Land of a Million Stars

My dad showed up three days later. He picked one of the two motels our town offered. It was two blocks away from the cemetery I’d been buried in, a mile from the lake they’d said goodbyes at. No one told me when he arrived but I’d felt it.

It was a Saturday and Quinn slept in. He needed his rest so I went to see my dad without him. I wasn’t going to show myself to him yet; I wasn’t ready for that confrontation and I was pretty sure he wasn’t either.

The motel was the non-sleazy one but it was still pretty crummy. Dad was in his room, sifting through his suitcase. I nearly cried when I saw him. It’d been years since I’d seen him but he looked the same.

My dad was tall, with dark hair and crystal blue eyes. The three of us kids had inherited his looks, different from the angelic looks of our mother.

When my dad turned, I saw that life had taken its toll on him. I remembered, when I was little, I thought he was immortal. All the other dads got old but mine always seemed to stay the same. He didn’t look like that man anymore. His hair was graying a little and he had heavy bags beneath his eyes, a dark dash of stubble across his strong jaw.

He sat on the bed and pushed his hands through his hair. And then he began to cry. He didn’t speak like so many people did when they cried. Then he stood, grabbed the bouquet on the dresser, and left. I followed him.

I wasn’t surprised when he went to the cemetery. He searched for the plot I’d been laid in and then he stared at it.

“Ella,” he said, “my darling daughter. I’m sorry that I left you. I’m sorry that I left your brothers and you mom. I never planned to hurt you, or anyone. I just… I couldn’t handle being a dad anymore. With Zeke and Frankie, it was easy. They were boys; I knew what they wanted. And then there was you, my little princess. You always surprised me, Ella. You were sassy and sweet and smart and funny. And on your sixth birthday, I realized that you, my little girl, were growing up. I realized that you’d leave someday. I know that doesn’t justify what I did.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t lose my little girl, I couldn’t watch you leave. So I had to leave.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dad,” I said and I stepped closer to him.

“Oh God, Ella,” he said, his voice cracking. “Maybe if I’d stayed, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe…” My dad placed the flowers, lilies, on my grave. “You always liked lilies when you were little.”

And then he left.

But I didn’t. I stayed there, staring at the flowers, at my gravestone, at the grass I lay beneath. The sun set and the air grew cool and still I stayed. Quinn didn’t find me. I slept there that night, curled up on top of my eternal resting place. I wondered if I was still there or if I’d become nothing but bones; I didn’t want to know.

Quinn did find me in the morning.

“Oh Ella,” he said. He ran over to me. “Thank God. I was so worried. I thought… God, I was so worried.” He hugged me but I didn’t return the hug. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Is this it?” he asked. I nodded.

“Ella Lily Fitzpatrick, September 20th to August 30th.” Quinn paused. “September 20th? That was a few weeks ago.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was right after you kissed me,” I said. “I was avoiding you. After we made up, it didn’t seem important.”

Quinn didn’t say anything after that. We stood there and then he noticed the flowers. “Are those from your dad?”

“Yes,” was all I said. Quinn got the message I didn’t want to talk about it; not yet. He took my hand and we stood there for a while, until another funeral showed up. I didn’t want to feel the sadness emanating from those people.

We drove around for a little while before Quinn’s cell phone went off. He flipped it open and listened. His body tensed and he murmured a curt, “I’ll be there.” He put the car in reverse and sped to the hospital.

“Quinn, what happened?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. When we got into the parking lot, he got out and slammed the door. I scrambled after him. “Quinn! What’s going on?”

“It’s Sara,” he said.



She’d downed a bunch of sleeping pills. That’s what happened to Sara. Aaron, another one of the friends, had called and told him. She had woken up and asked to see Quinn.

We got to her room and she asked everyone to leave. Quinn stayed. So did I. He shot me a look but didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Quinn said, going over to the side of her bed.

Sara smiled. “Hi,” she replied. Her voice was weak and her eyes heavily lidded. Quinn took her hand and stroked it if with his thumb. A bitter tang of jealousy bloomed in my mouth. It settled like a rock in my stomach.

“How are you feeling?” Quinn asked.

“Better,” she said. “Especially now that you’re here.” Quinn laughed lightly. He smiled down at her, the kind of smile he’d never given me. I wanted to leave but my feet were rooted to the spot.

“Why’d you do it, Sar?” he asked softly.

She looked away but I saw her hand tighten around his. “I couldn’t stand to live without you,” she said. Her voice cracked and she started to cry. “I think I love you, Quinn. I’ve never loved anyone before.”

Quinn looked over at me but I didn’t meet his gaze. “Sara,” he said, “you barely know me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, “I know my heart and it beats for you. That’s why I did this. Without you, I feel empty. I need you, Quinn. I love you.” Again, he looked over at me. And I could see the conflicted feelings behind his eyes. I nearly laughed. And not in a funny ha-ha way.

“Go ahead, Quinn,” I said. “Be with her. Protect her. You obviously feel you have to, after she nearly killed herself for you. So do it. You can stay with her, love her, kiss her, make her feel happy. Keep her from killing herself. I don’t care Quinn. Do whatever you want.” And before I cry or take back my harsh words, the meanest thing I’d ever said fell out: “I never loved you anyway.” The hurt in his eyes made the lump in my throat grow. I turned and I left. I didn’t look back.