Shake Down the Stars

by Renee Swindle

  Margot comes over and kisses Mom on the cheek, and they fall into yet another mother-daughter embrace. “Oh, Mommy, can you believe it? I’m so happy.”

  I look away awkwardly; except for perfunctory hello and good-bye hugs, Mom and I don’t touch much. But then Margot clasps my hand—“Group hug!” She pulls me in next to Mom and forces us into an embrace. I feel self-conscious at first but then wrap my arm around Mom and close my eyes. I think about string theory as I press my face close to hers. I think about my other self existing in a dimension where I share a heartfelt hug with my mother and sister, and we three have the kind of genuine fondness healthy families share, and after I leave Rebecca’s studio, this other self goes home to Spencer and Hailey and I tell them about my day. If the theory is correct, somewhere light-years away it’s highly possible I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

  Our table at Aqua is located next to one of several floor- to-ceiling windows that overlook the shimmering blue bay. While everyone discusses wedding details, I look over the drink menu and debate the joys of a dry martini or vodka on the rocks. I haven’t been drinking as much since I last saw Spencer; I want to prove to him, and myself, that I can cut back, but I’ve also spent the last two hours with these three and still have to get through lunch, and there’s only so much a person can take. So when the waiter comes to our table, I figure desperate times and all that and order a double martini.

  I can’t help but notice how quiet everyone is after he leaves. They all stare with such solemnity, I begin to wonder if I’ve sprouted horns. “What?” No one says a word. Margot looks down at her hands. Danielle smirks ever so slightly.

  “What?”

  “We’re concerned,” Margot says.

  “About?”

  Mom reaches for her water. “You know.”

  “I have no idea. What’s going on?”

  “The drinking?” she says.

  “I’m not the only one drinking. Margot ordered sake. And you just ordered an apple martini,” I say to Danielle.

  “Yeah,” Danielle replies, “but I don’t have a drinking problem.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You already had champagne at Rebecca’s.”

  “So. Rebecca offered everyone champagne. Who in her right mind turns down free champagne?”

  “We need you to have it together by the wedding,” she says firmly. “No drinking!”

  Margot, who has remained perfectly doelike and passive while her friend berates me, finally pipes up. “What she means is, we’re concerned, P, and we want the wedding to be perfect.”

  “The wedding is in my hands now,” Danielle continues, “and I need everything to be just right.”

  “I’m sorry; I thought the wedding was about Margot.”

  “Of course it’s about Margot. I want the wedding to be perfect for her.” She takes Margot’s hand. “But the wedding is also going to be a televised event, which is why it has to be perfect. The show is about how Margot maintains her impeccable sense of style as much as anything else.”

  “Thank you, Danni,” Margot says, patting Danielle’s hand.

  “You’re welcome, Mags.” They beam at each other before she trains her icy greens back on me. “We’re talking about a TV show! Margot is going to be a big star. A scandal at the wedding would fucking ruin that for her.”

  “Danielle, watch your language.”

  “Apologies, Mrs. Wright.”

  I look at them all. “Scandal? Outburst? You’re making me sound crazy.”

  Silence.

  “When you drink, you get emotional. In a very bad way,” Margot says, continuing with the Bambi act.

  “And when you talk as if you were two years old, you’re very annoying.” I look around for the waiter. My drink can’t come soon enough. “Is this about the engagement party?”

  “It’s about your life,” Mom says, sounding both snide and weary.

  “Cameras will be there,” Danielle gripes. “We can’t have anything go wrong.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “We’ve noticed you’re drinking more and more,” Margot says. “I want to see my big sister happy and pretty. Alcohol won’t help.”

  “You could be doing so much better in life,” Mom says.

  I look from Mom to Danielle to Margot and back to Mom again. Slowly I start to get it. Something about the moment seems suspiciously rehearsed or at the very least discussed.

  “Is this supposed to be some kind of intervention?” I start to laugh. “An intervention at Aqua! An intervention over drinks and sushi!” I look around the restaurant as if people are watching. “Family intervention taking place at table four!”

  “Lower your voice, Piper,” Mom says under her breath. “This is no laughing matter.”

  “I’m sorry.” I giggle. “I just never heard of an intervention at a sushi restaurant.”

  “We’re not using the word ‘intervention,’” Margot says. “We just wanted to talk to you. We’re worried.”

  “Let’s get real, Mags. You’re far more concerned about your wedding than about me. I get it.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s not?”

  Mom says, “You’re making terrible choices, Piper.” She stiffens noticeably, her mouth taut. “Drinking and hanging around with your ex-husband aren’t going to bring her back.”

  “I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

  “We all miss her, and none of us will get over the loss, but if you don’t want to pray or go to church, we’re not going to watch you self-destruct.”

  “Thanks for the love and support, Mom.”

  “I’m willing to pay for therapy,” Margot chimes in. “The best you can get. Cost is not an issue.”

  “Show her,” Danielle whispers.

  Margot jumps. “Oh, right.”

  She takes out a pamphlet and slides it across the table. There’s a picture of a white farmhouse sitting in the center of a green field and the name of a rehabilitation center at the top.

