As Far as the Stars Page 15

He still doesn’t move.

  I turn around in my seat, reach for Christopher’s backpack and throw it at his chest, just in time for Leda to jump out of the way.

  ‘Just go!’ I say, my jaw clenched.

  In the second before he responds, I think back to how we stood on that rock, our fingers laced; how we flew through the darkness together. And I don’t know how I can hold the feelings about that moment alongside how I feel about him now.

  Slowly, he opens the door and stumbles out onto the side of the road.

  I watch him stand there, tall, dark pines to one side, the long highway stretching out on the other. He looks around, not sure which way he should be heading.

  Leda whines beside me and looks up at me, her ears flopped over.

  ‘Shush,’ I tell her.

  I switch on the ignition, put the car into gear and go.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  02.02 CDT 1-81

  As I drive away, I watch him in my rear-view mirror. He stumbles out into the dark night and stands amongst the dark pines; I feel it, the dew from the grass verge soaking through his shoes and socks. The wind pushing against him making every step he takes an effort.

  Leda’s sitting with her paws up on the back seat, looking out through the rear window, whining, like she did when we were on our way to Dulles to collect Blake.

  He brought this on himself, I tell myself. Just let go.

  I force myself to look away from the mirror and focus on the road.

  Sweat runs down my back but I’m still cold from the swim.

  I feel sick. A hollow sick like my stomach’s folding in on itself.

  Why the hell didn’t he tell me about his dad? I told him everything. Everything. About Blake and my family and the wedding.

  A picture of him flickers in front of me. His tangled blond hair falling in his pale, grey eyes. His brows scrunched together. Listening. And I remember how much I liked that thought: to have someone sitting there, taking in my words, making me feel like I wasn’t going crazy inside my own head.

  Maybe I should have asked him more questions? Looked out for the signs? Had he tried to tell me, like he said?

  I scan through the reasons why he didn’t tell me about his Dad, trying to grab at some justification, but I keep circling back to that same thought: that he kept it from me, the most important bit of information about this whole situation that threw us together. The plane crash.

  His father was the pilot? I still can’t get my head around it.

  I think about what he said. That he kept quiet because Blake wasn’t on the plane. That he thought it wasn’t relevant. But that doesn’t make sense. Blake not being on the plane should have made it easier for him to tell me the truth. If Blake’s life isn’t at stake, then who cares if I know who the pilot is.

  And of course, it’s relevant. The national news thinks it’s relevant. People who have nothing whatsoever to do with the flight see it as relevant to their lives. When something like this happens, everyone feels implicated.

  So, it matters. Who the pilot was.

  The guy in charge of the plane.

  The picture they showed of him on the TV flashes in front of me. His pressed, navy uniform. His cufflinks shining. Not a crease. Not a hair out of place. His blue eyes strong and confident as if to say: With me in charge, nothing can ever go wrong.

  The sick feeling in my stomach pushes up my throat.

  But something did go wrong. Seriously wrong. And Edward Ellis, Christopher’s dad, was flying that plane.

  I try to push air down into my lungs but it’s like there’s not enough oxygen. Then I glance back into the rear-view mirror. It’s dark and he’s far behind me now, but I can still see him, a small figure with a backpack slumped on the verge of the highway.

  How’s Christopher’s going to live with all this?

  Losing his dad.

  And worse.

  Knowing that the crash might have been his dad’s fault.

  I keep trying to push the air down. My mouth is dry. The sick feeling in my stomach gets worse.

  Through the windscreen I look out at the dark sky, at the millions of stars. More pictures flash in front of me.

  I see Christopher sitting on the floor at the arrivals lounge, his back pressed to the wall, his head bent over that paper bird he was making.

  I see him sitting beside me in on the curb, waiting for the tow-truck to bring the Buick back.

  I see him reaching past me and grabbing the steering wheel to keep me from swerving into the oncoming track.

