Page 48 of The Games We Play

“Idon’t see it,” I whine, squinting my eyes at the sky as I search the stars for some pattern relative to a man shooting a bow and arrow. “I see three bright stars lined up.” I point to the sky as Seamus aligns his head next to mine, getting the direct line of sight to where I’m pointing. “The rest of it gets lost after that.”

He brought a blanket from his cabin, and the night started with us sitting under a tree next to the lake. We’ve been here since and it’s been hours. It has to be well after midnight at this point, and he’s been trying to show me where all the constellations are.

Mind you, I’ve only succeeded in finding one constellation, the Big Dipper and a planet, Venus. Until now, I had no idea you could see Venus with the naked eye.

“That’s it, now trail your eyes up to see the other three stars spread out above it, the two stars on the corners of his torso are brighter than the others,” he explains, pointing at invisible spots in the sky.

My eyes bounce over the dark, vast sky. It’s dusted by the gorgeous glittering of stars that just look like far away fireflies. They look nothing like patterns to me.

“I just don’t see it.” My shoulders deflate.

“Hey…” Seamus rolls his body closer to mine, placing himself flush in front of me.

“Some nights are easier than others. We’ll try again tomorrow night.” Using his thumb and forefinger, he tilts up my chin to meet his gaze. “Will you meet me again?”

There’s such a vulnerability about Seamus that I noticed he doesn’t share with everyone. Actually, I don’t see it with anyone except when he’s talking to me.

He’s soft spoken and caring, and somehow, even when he’s not near me, I feel his presence. Like he’s protective of me, of our friendship, or whatever this is that’s happening between us.

I nod, as his lips inch slowly into a smile.

Even though the color of his eyes are pitch black, they shine bright with happiness at my response, and I’m mesmerized by the contrast. A darkness is embedded in their depths, not just in color, but in the abyss of emotion that hides behind them. Yet that small smile lights up something inside his irises that makes my stomach flutter. The way his gaze drinks me in, showing his admiration and loyalty without words.

“How do you know so much about the stars?” I ask, curiously.

“I just like them.” He shrugs.

That’s his tell, I’ve noticed. Sometimes he responds openly, and sometimes I ask him a question that he responds with the most generic of answers while his shoulders lift up in a shrug.

I give him a hard squint, pinching my brows as I question his reply.

“That’s the answer you give a stranger,” I tell him as he blinks and looks away. His eyes take in the lake, and his lungstake in a deep breath before turning back to me with a tight lipped smile.

He rolls onto his back, placing his arms behind his head. A glacial pause passes in the silence before he finally speaks.

“I climb out of my window at night and sneak up to my roof. I can spend hours just searching the sky,” he admits.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Peace,” he says quietly as his eyes continue to graze the vast skyline, like he’s asking now.

“Sometimes, it's quiet. Sometimes I hear my father yell at my mother. I used to hide up there. Things would break, he would yell, and I would just hide, because that’s what my mom told me to do. She would tell me,hide until all the noise goes away, then it’s safe to come out.I never really understood what was happening, until one day it all just clicked. I couldn’t keep hiding, so, that day I climbed down through the window and stood between him and my mother.”

Shifting his gaze, he looks over at me briefly without making eye contact, then turns back to the stars. “He still drinks and he’s still angry, all the time. But at least he doesn’t take it out on her anymore.”

I just stare at his profile, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. I swallow thickly, attempting to find words to comfort him, to soothe him. I wish I could say something profound and meaningful, that he could take with him and remember when he needs it. But there is nothing. There is nothing one can say to comfort something so physically debilitating.

So, I stick with the facts.

“You’re the bravest person I know.” I interlace my fingers in his and give his hand a loving squeeze.

He turns on his side to face me as he brings my hand up to his lips. His warm breath coats my knuckles as his lips wrap around the peak, and just that sends shivers down my spine.

“People are brave when they have to be, not by choice.”

“That’s not true.” I turn to face him so we’re laying with the blanket on one side and the stars on the other. We gaze into each other’s eyes, and nothing about it is awkward or weird. It’s simple and meaningful, and so much passes between us in the silence.

“People are forced into making a choice, but not everyone has the courage to choose the selfless, brave one.” I give him a sad smile. “I think you’re a hero. I know you are in your mom’s eyes.”

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