She Dims the Stars

by Amber L. Johnson

  “Is that not tragic enough for you?” Her head leans a little to the left as she lets go of my palm. “There’s more, if you need it. But I’d like to make a request for my character.”

  “Sure.” It’s really all I can offer at this point.

  “I want my girl to ride a unicorn. And I want the unicorn to shit rainbow cookies as a defense.”

  The mental picture of Audrey atop a unicorn as it drops rainbow-colored cookie bombs breaks whatever heaviness there was in the room mere seconds ago, and I let out an awkward laugh that’s a cross between a choke and a hyena bark.

  “I’m serious. Cookie-shitting unicorn or nothing, Elliot.” Her smile is shaky, but her voice is strong, and it does not go unnoticed by Cline.

  “Are you being serious right now?” He is bracing himself against the counter, his full attention on the girl staring back at him with a blank expression.

  “Yeah. If I’m gonna be in a video game, I want some artistic license. I have no idea what he was planning to do with the character of the ex, but I’m sure it wasn’t half as bad ass as—“

  “Shut up.” He slams his fist down and steps toward her, making her take one back. “Just, shut up. Why are you even here? It’s been, like, six years since you’ve even spoken to me after you ran away, or whatever, and now you’re in my place and hanging out with my best friend. You're gonna ride a unicorn in his game?”

  “If I can interject, there really isn’t use for a unicorn in the game at all. It’s a military game based off of my father’s old journals.” I raise my finger to stop them from going further, but it goes unnoticed.

  “What part do you get to play? Are you the best friend in the game?” She’s seriously asking, and Cline’s face goes bright red. “You’re a great best friend until you’re not anymore.”

  “That’s called projecting, isn’t it? I took a psych class, too.” He spits back at her.

  The stand-off in my kitchen makes no sense to me at all right now. I notice Audrey’s left hand twitch, and her fingers start tapping against her palm one after the other as she stares directly at Cline. It’s a pattern, but I can’t make it out. Suddenly, it stops and she turns to me.

  “I don’t have very much information on my mom. My grandma keeps all her stuff at her house in North Carolina, and she doesn’t have anything to do with me since I’m the devil spawn that killed her only daughter. And if you want to know about my dad, I don’t have any information on him either.”

  “Bullshit. What are you talking about? Your dad gave you everything you ever wanted. I know. I was there. You have been so messed up since you ran away when we were fifteen.” Cline reaches out and pushes her shoulder just the slightest bit to make her acknowledge him again.

  She braces herself before turning and facing him once more, some sort of helplessness in her eyes when she answers. “First, I’m glad the story about me running away has stuck after all these years. Patrick and Miranda did a great job selling that one. But since you’re finally interested in the truth, my father didn’t give me jack shit, Cline. Patrick Byrd took care of some other guy’s baby because his wife gave birth to it. Put his name on it. I have no idea who my real father is.

  “I don’t know a thing about my mom. I have no idea who my dad is. And everything you thought you knew about me was a complete lie. How’s that for some bullshit?” She addresses me again. “Sorry. Is that enough to get me onto a unicorn in your game or not?”

  My room is a mess, and I’m trying to throw piles of clothes into the corner so Audrey can sit down at my desk. Her fingers are doing that thing again while she waits but I ignore it while I shove the last sock under the bed with my foot and turn around to face her. With both hands splayed open, I shrug. “Have a seat.”

  She’s looking around the room at my sculptures and wirework, her gaze lingering on sketches of faces and some renderings I’ve printed off to work on during the break. “You don’t suck at this, you know.”

  I scratch the back of my neck and sit heavily on my bed. It’s been an insane night already, and it’s not even midnight. Cline left the apartment, so it’s just me and Audrey in my tiny-ass room filled with my stuff that only my roommate and my ex-girlfriend have seen up close. It feels weird. Like I’m naked, and not in the good way.

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment, all things considered.”

