As Far as the Stars. Virginia Macgregor
mom, which probably means she’s not around in some way and I don’t want to upset him by asking.
‘I’m from England too,’ I say. ‘Was. Lived there until I was four. Which is why Americans think I’m English and English people think I’m American.’
‘I like it – your accent.’
‘It makes me sound like I don’t belong anywhere.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’ He gives me a small, sideways smile.
I hadn’t ever thought of it being a good thing. But perhaps he’s right. Perhaps it’s kind of cool not being locked into one particular place. ‘I guess not.’
‘So how come you lived in England?’ he asks.
‘Mom’s English – well Scottish-English. Dad went to do a semester at Oxford, which is where they met.’
‘Where they fell in love over Greek myths?’ he says.
‘Yeah. Mom was meant to be doing international law but she kept taking all these other classes too. Anyway, Dad ended up loving Oxford so much he stayed for years. They got married. Had kids.’
‘And then you moved to the US?’
‘Mom got a gig at the White House. As an international human rights lawyer.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah. She’s a high achiever.’
‘And your dad?’
‘Classics professor at Georgetown. He still misses Oxford but he’d go anywhere for Mom.’
He looks at me, curious, like my friends sometimes do when I talk about Mom and Dad and how close they are.
He leans back and closes his eyes. Behind his glasses, he’s got these crazily long, light eyelashes. ‘It’s warm out here,’ he says.
‘Yeah.’
A beautiful warm afternoon.
I think about Mom, Jude and Dad working really hard to get things ready for the wedding. And how Mom must be coping with the news that we’re not going to make the breakfast. I picture them sitting there tomorrow morning, staring at two empty chairs and how Mom will be totally freaking out and how Dad will be trying to calm her down and how Jude will be thinking that it’s typical that we’re both off somewhere else without her. She feels left out when it comes to the three of us. All those birth order theories don’t apply to us. Blake’s the middle child but he gets all the attention. Jude’s the eldest but that doesn’t make her feel special – she’s the one who feels like she’s being overlooked. As for me, I’m the opposite of the spoilt and indulged youngest child – I’m the one whose job it is to sort out my brother and sister’s problems and fights.
My eyeballs sting like I’m going to cry, because I know that it’s totally not fair. There are times when Jude’s sulkiness about not getting enough attention has annoyed the hell out of me but if there’s one time that Jude shouldn’t feel left out, it’s at her wedding.
I sniff back the tears.
Leda nestles in closer to Christopher. He sits up and pats her head gently.
‘She yours?’ he asks.
‘My brother’s. I’m babysitting.’
He puts out his hand and Leda puts her head into it like she’s looking for a treat.
‘I love dogs – all animals really,’ Christopher says.
He keeps stroking her. Leda’s tilting her head back so far now it’s like she’s in some kind of trance. He’s totally good with her.
‘Do you have any pets?’
Christopher shakes his head. ‘I was never allowed. Too much moving around.’
He keeps stroking her and I can tell, from how his shoulders drop and his body sinks into itself, that Leda’s making him feel more relaxed too.
‘So, what happened?’ Christopher asks. ‘I thought you needed to be somewhere.’
‘I did.’ I look back at the space where I parked the Buick. ‘They took my brother’s car.’
‘Your brother?’ He frowns and knits his eyebrows together: they’re blond and tangled, like his hair. ‘The one who owns the dog?’
‘The very same.’
‘He’s the one you came to pick up?’
‘Yeah. Sort of. It’s a long story. I think I got it wrong. Or he got it wrong. Anyway, he’s not here.’
‘Right.’
I hand him the parking notice. ‘They took the car.’
‘From the car park?’
I shake my head. ‘From here.’
‘Here?’
I nod.
‘Right here?’
‘I was in a hurry – we were already late.’ My throat goes thick. ‘I know it was a stupid thing to do but I texted Blake to come straight out; I thought it would only take a few minutes before we’d be back in the car.’ Tears prick the back of my eyes; I blink hard to make them go away. ‘I didn’t know all this would happen.’
‘Are you okay?’ asks Christopher.
And then it all comes out.
‘My sister’s getting married on Monday, during the eclipse, on this amazing rooftop terrace in a hotel in Nashville. And I should be there already but I thought Blake got on the wrong plane so I came back to collect him and now he’s not here and he’s not answering my texts and I don’t know how to tell my family – and now I don’t have a car anymore.’ I gulp. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ My words tumble over each other so quick I’m pretty sure I don’t make any sense. ‘So no, nothing’s even close to okay.’
I shut my eyes to push the tears back in.
‘Can I help?’ Two perfect pink circles form at the top of his cheeks.
It’s a weird thing to ask. But it’s kind of nice too – to have someone helping me out for a change.
‘Help?’ I ask.
‘To get your car back,’ he says.
He makes it sound so simple. And it makes me feel better – that there’s one thing I might be able to sort out in this whole tangled mess I’m in.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
‘I’d like to help.’
‘You would?’
He gives a quick nod. ‘Take my mind off things for a bit – you know?’
It hits me again. That someone he knows – someone he cares about – is on the plane that’s gone missing.
His brow is scrunched up and he’s squinting into the sun and I get it, that he needs this.
‘Yeah, I know,’ I say.
He studies the parking notice and then says, ‘Have you called the number yet?’
I shake my head.
‘The tow truck might not have got very far. We could explain.’
‘Explain?’
‘What’s going on,’ he says. ‘That these are special circumstances.’
Our eyes catch his and, for a beat, we don’t say anything.
‘You think that would work?’
In my experience, traffic enforcement doesn’t do special circumstances, especially for people our age.
‘We