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Jordan
I touch the small of her back and guide her through the jingling glass door into the darkness. The neon sign that says ‘all night’ crackles a blue glow over the paved parking lot and catches her hair in dancing color. After my exhausting chat with Natalie, I’m glad to be outside. I feel less claustrophobic, less like my world is crushing me into the truth of my choices. It’s true what I told Nat about her choices and writing her own story. So why can’t I write the ending I want? I’m the guy with the pen, and I never knew until right this second how ironic this whole thing is.
“We aren’t going far, right?” Evan watches over her shoulder, past me and through the glass windows that span the width of the diner.
“We don’t have to go any farther than this, if you don’t want. My original plan was to at least make it to my brother's car so I could lean on it,” I tease her, and she laughs. Her laugh is smooth and infectious and unpracticed—guarded and only shown to select people, like her words.
“I suppose I can handle leaning on the car. It’s cold out here, though...” She watches me with innocent eyes, and I’m in awe of her. She has this air of hardship to her that fills me with sadness. Then these beautiful moments of seeing the world for the first time surface, and I want to ask her everything all at once.
“I only get one night with you, and call me selfish, but I want you to myself for at least part of it.” I unzip my hoodie and hold it open for her. Her arms slide around my waist, under my t-shirt, and I wrap her up. Her hands are cold against my bare skin, but it wakes me up. Her fingers hook into the muscle of my back and everything but her and the way she touches me completely disappears. She anchors me in my own mind, letting all extraneous thoughts and fears float up and away, leaving only me. Her. Us.
I rest my chin on her head and close my eyes as her hands dance across my shoulder blades, my ribs, my sides... my hips.
“So what do you want to do with our alone time?” she asks.
I want to stop time and live in this moment forever. Like I told her earlier at the concert about the word touch. I want to prolong her presence and stretch our night into infinity. I've never felt this way before.
“I want you to tell me everything about you," I finally say. “I want to know it all.”
Her body tenses in my arms. Her stomach and chest pump air more rapidly, reminding me of the secrets I know she’s keeping. “Or, we can stand here and look at the stars,” I add, and she tilts her chin to the sky, leaning back without letting go of my waist and craning her neck so it’s long and smooth and exposed. I bend over her, kissing the spot where her jaw, ear and neck all join before I realize what I’m doing. She doesn’t stop me, though; she leans back farther, tilting her head, giving me better access.
“I like stars...” she mumbles, and I trail along skin. "I've always liked stars."
"As in Astrology?" I ask, and she shakes her head.
"As in Astronomy. Planets, and galaxies, and constellations." She tilts her neck again to study at the sky dotted with little diamond stars made hazy by the orange glow of the city. “I like the universe and all its mysteries. I like the stories and myths, but more than all that, I like the answers. I like to know the answers to the impossible questions.”
"So you're a scientist? That actually explains a lot..." I say and she swats my chest.
"My dad is a doctor, and my mom is a corporate accountant. There wasn't much creative expression in my house. Unlike you probably..." She trails off as her gaze travels back down to meet mine. She's expecting me to answer.
I shrug. "Mom died when I was about a year old. Dad never talked about her much. Lane said she was a musician. He was seven, so he remembers her more, but he always says it’s the music he remembers, not her."
Evan's forehead presses into my chest, and her arms tighten around my waist. "I'm sorry, Jordan," she says with an even voice, completely devoid of the pity that so often accompanies that phrase. But the way Evan seems to understand me causes me to wrap her up tighter in my hoodie. "And your dad?" she continues.
"Dad was an investment banker." That's as much as I want to say about him, but Evan picks up on my mistake and steps back out of my arms, leaving me cold.
"Was?"
All the wheels and gears inside me screech and grind as I shut down. I don't want to talk about this. The air around me gets thick and stale. "Yeah, he's not around anymore. I live with my brother."
"Oh," she says softly, and we both focus on the stars. One star bursts across the sky, and I point, eager to change the subject.
"A shooting star. Make a wish."
"I don't really make wishes,” she says. “Plus, shooting stars aren't really even stars."
"Way to suck all the fun out of it.”
