The Lights In the Sky

Chapter 13

There's something about the way a girl sounds on the phone after she's just woken up that makes everything better. As soon as I heard Deborah's voice, I curled up under my blanket and closed my eyes. She sounded foggy, a little worried. She never said hello, always, "Hey." I was in love with the way her voice sounded in that moment and I almost forgot to say anything back, like I was expecting to hear the rest of some sweet lullaby. When I didn't answer, she asked me if everything was okay. I told her I was fine, that I just wanted to hear her voice. She said we would see each other at school, but I knew that wasn't soon enough. I needed her to stop my heart from racing.

When I spoke, I found that my voice was soft and cracking. My throat felt as if I'd been screaming all night.

"You sound sick," she said. But I wasn't sick at all. I was so strong.

I asked her if she thought we would ever get married, because I was so tired of sleeping in bed alone. It felt big and lonely. She reminded me that we didn't have to be married to sleep in the same bed, but I love her so much that I know what it would lead to. She wasn't ready for that. Honestly, I don't know if I was ready or not. Now I'm afraid it's sort of a moot point.

"Sometime," I said, "could we lay outside under the sky together and hold hands and just be there for a while?" She laughed a little and told me I sounded like a girl.

"Sorry," I said.

She didn't want me to be sorry. She thought it was cute. I wasn't trying to be cute, though. I really did want that. To be there with her and the stars. The stars that were monstrous and beautiful and so far away.

I started to picture her. At home. In her bedroom. Under the sheets. Phone up to her ear, staring at the ceiling. I wondered for a brief moment if she was trying to picture me, too. That got me excited in the wrong way and it cheapened everything, so I went back to thinking about being with her under the stars.

I guess I was quiet for too long, because she told me that she needed to get ready for school. But she would see me there, she said. We said that we loved each other before we hung up the phone, and hearing it from her that morning was enough to make my stomach rise up into my heart.

I plugged in my laptop and turned on some Pink Floyd and walked to the bathroom. After I turned on the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. My heart sank back to its usual place when I did. Every inch of me was deep red, nearly maroon. This was worse than last time. It was painful, more than just tight skin and a tragic color.

The shower was torturous. The streams of water coming from the showerhead were like ice picks stabbing at my skin. I would jump into the water to get wet and then jump back with a gasp, trying to wash the soap off me one spot at a time. When I washed my hair, the shampoo was like fire against my scalp. I rinsed it out as fast as I could, but even that made me feel like crying out in pain.

I pulled on my clothes as slowly as I could and walked downstairs for breakfast. Nobody spoke when I entered the kitchen. I sat in my usual spot. When the smell of the full Irish hit me, I realized how hungry I was. My stomach lurched and gargled and the whole meal was all gone before I could breathe. When I looked up from my plate, my family was staring at me. Even Tabitha. My dad asked me what happened.

"I don't know," I lied. "I woke up like this."

People stared in the hallways at school. Of course they did, it's high school. What else would they do? Everybody in high school picks on the smallest or the strangest in the hopes that they'll be seen playing for the winning team. To be honest, though, I probably would have stared, too. I wore a white hoodie that day, and I'm sure the contrast between the fabric and my skin was at once hysterical and alarming. I looked like I just flew in from Nagasaki. I stole that from Frank, by the way.