Tracing the Stars Page 18

  “Why does Chicago have to be so far away?” she asks, her voice quiet.

  “How about we worry about doing the long-distance thing another day. Right now, I’d really like to keep doing this,” I mumble, placing my thumb on her and rotating it slowly, expertly. She moans. “You are breathtaking, Emilia Harper,” I whisper into her ear. “Better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

  Her sounds destroy me. Her movements decimate me.

  I’ve completely lost myself to her. I’ve never succumbed like this—never let myself destroy everything in my path to have another. Rules are rules, a job is a job. Feelings complicate things. But right now? I’d light a match and throw it into my life, as long as I could watch the fiery mess with her.

  I’d give everything up just to be with her.

  “Phone,” she mumbles, moving underneath me.

  “What?” I ask, my voice hazy and my mind clouded.

  “Our phones are ringing,” she says, looking torn between staying put and being responsible. We haven’t had cell service in six months, so our phones have gone relatively unused.

  I remove my hand and jog over to where we dropped our bags. I pull her phone out—an unknown number—and hand it to her. I find my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. It’s a good thing we charged them last night…

  Emilia climbs down from the counter and throws my flannel around her shoulders. “Hello?” she answers, walking away.

  “Hello?” I say, holding the phone to my ear.

  “Is this Leonardo Kennedy?” a man asks on the other end.

  I look at Emilia across the room. Hey eyebrows are scrunched together and she’s nodding. I wonder who called her.

  “Yes, this is he,” I reply, wondering who the hell is calling me and how long until I can hang up and resume my promise to Emilia. I told her this would take days. I don’t even plan on coming up for air, except for when we’re obliged to meet Gretchen and Damien for dinner. But, aside from that and maybe seeing Jake to reconcile, I’m not leaving this hotel room.

  “I’m so sorry for being the one to tell you this, Mr. Kennedy. You were listed as Jake Hansen’s emergency contact on his flight information, which we obtained from the U.S. Consulate. He was in a car accident about an hour ago. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do. He didn’t survive.”

  The room begins to spin. I feel the blood drain from my face. The floor begins to sway underneath me, and a dull ache begins in my chest.

  “What?” I whisper, gripping the counter.

  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Kennedy. We need you to come in and arrange the transport of the body. He’ll need to go back to his family. Can you come by the hospital tonight?” He babbles on some more, giving me details that I don’t want to know. Things about the car wrapping around a tree, dead upon impact, his rental car insurance… next of kin.

  The man’s words become distant, hazy. “Please, just give me a minute to process this,” I mumble, looking down at the floor.

  I’m going to be sick.

  This isn’t happening.

  Jake’s not dead.

  He can’t be.

  I still have to explain everything. We still have to make things right between us.

  “Why don’t you call us back when you’re ready. My name is Richard Davines, and we’re at the Christchurch Hospital.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  And then I hang up and try not to vomit all over my bare feet.

  T W E N T Y - S I X

  Emilia

  I PLAY WITH the curtains, facing away from Leo, as Bernard Gaitman’s voice drones on and on.

  Come on, Bernard. I have things to do. No pun intended.

  “…As I was saying, Ms. Harper, we’d be happy to take you on as a teacher’s assistant next semester, if you’re still interested. I apologize for the bad news, but please know we are excited about your future and we look forward to seeing what you do in the astronomy world. Good luck on your future endeavors.”

  I can’t contain the smile playing on my lips. “Thank you, Dr. Gaitman.” I hang up and pull my bottom lip into my mouth.

  I’ve never been so happy to not get a job in my life.

  I spin around, eager to tell Leo. He’s facing away from me—just staring ahead at the stove.

  “I didn’t get the job,” I say gleefully. “Who called you?” I walk toward him and reach out, intending to finish what we started. Instead, he turns around and pushes my hands away. My heart plummets when I see his wet face and horrified expression.

  “Jake is dead,” he whispers, so quiet I almost don’t hear him.

  The room tilts, and I open my mouth. “What?” I croak.