She swats my arm. "The truth is way more interesting. Stars are so far away that to see one explode would take thousands of years, or longer, for the light to travel to earth. A sun exploding is actually called a Nova and they alter whole galaxies. The core explodes, sending matter out in every direction, causing huge changes to everything around it. But gravity keeps it all close and eventually the matter starts to move and spin and crash into other matter, fusing together to create moons and planets.” Evan’s hands move wildly as she talks, her eyes widening and voice getting higher. I laugh, and her cheeks go pink.
“What?” she asks, smacking my arm again, and I shrug.
“Nothing. I’m admiring how amazingly beautiful you are...”
Her pink cheeks turn bright red, and I reach out to her, pulling her into me by the hips.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But we have a bet, and it’s getting late. Step one in making someone fall in love with you is always be honest.”
I’m kidding, but the joyful look falls from her face and her shoulders tense, reminding me that neither one of us is really being honest. She tucks her head against my neck, her hands placed flat on my chest. It’s a strange reaction, but I don’t want to ruin this. Us. So I change the subject.
“So what are shooting stars, then? If they aren’t stars?”
“Shooting stars are meteoroids passing through the earth’s atmosphere. Some are the size of a grain of sand, but they still leave a trail of light across the sky. Cool, huh?" Her voice is excited and infectious. She’s seemingly recovered from whatever weird emotion that passed over her.
"It is kinda cool." I have never thought about the stars. I have never wondered what happens beyond my world. I have never concerned myself with anything outside my own existence and the words inside my head.
I'm not paying attention to the sky like she is. I'm mesmerized by her as she spins slowly then points.
"There are a bunch of meteor showers every year. The Lyrids are happening right now."
"You know a lot about this stuff, don't you?" I ask, and her face goes sad.
"Let's just say I spend as much time with my telescope as I do with Nat." She smiles through her sadness and again, it’s a strange reaction. Why would something she loves so much make her sad?
I reach out for her again, tucking her back against my chest, and she rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap her in my hoodie again. Her secrets are closer to the surface now. I can feel it. The calmness she brings with her is now unnerving. The lack of frantic determination I'm used to makes me panicky because I can’t help but think it’s all going to go away. She’ll slip from my grasp, like I predicted.
"Why do they call it the Lyrids?" I need to cut the silence. I need her to talk.
"They come from the constellation, Lyra the Harp. Well, not from the constellation, of course, but from that area. See that bright star right there?"
I nod.
"That's Vega. And the cluster of four under it is part of the constellation, but you can't really see them because of the city lights. The tails of the meteoroids traced backward seem to always originate from Vega, even though the star itself is about twenty-five light years away."
Evan sweeps her hands across the sky and tells me stories of constellations and where they came from. The stories and myths are interesting, but it's her voice that captivates me. The way she speaks with sureness and confidence. The conviction with which she tells me facts about the sky. Her face lights up and fills with color and life and I wish she'd stay and tell me stories about the sky until we are both turned to stardust.
Anything to put off the inevitable moment when she and I and our perfect infinite universe ends.
"Which is your favorite?" I ask when she finally breaks.
"My favorite what?"
"Your favorite story about the stars."
She spins in my arms and pulls my arm around her, sliding my sleeve up. Taking my pen, she places a series of dots on my skin and draws shaky lines to connect them. It looks a bit like a wobbly W.
“What’s that?” I ask, and she turns to point to the hazy cloudless black sky.
“Cassiopeia. My favorite constellation.”
“What’s Cassiopeia?” I ask leaning back against Lane’s SUV.
“Not what. Who.” Evan clips my pen back into its cap and tugs the sleeves of her hoodie over her fists. “Cassiopeia was a vain Queen who was so bold as to proclaim herself the most beautiful woman in the world. She even made the claim that she was more beautiful than sea nymphs. Mermaids. For her arrogance and narcissism, the gods decided she needed to be punished. The god of the sea, Poseidon, offended by Cassiopeia’s claim, had her and her daughter, Andromeda, forever placed in the stars. It was ironic because they were to be immortalized and admired forever in the sky on a throne of stars. The problem is that Poseidon placed the throne upside down. In order to claim her throne Cassiopeia must cling to it for all of eternity.”
