Falling Stars

by J. L. Brooks

  Cable access shows and grocery store racks were bursting with theories on what the past week had created. Supposed ex boyfriends and girlfriends, neighbors and coworkers came out of the woodwork with eye witness stories. All of it was garbage and did nothing but worsen my depression.

  Despite two months going by, I chose to remain disconnected to the outside world. There was no one I wanted to talk to anyway. Eli’s wife Courtney was constantly bringing the kids over, knowing that was the only thing to get me out of bed each day. Seeing how miserable I was, Courtney handed me an envelope after dinner one evening and held her index finger across her lips indicating to keep quiet. Inside was a round trip plane ticket to Denver, leaving the next day and a ticket to Hunter’s show at Red Rocks Amphitheater. A post-it note was scrawled a short message.

  I hugged her tightly and tried my hardest not to cry. My mother came up behind me and rubbed my back, obviously playing a part. Eli was in the truck with the kids waiting for Courtney to leave the house, honking impatiently.

  “Good luck Lila, I will pray for you. It will work out, you will see. Coincidences are when God chooses to remain anonymous. Hunter was back in your life for a reason.”

  I smiled and kissed her cheek as she headed out. Turning to my mother, she ushered me upstairs to begin packing right away. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she smoothed her hand over the patchwork quilt with an anxious look on her face.

  “Mom, what’s going on? Why are you guys so quick to send me after him? I don’t think he wants to see me, or else he would have called me by now. Are you sure this is even a good idea?”

  A small tear slipped from the corner of her eye, which she caught before it fell down her cheek.

  “Honey, you know I love Hunter like a son. Before you go, there are a few things you need to know. His mom is on her way over here, we’d like to talk to you.”

  I closed the top drawer of my dresser and sat next to her on the bed.

  “Is this going to freak me out because I think I have hit my limit? If it’s not absolutely critical, can you wait until I am in a better place?”

  She shook her head and grabbed my hands, placing them in her lap, rubbing them softly.

  “If only there was time. I would never put this on you, but, you will see. Let’s go downstairs and put on a pot of coffee.”

  “Way to build suspense mom. If you are going to tell me you're pregnant or you guys are getting a divorce, please let me get drunk first.”

  She stopped on the stairwell before entering the hall to the kitchen. “No Lila, it is not that. I don’t have a uterus remember?”

  I laughed a little and ground some beans from the freezer for the coffee pot.

  “Oh yeah, details… But you and dad are good?”

  Lifting her head to smile while setting out the mugs, she replied. “Yes honey, we’re fine. Bailing your brother out of jail may have caused your father to lose the last few hairs he had left, but it was for a good reason.”

  Savion was still a sore spot in my book. After finally talking to Eli about everything, I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Knowing how dark he became broke my heart. Tired of being rejected for being the good guy, he began to take drastic measures. Eli was not aware of what he was doing or he would have never stepped foot in the club. He was just as shocked as I.

  “How many bad things can possibly happen to a person in such a short time?”

  Unable to answer me, he shrugged as we shifted the conversation to the trial. Savion had pleaded not guilty, and refused to take a plea for a lesser sentence. Being the only proof connecting him to the use of the rophenal, I was subpoenaed to court to testify. I pushed the thought from my mind until I had to deal with it. So far, Hunter’s lawyer had successfully kept him away from the case, despite the altercation meaning he would not be coming back unless for a different reason.

  The sound of the door chime dragged me from my thoughts, a welcoming relief. Hunter's mother Virginia was waiting anxiously on the stoop holding a container with some type of pastry and a manila folder resting on top. I hadn’t seen her in years and did not anticipate the emotion that would well up in her presence. Reaching out to take the items from her hands, she followed me into the kitchen before falling apart in my arms.

  “Virginia, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

  She looked to my mother and nodded as if giving silent permission to share whatever it was that seemed to cause turbulence in these two women. Holding both of our hands, my mother cleared her throat..

  “Honey, Hunter has only been back to Cleveland once in the past four years. Did he mention seeing his family at all?”

  I thought about it and until that moment had not paid much attention, simply assuming he would be visiting his family.

  “Now that you say something, no he didn’t. Why?”

  With a trembling hand, Virginia reached into the folder and pulled out an aged piece of blue paper then handed it to me. I gently unfolded the document and grew even more confused. In faded ink read:

  James Cunningham

  Date of Birth: August 16, 1980

  Charleston, South Carolina

  6 lbs: 5 oz 22 inches long

  It was a birth announcement. The only thing I recognized was the person had the same birthday as Hunter. Handing it back to Virginia, the two women glanced at each other, speaking volumes without saying a word.

  “Some one going to tell me what’s going on? I don’t read minds.”

  Stirring her coffee, Virginia set the spoon to the side and held the hot ceramic in her palms. Taking a slow sip, she gained her composure.

