Rocks and Stars

by Sam Ledel

  “Kyle, baby, come on,” Jax says. Finally, I bring myself to look at her. She’s tugging at my shoulders. Now she’s pulling me into a stall. I put my hands up as she locks the door.

  “Jax. No, come on.” But she doesn’t listen. She continues to murmur into my ear. The smell of her suffocates me. Her kisses sting my neck. “Jax. I don’t want this. Please.”

  “Kyle, just let me.” She presses me against the wall and her fingers start to unbutton my jeans. I catch her hand.

  “Jax, stop!”

  She does stop and stares at me. Tears burn my eyes as she steps backward. “Fine,” she finally says, pulling back her shoulders. “Whatever you want, Kyle.” The room spins around me as she tears open the stall door and thunders out of the restroom.

  I gather myself, my jaw clenched when I call after her. There’s no telling what she’ll do like this. “Jax, wait. Where are you going?”

  I pause when I see myself in the mirror. My reflection is haggard. Lines are etched around my eyes; creases sit deep in my forehead. The bags under my eyes make me look twenty-nine, not nineteen. After a moment, I pull open the door to follow after Jax.

  I freeze the second I see him standing in the hallway. I hardly recognize him and wonder briefly if he’s from that same place on the other side of the mirror. The place where the person I’ve become looks nothing like who I thought I would be.

  But when he speaks, there’s no mistaking him.

  “Dad?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Dad?” I blink twice, then three more times to make sure I’m seeing things right. My drink, it seems, has finally decided to kick in.

  Jax turns back around at the end of the narrow hallway. I look from her to the man standing in front of me in the tight, poorly lit space. The man who is undeniably my father. And next to my father, a tall blonde wearing cat-eye makeup behind a pair of black glasses, clutching an alligator-skin wallet beneath her arm.

  When I look back at Jax, her face is bewildered. She meets my gaze, then throws up her hands. “Jax,” I call after her. But she turns and disappears into the crowd. My dad, who had been watching us, clears his throat and stands up taller. I swallow and blink again, straightening up to match him.

  “Kyle,” he says. He removes his hand from behind the blonde’s back. My eyes go from him to her, trying to take in everything.

  His hair is tousled and his face unshaven, making him look rugged and younger and not at all like his business, busybody self I was so accustomed to. His leather jacket—which, I didn’t even know my dad owned a leather jacket—squeaks as he shoves one hand into his pocket. The woman has a similar jacket on over a purple blouse and a knee-length black skirt. With heels on, she’s a good two inches taller than my dad.

  Taking a deep breath, trying to gather my senses to achieve some sort of understanding as to what is in front of me, I finally manage to speak.

  “Do you have gel in your hair?”

  Good one, Kyle.

  My dad clears his throat again and turns to the blonde whose attention has already wandered back to the band. “Kim, um, this is Kyle. My daughter.”

  The blonde turns her head and smiles widely at me. “Hey, honey,” she says, her accent Texan but fairly neutral, making me think she’s from the city.

  I nod then focus on my dad. He’s running his fingers through his chestnut hair, the same as my own, and clears his throat.

  “Kim?” I ask, hoping he can feel the heat rising up in me but can’t hear the way my voice cracks.

  “Kyle,” he says slowly, “we should talk.”

  The blonde—Kim, I guess—gives my dad’s shoulder a pat, then says, “You know what? I’m going to grab a drink.”

  My knees feel like they’re made of Jell-O as I watch her give my dad a quick kiss and stroll off toward the bar. I lean to my right, briefly searching down the hall for Jax. But I can’t find her in the growing crowd.

  My eyes move back to my dad. My head is spinning. The liquor in my stomach spoils, and I fight the urge to heave.

  “Kyle,” my dad says. “Please, let me just explain some things.”

  Yes, please, I think, staring daggers at him, explain to me what exactly is going on here. What are you doing here? Where is Mom? What are you wearing? Please, explain to me what you’re doing with beautiful blond Kim in a bar on Sixth Street with goddamn gel in your hair? I would love answers to these questions. My mind reels. I straighten myself up as best I can despite the fact that the lights around me are swirling in nauseating circles. I pull my shoulders back, ready to fire off all of these questions at him, my face flushed with fury.

  However, when I open my mouth to speak, all I manage to do is puke.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Kyle, are you okay, sweetheart?”

  I stumble against the wall behind me, bracing myself and trying not to step into the puddle of fresh vomit at my feet. I look up and hope the glare in my dad’s direction is one of infuriating disgust, though I’m pretty sure it’s more “sad drunk college student who can’t hold her liquor.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart,” I mutter through gritting teeth.

  “Come on, let me help you clean up,” he says, stepping toward me.

  I swat his arm away, using all my willpower to stand up straight. The room is still spinning. I look around, hoping desperately for Jax to come back, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I fall against the wall, my hand slipping so that I land with a thud against the bricks. I realize I’m still outside the restroom when I hear a toilet flush.

