When tingles light up my spine a few minutes later, I know I was right, that it is him, but I pretend he’s not there. I drive to one of the only spots that brings me peace these days. A remote area along the beach of Lake Michigan where my feet sink in the soft sand. It’s a place of solitude where I can listen to the wavescrash, and bathe in the light of the stars. Their song resonates in my chest and I close my eyes, absorbing it.
It feels like loss.
My eyes prickle with tears, but I don’t let them fall. I shift on the sand, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them as I tip my head back. I stare up at the night sky, letting each star wink at me as their song echoes in my heart.
I’m not surprised when soft footsteps approach and Ro sits next to me. He leaves a few inches of room between us, not saying anything, and I appreciate being given space right now. His silent support is more than enough.
From my periphery, I see him stretch out his legs and lean back on his arms, hands planted in the sand behind him so he can tip his head back and look at the stars with me. I shift my attention back to the sky, focusing on my breathing. The silence is calm between us, but not peaceful.
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel peaceful again.
“I moved a lot as a kid,” I say, my voice surprising me as it cuts through the night.
Ro glances at me, hazel eyes soft and wide, but then slowly returns his focus to the stars. I can tell he’s listening though, ready to hang on every word. My lips pinch and my eyes burn. I hadn’t intended to speak, but thoughts tumble from my mouth anyway in the face of his quiet support.
“My mom… She was a star-chaser, too. She couldn’t ever stay in one place for long. A year at the most. It made it hard to make friends. I didn’t even graduate high school. Got my GED on the road instead, while my mom moved us from state to state. At least she stayed in the country, I guess that’s something.”
I swallow hard, my brows drawing down at the memory of trying to survive with a chaotic, barely-present parent while alsodealing with my own emerging star-chaser urges surrounds me. Ro shifts, moving a couple inches closer.
“I haven’t seen her in years,” I whisper. “I have no idea where she is, what country she might be in. I hear from her sometimes, every few months maybe, and she’s always somewhere new.”
Ro sits up and crosses his legs, angling his body slightly toward mine, but his gaze turns to the crashing waves down the beach. I’m glad he’s not looking at me. I don’t think I could continue with his eyes on me this time.
“I think she resented me when I was little. She never seemed to want me around, and it always felt like I was holding her back. Like she’d be able to be so much more—do better—without me,” I say, my voice catching with the admission.
Ro lets out a low noise in his throat, and he reaches for me, then tenses and pulls back. I shove my hand into the sand between us, the dry grains sticking to my sweaty palm and digging under my fingernails. My fist clenches around a handful and I pick it up, letting it slowly trickle out between my fingers and back to the ground before doing it again. It takes me a few moments to gather the courage to continue.
“I get it now,” I say, glancing at Ro. “The urge to follow the stars, to keep moving. It’s intense, demanding. Impossible to ignore.”
I shrug and open my hand, letting the sand drop between us. Ro snags my palm, gently brushing the sand away before enfolding it in both his hands and bringing my knuckles to his lips. He kisses them softly, then turns my hand over and feathers his lips over the inside of my wrist, eyes intent on mine. I meet his gaze, letting him see all my sadness, all my fear. The hopelessness that consumes me.
I know I shouldn’t. I know I should put up my walls, push him away, protect him from the consequences of being part of my life.
But his pull is nearly as strong as the stars.
“You still deserved better,” Ro says. His voice is tentative, like he’s unsure how I’ll react.
I look back down at our clasped hands, shifting toward him. “Maybe,” I whisper.
I can feel the heat from his body inches from mine, and I shiver on the cold sand. I yearn to lean into that heat, to take comfort from him. To not be alone.
Ro makes the decision for me, closing the space between us to pull me into a hug. I melt into his arms, and he tugs me onto his lap. I curl into him, burying my face in his neck as he tucks my legs up, looping his arms around me and holding me snug against his body.
His warmth seeps into me, loosening my muscles and slowing my breathing. We sit there for long minutes, with Ro trailing his fingers up and down the outside of my thigh and nuzzling his nose into my hair.
It softens the grief inside me, dulling the song of my kin in the sky. He places a soft kiss on my forehead, and it sends a sharp pang through my heart.
I ignore it all, closing my eyes as I let myself accept the comfort he offers under the light of the stars.
When my legs prickle with discomfort from being folded up for too long, I shift and stretch, settling on the sand between his legs instead. I lean back against his chest, and one of his arms winds around me. My head tips back to rest against his shoulder as we both look up at the clear night sky.
“I can feel them,” I say softly.
Ro twists to look down at me, then follows my gaze back up to the stars. “What do you mean?”
“The stars. They sing to me. I can feel it,” I say, taking his hand in mine and moving it to the center of my chest, between the hollow of my throat and the top of my breasts.
“Here,” I say. “It’s like… a resonance. Within me, but coming from above.”