  “A few years ago a woman claimed to be pregnant with Hunter’s baby. He couldn’t be sure, but being Hunter, he stepped up to the plate and was prepared to do what he needed to take care of his child. He spent thousands of dollars in healthcare, set the woman up in a nice apartment and took care of a one night stand only to find out it wasn’t his baby after all. He had demanded a paternity test, which required him giving a blood sample for DNA profiling. He began to ask all kinds of questions about family history, and the results came. The baby was type A negative. I am B positive, his father is AB positive. ”

  “Okay? Blood type isn’t an indicator, so what gives?”

  “Hunter discovered he was a type O negative. Lila, Hunter is adopted. We never intended on telling him. I know that might seem selfish, but it just never seemed like the right time.” She said quietly.

  Reeling, I took a deep breath to absorb the information. I couldn’t imagine finding out in the same span of time a child you thought was yours isn't, nor do you belong to your parents. How devastated he had to have been.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  After taking another sip of her coffee, she twisted the bangle on her wrist to diffuse some of her anxious energy. My mother stepped in to tell the rest of the story, especially since she had become an accomplice to whatever scheme they planned on me embarking upon.

  “Honey, until you came back, no one had even heard or seen Hunter here this whole time. His family has been terribly worried, but he’s shut them out completely. They know it was wrong not to tell him and have him find out the way he did.”

  My heart shattered for him. The unimaginable weight he has to be carrying. Suddenly it made sense why he was so eager to take Dinah’s bait. I was something from the past that hadn’t ever let him down, until my decisions placed him into a position of unnecessary strife. I could not blame him for ignoring me. Going to Colorado suddenly didn’t seem like such a great idea.

  “He deserves to be happy. I don’t think I can give him that. I seem to bring him nothing but trouble.”

  Slamming her mug so hard on the table I was sure it had cracked somewhere, my mother yelled, “Bullshit.”

  “What do you mean bullshit? What do you know about us?”

  She shot daggers with the ferocity in her eyes towards my cowardice. “Listen here Lila, you didn’t see his face when he was forbidden to see you.
I did. Never before have I seen someone so crushed.”

  Growing angry in response, I raised my voice much louder than necessary. “I don’t believe you! If he cared about me he would have called me by now! But no, I am going to hop on a plane and hope he’s happy to see me. Just watch, I am going get out there and you will see crushed when I return without Hunter and even more broken hearted than I am now.”

  “No you won’t, because you will have an answer. No more guessing, you will know. Because isn’t that really what’s bothering you? Not knowing how he really feels about you?”

  Her truth seemed merciless, yet she was right. I was almost certain without a shadow of a doubt he loved me, but with everything else, I didn’t even trust myself. Excusing myself from the table, I knew the conversation was over. Heading up the stairs to continue packing, the women remained in the kitchen, conversing quietly until the wee hours. I could hear them praying, and laughing, crying and scheming. What must rest in the hearts of a mother when it comes to her child, especially when they see them in pain?

  Only God knows…

  I packed very little, only enough to see me through the weekend. A deep part of me understood I was not going to be the same. Whether it was good or bad, it was inevitable. Saying very little on the drive to the airport, I watched the sun rise over the lush green fields. The low fog danced in the valleys and over the bridges. My mother's beautiful face was tight and determined. Knowing it may be a long time before I saw her again, I reached over and tickled the back of her neck and giggled. She slapped my thigh playfully in return. The laughter was deep and hearty, yet short lived.

  A thin tear slipped from her eye and fell down onto her chest.

  “Oh Mom, it’s okay. No matter, what, I know I can come home. You were right too. I will have an answer, and then I can move on. To what I don’t know, but still, it will work itself out.”

  She pulled up to the curb and wiped her eyes, checking in the rearview mirror before getting out of the truck. Pulling me tight, she whispered in my ear. “Go get your heart back.”

  I smiled and returned the hug. They were such simple words with infinite meanings. Curling my hands into the shape of a heart, I rested it against my chest.

  “Isn’t Ohio the heart of it all?”

  Her eyes lit up and she raced to the car for something. She handed me a small smart phone and the box it came in.

  “I need to know that wherever you go, you can reach me. I get you don’t want to be bothered, but I am your mother. I have the right to know if you are okay.”

  Rolling my eyes, I giggled once again as I tucked it into my bag and popped my luggage handle up.

  “Thanks Mom, you’re the best.”

  I gave her another hug and kiss before walking away first, knowing she wouldn’t leave. She would watch carefully until I disappeared from sight, despite the protests of the airport security.

  Once through the checkpoint, I found a seat near the window and allowed the sunshine to warm my body in the cold terminal. Observing everyone so engrossed in their laptops and children with hand held games, I reflected on my time with limited access to technology. I had entirely too much time to think, which wasn’t always good. More often than not, I watched people. Hours passing by without really living, mostly going through the motions on autopilot. The times where I saw the human spirit shine the most involved art, music, books, and dance. Things that moved the body and mind were always beautiful.

  My surroundings became words in my head, writing a story with each breath. My muse was growing stronger with each courageous step I took. Armed only with a small notebook, I tried my best to capture each thought. The flight gave me the opportunity to catch up on much needed sleep, as I would not have a chance for a while and the journey would be a bit exhausting. Although short in duration, it was enough to help me balance the time change.

