As Far as the Stars

by Virginia MacGregor

I’m struggling to concentrate. Because I’m tired. Because my body’s shaking with relief that I actually made it on time. And because I’m scared of what I’ve got to do next. And I’m holding onto the hope that, by some miracle, Blake might show up so that I don’t have to sing his song.

  But I still take it all in. How everyone gasps as Jude walks down the aisle.

  How Stephen stares at her like she’s some kind of alien (a totally stunning alien, obviously) that’s randomly landed in his life and he doesn’t understand how he got so lucky.

  How Mom starts crying when Dad reads ‘A Red, Red Rose’ by Robert Burns, the same poem that Mom’s dad read on their wedding day.

  How beautiful it is up here, looking up at the sky and down at Nashville below us.

  Every few seconds I turn around to look at the door but Blake hasn’t shown up yet.

  Leda whines from the kennel in the corner.

  And then, it starts to get dark.

  And everyone gasps, like they did when Jude walked past them in her dress.

  Dad stops reading, just before the final stanza, and stares at the sky.

  ‘Michael!’ Mom hisses.

  Dad snaps back into the present and finishes:

  And fare thee weel, my only Luve! And fare thee weel, a while!

  The poem’s framed in our kitchen back home. Blake made up a song to go with it once, an off the cuff improvisation after dinner one Sunday, but it made Mom well up all the same. Mom’s tough, but Blake’s songs get to her every time.

  My phone, that I’ve been trying to carry without anyone noticing (it turns out bridesmaid’s dresses don’t have pockets), vibrates.

  And I will come again, my Luve, Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!

  I go to silence it but then a notification flashes up on the screen.

  There’s a missed call – a number I don’t recognise.

  And then an email alert.

  UKFlyer Customer Survey: Take a minute to tell us about your experience and we’ll enter you in our airmiles prize draw.

  My heart stops. A customer survey?

  In a moment, I’m going to have to get up and sing. Which means I should switch off my phone. But I can’t look away from that message from UKFlyer.

  Before I have time to think, I open the screen.

  The words swim in front of my eyes.

  Flight UKFlyer0217, Heathrow to Dulles International Airport…

  I grab my throat.

  The email was sent to my account because I booked the flight.

  And I booked it to Dulles.

  To Dulles!

  I can’t breathe.

  How the hell could I get that wrong?

  I was meant to book the flight to Nashville. I told Mom and Blake – I told myself – that I’d booked it to Nashville.

  My body feels like it’s going to pull apart.

  I scan through the last forty-eight hours.

  I remember being jolted awake by Blake’s message pinging into my phone. You know that crazy mix of totally exhausted and totally wired? When every noise makes you jump? That was me that night. I’d been working for days on writing up the findings of the research I’d been doing on my internship at the Air and Space Museum. I wanted the paper to be good. Really good. I thought that if I impressed my advisor on the internship programme, she’d write me a glowing recommendation when I applied to MIT. Maybe even put in a good word for me – she was an MIT alum.

  So even though it was three in the morning, I woke right up when Blake left that voicemail.

  It took me a moment to work out what he was actually saying: that he hadn’t booked a flight back to the US. That, if we didn’t do something – like now – he’d miss Jude’s wedding.

  I remember texting back a whole load of messages, not caring if whoever had lent him the phone read them first:

  Seriously, Blake!?

  You couldn’t have got your shit together?

  Just this once?

  But, of course I’d helped him.

  Because that’s what I do.

  I remember getting out of bed, dog-tired, my limbs lead weights, my head stuffed with wool.

  I remember opening my laptop and going onto the UKFlyer website to book a last-minute flight. I’d booked flights from this site so many times that it had stored my preferences.

  I remember sending Blake another text about how expensive the flight was and that Mom wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

  He didn’t answer. He was probably asleep, or off getting inspiration somewhere. Blake wasn’t worried; he knew I’d take care of it.

  So, I booked the flight.

  I remember sending Blake a final text to tell him that he totally owed me. And then I forwarded the flight confirmation without even bothering to check the details. Because I didn’t need to check. I was organised. I got this stuff right. Always.

  BE ON TIME! Was the last thing I wrote. All caps. Me shouting at him that I’d got him as far as I could; the rest was on him.

  And after that, I closed my laptop and went back to bed.

  And the next thing I knew, I was driving to Nashville. And then he texted to say he was on the way to DC.

  Breathe…Breathe…Breathe…

  I look out across the rooftop. My body’s somewhere else, drifting far above all these people.

  I feel like I shouldn’t be here.

  I screw shut my eyes.

  So I was tired? Big deal. I’d done things before when I was tired and hadn’t messed up.

  I don’t mess up. Ever. Not when it matters. God, I don’t even mess up when it doesn’t matter. I totally rock the details. It’s my fucking USP!

  I press the palms of my hands against my eyeballs until I see darkness and stars and flashes of red.

  And I picture what must have happened next: when Blake got to the airport and actually looked at his email, and realised the flight was to Dulles.

  He must have done a double take.

  Didn’t she say Nashville? he must have thought.

