There Will Always Be Stars

It was a dark night when we first met. 

I was asleep in my room. (She was, too.) And then I heard the thunder and saw the lightning, and panicked. I couldn’t sleep again, and I wouldn’t for a while. So, I decided to take a walk. Clear my head a bit, maybe get a breath of fresh air.

I made my way to the lobby, and stood under the awning that covered the patio. It was even darker out here. The clouds were gray, and thunder was still booming, though it was getting further away.

I slid down on the floor, and sat against the wall.

Will it always be like this? I had thought. Will I always be so afraid of the storm?

And then she walked outside.

I saw her. She saw me.

We made eye contact, and I swear, time stopped like it does in all those movies and books when people meet their lover.

Was she supposed to be mine?

There was a flash of lightning and the rumbling of thunder, and I jumped, wrapping my arms around my legs and burying my face in my knees.

I was breathing heavily, until she touched my shoulder. Then my breathing slowed down. I felt calmer than I had been moments before. 

I placed my hand on hers, and squeezed tight. She let me. That was a surprise.

“Scared?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I could only nod.

“Me too,” she said. “I used to be terrified, and then my dad decided to tell me it was just angels bowling in the sky. Thunder is when they hit the pins, and lightning was flashing lights celebrating a strike. That didn’t help, though. I got scared that bowling balls were going to fall from the sky.

I could feel myself laugh and smile.

“It’s not usually this bad,” I told her. “Just…tonight is different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s my first night away from home.”

“Haven’t you been to a sleepover before?” she asked, giving me a funny look.

“I have. I’m not that lame.”

“I didn’t say you were,” she said.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

Then we looked away.

And then…silence.

“My parents are gone,” I finally said. “I lost them the other night. Except, it doesn’t feel like losing them.”

“What does it feel like?”

I stared at her for a moment. It’s all I could do while I tried to figure out what it felt like instead.

“Freedom, I think. Guilt as well.”

“Freedom? Guilt?”

I could tell she was confused, and that she wanted to know more. She kept pressing me, asking vague questions and almost expecting me to explain them.

I could’ve said no. I could’ve ended the conversation, but I didn’t.

I think I wanted her to know. I wanted her to care.

“They weren’t good to me,” I said. It was blunt, and bold of me, but I didn’t care. Not when she was sitting there in front of me, listening instead of telling me I was overreacting. 

“I felt trapped with them, and now that they’re gone, I can go where I want, do what I want. But I don’t know what I want. I want them back, I think. I should care more about them. They’re my parents, and, they’re gone…”

That’s when I started crying. No, sobbing is more like it.

But she didn’t leave. Just wrapped her arms around me, and held my head close to her chest. She ran her fingers through my hair. The sensation made me shiver.

“Hey,” she said, her voice still soft, “you’re okay now.”

“Am I?” I asked.

“Yeah, you are. Want to know how I know?”

I nodded.

And then she pointed at the sky.

The clouds were gone, and all that was left were stars that shone bright in the darkness of the night. The moon was out, too, and it cast a light upon all that it touched. 

“The stars will always come after a storm,” she said. “You’re a star, and even when it’s stormy and dark, you’ll still come out to shine.”

I started crying again.

“You’re okay, darling,” she whispered, stroking my hair and gently rubbing my back.

“I will be,” I told her. 

She smiled at me.

She smiled at me, and she hasn’t stopped.

She’s smiling at me today, and all I can do is smile back.

She didn’t leave my side that night. She walked me back to my room, and made sure I fell asleep as peacefully as I could. She laid in bed with me and ran her fingers through my hair, and let me stay close to her, as close as I could be. 

We sleep the same way, even today. She holds me, and I make sure to stay as close as I can, and I enjoy the feeling of being embraced by her.

It’s midnight when she wakes up, which also wakes me up. I can feel her stirring in bed next to me, and soon her arms leave my waist and her warmth is gone, leaving the bed cold instead.

“Hey,” I say. “Where’d you go?”

“Come here,” she says.

“What?”

“Come here,” she says again.

So I do.

I join her out on our balcony, wrapping a blanket over my shoulders to help keep me warm. It’s cold and I can see my breath, and it makes me wonder what we’re doing outside on our balcony at three in the morning.

“Remember when we met?” she asks. She’s running her hand along the railing nervously. 

I rest my hand on hers, rubbing small circles on her palm.

“Yeah,” I say. “I remember.”

“You were scared. I was, too.”

“You were?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah. For you.”

“You were scared for me?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I was. You looked so helpless. And I wanted to do everything I could to make sure you were okay, but…you weren’t.”

“I’m okay now. Much better than I was when we met. And besides, I have you. Forever.”

The ring on her hand flashes silver, a reflection from the sky. I look up.

“And look,” I say, pointing up at the sky.

We both look up, and we’re greeted by the sight of thousands of twinkling stars, shining in the dark sky. 

“The storm passed. All I have now are stars. That means everything is okay. That means I’m okay.” 

She smiles, and then presses a soft kiss to my lips. 

The stars keep shining, and she keeps kissing me, and I know that no matter what, I’ll make it through the storm, for there will always be stars.