  “He died, Emilia. He was driving back to his hotel from the airport, and he got in an accident. Wrapped the car around a goddamn tree. Died on impact.”

  His voice breaks on the last word, and his face crumbles. “Oh my god,” I murmur, reaching out and touching his arm. I take his shirt off of me and wrap it around his shoulders. We need to get dressed. “Leo, I’m so sorry,” I utter, handing him his underwear. I don’t know what else to say. Instead of speaking, I grab my clothes and put them on. I don’t know what else to do.

  Get dressed. Step one. That seems logical. We’ll probably need to go somewhere…

  Leo looks stunned. I help him into his pants, pulling his shoes on one at a time. “He flipped me off. I yelled at him.” He looks at me with a horrified expression. “It’s my fault. I can’t believe it.”

  I stand quickly and place my hands on his arms. He shakes them off but I ignore it. “There’s no way in hell this is your fault,” I chastise, grabbing his jacket and my shoes.

  “It is. Don’t you see?” Leo murmurs, looking at something indiscernible in the distance. “He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. He wouldn’t have left the airport angry. He wouldn’t have been distracted, thereby veering off of the road and slamming into the tree,” he says, beginning to cry. His hulking body begins to shake, and I wrap my arms around him.

  My heart aches—a heavy, dull ache—for his loss.

  For my baby’s loss. He or she will never know their father.

  “No, Leo. It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault, okay?”

  He just shakes his head on my shoulder. I pull away, already in planner mode.

  “I’m going to the restroom. Then, we’re going…” I trail off. Where? Where do we go? What do we do? The body.

  And then it hits me. My breathing quickens. Jake. The father of my child. He didn’t deserve this ending. I excuse myself and rush upstairs to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. If anything, this is my fault. I should’ve been up front with him from the beginning. When I emailed him, I should’ve told him about Leo. I should’ve been honest when I told him about the baby. I should’ve told him that I was falling for his best friend. And now Leo feels like it’s his fault, when in reality, it’s mine.

  When I exit, Leo is leaning against the counter and staring at the ground. I walk up to him slowly, placing my hand on his. He doesn’t brush it off this time, and instead, flicks his bloodshot eyes to mine. Neither of us speaks as he turns and walks out the door. I follow, making sure our room is locked and call a cab from my phone as we wait for an elevator.

  I shoot a quick email to Gretchen, letting her know what happened, and when we walk through the doors of the hotel to the street, the cab is already waiting. I hesitate as Leo climbs in first.

  “Do you want me to…” I trail off, looking down and kicking a rock with my boots. “I would understand if you wanted to do this alone.”

  Leo sighs. “Get in, Emilia.”

  I climb in beside him and shut the door.

  “Christchurch Hospital,” Leo mutters to the driver. He turns to face me. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never… how am I supposed to tell his parents? They’re family to me,” he asks, his voice quiet and contemplative.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “You need to call them. And any siblings
he may have had.” Practicality overtakes emotions once again.

  His family. I need to talk to his family, too. I need to make sure they know they’re welcome in this child’s life.

  Leo nods. “Of course.” He stares out of the window. “He was an only child.”

  The eight-minute drive to the hospital is spent in near silence. It isn’t until we arrive at the emergency room entrance that Leo speaks.

  “I need you,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and pinching his nose. “Please don’t leave.”

  I choke back a sob. “I’m here. Always.”

  I pay the driver—Leo is too distracted—and we climb out, trying to figure out where we need to go.

  After asking several of the workers, they direct us to the morgue, where they’re keeping Jake’s remains until Leo gives them permission to fly them home. Remains. It’s such a morbid word, and yet, body is almost worse. Body is just the carbon material that makes up our physical existence. Once it decomposes, there’s nothing left. And remains? Nothing will remain. Except part of him will live on forever in our baby. The thought is jarring and strange, and I have to shake my head to clear the awful thoughts.

