Wish Upon a Star

by Jim Cangany

  "And he understood that the time you spent on the road was what was opening those doors for you."

  "Yeah."

  "So your parents were proud of what you did. They understood that spending a lot of time on the road was one of the requirements of your career. As tragic as it had to be to lose your father, given the circumstances, how were you responsible?"

  "I never said I was responsible. Dammit, Annie, it was just totally senseless. And why are we talking about all of this anyway. I thought we were supposed to be talking about Mom's car."

  "We are honey." She went to the stereo and put on some Billie Holliday. When the music started, she took me in her arms. "Will you let me tell you what I think? I think you feel terribly guilty about not being able to prevent your father's death. It was that guilt that led to your decision to stay home with your mom. Kind of like saying I made a mistake once and I'm not doing it again."

  When Annie paused, I ran my fingers through my hair. "I have a feeling there's more."

  "It seems to me that staying home with your Mother, while extremely noble, didn't help you deal with your lingering guilt over your Father's death. In fact, I'd bet that having to watch her slip away like she did, only intensified the guilt because even though you were close by, you were still powerless to do anything to prevent losing her."

  "That's a lot to take in. But I still don't understand what that's got to do with the car."

  "Your father bought that car for your mother, yes? She drove it until she wasn't able to, and then you chose to keep it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that car was one of your last connections to your parents. Keeping that car has been your way of saying I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you better Mom and Dad, so I'll take care of your vehicle."

  My legs got shaky, so I dropped into my recliner. Annie got down on her knees in front of me and took my hands.

  "Oh honey, don't you see? You've been carrying all of that guilt on your back for years now and the car's been your badge of honor. But your dad's passing wasn't your fault. Your mom's passing wasn't, either. I'm so, so sorry I didn't ask for your permission to trade the car in, but that car is just a thing. Keeping that car wouldn't have brought them back.

  "How long did it take you to accept Evan's death, months? And these were your parents. I know it's hard. I know you miss them, but you have to let that guilt go. You have to let them go."

  My eyes bored into Annie's. She believed she was helping me. Was she right? Had keeping the car been a way to keep some metaphysical line tethered from me to them? And what did Evan have to do with this?

  "What's Evan—"

  She shook my hands up and down. "Listen to me, please. You've told me countless times how guilty you felt about not being able to see Evan before he passed. As if being in New York City with me made you responsible for his death."

  "Of course I felt guilty. I mean, we went to college together. We raced together. We were business partners, for God's sake. He was my friend...and then he was gone."

  "I think it wasn't until we made the trip to the summit of Mont Ventoux that you even began to come to terms with his death."

  "It was his favorite Tour de France climb. He deserved that little ceremony."

  Annie climbed onto my lap. "It was very touching. And you deserved it too. You felt better afterward, yes?"

  She stroked the hair out of my eyes as I nodded. "Your problem is you have trouble letting go. Don't get me wrong, it can be an admirable quality. You're tenacious as a pit bull when it comes to things, and people, you care about. The way you chased me halfway across the country, I should know."

  I gazed at her and she responded by crinkling her nose and crossing her eyes. I let out a laugh. "I chased you? Who hunted down who like a criminal in Vegas?"

  "Oh no, you didn't—"

  The kiss I planted on her lips kept her from finishing her thought. I ran my tongue over her teeth as she dug her nails into my neck. It took a few heavy breaths to cool down after she released me.

  "You probably don't want to hear this, but it'd been nice to have the chance to say goodbye to the car."

  "Would that help you let it go?"

  "A little, yeah."

  "I believe I can help you with that." Annie slipped off my lap and grabbed her phone. "It's the least I can do. Come on. You're driving."

  A half an hour later, I was in the parking lot of the BMW dealership. Annie sauntered out of the building with a set of keys in her hand. "My sales gal said she could stick around for another couple of hours. Will that give you enough time?"

  My lips curled upward. I wasn't going to waste this opportunity with a quick trip down the street and back. "Yep, and I know where we're going. You ever had a genuine, Indiana pork tenderloin sandwich?"