  She smiles and continues to look around before reclining in the chair and folding her arms over her chest. “A military game, huh? Based off your dad’s journals?”

  “I didn’t think you caught that with all the back and forth between you two,” I admit.

  “I caught it. Why are you doing it off his journals instead of asking him directly?”

  My skin prickles, and I straighten my shoulders, because sometimes you have things in common with people in the strangest ways. “Because he died in combat and the journals and letters to my mom are all I have to go off of. He once wrote that he was right in the middle of Hell, and I just got this idea that I’d make a war game where the base camp was directly over the entrance to it.”

  “You believe in that stuff? Hell and heaven and whatever?”

  I nod and look down at my hands before I speak. “Yeah, I do.”

  “That’s just terrifying, don’t you think? I mean … if there actually is a heaven and a hell, and the Bible says that after we die, we’re supposed to keep existing forever, then … that’s frightening. We are never going to stop existing. At the end of the day, at least I know I get to go to sleep. But the thought that I’m gonna have to be awake and keep doing this kind of stuff forever? I just …”

  I look up in time to see her blink and wipe her cheek as she swivels away in the chair. The light from my computer makes the side of her face glow in the dim lighting of my room.

  “Anyway. I’m sorry for your loss. That’s what we’re supposed to say, right? How old were you?”

  “Eight.”

  “So you have some memories of him, then?”

  “Yeah. Of course. They’re few and brief, but they’re enough to keep a picture of him in my mind. I guess that must be tough for you, right? You don’t have any of your mom or … the guy.”

  She shrugs. “I have what I have.”

  “Have you ever talked to your dad about it? I mean, Patrick. Have you confronted him about the entire thing?”

  Audrey shakes her head and focuses on the Fallout poster above my bed before she answers. “I’ve done enough damage. To be honest, I can’t even talk to him about her. You can’t say the name Wendy without him physically flinching. If I brought up the other-guy thing, who knows what would happen? We have nothing of my mom in our house. It’s all at my grandmother’s, and I’m not even allowed over there.”

  I lean back and cross my arms behind my head, looking up at the ceiling as I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “You should go anyway. I don’t have anything to do over break. I can go with you.”

  I have no idea how my twin size bed withstands the weight as she jumps on me from across the room and makes me say five times in a row that I mean it.

  How exactly does one go about packing for a trip that could change the course of her life? I’m standing in my room, staring blankly at the empty bag on my bed, distracted by the blue constellation print of my comforter beneath it. I can close my eyes and know where every single thing in this place is. Yellow desk under the window; sheer curtains open and blinds pulled shut. Laptop, last semester’s text books waiting to be sold, old papers and pencils all on the left-hand side. The right side remains clear. Silver desk chair pushed in until the metal touches the wood.

  Nightstand to the right of the bed with one charger, a small lamp, and a place to take my jewelry off at night. One dresser behind me with a television. Small closet that holds just enough clothes to get me through the semester, because the other half of it is where I have shoved a bookcase full of fiction.

  I open my eyes and idly wonder if I should bring something to
read. It’s a six hour drive to Elliot’s house where we’ll be getting his camping gear for the remainder of the trip. Another eight hours to Grandma Ruth’s. The plan is wide open from there, and it makes my skin itch to not have some semblance of order to follow. I need order.

  The thoughts of what could potentially go wrong start to gather in my head, and I can feel my jaw start to tense, so I close my eyes again and breathe in and out as deeply as I can in counts of seven.

  It takes a few minutes, but I get a handle on it, and my heart rate slows enough for me to focus and silently begin to fill my bag with things I need to take with me. Not the least of which is a flower-printed bag full of orange bottles.

  Elliot has an Xterra, and for some reason, that is unexpected. “You go off-roading a lot?” I ask, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other as he checks the tire pressure on the front driver’s side wheel.

  He looks up and squints at me, one eye smaller than the other as his tongue peeks out between his lips. “No. Why?”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I push up on my toes and chance a peek inside to see if his car is as dirty as his room. It’s not, and that, too, is surprising.

