Page 50 of If the Stars Align
“Sunny, I gave Dex your number because I want you guys to work things out. I want you to be happy, can’t you see that? You’re one of my closest friends, and?—”
“One of your closest friends, who doesn’t even know your boyfriendproposed? Mia…how are we supposed to be friends if you can’t even share one of the happiest moments of your life with me?” I say, my lips quivering. “I feel like I barely know you anymore.”
“Well, join the club,” Mia says, wiping her eyes. “Because I’ve been feeling that way about you for as long as I remember.”
Her words are like a shock of cold water, extinguishing my anger. Leaving me with nothing but flickering embers and the ashes of our friendship.
“I have to go,” I say without meeting her teary gaze. “Best wishes to you and Evan.”
I’ve been lying in bed for nearly an hour, but I can’t sleep because the fight with Mia keeps replaying in my mind. Around 11:00 p.m., I give up and go down to the kitchen for ice cream. I put three generous scoops of rocky road in a bowl and eat itstanding at the kitchen counter while looking at pictures on the side of the fridge. My mom has taken down every photo of me and Dex but one. We were about six years old, eating cotton candy at the zoo. I remember the day so vividly, because it was my mom who took us on one of her rare afternoons off from work. I pull the photo out from under its refrigerator magnet, and I’m holding it in my hand when she walks in.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she says sleepily as she fills her water glass. She looks over my shoulder to see what I’m holding. My heart pounds like she caught me doing something wrong.
“You know,” she says slowly, “John’s been sick.”
“What?” I ask, immediately turning toward her. “Mr. Dexter?” My chest tightens. I pray she’s talking about someone else. Not Dex’s dad. I love Dex’s dad.
My mom nods. “Prostate cancer. I’ve been debating whether or not to tell you.”
“Debating? What? Oh my god! Is he going to be okay?” My entire body is shaking.
“He’s got the very best doctor in the city, I made sure of it,” my mom says as she hands me a tissue. I didn’t even know I was crying.
“I have to go over there,” I say, which makes absolutely no sense, but it’s the only thing I can think to do. The only thing I want to do.
My mom tries to reason with me. “Sunny, it’s late! Just wait until morning.”
I don’t answer her. I’m too busy trying to find my keys. I thought I’d left them in the kitchen, but maybe they’re on thefront hall table.
“Sunny, are you listening to me? The Dexters are probably sleeping. You don’t want to disturb them.”
They’re not on the front hall table. A jolt of panic surges through me. Now I’m sweating.Where the hell did I put them?
“Sunny!” my mom repeats angrily.
I must have left them in the pocket of my raincoat. I turn around to check.
“Found them,” I say with a sigh of relief. I clutch my keys to my chest. “Mom, I know it’s late, but I don’t care. If Dex is there, he needs me. If I’m this distraught—and Mr. Dexter isn’t even related to me—imagine how his son feels.”
I leave without waiting for my mom’s rebuttal. I drive to Dex’s house with no plan except to drive there and park in the driveway and ring the doorbell. And that’s what I do.
It takes a minute before someone opens the door. And for the first time in 664 days, there he is. Oliver Dexter. Standing in the doorway, looking at me as I look at him. We’re mirror reflections of each other. Red-rimmed eyes, stunned faces. Sadness, disbelief, and relief—if I’m not mistaken. We take one step closer to each other. We look down, then we look up. We wrap our arms around each other, and the moment we touch, the entire world stops spinning. We’re frozen in time. I hold him, and he holds me, and everything in between now and then disappears in space. We sigh. Eventually, we step back. I follow him inside the house and he closes the door. It’s all wordless until we get upstairs.
We sit on the floor of his room with our backs against his bed.
“How’s he doing?” I ask, reaching for Dex’s hand.
“He’s in the hospital,” he says, and his voice sounds so small. He takes a deep breath. “He just had surgery,” he continues, shakily, “and it went well—but then he got an infection.”
Dex closes his eyes but the tears spill out and he sobs. I try to remember when I last saw him cry. We were kids, I think.
I want to take his pain away more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I put my arm around him, and I kiss his hair, right above his ear. My lips just gravitate there before I realize what I’m doing. Dex looks at me and cries even harder then. “My mom told me to go home and get some sleep, but I’m so fucking scared,” he says.
Then his hands start shaking.
As he’s wringing them, his breathing gets shallow.
That’s when he starts gasping for air.