  But only for a second.

  The mix-up wouldn’t have bothered Blake.

  He’d have shrugged. Gone with it.

  Because he trusted me.

  Because he knew that his little sister would have got it right.

  And because going to DC made sense. I’d pick him up after my internship. We’d drive together to Nashville.

  Yeah. It made sense.

  But it was wrong.

  It wasn’t the plan.

  You were meant to go to Nashville, Blake.

  My heart speeds up.

  I put Blake on that plane. The one that crashed.

  I drop my phone.

  My eyes fly open.

  The first person I see is Dad. His head is bowed. He’s stopped reading.

  Dad catches my eye, comes over, sits back down and puts his hand on my shoulder.

  And that’s when I look over to the mic and to the stool. It’s time for the song. And Blake’s not coming. Not ever.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  13.26 CDT The Eclipse

  I don’t think anyone notices me get up; they’re too busy looking at the sky through the glasses Mom put on everyone’s chairs.

  No one except Leda, who runs out of the kennel and follows me over to the mic.

  As I perch on the edge of the stool, every bone in my body shaking, she lies down at my feet, her warm body resting against my ankles.

  Every second, the world gets a little darker. And one by one, the stars come out.

  And I’m grateful for it – for the darkness. So that no one can see me. And for the stars, because they make me feel a bit less alone.

  I look across the roof terrace and I think I see someone standing in the doorway. Maybe a guest who’s late.

  All this time, I believed he’d show up. But he couldn’t have, could he? Not even if he wanted to.

  I’ll be there, no matter what. I promise.

  My heart contracts.

  I swallow
hard, trying to chase the dryness out of my mouth. Trying to get some oxygen into my body.

  You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

  And doing this matters now, more than it ever did. Because it’s all I’ve got left to do before I tell my family that Blake’s never coming back. And that it’s my fault.

  Then I take the manuscript out of the envelope. The new song, the one that Blake wrote. His surprise for the wedding. For Jude. For me.

  The words blur in front of me:

  As far as the stars are from the earth… As far as the moon is from the ocean…

  Singing the cheesy song I’d rehearsed with Blake was one thing; singing this, the words inspired by the thing that I loved most in the world – the way Blake had made his gift from both of us – I don’t know if I can handle that.

  I don’t know if I can handle anything anymore. Not after what I’ve just found out: that I’m to blame for getting Blake on the wrong plane.

  My legs are shaking so hard now I think that, any second, I’m going to crumple.

  Then I notice the shadow in the doorway again, shifting.

  It’s so dark that besides a few faces lit up by the candles Mom put on the tables, it’s hard to see.

  Maybe he didn’t get onto the plane to Dulles, I tell myself. Maybe he worked out that I’d got it wrong. Which means he could still make it. I clench my fists at my sides. Maybe he borrowed some money from a friend – he’s done that before – and booked a new flight to Nashville. Which means he could still make it. And if he does, I want him to see that I can do this.

  I scan the wedding guests and my face falls on Jude. Her head’s resting on Stephen’s shoulder: they’re both looking up at the dark sky. Any moment now, she’ll look back down and see me at the mic.

  Oh God.

  I think about what Blake said about confidence – that it was the most important part of his performances. That confidence gives off this magnetic energy that pulls everyone in. That sometimes, people don’t even take in what they’re hearing; they simply buy into it because they see how in control you are of what you’re doing.

  I don’t know if that’s true. Blake’s an awesome musician – that’s what makes him good. But right now, faking confidence is the only thing I’ve got.

  I tap the mic, like I’ve seen Blake do. It gives out an electronic whine, which makes a few people turn their heads but they quickly look back at the sky. They think it’s the sound system playing up.

  Jude looks over to me. I avoid her gaze. I can’t cope with her, What the hell are you doing up there? look. Or her disappointment that I’m not Blake.

  But then, from the corner of my eye, I see her get up. She kisses Stephen’s cheek, then she hitches up the train of her dress, floats between the tables and makes her way to the baby grand piano.

  She takes the envelope from the piano bench – her friend must have placed it there at some point during the ceremony. She pulls out the booklet and places it in front of her. Then, like I’ve watched her do a million times before, she straightens her spine and takes a deep breath. She looks over at me and mouths, ‘Ready?’

  My heart stops. She’s going to play? At her own wedding? Was this Blake’s plan all along? That they’d play the song together, like they used to play when they were really little? My heart contracts. He really got it for once: that this wedding was meant to be about Jude, not him. Even when he was performing, she would be in the spotlight. He must have had a piano partition drawn up for her.

  God, I love you, Blake, I think. And God, I hate you for not being here.

  My whole body shaking, I nod and mouth back, ‘Ready.’

  Then I close my eyes.

  Leda’s body slumps against mine, heavy and warm on my feet.

  I hear the piano starting. Jude’s fingers light as water over the keys, like she’s played this song a thousand times before.

  And then I open my mouth and start singing.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  13.27 CDT

  By the time the sun comes back out from behind the moon, I worry that everyone’s staring at me.