  I see him leaning towards me, talking and drinking coffee – and then running out onto the road, furious that anyone could accuse the pilot of crashing the plane.

  I see his face when he looked through the telescope for the first time.

  I close my eyes and feel his hand in mine the moment before we jumped.

  We only met a few hours ago but it’s like we’ve lived a whole lifetime together.

  I open my eyes and thump the steering wheel.

  Damn it, Christopher, you should have told me.

  I look up and down the highway ahead of me. At how empty it is. I think of all those hundreds of miles I’m going to have to do on my own before I get to Nashville. And then what? Even if I do make it to the wedding, what if Blake doesn’t show up or get in touch? What if something really is wrong?

  And what’s Christopher meant to do? I’m the one who talked him into coming with me. And now I’ve dumped him the middle of nowhere. And I made him call his mom, pushed him to go there.

  I feel dizzy.

  God I’m an idiot. Why did I even suggest that he come with me? Why didn’t I wave him goodbye at the airport and set off on my own? I’m good at doing stuff on my own. Besides my family I’m better on my own.

  Just drive, I tell myself. Just keep driving.

  I press down harder on the accelerator.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  02.20 CDT 1-81

  I keep driving, going faster and faster, ignoring the speed dial moving up on the dashboard.

  This is how Blake liked to drive.

  Take it from me, sis, one day, this Buick’s going to take off and fly.

  Another one of his comments that totally defied scientific logic but sounded cool and exciting.

  Right now, I’d give anything for the Buick to take off into the air. To take me somewhere, far away from all this crap.

  But the wheels keep clicking on the grooves on the road.

  I look down and realise I’m still wearing Christopher’s stupid clothes.

  And a set of his clothes, the ones he swam in, are drying on my back seat.

  What a mess.

  My stomach groans. I haven’t eaten since I left home this morning. And any energy I had left was burned up in the adrenaline rush from jumping off that stupid rock.

  My legs are shaking. I’m worried my body’s going to give up and that I’m going to swerve off the road. And this time, Christopher won’t be there to save me.

  Leda is huddled in the footwell of the back seat. She’s gone really quiet. Which is even worse than her whining.

  And that’s when I realise that it’s time to call it quits.

  I’ve been trying to hold it all together. To make sure the wedding goes smoothly, no matter what’s happening with Blake.

  But I can’t do this anymore.

  Not after finding out that Christopher – the only person I’ve been able to share all this with – lied to me.

  When I’m far enough to be sure Christopher can’t catch up with me, I pull over again.

  And I slump down against the steering wheel and this time, I don’t hold them back: I let hot, thick tears roll down my cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  03.01 CDT 1-81

  When I look up again, the sky’s so huge and dark that, for once, I find it more frightening than fascinating. I want it to be morning. For daylight to come.

  I thought I could do this by myself. Get throu
gh to the wedding. Cover for Blake if he doesn’t show up in time. Save the day. But it’s no good.

  Whenever there’s a crisis – a real crisis – it’s Mom who sorts things out. If there’s one person I shouldn’t have kept all this from, it was her. Christopher didn’t tell me about his dad being the pilot and look how that turned out? No matter how much it stresses her out before the wedding, I have to tell Mom the truth about what’s going on with Blake.

  I get out my phone and call up the recent calls and press on Mom’s name.

  She picks up on the first ring.

  I knew she wouldn’t be sleeping, not with all her worries about me and Blake not showing up for the rehearsal dinner. And after Dad persuaded her to stop calling me, I bet she’s been staring at her phone, waiting for me to call.

  ‘Ariadne!’ She lets out a long sigh. ‘Thank goodness.’

  Just tell her straight out. No hesitation. No chance for her to interrupt.

  ‘Mom…’

  ‘I promise I’m going to keep calm, Ariadne. I know you’ve got everything under control – your father was right, I shouldn’t have been calling every two seconds.’

