Six Feet Under the Stars

Reilly Jacobs pulled into a parking lot in Baltimore, Maryland eleven and a half hours after leaving her apartment. It was only nearing three in the afternoon, but she was exhausted. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and bruised. Her skin was pale and blotchy. Her short hair stuck out from where she’d roughly messed it during the drive. Her knuckles were white and her palms shook as she eased herself out of the seat and stumbled towards the steps.

She’d received a phone call twelve hours previous that had lead her to this spot. It had been a four worded call that had left her in no doubts that she had to drive eleven hours, stopping only for gas and a sandwich from a run down diner. She knew they wouldn’t have called if they didn’t need her.

Reilly tried to count the number of steps as she climbed them to reach the buzzer at the door. And mumbled, when asked, “It’s me.” There was a light gasp and the echoing sound of the door unlocking and Reilly slipped into the building and prepared herself for another ascent.

It took her five minutes to reach the right floor and in those minutes she’d worked her tired mind into a frenzy. The drive had left her no room to think; she’d turned her music up to keep her awake and occupied and she’d listened to the monotonous drone of Pete, the diner owner, as he’d fixed her food and refilled her flask with coffee.

She rubbed her hair, flattening and reapplying the spikes. She was standing outside the door now, staring at the numbers as they glinted queasily at her in the glare of the sun outside and the poor lighting in the corridors. She urged the muscles in her arm to expand and contract; to close her hand into a fist and knock against the peeling paint of the wooden door, but she could barely twitch her fingers. She was saved from doing so when the door flew open.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” the girl breathed, engulfing Reilly in the kind of hug that she hadn’t received in years. Reilly hugged back awkwardly, patting the girl’s shoulders in a placating manner.

“Why am I here?”

“Come in and I’ll explain, okay?”

The girl let go of Reilly and stepped back into the apartment. It was somewhat run down and shoddy looking but it wasn’t a disaster, like Reilly had expected. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded and the carpet held more stains than natural colour. The kitchen, at least, was spotless. Reilly pushed herself uncomfortably onto one of the stools around the kitchen counter and stared at the girl across from her. “Well?”

“Two things have happened,” the girl said. “They’re good and bad news respectively.” She fidgeted nervously with a piece of kitchen roll, tearing it apart with her red painted finger nails.

“The good first, then,” Reilly said, wishing she hadn’t come.

“I’m…pregnant.”

Reilly gawped across the table, her jaw almost to the floor. The girl smiled at her, weakly, and her young age was apparent in her face. “That’s the good news?” Reilly yelped.

“God, don’t sound happy for me.”

“You’re sixteen!”

“Seventeen in a month, thanks,” the girl scoffed. “I’m the same age as my mom was.”

“And look how well your mother turned out,” Reilly snapped back. She tried to draw in a deep breath, but couldn’t. The girl across from her was pleased about succeeding in doing something that had torn Reilly’s family apart.

“I knew you’d be a bitch.”

“Then why did you call me?”

The girl bit her lip, considering the situation she’d managed to wrangle herself into and then sighed. “Dad was in an accident… He--uh--he’s in the hospital.”

“Which Hospital?”

“Reilly, you can’t--”

“If my father is about to die and you wasted time telling me that you’re a dirty little slut, then you better tell me which fucking hospital he’s in.”

The girl answered by snatching up her keys. “I’ll drive,” was all she said.