  On our trip to Edward's Drive-In, I transported Annie back in time with stories of me and the car from my younger years. After wrecking Mom's old car, it had taken me six months to get up the guts to ask to use the new one. The only reason Mom said yes was because I'd wanted to take a girl out on a date.

  "I'll never forget what she said when she handed me the keys. She shook her head and said, 'I can't very well have my son take a girl out on his bicycle, now can I?'"

  Annie got into the spirit of the moment when we pulled into Edward's parking lot by insisting we order curb service. When the waitress brought out our orders of tenderloin sandwiches and onion rings, Annie's eyes grew wide.

  "There's no way I can eat that. I'm trying to eat healthy." After folding the tenderloin in half so it would fit under the bun, she took a bite. "Mm, that's good. Maybe I can eat it. Lord knows I burned enough calories dealing with you today."

  I swallowed an onion ring. "Was I really that bad?"

  "I'm not going to lie. You hurt me."

  "I didn't mean—"

  She put her hands up. "I know that now. I also know I hurt you. And for that, I'm truly sorry."

  "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, either. I don't know if I'll ever find the words to thank you properly. That was one whale of a surprise. I can never repay you."

  She put her sandwich in the paper tray and started fingering the Claddagh ring I'd given her. "You already have."

  She elbowed me while she wiped a bit of tomato from her chin. "Enough of this mushy stuff, McCarty. Tell me another story."

  We spent the rest of dinner laughing over the story of when some college buddies and I borrowed the car while Mom had been out of town. We took it to Madison, Wisconsin, to watch our beloved football Hoosiers play the University of Wisconsin. Of course, one thing led to another and a Wisconsin flag somehow ended up in the trunk, where I completely forgot about it. It was an awkward phone call with Mom a few days later when I had to admit that the flag in her trunk had been stolen when we'd taken the car without asking her.

  "Mom was pissed, but Dad loved it. When I came home a few weeks later, Dad had put the flag up in our rec room in the basement. God, he loved telling his friends that story."

  On the way back to the dealership, we made a detour and pulled up in front of a large, two-story, brick house. The property was full of oaks and maples that were just starting to bud.

  After gazing at the house for a full three minutes, Annie turned to me. "This is where you grew up, yes?"

  A lump had formed in my throat, which made it tough to talk. "You should see it in the summer, when the flowers are blooming. Mom loved spending time in her planter boxes and the people who bought it have done a good job keeping that up."

  Annie grinned and turned back toward the house. "Then you'll just have to bring me back this summer."

  I put the car in gear and drove us the rest of the way to the dealership, lost in my own thoughts. Was Annie right? Did I have a problem with letting go? I'd always couched my behavior as keeping the memories of the loved ones I'd lost—Dad, Mom, Evan—alive. I'd treated those memories like a badge of honor. Were they actually anchors dragging me down and holding me back? I didn't know.


  What I did know was that Annie loved me, and she wouldn't have put herself through what we'd been through if she didn't care deeply for me. I had to trust her on this one. Hadn't I asked her to trust me once or twice? Oh yeah.

  Annie gave me a few minutes to say goodbye to Mom's car before we headed home in my new wheels. The whole drive, she went on and on about the bells and whistles my new BMW had.

  I was just glad I'd been able to figure out how to turn on the headlights.

  After we got back to the condo, I had a beer and Annie had some fruit juice while we unwound. When the news was over, I turned off the TV and took Annie's hand.

  "Thanks. I promise I'll work on the letting go thing."

  "Today's been a good first step. I know this was hard and I thank you for your willingness to work with me on it."

  I chuckled. "You know, you were pretty impressive, leading me right down the path. Almost like you knew what you were doing."

  "Well, Good Lord, E.J., think about it. I work in the entertainment industry where everyone's either been in or is going through therapy." She winked at me and got to her feet. "Now come on, I'm in need of the kind of therapy only you can provide."

