Page 118 of Starrily
Theia sat down next to the last photo, all of them remaining undisturbed. The first was the one Callie had displayed on the shelf for a while—a graduation photo of her and Ava. The second was the old photo of her and Mila, which she’d brought back from Louisiana. The third one she got from Jessica, who generously allowed her to look through all the pictures she’d taken while working on the articles, and showed her and Raleigh at the city observatory. Callie, as always, looked slightly sleepy and slightly cranky, but Raleigh looked perfect with his smile.
Theia meowed.
“Oh, be a fine guy, kiss me,” Callie murmured.
Theia swished her tail three times.
Callie smiled and twirled around in a circle. “All right. I pick someone in the first row.Oh, be a fine guy, kiss me. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss the door and accidentally enter a pickup artist seminar. I was just practicing the mnemonic for star categories.” She spread her arms. “Ta-da!”
Theia swished her tail one more time, approvingly, then hopped off and headed for her feeder. Callie took that as a sign to get moving with her morning—she didn’t want to be late for her talk. Especially one held at her alma mater.
While she was dressing, her phone rang. She put the call on speaker as she checked herself in front of the mirror.
“Morning, baby,” Mom’s voice, slightly screechy from the speaker, carried through the room. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Callie said, giving herself a reassuring smile. “I think I’ll do fine.”
“I’m sure you will. We did a reading and got nothing but good results! But be sure to go with the number four.”
Four what? Fourth shirt in her closet? Fourth entrance into the auditorium? No—fourth opening line. “Thanks, Mom. I will.”
After they ended the chat, Callie fussed over her outfit for ten more minutes, finally going with a business casual dark blue jacket, a yellow shirt underneath, and Raleigh’s scarf. Professional, but approachable. Before she left her apartment, she stopped one more time in front of the photos.
“You’ll be proud, I promise,” she said to them.
The auditorium at the university was filled to the brim. A year ago—if she could even conceive of doing such a thing back then—Callie would’ve panicked and locked up. Her hands would sweat, and she’d stammer rather than say something intelligible.
But today’s Callie was a different woman.
The talk went perfectly—well, she stammered once or twice, but no one seemed bothered by it. She commanded the stageand gestured with confidence. She had a sip of water when she needed a short break, and occasionally, she sent a “teacher’s glance” to an audience member in need of it.
All in all, she dared to say she rocked.
People slowly filtered out after the talk while she remained, first packing up her things, then staying at the podium, reflecting on her presentation. The applause was good. Many thoughtful questions asked by the audience, which must’ve meant the talk worked, her explanations worked, and she made people think and want to explore more. And in the end, that was what she wanted. One only had so much time in their life; eventually, other people had to take over and discover new secrets of the Universe. All she could hope to create was a good legacy.
Well … she liked to think she still had plenty of time. So maybe a hypothesis or a model named after her wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Phoenix.”
Callie turned, her heart doing a somersault, then dropping as she caught sight of a stranger standing by the exit door. It had been half a year since anyone—he—had called her that.
The stranger, a man of about thirty, with short, slightly ruffled dark brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses, stepped forward. “Sorry. That was a weird opener, but I …” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “This is going to sound extraordinarily strange.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Go on. I’ve had plenty of strange.”
“I don’t remember the past few years of my life. Not to say I came here for a therapy session. I remember an incident, an attack… and then nothing, until half a year ago.” He scratched the back of his head. “Now, you’ll ask, if I remember nothing, how do I know there’s a big chunk of time missing? Besides the obvious—time has clearly progressed—I feel it. I know there was something there, that it wasn’t just empty nothingness. AndI know that…” He tilted his head. “Because I don’t remember anything else, but I rememberyou.”
Callie’s feet took initiative of their own, slowly carrying her closer to him.
“I promise this isn’t a weird pick-up line. I might be insane, but I remember … I remember you floating in an airplane, like there’s no gravity at all. I remember you petting a dog and throwing him a stick. I remember you explaining astronomy, showing things on your computer—not unlike you did here, today. I remember you saying to race you down the zipline, and I could swear you’re saying it to me. I remember you sitting beside me, looking at the stars. And most of all …” His eyes followed her, as if hypnotized, “I remember that smile.”
Calliewassmiling; she wasn’t sure when it began, but it spread gradually as he went through his explanations. When he ended, she was beside him, looking up at his face. A nice face—warm brown eyes, a bit of stubble—but she’d never seen it before. She didn’t recognize his voice, either, or his stance, or anything, really.
But then he smiled … and she recognized that smile. She’d know it anywhere.
“Raleigh,” she said.
He blinked. “Yes.” He shook his head, as if trying to sort out his thoughts. “Callie.”