  “Have you all lost your minds?” I practically shout. “I’m not an alcoholic!” I slide the pamphlet back across the table. “I’m fine!”

  Danielle hands the pamphlet back to Margot. “I knew she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Not to you,” I snap. “Not all that long ago you were doing the wide splits on a pole. Why should I listen to you?”

  As if he’s heard my cries, the waiter mercifully arrives with our drinks. “God bless you.” I make a show of chugging back my martini without pause and slamming down the glass. The waiter does his best not to react as he continues serving the table. Before he has a chance to leave, I ask for another.

  I then look at Danielle. “Here’s something you’ll understand, Danni. Go fuck yourself. Why Margot doesn’t see how selfish you are is beyond me. Oh wait. She wouldn’t see it because she’s as selfish as you are.”

  “At least she’s not a cold bi—”

  “Girls!” Mom says.

  Margot says, “I wish you’d pray. God can help you through anything, P, but you have to let him help you. Look at all that he’s done for me. You can have the same thing.”

  Mom mutters a “Praise God,” then adds, “How you’re living now certainly isn’t working.”

  I glare hard. I’m tempted to point out her hypocrisy: With all the sleeping around and drinking you did? You judge me? But she’s practically scowling at me, and I back down as I always do.

  “Don’t you want to be on TV?” Margot says, looking confused.

  “No, I don’t want to be on TV. In fact, I want a contract written up that says they are not to tape me—ever!”

  She falls back against her chair, dumbfounded by the notion that someone might pass on the opportunity to be followed by cameras 24/7. “But why, Piper? Everyone wants to be on TV!”
>
  “God, Margot, you’re like your generation’s Andy Warhol.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” I sigh. “Thanks for the concern, everyone, but I don’t have a drinking problem. I’m fine. I haven’t had a drink in weeks. So just stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”

  “How many times are you going to say you’re fine?” Danielle says offhandedly. “You sound defensive if you ask me.”

  “But I didn’t ask you.”

  I toss my napkin on the table. I’m hoping to come off as confident, but by now I’m starting to think I have the word Loser emblazoned on my forehead. “I don’t understand why I have to be the bad seed and the one who has to get picked on instead of supported.” I rise from the table. “I have to use the restroom.”

  “No one’s picking on you,” Mom says.

  “We love you,” says Margot.

  I march off, though, before they can see they’ve gotten to me. I need a minute alone and only wish I’d grabbed my phone so I could call Spencer. I know I’ve imposed a moratorium on talking, but it would be so nice to hear his voice now, to have him make the perfect sarcastic comment about my crazy family.

  I walk past the restroom and directly outside where I hug myself against a strong wind. I walk toward the bay. I wish for the gazillionth time that Hailey was with me and that I could go back to those four years when everything felt normal, when I didn’t need anyone but my nucleus of a family—me, Spencer, Hailey.

  Not knowing what to do with myself, I walk a little farther. I’m nearing a cross street when I hear someone say, “Kilowatt?”

  I turn and squint my eyes. It can’t be.

  “Selwyn?”

  He walks up in a suit and tie, face beaming. “Is it really you?”

  “Is it really you?”

  We laugh and share a long hug.

  When my smile broadens, he clutches at his chest as though he might faint. “Oh lawd! There it is! You’re killin’ me, baby!”

  “Stop acting crazy,” I tease.

  “It’s so nice to see you. I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t either. What are you doing here?”

  He glances at a gray-haired man standing off to the side. “I’m here on business. Dave, this is Piper.” He pauses and smiles. “An old friend.”

  Dave and I shake hands before he turns his attention back to Selwyn. “Listen, Selwyn; I should take off. Call me next week, and we’ll set up that meeting.”

  “Sure thing.” They say good-bye, and Selwyn quickly grips both my arms as though I might be an apparition. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Stop being silly.” I laugh.

  “What are you doing in the city?”

  As soon as I think of my intervention, it’s as if someone has raised an it’s-okay-to-cry lever, and I well up.

  “Kil? Hey now. What is it?”

  “Nothing. Everything. My family. We’re having lunch and I hate them. And they hate me. I don’t know why they hate me, but they do. Actually I do know why. I’m a fuckup. And why do I always feel like I have to tell you everything?” I manage to smile. I don’t know what it is about Selwyn that makes me divulge so, but here I am telling him everything, admitting things I wouldn’t admit to anyone.

  “Hey now, stop putting yourself down. Is there anything I can do?”

  I think of asking him to whisk me away as he did at the engagement party, but that would only prove them right—that I can’t handle awkward situations, like family interventions, without freaking out or disappearing. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be all right.”

  “It’s so good to see you, Kil. I think about you—a lot, if you want to know the truth. Are you busy? Can I take you out for coffee?”

  “That would be nice, but I’m having lunch with my family.”

  “Right. Of course. Well, when can I see you? I have to see you again. This is kismet. Serendipity. If today doesn’t work, when? I’ve wanted to contact you, but you made things so clear last time, I thought I should leave you alone. But now here you are! This is fate, what we’re dealing with right here.”