  Unsure of what to do once we were under the covers, I simply stroked Annie's arm and looked into her eyes. A few flecks of gold glittered in the moon light coming through the window. She placed her hand on my hip and I shuddered.

  "Are you sure about this? I mean, I don't want to..."

  "I'm not made of glass, silly." She kissed me on the nose and drew herself next to me. Her soft skin felt like fire on mine. "You won't hurt me. If I remember correctly, I'm the one who propositioned you, after all."

  She brought her lips to mine. They tasted like apples. When she ran her tongue across my collarbone, I melted into nothingness.

  Eight

  Having her own car turned out to be the best therapy in the world for Annie. With clear roads and a set of wheels she was proud of, she started spending more and more time out and about and less time brooding on the couch.

  I was handling some of her fan email the day before chemo round four when she and Miranda came through the door. Annie held a bottle of sparkling grape juice.

  "E.J., do you have any idea how lucky you are to be engaged to this woman?"

  "Let's see, there's the new car and the job as Cassandra's assistant, so I guess I could do worse."

  Annie stuck her tongue out at me. "If you're going to be that way, you don't get to see the wedding dress I picked out, and Randi and I will keep the bubbly to ourselves."

  I'd known Annie and Miranda had been on a shopping excursion, but picking out a wedding dress was news to me. To be honest, I'd been so focused on getting through each day, I hadn't given the wedding any thought. Her wedding dress was something I wanted to see, though.

  "If it helps me redeem myself, I've responded to fifty-seven fan emails today. And I have an update from Samantha on the tour DVD."

  Annie took two champagne flutes from the cabinet. "Is that it?"

  "And I got caught up on the laundry."

  She reached for a third glass. "In that case, you have totally redeemed yourself."

  "Agreed," Miranda said. "I can barely trust Ryan with folding the clothes, much less washing them." She handed me the bottle.

  I popped the cork and poured. Between her head bobbing and her toe bouncing, Annie looked like she was going to burst. She took her glass and raised it. "To my two favorite people in the world."

  We each took a drink and, following Annie's lead, placed our glasses on the table.

  "All right, the photo doesn't do the dress justice, and I'll have to be fitted closer to the wedding, but here you go."

  She handed her phone to me. The dress was a complete stunner. White as newly fallen Christmas snow, with a high, lacy neckline and long sleeves, it had a Victorian feel. While the dress was full-length, it didn't appear to have a train. It was elegant and stylish in a simple way.

  It was Annie.

  I closed my eyes and visualized her in the dress. She'd be gorgeous beyond belief in it.

  The phone was taken out of my hands. I opened my eyes. Miranda was grinning at me. "Told you he'd love it."

  Annie sat across from me. "Do you E.J.? It's not too...old-fashioned?"

  Old-fashioned wasn't the issue. Neither of us had any idea what her chest would look like after mastectomy, reconstruction and possibly even radiation. Before all of this, she'd talked of a form-fitting, strapless number with the expressed purpose of driving me insane. The high neckline of this gown was her surrender to the inevitable.

  That didn't matter to me. What mattered to me was saying "I do" to her. She could be in shorts and a t-shirt on our wedding day for all I cared. Whatever she chose to wear, she'd look fabulous.

  "It's not old-fashioned. Not by a long shot. I think it looks classy and you'll look amazing in it."

  Her cheeks bloomed pink as her lips curled up. "Thanks."

  Mission accomplished. She would look amazing in the dress. "Did you look for a matron of honor dress?"

  "I decided on burgundy and I'd like Miranda's dress to be full length. Beyond that, I'm leaving the details to her."

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "Don't worry, E.J. Annie's not giving up as much control as you think. She gets final approval on the design."

  "Well, alrighty then." I rubbed my hands together. "Now that I have some colors, I can get to work on my tartan."

  Miranda gave me a confused look and turned to Annie, who shook her head.

  "Yes, Randi. Tartan. He's got it in his head that since he's Irish, he should wear a kilt. I made the mistake to agreeing to his choice of wedding-wear before I knew what the little sneak was up to."

