Starr can’t stop her hands from shaking.
It’s been happening ever since Tomas drove her and Jack and her mom home from the Palace. What a horrible car ride. As they bumped their way over every pothole, Starr’s stomach seemed to twist more and more painfully until she thought she might actually lose control. Everyone stayed silent – even Jack – which Starr would normally be grateful for, but in the backseat of the SUV with only her thoughts to keep her company, Starr could find little to be happy about. She kept glancing anxiously at the back of her mother’s head, and once or twice they caught eyes in the rearview mirror. Starr wanted to offer her mother some consolation, some answer, something, but she couldn’t do much more than tremble.
It pisses her off – feeling so helpless. Starr who is normally so calm, so levelheaded…
Tomas dropped them off at La Boulaie without saying a word. Blair slammed the passenger side door, and he peeled off with an angry streak of rubber now burned into the street out front. Jack had gone up to his room to change out of his suit, and Starr lingered in the hallway for a moment to see if her mom wanted to talk. Blair walked past her in a daze; slowly made her way up the stairs as if her ankles had weights attached to them. Starr watched until she disappeared before heading to her own bedroom. Her mind turned on her just then, blasting her with one question after another, rolling quickly, like waves breaking on the shore. And Starr kept whispering under her breath “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…” in a sort of mantra to keep the questions at bay a little while longer.
Angrily, she tries to still her hands enough to unbutton her dress, and it seems to take forever as she fumbles her way through the task. Her eyes fill with tears, and she curses them. Stop it, she thinks. Don’t be weak now. You need to stay strong…for Mom…and…”
Starr wheels away from the mirror and sits down on the bed, her hand over her heart. It was him. It had to be him. The way he moved. The way his voice sounded – soft like velvet yet strong like iron. Even the way he smelled when he came up beside her at the drink counter. So familiar…everything about him so familiar. It had to be…there is no one else like that on Earth, she thinks. But it doesn’t make sense; it just doesn’t make any sense.
Abruptly, Starr stands up and changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She lies on the bed and watches her hands shake and tries to take a deep breath.
“I need to stay strong,” she says again, aloud this time. She closes her eyes and tries to stop the free-falling sensation of her stomach, tries to stop seeing his face behind her eyelids, tries to stop herself from feeling like she is 6-years-old again and the only thing in the world she wants is to be in her daddy’s arms.
***
After a futile hour of chasing sleep, Starr tip-toes down to the kitchen. She still feels sick to her stomach but thinks maybe a glass of juice or some crackers might help. She stops in her tracks when she sees Blair pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Can’t sleep either?”
“Hi Mom.”
Blair looks up and gives her a watery smile.
“Hi, sweet girl.”
“Mom…what are we going to do?”
Blair shakes her head, and they both make their way over to the table.
“I wish I knew, sweetie.”
“Are you upset with Tomas?”
“I don’t even know what to think anymore about Tomas.”
Starr nods and remembers her resolve to keep her head. She has always been the strong one in their relationship.
“Do you think he was real?” Blair asks in an almost whisper.
Starr meets her mother’s gaze, but says nothing for a moment. An image flashes before her mind’s eye of the man at the Palace. The way he looked into her eyes with so much love…Starr finds her own eyes welling up with tears in response to the memory, but she harshly wipes them away.
“I don’t know yet,” she answers. “But as soon as I can, I’m going down to the police station to get some answers.”
Blair smiles softly and squeezes Starr’s hand. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Starr cannot wait to see him again. She hates to feel like a sap. She has always been more like her father in that regard. But right now the churning in her stomach is nothing compared to the ache in her heart. One part of her is pure dread, the other, pure eagerness. With no way to reconcile the two, she stays with her mother in the kitchen to await the dawn.
It’s been happening ever since Tomas drove her and Jack and her mom home from the Palace. What a horrible car ride. As they bumped their way over every pothole, Starr’s stomach seemed to twist more and more painfully until she thought she might actually lose control. Everyone stayed silent – even Jack – which Starr would normally be grateful for, but in the backseat of the SUV with only her thoughts to keep her company, Starr could find little to be happy about. She kept glancing anxiously at the back of her mother’s head, and once or twice they caught eyes in the rearview mirror. Starr wanted to offer her mother some consolation, some answer, something, but she couldn’t do much more than tremble.
It pisses her off – feeling so helpless. Starr who is normally so calm, so levelheaded…
Tomas dropped them off at La Boulaie without saying a word. Blair slammed the passenger side door, and he peeled off with an angry streak of rubber now burned into the street out front. Jack had gone up to his room to change out of his suit, and Starr lingered in the hallway for a moment to see if her mom wanted to talk. Blair walked past her in a daze; slowly made her way up the stairs as if her ankles had weights attached to them. Starr watched until she disappeared before heading to her own bedroom. Her mind turned on her just then, blasting her with one question after another, rolling quickly, like waves breaking on the shore. And Starr kept whispering under her breath “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…” in a sort of mantra to keep the questions at bay a little while longer.
Angrily, she tries to still her hands enough to unbutton her dress, and it seems to take forever as she fumbles her way through the task. Her eyes fill with tears, and she curses them. Stop it, she thinks. Don’t be weak now. You need to stay strong…for Mom…and…”
Starr wheels away from the mirror and sits down on the bed, her hand over her heart. It was him. It had to be him. The way he moved. The way his voice sounded – soft like velvet yet strong like iron. Even the way he smelled when he came up beside her at the drink counter. So familiar…everything about him so familiar. It had to be…there is no one else like that on Earth, she thinks. But it doesn’t make sense; it just doesn’t make any sense.
Abruptly, Starr stands up and changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She lies on the bed and watches her hands shake and tries to take a deep breath.
“I need to stay strong,” she says again, aloud this time. She closes her eyes and tries to stop the free-falling sensation of her stomach, tries to stop seeing his face behind her eyelids, tries to stop herself from feeling like she is 6-years-old again and the only thing in the world she wants is to be in her daddy’s arms.
***
After a futile hour of chasing sleep, Starr tip-toes down to the kitchen. She still feels sick to her stomach but thinks maybe a glass of juice or some crackers might help. She stops in her tracks when she sees Blair pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Can’t sleep either?”
“Hi Mom.”
Blair looks up and gives her a watery smile.
“Hi, sweet girl.”
“Mom…what are we going to do?”
Blair shakes her head, and they both make their way over to the table.
“I wish I knew, sweetie.”
“Are you upset with Tomas?”
“I don’t even know what to think anymore about Tomas.”
Starr nods and remembers her resolve to keep her head. She has always been the strong one in their relationship.
“Do you think he was real?” Blair asks in an almost whisper.
Starr meets her mother’s gaze, but says nothing for a moment. An image flashes before her mind’s eye of the man at the Palace. The way he looked into her eyes with so much love…Starr finds her own eyes welling up with tears in response to the memory, but she harshly wipes them away.
“I don’t know yet,” she answers. “But as soon as I can, I’m going down to the police station to get some answers.”
Blair smiles softly and squeezes Starr’s hand. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Starr cannot wait to see him again. She hates to feel like a sap. She has always been more like her father in that regard. But right now the churning in her stomach is nothing compared to the ache in her heart. One part of her is pure dread, the other, pure eagerness. With no way to reconcile the two, she stays with her mother in the kitchen to await the dawn.
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