  ‘Mom—’

  ‘I was so upset – when you said you couldn’t make it to our family breakfast.’ There’s a tremor in her voice. ‘It was meant to be the last time – just the five of us, at Louis’s—’

  ‘Mom, will you let me talk?’

  ‘Talk? Yes, yes of course.’ She pauses for a millisecond. I open my mouth to speak but she leaps in again. ‘Where are you? Why aren’t you sleeping? You should be sleeping. I hope Blake’s sleeping. You need to be rested for tomorrow. We have to go to the rooftop to make sure that everything’s in place for the wedding. Do a run-through. And then there’s the rehearsal dinner. And the pictures. I can’t have you looking all tired for the pictures.’

  Every time Mom speaks it’s like she squeezes a bit more oxygen out of my lungs; like she’s using up all the air I have to talk.

  So much for telling her straight out.

  I try a different tack. Maybe if I go at it more gently, she’ll listen.

  ‘I’ll be there in time for the wedding,’ I say. ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’

  ‘Worry about that? Of course I’m not worried about that. You said you’d be there and I know you keep your word. That’s why I put you in charge of getting that brother of yours to the wedding.’

  A bit more oxygen gets squeezed out of my lungs.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll make it to the wedding, Mom. But there have been a few complications—’

  ‘You should see the roof terrace, Ariadne. It’s all set up. I even found the stool that your brother likes – I went to that music shop on the Broad, the one he loves, and I described how he likes to perch when he sings and plays his guitar and they found me just the thing.’

  I recognise this behaviour. When Mom’s stressed, she likes to talk. Dad usually gets the brunt of it but I guess he’s asleep – and that he’s been listening to her talk about this stuff for months. And Jude’s probably getting her beauty sleep too. So that leaves me.

  ‘And we’ve tested the microphone – like Blake does before a show.’ Her words tumble over each other. ‘And my roses – after all that worry, they survived the trip, I think they’re going to stay fresh for the wedding.’ She pauses. ‘Oh, Ariadne, it’s going to be perfect.’

  I see her clutching her throat, closing her eyes, smiling – letting it sink in, all that hope and anticipation.

  ‘Just perfect,’ she says.

  Sometimes I think Mom must be exhausted: chasing perfection in everything she does, how unrelenting it is. Because, no matter how hard she tries, there will always be things that are out of her control.

  I open my mouth to tell her the truth: that I haven’t got a clue where Blake is. But then his voice comes into my head again:

  I’ll be there, no matter what.

  His eyes sparkle.

  And then his words at the planetarium: I’ve got a surprise planned.

  I see him smiling. A strand of dark hair falling into his eyes.

  ‘Ariadne – you still there?’ Mom asks.

  I swallow hard. He promised he’d be there, no matter what. He’d planned a surprise. I have to believe him.

  ‘It all sounds great, Mom,’ I say. ‘I can’t wait to see it.’

  I can feel her smile on the other end. Mom’s super-confident – obviously, she’s confident: she’s an international human rights lawyer. But she still looks for praise.

  ‘So, where are you, dear?’ Mom asks.

  ‘We’ll make it, Mom, don’t worry.’

  She sighs. ‘That brother of yours, getting the wrong flight – I just don’t understand him.’

  ‘Yeah…’

  ‘Could you pass him over? I want to hear his voice.’

  She thinks he’s in the car with me?

  Oh God.

  ‘Mom, listen…’ I start.

  Leda lets out a whine.

  ‘Is that your brother’s dog?’ Mom says.

  Mom doesn’t like Leda. Maybe because Leda doesn’t follow her instructions. Sometimes, Leda does the exact opposite of following mom’s instructions. And no one ignores Mom’s instructions.

  ‘I’ve got a kennel for her.’

  ‘A kennel?’

  ‘In case people are allergic.’

  ‘The wedding’s outside.’

  ‘Some people don’t like dogs, Ariadne.’

  We’ve had this conversation before. I’m not Leda’s greatest fan either but even I end up defending her to Mom.