  Then, before I can stop him, my dad is pulling me away from the wall and over to one of the tattered leather couches toward the end of the hallway, farther from the music and the crowded bar. My feet trip over themselves as we walk and I try to maneuver through the people on my own. Eventually we make it to the couch, and I pull my hand away from him, falling onto the worn, brown cushions. I cover my eyes, rubbing my forehead when my dad takes a seat next to me.

  “Kyle, what are you doing?”

  I scoff, glancing at him through my fingers covering my eyes. “What am I doing? Seriously? I can ask you the same question.”

  My eyes manage to focus on my dad long enough to see him run his hands through his hair—his goddamn gelled hair—then clear his throat. “You’re nineteen, Kyle.”

  “I’ll be twenty in two months.”

  “That doesn’t give you an excuse to be at a bar drinking. You’re underage. How did you even get like this?”

  “How do you think, Dad? A bottle of wine back in the hotel room. Another drink here.” I wave my hand carelessly but gag before I can continue.

  My dad places his hand on my knee. I want to shove it aside, but my head is pounding and despite myself, it comforts me to have him so close. “Dammit,” I grumble, feeling myself fall back into memories, like him taking care of me after I broke my arm on my bike when I was nine years old. I pinch my eyes shut and force myself into the present.

  I take a deep breath. “Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here? With Kim,” I add, sneering as her name passes my lips.

  He pulls his hand back, rubbing it along his own knee now. “Kyle, there are some things you have to understand…”

  I stand up then. Those words and the solemn tone of his voice carry the weight of a two-story house, and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. I lean against the opposite wall, one hand on the grimy bricks while the other rubs against my ribs as if I can force air into them with each painful push.

  “Kyle.” There’s a shuffling sound, and my dad’s hand falls on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  His aftershave is the same: musty with a hint of something floral. It makes me cough. “I can’t breathe,” I finally choke out.

  Then my dad is guiding me down the hallway again. My chin bobs against my chest, but I glance up through my eyelashes as we walk under the green exit sign, and he leads me out into a back alley. “Over here,” he say
s, his voice gentle. We round the street corner, past the over-filled dumpster and several rusty fire escapes lining the back of the restaurants and bars. We end up near the front door, I realize, when I slump against a wall plastered with bright paper advertisements.

  “Wait here,” he tells me before going back inside.

  My head throbs while throngs of people wander past. I’m tempted to sit but force myself to hold on to my dignity—what’s left of it—and use it to hold myself up. My black boots kick away an empty ketchup packet somebody dropped on the sidewalk. Eventually, my dad slips past the large doormen and grabs my elbow.

  “Where’s Kim?” I ask him.

  “You’re what’s important right now, sweetheart.”

  I start to ask him to please stop calling me that, but when I open my mouth I nearly throw up again.

  “Come on,” he says, and when I look up, he’s glancing down the street. “There’s a little place on the corner we can go. Let’s get you something to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I say, but a gentle nudge in my back puts my feet in motion. I’m surprised when they don’t slow down but instead follow half a step behind, past several bars and a tattoo parlor until we’re under the bright neon sign of a small diner. He holds the door open for me. My balance wavers when I look up at the storefront lights, but my dad braces me and helps me inside.

  I collapse into a red booth just inside the door. My dad settles in across from me when a waitress appears.

  “Something to drink?”

  My head hangs heavy in my right hand, pressed up against the large window facing outside, and I force myself to look at the elderly woman with crinkled eyes narrowed at her notepad and gray hair pulled back in a loose bun.

  “Two waters, please,” my dad says.

  After she turns to go, I excuse myself to the bathroom.

  My dad reaches up when I walk past him. “Kyle, we need to talk.”

  I move my arm away. “I just need to pee. Please.”

  He nods and lets me go. I stumble into the tiny bathroom, just large enough for me to stand in. I lean over and hang on to the sink. Looking at my reflection in the mirror is unbearable, so I turn on both faucets and let the water pool into my cupped hands. Splashing my face, I let my fingers linger against my cheeks. They’re hot. Then my fingers find my tired eyes and scrub off the little makeup I had on, and I watch it run down the drain.

  Back out at the booth, there’s a tall cup of ice water and a plate of grilled cheese waiting.

  “I figured you could use something in your stomach.”

  I grab the cup and chug half of it right there. My dad sips his through a straw, eyeing me warily.

  “I’m all right,” I explain to his concerned look. Grabbing my sandwich, I mutter tiredly, “Go on, tell me,” and take a bite.

  My dad drums his fingers along the metallic edge of the table. “Well, you probably know I have several new clients here in Austin.”

  “Is Kim one of them?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

  “Actually, I’ve known Kim for quite some time. And she was just hired on as our location’s new manager for the IT department.”

  “How fortunate for you.” I swallow a thick piece of bread, grateful it helped to slow the world’s spinning.

  My dad is quiet for a moment. “She’s a very smart woman. We, um, we attended several technology seminars together. She’s spoken at many of them.”

  “Is she smarter than Mom?” I fire back before taking another gulp from my water and slamming the cup down just a little too hard. “So smart and spectacular that you feel like you have to dress like this?” I gesture to his jacket. “Or has this always been your weekend getaway attire to win over the ladies?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, honey.” He reaches across the table to grab one sleeve of my button-down, then nods toward my leather pants. “This doesn’t look like you.”