Evan rests her head on my shoulder, and I jump, having no idea how tense and invested I had become in her story. I shift her and tuck her under my arm. “Why upside down?”
“So that she would fall.”
“If she let go?” I see the dots of light in the sky and imagine her, sitting upside down, gripping her throne.
“Yeah.” Evan curls herself tighter into my side.
“Why wouldn’t she let go?” I ask and my chest constricts at the fear I see in Evan’s eyes. Her truths are so close I can see them against those bars that lock up her eyes. She watches me; the only sound is a car that speeds by the diner and kicks up a tornado of air.
“Because it’s too scary,” Evan finally says. “It’s too scary to fall and not know where you’ll land. It’s easier to struggle to hold onto what you already know. If she lets go, she'd lose the only thing she’d ever deemed truly important. Her throne.”
Somewhere inside me I hear her words as more than words. I feel them as truth. Annie is my throne. She’s all I’ve ever known. All I’ve ever loved. If I let go of her, I don’t know what I’ll become. Who I’ll become. That terrifies me.
I study Evan’s features as she scans the sky once more and wonder what her throne is. What is the thing she’s so desperately holding onto like I hold onto Annie? Maybe I can help her. Maybe she can help me.
"But I believe Cassiopeia would cling to the throne out of spite. I don't think she'd want Poseidon to believe that he won," she continues.
There is more to Evan's story than some constellation. This isn’t really about a mythical queen. I wish she'd tell me.
I pull the pen from its cap, putting the tip to my skin under her drawing, and write. When I’m done, tears cling to her eyelashes like Cassiopeia clings to that throne.
“Evan? What’s wrong?” I cup her cheeks in my hands, and she grips my wrists, raising up on her toes to press her mouth to mine. Her silent response to my written words on my flesh...
Let go, my Queen. For we may not know where we’re meant to land, but at least we’ll fall together.
My heart is racing by the time she ends probably the most amazing kiss in history, but my skin is wet with her tears.
“I can’t do this to you...” She steps back, and I see her shaking. “I’m so sorry.”
“Evan?” I can’t say anything other than her name. No other words come to me. None that matter anyway. Her secret touches every feature on her face, and I want to take it all back. All night I’ve wanted to know. I’ve wanted to know what she keeps hidden inside, but as it seeps out through every tear and every breath, I want to take it all back.
“Jordan, I’m sorry, but I lied to you.” Her voice quivers. I want to force it all back inside her. I don’t want to know. Knowing means we’ve reached the end.
She takes a moves back, and I fight the urge to grab her and wrap her up. I shouldn’t feel this way. It shouldn’t bother me to see her walk away. I knew she was going to walk away.
“What are you talking about?” I step slowly toward her, and she steps back, but the same distance stays between us.
“Your brother was right. It’s not fair. You're too sweet. I should go.” She backs up more, almost at the door. My friends are all getting ready to leave, making their way toward us. I can’t think.
“My brother? What the hell, Evan. What did you lie to me about?” Visions of all the times Annie stood in front of me like this, her big eyes filled with tears, telling me it was over, weighs me down into the pavement. Twice in one day. This was a bad idea. I didn’t think I’d get in this deep.
“I’m sorry, Jordan.” Evan spins around as Hector uses his ass to shove open the diner door. The bell clangs loudly as the metal frame hits Evan hard in the shoulder. I can hear the wind knocked from her lungs, and she stumbles back.
Hector’s wide eyed as Evan presses her hand to her chest. She sucks in small loud breaths, and her eyes go unfocused like they did when she fainted earlier.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Hector steps toward Evan while she slides her hand into her hoodie. Her hand comes back out, her palm stained red with a small smear of blood.
“Holy shit,” Hector reaches for Evan as her eyes roll back, and her body goes limp in his arms.
“Evan!” I’m on them in seconds. Before Hector has her laid out on the ground I’m ripping at the zipper of her hoodie to find the source of the blood. Her body spasms in an attempt to take in air but nothing is going in. It’s as if there’s a glass wall at the back of her throat.
Frantic and scared, breathing enough air for three people, I pull down on the neck her shirt to see a thick silver scar running vertically along her breast bone disappearing who knows how far down. Under her collarbone is a strip of bloody gauze and something bulging out from under her skin. It’s almost alien, and my stomach lurches as I scramble backward. I stare at her until a ragged breath shatters the barrier to her lungs. The sound she makes steals all the air from the sky and replaces it with thick acrid fear.