  I wait outside the morgue, pacing the hallway as Leo finalizes everything with the airline and coroner. He’s gone for a couple of hours, relaying the news to Jake’s family, no doubt. I bite my nails until they hurt, a habit I gave up as a teenager. I call Ana and my mother while I wait, giving them the bare minimum of details, and requesting they talk to Barbara on Leo’s behalf. Gretchen emails back, offering to meet us at the hospital, but I decline.

  Finally, Leo emerges, looking so defeated and weary. I run over.

  “Leo,” I whisper, pulling him into me. I don’t even realize he’s crying until his body begins to shake uncontrollably. I begin to cry as his hands grip my sweater tightly. We stand there for what feels like hours, letting the grief wash over us. Really, I barely knew Jake. My grieving is only a small percentage of what Leo is surely feeling. My biggest regret is for my unborn child. Though Jake may have acted unsavorily, he deserved better than this. He deserved to hold his child in his hands. To teach it how to play sports. To be there for every birthday. That’s what he deserved. Not this.

  *

  The next two days pass in a blur of arrangements, phone calls, and melancholy lovemaking in the middle of the night. We spend our last two days in the Southern hemisphere in a weird, needy, depressed haze. Leo barely lets me leave to get us food, and even at night, he holds me like he’s never going to see me again, waking me to make love, staring out of the windows, and trying to put on a brave face. I know him, though. I know he’s in pain, and I do everything I can to make it better.

  We’ve worked with Jake’s parents, arranging everything for when we get back. I changed my flight to land in Chicago with Leo instead of flying into San Francisco. Ana and my mother are meeting us in Chicago for the memorial. Everything happens so quickly—I have to set a timer to remind myself to eat and also for Leo’s insulin, because he’s barely on top of it.

  They send Jake’s body home with us on the flight from Christchurch to our layover in Los Angeles, and we have to work with LAX to transport the casket to the flight to Chicago, and from there, the funeral home would take over. They place him under the plane, like a piece of cargo. Leo yells at someone over the phone about it. I try to calm him, but it’s no use. He’s justifiably angry. He just lost his best friend and they’re transporting him like a sardine in a can.

  Leo completely shuts down on the flight to Chicago. I don’t mind being in charge—in a way, I feel connected to Jake because of the baby—but it worries me when he becomes almost despondent when we get off of the plane in Chicago.

  Like it’s starting to hit him here, on his home turf.

  “Don’t let go,” Leo asks quietly, as we wait for everyone to shuffle off of the plane. His hand squeezes mine.

  I lead him out to the gate, and once we go down the escalator, a group of people awaits us. Taking a deep breath, I compose myself as Ana rushes over and envelops me into a tight hug. I make sure not to let go of Leo’s hand.

  The feel of Ana’s skinny arms around me, the smell of my mother’s perfume, is too much. This winter, whether I’d known it or not, had changed me in ways I couldn’t predict. I begin to cry as my mother joins in, and still, I hold Leo’s hand.

  “Emilia,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice says. At that very moment, Leo drops my hand. I pull away from Ana, but before I can feel for Leo’s hand again, a small, plump, brunette woman pulls me into her and begins to cry.

  Jake’s mom.

  “Mrs. Hansen,” I say, my voice warbling and unsteady. I flick my eyes to Leo, and he’s busy talking to who I presume to be his mother.

  She places her hands on my belly. “Call me Diane. You have no idea how hard this has been,” she begins, looking at me with red-rimmed, crystal blue eyes. “But knowing you’re having his child is the only thing keeping me going,” she says, her voice breaking.

  I give her a weak smile. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  A man comes over and hugs me. Jake’s dad. We chat for a few minutes, and my mother and sister introduce themselves. I look at Leo, but he’s facing the other way, talking to a woman I don’t recognize.

  “Margaret,” Diane calls, waving in their direction. “Thank you for coming.”

  The woman Leo was talking to walks over. Margaret.

  Margaret.

  Leo’s ex-wife.

  She’s stunning. Exotic with almost-black hair, tanned skin, and the most perfect face I’ve ever seen. Large, almond-shaped eyes, white teeth and ruby red lips.