  I fix my eyes on the arbour of Mom’s heirloom roses so I don’t have to look at the guests – or Mom and Jude’s faces either.

  I’ve got through the first few lines of the song but my voice is wavering and now that everyone can see me, I don’t know whether I can do this anymore.

  My voice sounds shrill. I don’t think I’m even in key. I know that I’m ruining it – that if I stopped singing and let Jude play, it would be better.

  My pulse beats in my wrist and behind my ears and at my throat.

  You can’t do this…you can’t do this…my brain yells at me.

  The words on the manuscript paper swim in front of my eyes.

  Then I notice someone shifting in the doorway again.

  I blink.

  My heart contracts.

  For a second, I think that maybe, through some crazy twist of fate, he’s here after all. That even though I messed up, the universe had his back, and he made it.

  Leda stands up beside me.

  And then he steps forward.

  I blink again.

  My eyes wander back to the doorway. He’s still there, the guest who came late. And now, with the sun back up, I see the tangled hair. I see the telescope held up to his eye. My telescope. And then, as though he can feel me watching, he lowers it and cradles it in his arms and looks right at me.

  I scan the wedding guests around him. I was wrong. People aren’t looking at me. They’re looking at Jude. Most of them have never heard her play; she’s private about her piano. Besides her friends at Julliard and her family, people could know Jude really well and never have a clue that she was an amazing musician. But now they know. That she’s brilliant. Totally brilliant. So brilliant that she can take up a partition on her wedding day that she’d never played before and turn it into magic. So brilliant that it doesn’t matter how bad my singing is – or whether I’m singing at all. Blake planned for this. Not the part about me singing but the part about everyone seeing Jude for who she was: a beautiful bride but also the amazing piano player.

  My eyes flicker back to the guy standing in the doorway.

  He brushes his tangled hair out of his eyes. Pale grey eyes. A sideways smile.

  For a second, I actually convince myself into thinking it’s Blake; that all the facts I know about what’s happened to him have somehow vanished, that he made it: that I wished him into being here.

  But it’s not him. Not even close. It’s Christopher.

  Christopher, who should be on his way to Atlanta.

  And in this moment, I feel angry at him for being here; for standing in the spot where Blake should be, just like he did at Dulles airport.

  Leda rushes through the guests towards him.

  And that’s when I break down.

  I close my mouth – halfway through a line, I just stop singing.

  And now there’s no sound, only my breathing in the mic.

  I drop the mic. It crashes to the floor. A dense thud.

  Leda turns and runs back to me. She sits at my feet, looking up at me, waiting.

  Jude stops playing.

  A gasp ripples through the guests. Not the gasp like the one when Jude walked down the aisle or when the eclipse started. They’re gasping because they know that something’s wrong.

  And then I run.

  I run between the tables, keeping my eyes low. My dress catches and rips on the back of a chair but still, I keep running.

  Lead weaves between my feet. Silent. So close.

  I run across the dance floor.

  I run to the door.

  I run so fast I nearly crash into Christopher.

  He steps back.

  I stare at him for a second. He’s just standing there. Looking at me. His brow furrowed.

  ‘Hi…’ He mumbles.

  Leda jumps up at him.

  I shake my head.

  I
t wasn’t meant to be him.

  Christopher holds out a hand.

  ‘Air—’

  But I push past him, run through the door that leads to the rooftop terrace and head down the back stairs of the hotel.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  After the Eclipse

  I collapse onto the stairs and sink into myself.

  My head pounds.

  I’ve messed everything up. Everything.

  Leda sits down beside me and settles her muzzle on the ripped hem of my dress. Her body’s shaking.

  I know she wants me to hold her. Because she feels it. Of course she does. Maybe she’s felt it this whole time – that Blake’s not coming back.

  But I can’t pick her up.

  I don’t have the strength.

  And more than that.

  I don’t get to make her feel better. I did this to her. I did this to all of us.

  My thoughts crash into each other.

  Why didn’t I look up the flight details back at the airport? Did I know all this time that I was the one who was responsible for all this?

  Nothing makes sense. Nothing’s going to make sense ever again.

  I don’t know what to do or where to go. How can I face them – Jude and Mom and Dad, my family, the people who trusted me to take care of Blake?

  I think about getting back into the car and driving. Driving for ever. Maybe the wedding will keep going without me. Maybe, once the guests have gone home and Jude and Stephen have headed off on their honeymoon, Mom and Dad will go back to DC and pick up their work and everyone will forget about me.

  And then I’ll disappear.

  And no one will ever have to see me again: the girl who ruined their lives.

  I shut my eyes.

  Please make me disappear, I say to myself. Please make me disappear.

  And then I hear footsteps echoing down the stairs above me.

  Leda gets to her feet and skitters up the steps.

  He comes and stands on the step beside me.

  I want to get up and run but I can’t move.

  Christopher’s standing too close. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and takes a few steps away.

  ‘Why aren’t you on the bus to Atlanta?’ I ask.

  The words come out hard and small and mean. But I don’t care. Why the hell did he have to come here and stand in the doorway like some kind of ghost?