  I raised my glass. "'Tis the most formal of occasions. To marry my sweet lassie in anything less would be an insult."

  "Yeah, just as long as a gust of wind doesn't blow up your skirt. That would be an insult to us all," Miranda said.

  "Amen to that, sister." The girls clinked glasses amid a three-part chorus of laughter.

  Miranda took off after an impromptu dinner at Bazbeaux's. Annie and I were getting ready for bed when I finally asked why she was acting like she'd been on a caffeine binge.

  Her shoulders sagged. "Busted. I've been meaning to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get mad."

  "Okay." I drew the word out. When she didn't go on, I nodded. "I promise not to get mad at you."

  "I know you love me, and I know you want to take care of me. But I'm going to drive myself to my chemo appointment tomorrow."

  "You don't have to. I don't—"

  "I know you don't mind. I can take care of myself, though. And this way, you don't have to be waiting for me to text you. Besides, you could use a break. Go visit the bike shop, or go bug Gloria."

  She gave me a hug. "I'll be fine. I promise."

  I think she could tell I was disappointed, but I'd promised her I wouldn't get mad. Instead, I returned the embrace and nuzzled her neck. "If you insist. But I'm going next time, since that's your first round on the different treatment. Deal?"

  She gave me her heart-melting smile. "Deal."

  Despite the fact that we'd basically lived together for almost a year, I was still an early riser and Annie still held it against me if I woke her before ten. Not surprisingly, she gave me the evil eye when I nudged her at nine-thirty.

  "Your appointment's in an hour and a half. I've got breakfast for you."

  She sat up and sniffed the steaming mug I handed her. "Mmm, French Vanilla. Good work. Let me shower and I'll be there in a few."

  Fifteen minutes later Annie joined me for breakfast. When I commented about her speed in the bathroom, she ran her hand over her bare head.

  "Probably the only good thing about this damn chemotherapy. With no hair to mess with, it doesn't take any time to shower. And I could learn to live with never having to shave my legs again. Or a few other parts." She winked and took a bite of
her English muffin.

  Once I was certain I wasn't going to spit my oatmeal all over the table, a question that had been lurking in the shadows bulled to the forefront. "So do you really want to have kids? I mean...with me?"

  Annie stared at me like I'd turned purple and had grown an extra arm. After a minute though, she broke into an ear to ear grin. "You're thinking of our conversation with Doctor Furman. Of course I want to have kids with you, silly. I always thought if I hadn't met the right guy by the time I turned forty, then I'd explore other options, like adopting or artificial insemination. But that's not an issue now. We'll just have to hope the biology returns to normal when this is all over."

  "Another reason to keep hope alive."

  "Yes it is." She stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I need to run. You'll be a good boy and won't throw water bottles at any cars, yes?"

  "No promises. Say hi to Staci for me."

  Paul had been getting slammed with bikes needing tune-ups now that spring had arrived, so I spent the day at Cycles Forever trading good-natured barbs with Dave and making a dozen bikes road-ready. I was in the middle of a great lie about how quickly I could change a set of handlebars when my phone buzzed. Annie was home and wanted to get some dinner.

  She gave me a weak wave when I walked in the living room.

  "Four down." I handed a marker to her. "Care to mark another one off?"

  She tapped the marker on the coffee table and let out a long breath. "I'm worried about Staci."

  No update on her condition. No celebratory victory whoop. No wine glasses to toast. I sat next to her and took her hand.

  "Tell me."

  "She was there, but she was in one of the beds again. And she was wrapped up in easily a dozen blankets. Her skin was gray. She told me she'd just been battling a flu bug, but I'm beginning to have my doubts."

  "Were you able to speak to her mom?"

  Annie filled me in on their conversation. With Staci's immune system compromised from the chemo treatments, whatever virus she had was proving to be extremely troublesome. The concern was that if her condition didn't improve, her next chemo treatment would have to be delayed.