  We make introductions. I feel like a fat whale next to her, but I suppress my feelings for a bit longer as we all head out of the airport. The July air is humid and warm, and I shed my sweater happily. Or as happily as possible under the circumstances. Barbara rented a giant Escalade to transport the eight of us to her house, where we’re all staying.

  And yes, Margaret is coming too, because apparently she’s very close with Diane and Zack Hansen.

  Just my luck.

  Leo pulls both of our suitcases to the SUV, and when he’s done arranging them in the trunk, he closes it and begins to walk to the passenger door. I tug on his shirt.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, reaching for his hand.

  He pulls it away, giving me a pleading look. As if to say, not right now.

  “Leo,” I say louder, trying to break him out of his funk.

  “Come sit with me,” Diane says, walking up behind me and nudging me towards her. My eyes don’t leave Leo’s. He just looks at me resentfully. Is he mad at me?

  I acquiesce and sit with Diane and Zack. After all, the baby I’m growing is the only connection they have to their dead son. I should give Leo space, but the feeling of his hand dropping mine, the look he gave me just now… I can’t help but feel like he’s pulling away.

  Like everything he told me over the last few days doesn’t matter anymore.

  When we get to Barbara’s house, Leo disappears before I have a chance to talk to him. Barbara sets Ana, my mother, and I up in one of her guest rooms. I want to make sure Leo is okay, but fatigue gets the best of me as I sit down on the bed.

  “I can sleep on the couch,” I say weakly, already pulling the covers over my clothed body.

  “Nonsense,” my mother coos, sitting on one side as Ana sits on the other. It’s so good to see them. It feels good to be near them. “You’re pregnant. Just rest, okay? I’m going to go make sure Barbara and Diane are okay.”

  “I’ll come with you, mom,” Anastasia chirps, grabbing my hand and squeezing it once. She looks at me. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  I mumble a response and barely register the sun shining through the window before sleep pulls me under.

  T W E N T Y - S E V E N

  Leo

  I DUCK OUT before anyone notices that I’m gone. Between Emilia being shepherded into the Hansen family and Margar
et being here, I need to get away. I hop onto my bike, throw on the dusty helmet and jacket, and speed away. I intend to just ride, maybe check in on my apartment in the city that lay vacant for the last six months, but after a few minutes, I begin to head towards the funeral home. My mom lives about an hour outside of Chicago. It’s pretty rural out here. The sunshine is a welcome addition, and it feels great to ride down the empty highway with the sun beating down on my back. I feel guilty for enjoying it. If I’m being honest, I feel guilty about a lot of things lately.

  I turn into the parking lot and sit there for a few minutes, wondering how the hell this happened. It doesn’t feel real. It never felt real. Jake was so alive, so outgoing and so vibrant. Now he’s just gone. No matter how it happened, I will forever feel the weight of guilt. I was partly to blame. He was mad at me, disappointed, and distracted. I had no right to shut him down like that. Yeah, I may not have agreed with a lot of what he said, but I’d give anything to take it back.

  I’d give anything to have him back. I’d even walk away from Emilia if it meant he’d still be alive.

  I should’ve walked away. I should’ve let him try to be a father to this baby, try at some kind of relationship with her. Whether or not it would’ve worked out is another story, but he deserved a chance. Instead, I was selfish. Instead, I made him feel irrelevant, unnecessary, unimportant. I thought I’d get a chance to explain myself. I thought I had years to prove my love for Emilia. And now? As I slammed the small storage compartment closed on my bike, locking my jacket and helmet inside, I realized Jake would never know his child.

  Because of me, that child would be fatherless.

  I storm into the funeral home angrily. A receptionist offers her condolences, and the next few minutes pass as we go over the funeral arrangements—the ones Emilia helped with when I couldn’t think straight. She wanted to give a eulogy at the memorial, and though I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, we agreed. I meet the director, and shortly after we tour the memorial space, Diane and Zack meet me there.