  He stands and straightens his t-shirt, the material getting caught on his broad shoulders. “I cleaned it. Vacuumed and whatnot. Thought you wouldn’t want to ride for that long with Taco Bell wrappers under your feet.”

  I pretend to swoon, pressing my hands to my chest. “And in that moment, I swear I fell in love with you, Elliot.”

  He tosses the pressure gauge in the air and catches it before giving me a dirty look. “A thank you would have worked just fine, smart ass.”

  “Thank you,” I concede.

  Suddenly, the door to their apartment is thrown wide open, and Cline, in all his disheveled glory, lumbers onto the sidewalk, half dressed and pissed off. Hazel eyes are barely visible as he stares us down, pointing a thick arm and long finger at Elliot. “Where the hell are you going?”

  Elliot straightens his shoulders and faces his best friend, his neck tilted a little as they come toe to toe. Cline’s extra two inches barely make a difference when Elliot mans up. Witnessing this makes something in my stomach flutter.

  “I’m taking Audrey to North Carolina to her grandmother’s house to see if she can get info on her mom.”

  Cline’s eyes go wide, and his head snaps in my direction. “Granny Ruth? The psycho? She won’t even let you near her house. How are you supposed to even—“ He puts both hands up and gives a sarcastic frown. “You know what? I told myself that this was none of my business. I did. I said, ‘Cline, man, this is none of your business.’ But now you’ve roped my roommate into driving you, like, twenty hours to go see someone who won’t even speak to you.” He bounces a little on the word ‘speak,’ pulling his fists against his chest as his voice rises. “So now it’s my business. She’s using you, dude. Just like she does with everybody else.”

  “It’s fourteen hours from Tennessee to North Carolina, actually,” I correct him.

  “And I volunteered.” Elliot pushes the pressure gauge into his pocket and crosses his arms like that should be it. Final. Over.

  But I know better.

  Cline bends forward at the waist, his arms crossed and knees bent again before he stands up straight and yells, “Oh! You volunteered. A fourteen hour drive. Okay. That’s makes it okay. Got it. Well, wait right here while I go get my shit because I’m coming, too.”

  I think, deep down, deep, deep down somewhere in my subconscious, I knew this was going to happen. It is why I’m not even the slightest bit surprised by the outburst. I’m actually quite amused.

  As calmly as I can, I move to the rear of the vehicle and open the back door so I can slide my bag inside. Peeking around the side of the car, I make a “shoo” motion with my hand.

  “Hurry up, then. We haven’t got all day. We’re wasting daylight.”

  Cline’s anger is apparent in the flare of his nostrils. “I’m seriously coming.”

  “I seriously don’t care.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “You already said that.” I walk around the car and over to where he’s still standing in his pajama pants. “You remember when you were little and your mom wouldn’t let you watch anything except movies from the eighties or before?” His eyes narrow and those nostrils flare again. “You’re like that asshole kid in the backseat of Adventures in Babysitting right now.”

  “I watch whatever I want to now.” He says it like he’s so proud. It almost makes me laugh.

  “Big man.”

  “I’m totally coming on this trip.”

  I sigh and wave a hand at the car. “That’s fine, because I didn’t have enough room in that bag for my Box Full of Fucks to Give. So would you go get packed so we can leave? You’re starting to annoy me.”

  Elliot has been standing silently off to the side for the entire exchange, and finally he steps between us, placing a hand on my shoulder and one on Cline’s chest. “I can’t do this if you’re going to act like a couple of eight year olds. Both of you need to shut up. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.” He looks at me. “Please, get in the car.” He looks at Cline. “You have five minutes to pack or we’re leaving. I told my mom I’d be home for dinner.” He steps away cautiously then pulls the car keys from his pocket. “If the two of you start fighting, I will pull over and leave one of you on the side of the road. Swear to God.”