  Navigating away from Denver International and heading west towards the mountains, I knew I would use my phone for everything other than communicating. I wasn’t ready for the world to have access to me. I arrived at the Magnolia Hotel in the historic district, which was recommended by Eli who had visited a friend of ours that moved this way and opened Love Vinyl Records. I promised I would try and stop by to see Seth as I knew him too, yet everything depended on what happened at the show.

  Time passed too quickly. Nervously I pulled on a pair of distressed cut off denim shorts and a camisole shirt with a sheer flannel to ward off the evening chill. Because I knew the pass he gave me in Chicago would work, I tucked it in my shirt until entering through the main gates. Cars swarmed the parking lot beneath the massive outcroppings of red stone. Red Rocks was the Mecca for musicians because of the natural acoustics and history, combined with stunning location. Because it was a free for all entry, the line was thick and impatient. All around me people were getting stoned thanks to the lax marijuana laws. More than once I declined a random joint or glass pipe with a smile.

  I found it strange seeing it in the open and knowing it was legal. If only it were a different time and place I may not have thought twice about it. The boom of the sound check taking place drew cat calls and whistles as we wove our way through the corridors leading inside. Passing the vendors with Arial Assault tee shirts tugged at my heart. Feeling a panic attack coming on, I bought a beer to calm down and checked out the other vendors. His set would not be for another hour and I didn’t want him to see me waiting.

  Hearing the build up of the final tracks, I knew the current DJ would be finishing soon and made my way over to a security guard. Pulling my pass out, I asked what the best way would be to get to the back of the stage. Without question, he left his post and guided me to the gated entrance which was opened immediately. The large bouncers moved to the side after recognizing the distinct pieces of plastic around my neck. Out of the way of the stage entrance, I found a small corner near the speakers and leaned back casually.

  Recognizing the setup from before, I knew Hunter would walk right past me. Shivers ran down my spine imagining every possible reaction to my surprise. Trying my best to convince myself he would be happy, I shoved the doubt down deep and focused on the DJ playing the last song and getting the crowd pumped up. Feeling a breeze past, I looked up to see Hunter move towards the stage. I glanced from his head, down his shoulders and to his hand, which was gripping a smaller one belonging to a beautiful blonde woman. He bent to give her a small kiss and slap on the ass, which she accepted with a coy smile.

  Feeling my heart pound in my ears, I didn’t want to believe what I just saw. The woman took a pair of earplugs out of her pocket and twisted the foam material while standing next to me. I was so close I could smell floral body spray which was applied with a heavy hand. My fingers and legs went numb. I couldn’t look up, or move. Gritting my teeth I told myself I had to leave. Hunter started the transition and set a new record down while speaking to the crowd on the microphone. I tapped the woman on the shoulder and smiled. Not able to hear my shouting, she pulled her earplug out to listen a little better.

  “Hi, you must be Hunter’s girlfriend. Can you do me a favor? I am an assistant editor for The Bombshell Collective and have been covering this tour. I just got a text that I need to get back to L.A. Do you mind giving him back this pass? I know they are like gold. You can tell him I got the story I was looking for. I am going to listen from the top for a bit before heading out.”

  She grinned with delight at the introduction. Reaching out to shake my hand, I accepted the offering before sliding the laminate off my neck. The strap caught on the back of my hat, ripping it off my head and allowing my hair to tumble loose across my shoulders. I picked it up and handed the pass over, taking a quick glance at Hunter who had observed the exchange. I froze in place briefly under his horrified gaze before I turned and slipped through the way I came. Hunter was able to watch as security opened the gates, releasing me into the crowd and race up the stairs. The thin air burned my lungs, forcing me to move slower than I desired. A shor
t distance from the top, the record suddenly changed and the familiar drums echoed through the hillside. The crowd screamed with approval while cementing me in place.

  Hauntingly my voice traveled out of the large speakers and across the crowd. Watching other people sing my words rendered me speechless. I knew it was impossible for him to see me, yet I could see him. The camera was panned on his broken face. He dropped to his knees and the record ended. With deafening shouts of confusion, Hunter made his way back to the turntables and placed down another record, restoring balance to the show. I walked slowly out of the Amphitheater and down the empty black road down to the parking lot shaking in fury.

  Sitting in the car, I was unsure what I would do. I was numb. Returning to the hotel, I crawled into the bed and called Elijah. The kids were yelling in the background, so I knew I would not have long to talk.

  “Eli, it’s me. Did you know?”

  “Did I know what?”

  “He has a fucking girlfriend. Did you know?”

  The line was silent, placed on mute for several moments. When he came back on again, he had moved to a different part of the house, or onto the porch.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Denver.”

  “Fuck sis, why?”

  I sank to the ground next to the bed, clutching the phone to my ear as the sobs rattled my chest.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Eli? How could you let this happen to me? I know he’s your friend but I am your fucking sister!”

  I held the phone away as I screamed into the pillow. The pain I thought was absent ripped through me with a vengeance. Every cell in my body felt like it was being crushed and surely I was going to die. He stayed on the line and allowed me to release my immediate anger before responding.