  I feel excited myself. It’s not lost on me that we’re having one of those serendipitous moments in life, too difficult to explain. I mean, who knows why all that matter and energy decided to collide one day, and—boom—the big bang? Or who knows what events led Selwyn here, right at this moment. The point, it seems, is that he’s here. And what’s more, I honestly can’t believe how good it is to see him. And he looks good, too. I realize now, in the light of day, how he gives off the impression of a man who likes himself and who lives well. He seems like a guy who’s . . . What’s that word again? Happy. Yes, that’s it. He’s that rare thing in my circle of family and no-friends-to-speak-of: a genuinely happy person.

  “You know,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “Yep. Thanks to you, I am now the proud owner of a Meade 280.”

  “A Meade 280? Are you serious?!” Now I am tempted to run away with him. My telescope is of good quality and nothing to be embarrassed about, but the Meade 280x is a gorgeous telescope, top of the line, and used primarily by professionals who can afford its high-end price tag.

  “I told you that our night together meant something to me. Seeing Saturn that night? That changed me. I bought the Meade a couple of weeks after we met. I was hoping you’d call and I’d be able to show it to you.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize. Now is what matters. So when can I take you to dinner?”

  I find myself shaking my head no. It’s great seeing him, but my sense of excitement is mixed with an underlying anxiety, partially due to a gnawing sense that Selwyn and I aren’t good for each other. No, strike that. I’m not good for Selwyn. It’s obvious he’s a nice man, but his crush, or whatever, is unnerving. I don’t deserve it. And then there’s an even more important factor.

  “I can’t, Selwyn. I’m trying to work things out with my ex-husband, and I can’t deal with any other complications. He’s my focus right now. I’m sorry. My husband and I . . .” I try to think of the words. “We just have this history.”

  “Ex-husband,” he says. “You keep forgetting that.”

  “Right. See what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I do. That’s fine. But we ran into each other like this for a reason. Hey, I know how to do friendship. I know it’s hard to believe I can contain all this powerful love energy, but I know how to hold back.”

  “You are so crazy,” I say with a laugh.

  “But it’s true. Seriously, I respect whatever it is you have going with your ex, but I would like to be friends. Can I at least get your number?”

  I feel my head shaking back and forth as if the decision has been made deep in my bones. I wouldn’t know how to fit Selwyn into my life, regardless. How would I even introduce him to Spencer once we’re back together? By the way, here’s a guy I almost slept with at my sister’s engagement party. No. We should leave things as they are.

  “I don’t think so, Selwyn. It was really nice seeing you, though. You’re good?”

  “I’m good.” He studies me while letting out a long, hard sigh. “You don’t want to try friendship, Kil? I’m telling you, this is fate.”

  “Let’s just be happy we saw each other, okay?”

  “Damn, girl, you’re as stubborn as a hungry mule with a bale of hay.”

  I glance toward Aqua. “I should get back. If I don’t hurry, I might miss my intervention.”

  “Intervention?”

  “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  “You’re gonna regret this day, Kil. Passin’ up a good man like me—twice. You know you like me.”

  “I do like you,” I admit, my tone serious. “But—” I lower my gaze. “Things are complicated. My life is . . .” A fuckin
g mess, I think. I don’t know any happy people. I wouldn’t know what to do with someone like Selwyn.

  “Hey, let me stop pressuring you. It’s okay. Always good to trust your instincts.” He reaches up and kisses my cheek. Oddly enough, it’s not until then that I remember he’s shorter than I am, our difference in height made more pointed, again, by the fact that I’m in heels. “You stay well, Kilowatt. Try not to let people bring you down. You’re a thin-skinned girl. Feisty, but thin-skinned.”

  We hug as people make their way around us. I wish I had something to offer him besides conflicted feelings and rejection. I feel him staring as I walk back to the restaurant. It’s sad to see him only to say good-bye, but I do feel infinitely better as I walk back to Aqua. There’s nothing like seeing a friend before having to face family.

  eight

  It’s past ten p.m., and I’ve been on the roof stargazing for the last half hour. It’s been a good night. I have a nice view of Pollux, a first-magnitude star thirty-five times the sun’s luminosity, and Castor, which some refer to as Pollux’s twin, is almost as bright. I’m still gazing when I hear several people talking down below. When I lean over the rooftop, I see a group of ten or so people passing, some carrying glass votive candles. Christmas is less than a month away, and I wonder if they’re conducting some kind of holiday ritual—except, we’re not a holiday ritual kind of neighborhood. Hardly anyone puts up Christmas lights, for instance; if anything, around here you worry about your Christmas bounty getting stolen.

  Mrs. Mathews leans out of her window. She lives in the complex across the street and serves as the block’s cable news network. She knows everyone and is known for shouting the day’s events from her window. She wears a Christmas hat and munches from a bag of chips. When I ask what’s going on, she yells, “Tank died! Everybody’s going over to Gaskill!” She tends to shout, even on a quiet night like this. “You know Tank!” she adds, when I don’t respond. “Big guy! Always on that bicycle! Yeah! He dead!” She begins fanning herself. “You hot?”