Land of a Million Stars

The lake looked beautiful with the moon and stars reflecting on it. And the sky, man, it was like there were a million stars in that dark blue sky. The water glittered and sparkled and the ripples danced. I longed to swim in the cool water that used to be my refuge when things went wrong. But when I put my hand in it, I felt nothing. I couldn’t feel the wet or the cold, just the neutral temperature of nothing.

I sat down on the green, green grass. Fireflies shimmered in the air, appearing and reappearing in the air. Wade used to catch fireflies for me.

The moon was nearly full and a pool of silver moonlight stretched out across the open area between the trees. The spot I was sitting in. I laid back, resting my head on the soft ground. An owl hooted in the distance.

I’m not sure how long I stayed there. Time isn’t really important once you’re gone. The sun was beginning to peek over the treetops when I made my way back home. Everyone was still sleeping but I went into Zeke’s room anyway.

His walls were covered in rock posters from his youth, a bulletin board full of ticket stubs, and lots of his drawings. Zeke was very artistic. On his dresser was a bunch of pictures; some of me and him and Frankie, one of Mom and Dad when they were young, a few of just Zeke and Frankie, one just of me, and several of him and his past girlfriends.

Zeke rolled over, his covers falling off. He was only wearing his boxers and I could see all the ink on his arms and his chest. He wore contacts but he’d taken to leaving them out and just wearing his thick rimmed glasses around. It’d been a long time since I’d seen him like that.

He tossed over again, mumbling something incoherent. I watched him for a while. He was restless, never settling, and growing sweatier and sweatier. At nearly seven, his eyes popped open and he sat up quickly, breathing heavily. He breathed in deep, taking in as much oxygen as he could.

“Relax, Zee,” he told himself. “Just a dream. Calm down.” He grabbed his glasses and looked at the clock, groaning. He reached for the water bottle on his floor and took a long gulp.

“It’s okay, Zeke,” I said when I realized he was still worked up. I sat down on the end of his bed. He started drinking his water again, gulping it down and when he was done, I could see in his eyes he was terrified. The scent of lilies flooded my nose and he smelled it too. This time I could see the scent. It was like transparent white, tinged with lavender. It wrapped itself around Zeke’s shoulders, like it hugged him.

I watched as the scent held Zeke and his breathing slowed, returning to normal. It was gone after he’d calmed down, just the barest scent lingering. He lay down again, sighing.

A clatter of dishes brought to attention that someone else was awake. But dealing with Zeke so early had severely drained me so I floated away, heading towards the outskirts of town. No one really lived out there, too dry and dusty. Only one person I knew of stayed in a run down house.

Ruth-Anne Meriweather, one of Zeke’s ex-girlfriends. She’d married straight out of high school, to a sleazy footballer. They’d only married, though, because he’d gotten Ruth-Anne pregnant. After Zeke dumped her, she got drunk and went to a high school party and well, one thing led to another.

I’d gone to parties before, but I never drank. I was always the designated driver. Partying was never my thing.

Ruth-Anne was inside, a baby on one hip, two screaming children racing around their tiny house. Her husband was on a stained chair, the TV running on loud. Occasionally he yelled at the two kids to shut up, but otherwise he kept his eyes glued to the screen.

I stood in the between the kitchen and the living room, so I could see everything. Ruth-Anne bounced the baby on her hip. Her cheeks were sunken in, the clothes she was wearing hung off her bones, and her skin had a sickly pallor. She didn’t look well.

A little boy, probably about six, raced into the kitchen and slammed into his mom. The baby started screaming and the food Ruth-Anne had been cooking fell to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” her husband snapped.

“N..nothing,” Ruth-Anne stuttered out. She bounced the baby some more, shushing it, and with her free hand, she grabbed the little boy. “You and your sister, go outside and play.” The boy lunged for his sister but Ruth-Anne had a grip on him. “I said, outside.” And she shoved him towards the door.

The little boy grumbled something, but he went outside, his sister close on his heels.

Ruth-Anne sighed and kissed the top of the baby’s forehead. She carted him down the hall and when she came back into the kitchen, the baby wasn’t with her. Ruth-Anne surveyed the damage done by her son with a weary look and a sigh. She grabbed a dish rag and got down on the floor to clean.

“Where’s breakfast?” the husband growled.

“I’m makin’ it,” Ruth-Anne said. “Hold your horses.”

“Ungrateful bitch,” he muttered.

I glared at the man. Where did he get off, calling Ruth-Anne an ungrateful bitch? From what I’d seen so far, she cared for the kids and made the meals and cleaned the messes. And I knew that he didn’t work. So Ruth-Anne did it all.

She’d been beautiful, too. Back when Zeke dated her, Ruth-Anne had been curvy and her skin glowed. She turned heads everywhere she went. And to see her now, with bones sticking out, and a permanently tired expression on her face? It made me sick.

Ruth-Anne made pancakes and served them. Her husband and kids ate it all, and Ruth-Anne ended up eating cereal. When she’d cleared the table, she grabbed her keys and her jacket and left.

I followed her to her job and watched her as she sat in her car in the parking lot.

“You’ll leave him someday, Ruth-Anne,” she said. “You’ll take those kids and you’ll leave and find someone else to be with. Someone who treats you right. It’ll happen.” But you could see in her eyes she didn’t really believe what she was saying. I reached out for her, this time knowing that my scent of lilies would come. It didn’t wrap around her like it did Zeke, nor did it blow around her like it did Wade. The scent settled around her in a faint glow, and suddenly, Ruth-Anne smiled.



At noon, a moving van pulled into town, followed by a beat-up ancient Chevy pick-up. It was a stick shift, and I could see the guy inside jerking the gear around. They pulled into the house two houses down from mine.

Not many people moved here. Mostly because not many people actually left the place to leave vacant houses anyway. But the lady who lived in the house, Matilda, had died and left the house to her grandson. He was some lawyer in the city and put the house up for sale. Apparently someone had bought it.

I followed the car and stood in their lawn. A little girl, probably around ten, jumped out of the Chevy. She was dressed in “emo” attire, with dark skinny jeans, lots of make-up, and a T-shirt of some band she probably didn’t even know.

Her parents were in the moving van. Or, I assumed they were her parents. She looked like them, if you erased all the make-up. The guy driving the Chevy turned out to be a boy. He was probably seventeen years old, a little younger than I was. He had messy black hair that covered his eyes and was pretty tall and lanky.

“Quinn, hurry up! Help your dad unpack. Caitlyn, you too!” the mom yelled.

I watched them curiously. Quinn ran his fingers through his dark hair and I caught a flash of green before they disappeared again. He didn’t really look like his parents. Maybe he’d been adopted. The parents and the daughter were all blonde and blue-eyed.

The dad grabbed a big box and lugged it inside, followed by the mom. Caitlyn carried a small box and I wondered if her parents were going to carry her things in for her. But then Quinn appeared carrying a large see-through plastic box. And unless he wore corseted vampire princess dresses, I got the answer to my question.

As I turned to go, Quinn looked over at me. He looked thoughtful and a little confused. I stared back at him. He frowned but shook his head, muttering something to himself.

“Hurry up, Quinn,” Caitlyn said. “You’re burning daylight.”

“If you’re in such a hurry,” Quinn grumbled, “carry your own damn things.”

“Ooooh! You said a bad word! I’m telling Mom!” And Caitlyn skipped into the house, yelling for their mother.

I backed off their lawn, unable to shake a peculiar feeling that something was going to happen. And the feeling was being vague; I didn’t know if it was good or bad.