  I shake my head, ignoring his comments. “How long has this been going on?”

  His eyes flicker down to his hands then back up to mine. A bike-taxi pedals by the window. We both turn to watch as the happy couple in the back sits closely, oblivious to anyone else on the road. After they pass us, my dad runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t expect you to fully understand, Kyle.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Your mother and I…you know…you know your mom and I love you. And we love each other.”

  “No,” I say, cutting him off. “If you loved her, you wouldn’t have Kim wrapped around you like a shiny office trophy.”

  My dad watches me, and I take another drink until all that’s left are the ice cubes. They clank against the plastic when I set the cup down.

  “I do love your mother, Kyle,” he tells me, holding up his hand when I open my mouth to protest. “I love her. I always have. But I’m not in love with her. Not anymore. And neither is she, with me.”

  The words hit me like a cleat to the gut. My eyes water and the acid in my stomach boils over. I lean back, my hands pushing against my thighs, willing my grilled cheese to stay down.

  “Kyle,” my dad says, but I hold a finger up.

  “Please, Dad, just…wait.” There it is. There are those words. Those words that we had been so afraid to say for so long. And despite the fact that I knew they existed, that I knew those words were lurking in the corners of our home, scurrying through the darkness, I had never been ready to hear them.

  Until now.

  I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe.

  “So,” I say, pushing my now empty plate forward and lifting my head, “the seven-day workweek, the business trips you two go on, the office expansions—those were all part of the plan to, what, give yourselves more room apart? To find somebody else? To find Kim?”

  My dad rests an arm on the table as he explains. “It didn’t start like that. You know your mom and I have worked hard your entire life. We wanted to work hard for you and Kevin. But, yes, work did take over. Your mom and I saw less of each other. Saw less of you and your brother.” His eyes shine with tears. “We tried, Kyle. We did. But people change. And as much as your mother and I love each other, we just aren’t right for one another. Not anymore.”

  With another deep breath, I run a hand over the back of my neck. I can’t find the words for a response, so my dad takes this as a cue to continue.

  “When your mom and I got married, she was this wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking goddess that I would do anything for. And don’t get me wrong, she is still all of those things. And for her, I was some goofy guy who she, for some reason, fell in love with,” he says, allowing himself half a smile. “And more than anything, I wanted to be the one to bring her happiness in everything that we did. I wanted to be the one to make her smile and live to the fullest. But at some point, I stopped being that for her. And she for me. And that’s not something you can force. It’s just not. It becomes too hard.” He glances outside, back toward the bar. “And eventually, you have to realize that, if it’s not right and things have come to a standstill, then it’s time to move on.”

  I exhale. At the start of his speech, I had truly feared that each sentence would cluster around us and squeeze the life out of me until I couldn’t breathe anymore. But instead, the exact opposite happened. It was as if each confession pulled a lightness from me that I hadn’t felt in years, not since before my parents’ arguing began. Not since before I started feeling things for Beth.

  I reach for his hand. He wraps both of his around mine. “I’m sorry, Kyle.”

  I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “I’m not saying that this doesn’t suck.” I sniffle. “But I will say that I kind of had an idea something was going on. And thank you for telling me.”

  He blinks back tears. “You know I love you.”

  The dam breaks. Tears rush from my eyes, and I hunch over, falling into my hands. There’s a squeak of old leather, and then an oomph on my side of the booth when my dad sits next to me. He pulls me c
lose. I reach for his chest and he wraps me tighter in his arms.

  I’m not sure how long I let him hold me. But I don’t want to leave his arms, the arms that feel like a shield, keeping away the rambunctious customers, the bright lights, and the awful memories from tonight.

  It’s not until I lean back to wipe my nose on the palm of my hand that I remember Jax.

  “Oh God,” I mumble, glancing around, surprised she hasn’t torn through the door or gone parading down the streets.

  My dad grabs a napkin, blows his nose, then returns to his side of the booth. His eyes are still wet when he asks, “What is it, honey?”

  My hand rubs against my temple. “It’s my…it’s Jax. I completely forgot about her.”

  Removing his jacket, my dad’s brow furrows. “Jax. That girl I saw you with in the bar?”

  “Yeah. She’s my…she’s really drunk. I should…I need to go find her. Get her back to our hotel.”

  My dad’s eyes narrow and he licks his thin lips. “Well, you’re in no state.” He holds up a finger then. “I have an idea.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his cell phone.

  I grumble, annoyed at myself for not spitting the truth out, and lean my forehead into both of my hands. My elbows stick to the crumbs scattered around my plate. When my dad greets Kim on the other end of the phone, I look around the crowded diner. The lights have quelled their stinging against my skin, and the air finally reaches my lungs. Then it hits me: this is your chance. I shake my head, muttering under my breath while my dad speaks with Kim. I hear him ask her for a favor. Again, that voice calls out. I bunch my eyes closed, but it only grows louder.

  “Thank you,” he says. “Yes, she’s about Kyle’s height, blond. Her name is Jax. She’s Kyle’s—”

  “Girlfriend.”