Halley's Comet

07 ♑️ capricorn

My mother once told me that beautiful people always have ugly secrets. I told her that everyone had secrets, regardless of whether or not society deemed them "pretty", but that wasn't it.

If beauty was a scientific formula, it would be written as a combination of radiance and mystery. People who were beautiful could make you feel more at home than you ever felt in your own house, but they could also make you feel utterly lost and confused. That, more so than their physical appearance, was what made them beautiful.

That, and how they seemed unattainable even when they were in your arms. Because that was the thing about growing close to beautiful people: they know you better than you know yourself, and you think you know them too, but you don't - not really - because beautiful people always have ugly secrets.

And Halley, well, I didn't ever think I knew all there was to know about her. That was one of the things I loved most about her: she kept me guessing. I knew there was a reason we never went to her house or talked about how she lived with her grandmother and not with her parents. And when she brought me up to her room a few weeks after the dine and dash incident, I knew she was ready to talk.

I trailed my finger along the spines of books that packed into a shelf on her wall. She had all the classics: Jane Eyre, The Great Gatsby, To Kill A Mockingbird... but she also had these poetry books by poets I had never even heard of. I wasn't a huge poetry fan, but I knew the basics. Halley clearly knew much more than that.

I noticed one of the spines didn't have a title, and I turned to face Halley with a questioning eyebrow raised. She bit her lip, slipping the book out of its place and opening it.

"Can I read you something?" She asked quietly.

I nodded. "Of course."

She took a deep breath. "'When I walk down memory lane, I always bring a jacket and a first aid kit.
Sometimes the sentiments leave me feeling cold, and other times they burn. I have yet to decide which is worse.
I look to the left, and Daddy's breaking dishes again. They smash against the kitchen floor like a dream that was eaten by the belly of a nightmare.
The broken glass slices his finger open and he bleeds like a slurred, drunken confession.
I tiptoe down the hall like dust coating an old photograph of something that will never happen again.
Daddy always promises it will never happen again.
I open the medicine cabinet to get him a bandaid and all I see is pills.
The labels are too complicated for my seven year old mind to understand, but I'm a second grader and second graders learn through colors, not words.
Mommy takes the white pills when she gets home. Then she drinks the clear liquid. Then the violet stains beneath her eyes turn red near her lashes, even though she hasn't been crying.
Suddenly, I am crying.
My subconscious shakes me awake.
She wipes my tears and asks, "Why do you walk down memory lane? It always makes you cry."
I tell her it's because I'm afraid to forget
Because Mommy and Daddy were too high to remember."

Halley put the book down with shaky fingers and I watched her in stunned silence.

Finally, I said, "That was beautiful. Incredibly sad, yes, but beautiful. Who wrote it?"

Her blue eyes meet mine, wide and teary. "I did."

• • •

I can't tell if Halley's confession left me feeling heavier or lighter. By the look on her face, she wasn't sure either.

We're laying on her bed now, facing each other but not touching. Halley said, "I moved here the day I turned eight. My grandmother came to town for my birthday. I hadn't seen her in years because she and my mom were never on good terms, but she was nearby and she wanted to take me out to celebrate. She entered the house without knocking because... you know... we're family."

Her voice cracked on the last word and I reached out, brushing the pad of my thumb against her cheek. She leaned into my touch.

"She walked in on my mom doing a line of coke in the living room. My dad was passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka next to him."

Stupidly, I asked, "On your birthday?"

Halley laughed bitterly. "They didn't know it was my birthday. One time, I walked into the house when I got home from school and... my mom was so high that she didn't even know who I was."

My heart sank at this confession, and Halley stood up, slipping out from under my touch. I watched as she walked over to the window and looked out, tears sliding freely down her cheeks.

"You didn't have to tell me that," I said softly, because I could see how much talking about it was hurting her.

"I really like you," She replied. "And I want you to know all of me - good parts and bad."

I walked over to her, resting my chin on her shoulder. "When I came out of the closet, my dad called me disgusting. He said I was going to hell, so I said, 'Well, if that's already guarenteed, then I might as well do this,' and then I kicked him in the balls."

Halley chortled. "I wish I had your courage. I've always been so scared."

This surprised me because Halley was easily the bravest person I knew. She thrived on taking risks and was always looking for an adventure. And I wasn't courageous. I kicked my father because I was angry, but then I didn't leave my room for a week because I didn't want to face the consequences of what I had done.

But here we were, seeing these amazing things in each other that we couldn't see in ourselves.

"You're remarkable," I told her, and then laughed because God, I sounded like a teacher.

Halley smirked. "I prefer when you tell me I'm your comet."

"Guess you're not the only poet in this relationship," I teased, flushing.

We both laughed, and then we kissed before she started to laugh again. And Jesus, I couldn't imagine anything tasting better than her breathy laugh settling on my tongue.

She lifted my T shirt off and slipped out of her dress and I had no time to be insecure because she was so beautiful that I could barely breathe. Despite my breathless state, I kept kissing her as we walked over to her bed. I shed the rest of my clothing and then we lowered ourselves onto the mattress, collapsing into an intimacy that felt like much more than skin on skin.

• • •

"Your parents are coming up to visit tomorrow, right?" Halley murmered into my collarbone.

I groaned. "Do we have to talk about my parents when we're naked?"

"Oh, come on," She laughed. "It's not like we're having sex."

"We literally just had sex," I reminded her. She tried to roll her eyes, but her grin betrayed her. "Fine, yes. My parents are coming up tomorrow and we're all having dinner at Penny's. You can bring your grandmother if you want."

Halley froze, and I wondered what I did wrong. I had only met her grandmother once when she came over to drink tea with Penny, but she seemed nice, and I knew Halley was eternally grateful to her for everything she did.

"I probably should have told you this sooner," She muttered. "My grandmother... doesn't know I'm bisexual. It's not that I'm ashamed or anything. I'm just not sure how she would react, and she's the only family I have left. I can't lose her."

I swallowed. "Oh. I mean, that's fine. It's not like whether or not your grandmother knows defines how real our relationship is."

"Exactly," Halley seemed relieved. "And I can always tell her you're my friend. I'm sure that's what she assumes anyway."

My stomach sank. Her grandmother's oblivion didn't make our relationship less real, but lying about it did. Beautiful people always have ugly secrets, and apparently I was Halley's.

"I'm really glad you understand," She continued. "For a second I... I thought I might lose you."

Guilt surged through me when I saw the vulnerability in her eyes that she had displayed earlier when talking about her parents. I was so self absorbed to make this about me. Of course she didn't want to risk losing anymore family than she already had.

"I'm all in, Hal," I told her, kissing the top of her head. "Good parts and bad."