  ‘So she doesn’t disturb people,’ Mom goes on. ‘It’s a nice one. It’ll be in a corner of the roof terrace.’

  You think Blake’s going to let you put Leda in a kennel in a corner of the roof terrace? I want to say. Blake’s going to want Leda sitting at his feet while he sings.

  Blake doesn’t even believe in putting Leda on a lead. Even in parks where it’s illegal not to.

  But I don’t say any of that stuff. There’s no point upsetting Mom before the wedding. And by the time Blake shows up, she’ll be so relieved, she won’t even care about where Leda is.

  ‘Can I speak to Blake?’ Mom asks again.

  ‘Um…’

  But then my phone buzzes.

  I pull the phone away from my ear in time to see that there’s a news alert.

  Latest on the UKFlyer0217…

  ‘Hang on a second, Mom.’

  I click onto the alert. The screen opens.

  Autopilot disconnected. Flight lost altitude fast before the crash.

  ‘Ariadne, are you still there?’

  Investigators are listening to the recordings from the cockpit to determine the cause of the error.

  ‘Ariadne!’

  No passenger names have yet been released to the public.

  I think about Christopher and a lump forms in my throat.

  He shouldn’t have lied. He really shouldn’t have lied. Not to me. But he needs to know what’s going on with the plane. And he shouldn’t be alone.

  ‘Ariadne?’ Mom’s voice is desperate now.

  ‘Sorry – I’ve got to go, Mom.’

  ‘I need to talk to Blake – we need to go through some details—’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom.’ I pause. ‘Try to get some sleep.’

  ‘Ariadne!’

  ‘Bye, Mom.’

  And then I hang up.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  04.50 CDT 1-81

  He’s not hard to find. Apart from the occasional car, the highway is deserted. And he hadn’t got very far.

  Before I get to him, a pick-up drives past and Christopher sticks out his thumb but the truck doesn’t stop. I’d be surprised if the driver even saw him.

  I remember the thought I had the first time I saw him in the airport: The kind of guy you walk right past. And how, ironically, that was what made me stop and notice him. Because I liked it: how he wasn’t trying to be the
centre of attention, like most of the people do.

  I dip the headlights and press on the brakes until the car’s crawling beside him.

  ‘You’re going the wrong way,’ I say.

  Leda barks beside me, her paws up on the window ledge, her tail wagging.

  ‘And if you’re going to make a habit of hitchhiking, you’re going to have to learn to be a bit more assertive.’

  He keeps walking, not looking at me.

  I stop the car and whisper in Leda’s ear:

  ‘Go get him.’

  Leda jumps out of the window and runs up to Christopher.

  He tries to ignore her but she jumps up at him so hard she nearly knocks him over. Eventually, Christopher stops walking, puts down his backpack and rubs her behind the ears.

  I march up to him.

  ‘You’re an idiot,’ I say.

  ‘I know,’ he replies.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yeah. I should have told you.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’

  He pauses for a second. ‘I guess I’ve never been in a situation like this before.’

  Our eyes catch.

  ‘I mean,’ he goes on. ‘I’ve never had to explain something like this – not to someone—’

  ‘Someone?’

  He looks down at his feet.

  ‘Like you,’ he says.

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying…’

  ‘Someone who matters.’

  ‘Matters?’

  He looks up. ‘To me.’

  Our eyes catch again for a second and this time I’m the one who can’t look. I bow my head.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But I realised,’ he says, ‘when I was walking, that that’s the reason I should have told you. It’s because you matter – to me – that I should have told you the truth.’

  He shakes his head and clenches and unclenches his fists like he’s trying to get all the tension out of his body.

  I take his hand and unfurl his fist.

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I kicked you out of the car.’

  He looks at the back of his hand cradled in my palm like somehow his hand doesn’t belong to him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says.

  ‘No, it’s not okay. Not with everything that’s going on – with the plane. With your dad.’