“Lane!” I yell through the glass as Sarah pauses in the doorway, shock across her face. My brother is talking to Natalie, still deep in the diner, but I need him here. He’s a nurse, he’ll know what to do. “LANE!” I yell again. Everyone turns to me, both inside and outside the diner. Nat’s face goes pale, and she almost jumps straight over a booth to get to the door.
Lane is close behind her. Evan sucks in another painful breath. Her desperate gasps for air sound out into the blackness of the night, travelling upward to block out the stars.
Nat shoves me and Hector out of the way and expertly adjusts Evan as if she’s done this a thousand times before. She grabs Evans wrists as her body begins to shake violently. Lane slides his hands under her head and together the two of them turn Evan on her side.
“What the hell is happening?” I scoot backward away from her but don’t get up.
“She’s having a seizure, Jordan.” Lane doesn’t look at me, but his voice is calm. “Her condition causes them sometimes if she stops breathing.”
“Her condition?” My body goes cold. Her secret. I sit on my heels while Hector and Sarah help Nat and Lane hold Evan.
It’s over almost as fast as it started, and Evan takes in lung-fulls of clean air, as if she’s never taken a breath before. Nat holds her head and talks to her softly while Lane tugs at the collar of her t-shirt, picking at the bloodied gauze under her collarbone. Nat blinks at me once before her lip quivers, and she turns back to her friend. Evan’s eyes are open, but she’s unfocused, confused, and mumbles to Nat, who explains to her what happened. Evan tries to hit Lane’s hands from her chest, and he holds her wrists until some of the focus comes back, and she stops struggling.
“What’s her condition?” I ask again, and Lane furrows his brow.
“She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head, tension building in my chest and gut, pressurizing my whole body. Lane sighs like a frustrated parent, and an overwhelming urge to punch him overtakes me.
“Evan has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy with bradycardia arrhythmia.” Lane peels the gauze back to expose an incision cut into Evan’s skin and a flat object about the size of the heel of my hand against her skin from the inside. My stomach jumps, and I fall back to the pavement, rubbing my hands into my eyes. Nat is forcing some pill down Evan’s throat. The whole world stutters and tilts as if trying to throw me off into space.
“What does that even mean?” I ask. I don’t understand. A strong hand grips my shoulder, and I know it’s Hector.
“It’s a chronic heart disease.” Lane is in full nurse mode now, tugging his sleeves up and moving with ginger precision. “The walls of her heart are too thick to pump properly. The arrhythmia causes it to pump too slowly. Basically, her body can’t get enough clean blood fast enough to help her body function. Her heart is dying, Jordan.”
My own air is sucked from my body as I listen to my brother speak.
“And she shouldn’t be out here this late given the procedure she had... days ago.” Lane’s voice turns condescending, and Nat’s guilty expression is blindingly obvious.
“What procedure?”
Nat points to incision under Evan’s collarbone. “Her ICD pacemaker was just put in. It’s not that big of a deal, it monitors her heart rate. She’s not a porcelain doll. Stop looking at her like she needs to live in a bubble.” Nat defends Evan, it’s clear from the glare etched into her features, but Lane isn’t buying it. I don’t know what to think.
“Pacemaker?” My tone is shrill. Unbelieving. I have no clue what ICD means but pacemaker I get. “No. Pacemakers are for, like, old people, and—”
“And teenage girls who have had heart attacks, had invasive heart surgery, and are one tragedy away from a heart transplant...” Lane’s trying to make a point now, but I don't think it's to me. That doesn’t change how hard each word slams into me. How much weight each word carries and dumps on my mind.
My brother’s final words light this overwhelming desire to run, and my body shoots up to standing. Evan’s head snaps up at my movement, and for the first time since she went down she looks at me.
“Heart transplant?” This time it’s Hector who asks the breathy, confused question.
Evan’s eyes fill with tears. I want to run to her and away from her at the same time, causing the very core of my being to feel like it’s tearing. No one has answered Hector’s question. Lane inspects Evan as horror replaces the sadness painting her face.
