance of calm for longer than thirty seconds.

I secure her ponytail and turn her around to face me with a smile and a nod. “Perfect. Are we going on the Ferris wheel?”

“Not a chance in hell, Elliot. But I’ll let you take me on that zero gravity ride over there.” She points to a circular ride where people are standing, but the machine is moving so fast they’re forced against the sliding wall, paralyzed. Every single rider is screaming their heads off and laughing all at once.

“I’m in,” comes September’s reply, and she takes a handful of tickets from Cline in one hand and Audrey’s palm in the other. The two girls take off, and I’m left with Cline, watching them go.

“She blew me in the shower,” he blurts out.

“What the hell, man? I don’t need to know that.” I throw a disgusted look his way and start walking after the girls.

He jogs a second to catch up, his eyes wide. “You might. See how close they are? My girl could be, like,
hey Audrey, want to share a soda
? And she’d be all, like,
oh, yeah, let’s do that, but only one straw because we’re girls and we do weird shit like that
. And then you’ll be kissing Audrey later tonight and—“

I punch him right in the arm to get him to shut up.

“Ow!” he yells.

A man walking by with an Alabama hat on just like mine tips it at me and crows, “That’s right! Roll Tide!”

“You’re wearing the wrong hat tonight,” I say and punch Cline again. He flinches and pretends like he’s going to punch me back but doesn’t follow through. Instead, he pulls me under his arm and steals my hat, running off with it over his head as he meets up with the girls waiting by the ride.

It’s started to sprinkle, and we’ve ridden five rides so far, walked the entire length of the fairgrounds, and watched a group of nine year olds tap dance in skirts bigger than my bedroom. The smile on Audrey’s face is enormous, and I can’t stop staring at her.

She’s holding a funnel cake in one hand and a custard in the other while I balance a corn dog and massive soda myself. Cline and September have gotten on the Ferris wheel, and it will be at least another ten minutes before they make it to the top and all the way back around. We head away from the lights and sounds toward the grass and rocks of a field just beyond the parameters of the fairgrounds. There’s a slight breeze as we go to sit, and Audrey’s skirt flies up, making her laugh and attempt to grab it with both of her full hands. She’s unsuccessful and ends up landing on her ass gracelessly, powdered sugar sliding from the plate onto her lap in the process.

“Figures. I’m over here trying to act like a lady, and all the elements are against me.” She shakes her fist at the sky in false anger.

“You don’t have to act like a lady,” I tell her just as I turn to look and see that she’s taken a huge bite out of the funnel cake and has white powder all over her cheeks and under her nose. “I retract that statement. Maybe trying a
little
bit would be helpful.”

Her laugh causes more powdered sugar to go flying into the air. She passes the food over to me, and we share it until it’s all gone and we’ve cleaned up the best we can, though her red dress has spots that won’t come out without a good washing. The sprinkles of water are doing little to help with the situation. They simply disappear into the fabric as soon as they make contact.

We stare at the lights of the fair beyond us, such a stark contrast to the dark night sky, obliterating any stars that are shining above it. It reminds me of how I feel when I’m around Audrey. How loud and bright and chaotic she can be. How she can swallow the entire environment around her until she’s the only focal point. She could dim even the brightest of stars if she’d just get out of her head.

My attention is back on her as my thoughts turn in my head and I can see her staring back up at me, the flashing lights in the distance reflected in her dark eyes. I lean forward and she doesn’t move, just keeps watching as I advance.

“You want me to kiss you so badly right now,” I say.

Her eyebrows draw together and she snorts, her eyes darting away instead of holding steady with my own. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I can see it. But, I’m not going to. Not until you ask me. Because I think that’s a thing for you—asking people to do stuff. Asking for things. So, when you finally decide you’re ready for that kiss, you just let me know.”

She leans back on her elbows and looks up at the sky, her ponytail dragging along the grass as her eyes close and the rain hits her face lightly. “Nah. You’ll be waiting forever and a day, Elliot. I’m not gonna ask you to kiss me. We should keep it just like this. All this yearning. This build up to nothing. Will they? Won’t they?” Her eyes open and she looks over her shoulder at me, teasing, but her face is serious. “We’re gonna be the greatest love story never told.”

Somewhere along this trip I was supposed to find my mother. Some shred of closeness to her or a glimpse of who she was that would help me feel bonded to her in some way. But I feel more detached as the days wear on. I don’t feel like I’m learning more about Wendy.

Maybe I’m figuring myself out instead.

There’s a heaviness that’s settling on my shoulders as we travel into Mississippi, because it’s our final stop and the one that I’ve been both looking forward to and dreading the most. First, this is September’s home state, so once we’re done here, she’s staying, and I have no idea how this will impact Cline. Second, this is the place where I tell him everything, and afterward, I think maybe he’ll want to stay with her, and I might be a complete mess. The weight of what is to come gnaws at my insides and makes my stomach hurt, causes my head to feel heavy, the medications running through my veins protesting against the impending drop in serotonin.

My instinct is to curl into a ball and sleep. Maybe this was a bad idea. Perhaps everything I think will turn out okay is actually going to blow up in my face, and it will end a thousand times worse than anything I could even imagine. With shaking fingers, I reach beneath my seat and blindly grab for my bag. I’ve become so used to having it there in my time of need that it’s second nature to pull it out now. There was a time where I thought maybe feeling too much was better than not feeling anything at all, but I learned quickly that I was very, very wrong.

Elliot’s voice breaks through the chatter in my mind that sounds so loud it’s as if I’ve been having a full conversation out loud in the cab of the car by myself. And yet, we’ve been driving in silence, just the sound of the radio playing on low as background noise. “We’re going to grab some lunch at this place right up here. Are you hungry?”

The concern in his eyes jumpstarts my heart just the tiniest bit, working its way beneath the fog building around my brain. I place a smile on my face, as usual, and nod. “I’m starving.” I want bread. Carbs. Sugar. I’m suddenly craving anything I can get my hands on which might make me feel a little bit better about myself. Miranda would call this “eating my feelings.”

Cline and September are waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the back of her car, sucking face as we approach.

“Get a room,” Elliot jokes, poking Cline in the neck, knowing damn good and well that’s his most ticklish spot.

The Giant giggles like a girl and folds in half, then stands and straightens like he’s a man and narrows his eyes at his roommate. “We had a deal, man. That was a secret to the grave.”

Elliot shrugs. “I didn’t
tell
anyone you were ticklish. Technically, I just showed them. It’s more of a loophole than anything.”

They’re still arguing over semantics as we’re being seated and handed our menus. I’m sitting across from September, who is clearly enjoying the majestic display of manly ego. Her halter top is a bright orange and brown Aztec print, and she’s wearing turquoise jewelry that offsets her tan and dark coloring. I can’t stop staring at how incredibly pretty she is and marveling at how inferior I feel in her presence, yet how much she makes me feel at ease.