  The car is dead silent for the first hour of the trip. Every time Elliot attempts to turn on any type of music, Cline vetoes it, so eventually he just gives up. The entire thing has started to give me a headache anyway, so I have taken to staring out the window and counting the numbers on license plates.

  Everything must add up to seven. Any way that I can force the numbers to sequence themselves, I do.

  HBC6033

  6 and 3+3 = 6

  6x6=36

  3x6=18

  8-1=7

  An old rusted truck pulling a trailer eases alongside us before picking up enough speed where I can see the plate and start all over again. I don’t even know how much time has passed as I continue to do this, but when Elliot reaches over and places his hand on mine, I realize that my fingers have been busy at work on my shorts. I’ve picked away a large chunk of frayed denim that now lies in a clump on his seat.

  He pats my hand and keeps his eyes on the road as he hits the right blinker and pulls into a gas station. “I need to fill up.”

  As discreetly as possible, I scoop up the remnants of my destruction and palm them so I can throw it away as I walk by the trash can on my way inside the convenience store. Inside the bathroom, under the unflattering fluorescent lighting, and amidst the smell of years of uncleaned piss, I stare at my reflection. There’s a huge possibility that I’m going to find out who I am. That I’ll finally know whose brown eyes these are. Who this round nose came from. Whose lips in some lineage caused a cupid’s bow to be so deep?

  There’s a possibility that I’ll find out that the stuff inside my head isn’t just mine alone.

  I could find answers, and the thought scares me so much I have to brace myself on the sink for a moment before I remember how gross it is, and then I wash my hands a few times for good measure, just in case.

  The cashier eyes me warily as I walk the aisles looking for snacks for the road. I wonder if Cline still eats King Size Snickers and chases it with a Dr. Pepper like he used to back in school. As far as Elliot goes, I realize I don’t know what kind of snacks he likes, but some Reese’s Pieces might make him laugh. So I gather an armful of items and carry them to the register, a small smile on my lips as the cashier takes in all the sugar and beef sticks I’ve accrued.

  “Road trip,” I state.

  His thick cheeks puff out as he rings up each item one by one. “Good choices.”

  Just the one affirmation that perhaps I’ve done something right makes me feel a little lighter as I walk back toward the pump.

&n
bsp; “Are you in love with her or something? Because I’ve never seen you act like this before.”

  I know Elliot’s trying to be quiet, but I’m close enough to hear him ask the question.

  “No.” Cline is adamant, and I go still, standing behind the partition, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. “I don’t love her. I don’t even like her. As a person or as anything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She will ruin your entire life, dude. One minute we were best friends, and the next minute I could have been a tree in her yard for all she cared. She acted like none of us existed anymore. Her friends. Even her family. She has a track record—that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Elliot puts the gas cap back on and closes the lid. I can see his hands from where I am hiding, and they disappear as he shoves them into his pockets and leans back against the car. I pull my body closer to the partition to listen.

  “Let me just remind you that she threw a rock at your bedroom window that day, asking for you to come to her party, not me. I just happened to be there. She came looking for you. Maybe you’ll get over yourself soon and find out why she was trying to find you instead of being such an asshole all the time.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Dr. Stark is staring at me from her chair, her pencil poised over her notebook as she waits for me to answer. She’s asked what the next step toward forgiveness is.

  “Asking,” I reply.

  Eyes open now, I make a big deal about shaking the bag and causing as much noise as I can, like I’ve just come around the corner. I dip my hand into the bag, and without even looking him in the eye, I press the candy bar and soda into Cline’s chest and continue walking around the car to get back inside.

  The six-hour drive ends up being closer to seven, because Audrey’s bladder is the size of a peanut. Maybe a cashew. Also, at some point, once we crossed the border into Alabama, I had to pull the car over and get out just to distance myself from their constant bickering. As I stood and watched traffic go by, I made the decision to render Cline’s character mute in my game. Maybe sew his lips shut myself. Perhaps I’d just erase the mouth all together.