Celestial Worlds

Chapter Twenty

One week passes in a blur, reminding me that I’ve been on Earth for a total of four weeks which is, by calculations, twenty-eight days; minus one hundred and fifty-three days is one hundred and twenty-five days. Fair enough.

    Today, I’m in the house—Debby’s house. In the past week, I’ve been to Daniel more often than ever and Debby doesn’t seem to mind. I’m also doing this to supply the two space and time for each other. Today, though, Debby is out for some farm emergency again, leaving me second in command in the house.

    Which sucks because I was about to surprise Daniel by going to the hospital today.

    The house has this eerie quietness but not after a while, sun-down, I’ve started to hear loud and obnoxious music downstairs.

    A party, really?

    I grab a nearby pillow and wrap it around my head tightly, hoping that the music leaves me and my ears alone. Sadly, the music’s still there.

    I grab my new phone which me and Daniel bought last two days ago and dial his number.

    He answered on the second ring. “Hey Tori, what’s up?”

    “Fine, meaning there is loud and obnoxious music downstairs because the prince has thrown an illegal party.”

    I hear him sigh in the other line. “Do you need my rescuing? I don’t mind.” He says genuinely.

    “I just need your rescuing here, on the phone. I can’t read.” I lie on my back on my bed while putting the phone in speaker, lying it beside my ear.

    “Babble on, princess.”

    “So…what are you doing?”

    “Looking at nudes of One Direction.” Then he laughs aloud and I do too. “Joking, I’m here in my room with Ford.”

    “Who’s ford?” I ask, pulling on a loose thread at my pillow. I clutch it to my chest.

    “The cat mum gave me, she’s a beauty. Sad that you didn’t come here. It’s a bit sad with just Ford and me.”

    “I wish I can but Debby’s gone. It’s the unspoken rule. If she’s not here, I stay. By the way, Ford sounds cool, can’t wait to meet her.”

    “Come tomorrow, please.”

    “Gladly.”

    Silence.

    Then, Daniel says, “I miss you. Do you want me to come?”

    I turn pink and thank the Great Angels he doesn’t see me. Truth is, I do want him to come, and I’m just too shy to say it. “No thanks. I miss you too.”

    “I’m smiling,” he announces, and he does sound like he’s smiling. His voice raising an octave. We laugh aloud at his remark then fall silent again.

    “What book are you reading?” he asks, his tone still smiling.

    “Bronte,” I reply glumly. “Don’t like it.”

    “Ah, Bronte. She’s infamous.”

    We fall silent again, so I say what’s in the back of my mind, but the first thing I want to say. “You know…I was going to surprise you today,” I admit hesitantly.

    “Oh really? What is it?” he asks, his tone hopeful.

    I laugh and say, “I was going to surprise you by taking you to the hospital. You know, to visit your mom.”

    His line is silent.

    “A-Are you still there?” I ask, clutching the phone to my ear nervously.

    “Yes,” he exhales. “I’m still here—Victoria, I…thank you, so, so much. I want to go there, now, right now,” he says genuinely thankful and happy. I can almost imagine him, smiling at me dimpled and wide. I ache to see his teeth and his rare smiles. I ache to touch his hand again.

    “But…you know better than to party,” I say jokingly.

    “I’m not going there to party, I’m there to see you,” he says breathlessly. “Good night, Victoria.”

    I smile, “Good night.”

    “Sweet dreams,” he says before hanging up.

    Then I’m here again, in this house that’s loud and careless, and out of the world I was in seconds ago. A world where only me and Daniel exists. I’m alone again.

    And starving.

    I unwillingly get up from the bed and put on some flannel pyjamas and my UCL hoodie, just in case there if there are drunken bastards. I edge downstairs, the music growing louder and louder with every step. I finally go down the stairs and see that the house is packed and crowded like a street rally on a scorching day. With the lights off and replaced by flashing ones, flashing red, green, blue, red, green, blue. Should I tell? The answer is obvious it might as well be written on my forehead. No, I should not. It’s not my business and it’s not definitely my house. I look around seeing very vague people around me, with sweaty bodies and drunken breaths. I draw back and squeeze past them toward the kitchen. But I see a long table filled with food. Pizza, take-out chicken and everything else you can order through the phone. I grab one off the paper plates and try to avoid in making eye contact with people making out on the chair. On the chair in which I watch movies—well use to watch movies, anyway. But still, gross. I pick up a pizza, which was spared because of the artichokes and fish on top. They’ve grown stale and cold because of the air con which is still on, despite the fact of these sweaty bodies and drunken people. It’s still hot despite the sixteen degree state of the air con. I grab one of the plastic cups and eye the drinks which, I thought just now, maybe intoxicated with some drug or substance that may cause you to fall asleep like in the movies. So I head where the food is safe and sound and cold. Not drugged or cold and stale. I head to the kitchen, spotting the familiar steel black door. I push it open and I’m stupefied at what I see.

    Jonathan is here.

    With a girl.

    And they’re kissing.