“Jordan,” she says weakly, desperate. My fingers close around the pen hanging at my neck. I crush my eyes closed, and it feels like years. No sound. No words. My eyes open again and settle on her.
“Are you dying?” I ask. Because no one wants to answer the small questions, I’ll ask the big one and see if my results are different.
Evan’s tears spilling over her confused expression are enough of an answer. My legs begin to shake as numbness floods me.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. Or how to react. Or what any of this means...
“Answer me, Evan.”
“I might be... I mean, I might. It could happen at any time.” Her voice is no higher than a shaky whisper, but it’s sharp enough to cut straight into me.
“So you could have died just now. You could have died when you fainted earlier?”
Evan wins her struggle against Lane and stands, using Nat as a support. More tears pool and spill down her cheeks. She nods.
I feel like throwing up, so I bend at the waist and brace myself, hands on knees. Evan says my name again, but I hold my hand out.
“I...” I say and shake my head, running my fingers through my hair and yanking hard on it. “Evan, don’t.”
“I can explain.” She sounds exhausted and beaten, but she’s trying to get to me. She doesn’t even know me.
I straighten up and throw my hands out. All I see is Annie. I can explain. Let me explain. Annie with tears. Annie with lies. I shake my head, but the thoughts cling to me like hooks in my brain. And I lose it. “Explain what, Evan? How we started this ridiculous charade, and you neglected to tell me the most important thing about you?”
Evan stares at her feet, and I should feel bad that everyone is watching, but I don’t. I know I shouldn’t be losing my temper with a girl who had a seizure, but I’m so full of everything and nothing at the exact same time that I can’t care.
“I told you I had a broken heart...” she whispers, and I finally crack. My back arches as I tilt to the sky and rub my hands over my face to stifle the growl that escapes.
“I have a broken heart, Evan,” I yell and she jumps, her eyes snapping up to meet mine. “My heart is broken. The word broken implies the ability to fix it. Yours is dying. You will need a new one. A new heart. That is what heart transplant means, right?”
Evan nods, hiccupping through her sobs.
Nat plays with Evan’s sweater sleeve, making sure she doesn’t fall over. Lane has locked eyes with Sarah. Both of them are uncomfortable. Steve and Nate study at their feet. But Hector and Rick are focused on me. Hector and Rick, my two friends who have been there through everything. They have seen me at my worst, but anger isn’t something I let out often and soon it’s taken over the entire parking lot. I’m pissed at them for looking at me like this. I’m pissed at Evan for not telling me. I’m pissed at Nat for dragging my story out of me in the bathroom knowing that Evan wasn’t going to tell me hers. I know I’m overreacting. But I can’t stop it. The force of everything is too strong, and I can’t stop.
“What are you even doing here tonight? Why aren’t you home? With your family? Not chasing some band like a little girl, and...and...” but I can’t say the last part. Why are you wasting your time with me when you know you have to walk away... when you know we might not ever see each other again? That we might not be able to see each other again.
“I just wanted to be different!” Evan’s voice matches my volume, shocking everyone, including herself. She lowers her voice and her head. “For one stupid night I didn’t want people to look at me like I was going to shatter. I wanted someone to look at me the way you did. Like I am just a person. No, I didn’t tell you. I didn’t have to tell you. I didn’t have to tell you because I’m leaving. Because you aren’t supposed to be part of my life. Don’t lay your bullshit broken heart story on me because you can’t stop going back to your crazy ex-girlfriend. This was supposed to be fun. I get on a plane in a few hours and this...?” She waves her hand between us. “This will be over.”
I scan the parking lot and everyone has scattered except Nat and Lane, who are working to get Evan to calm down. The truth of her words is a slap in the face, but my pride can’t let me admit it out loud. I knew this was only one night. I knew she was leaving, but hearing the words takes my heart and crushes it with disappointment. I don’t know what to do, or how to fix it, so like the acceptance letter to London, I need to put it in the drawer and let it collect dust.
“I think it is over, Evan. I...” I run my hands through my hair one more time and let air hiss slowly from my lungs. “I can’t deal with this.”
I turn around before I can see her reaction and head the opposite direction. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.