Page 88 of Starrily
Callie wasn’t ignoring him—she couldn’t see or hear him.
Panic gripped his chest. He walked—or floated, or however he moved now—out, passing through a part of the doorway. He paused in front of the cabin, eyes darting around, trying to find a solution in his surroundings. “Help,” he said, not sure who he was addressing.
Was this it? The end? His throat closed up, and his pulse rose—was that still his pulse, or a memory of one, like a feeling of a phantom limb? Was he trapped in some in-between world now, cursed to watch people walk by and not see him, to see everyone he cared about leave and forget him? To only observe life?
And the worst thing was—he’d left Callie like this. Angry at him. Disappointed.
A littlemeowcame from below. Theia had snuck out of the cabin and, tail raised, rubbed against his legs. She still passed through, but the way she moved around his legs, doing a figure eight, there was no chance she didn’t know he was there.
“You can see me?” He kneeled and offered her his hand; she licked it, or at least tried to. “Theia,” he breathed. “You know I’m here. You know!”
Suddenly, something heavy landed on his chest. His legs felt like lead. Theia raised her paw—and it touched the skin of his palm.
Simon grabbed his chest and took a deep breath as if he’d been drowning for the last minute. He collapsed onto his knees, touching the ground, relief flooding him. How wonderful it felt—the breeze ruffling his hair, the sharp pebbles under his fingertips, the air filling his lungs.
Callie ran out of the cabin. “Theia!” She grabbed the cat and only gave Simon a cursory glance—but it was enough he knew she could see him. “Are you ready to go?” she said in a flat voice.
He got back onto his feet and stared at his hands again. “I … I phased.”
“What do you mean?”
“I turned immaterial. All of me. For a few minutes.”
Callie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything, so they simply stood there in silence. What were they to do now? He had no right to ask her to continue helping him.
But he was so, so scared.
“Simon!” A woman’s voice called. Callie and Simon turned their heads in sync, to the parking lot down the way. A young woman in colorful clothes was running toward them, her ash blonde hair flying in the wind. Before either of them could react, she flung herself at Simon, squeezing him into a tight embrace that made him regret he wasn’t immaterial anymore.
“Thank god I finally found you.” She let the hug go but held onto his arms and looked up at him. Her wide smile reached all the way up to her pale, gray-blue eyes. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Uh, excuse me? I’m pretty sure you can’t run up to strangers and start hugging them,” Callie said, voicing Simon’s feelings exactly.
“It’s okay,” the woman said, barely glancing at Callie before she looked back at Simon with a way-too-adoring gaze. “He’s my husband.”
Chapter 21
“Of course.” Callie waved her arms, which made Theia protest loudly. She let the cat back into the cabin and shut the door, then turned to Simon and the woman. “Of course, you’re also married. Why not? Is anything you told me real?”
“Hold on, now.” Simon grabbed the woman by her wrist and carefully pried her away from him. “I have no idea who she is.”
“You don’t remember me?” The woman said, her voice small and sad. “I should’ve known. Yes, that makes sense.”
“And you ‘forgot’ her. Nice,” Callie said. The day kept getting worse. She wasn’t only being manipulated; she was also a homewrecker.Great.
Simon gave her a pleading look. “I’m not married. I swear. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life.”
“Actually, I tried approaching you several times,” the blonde said. “Remember the park by the observatory?”
Simon furrowed his eyebrows as he and Callie shared a brief, confused look. Callie thought back to that day, as much as ithurt, with her feelings still raw. They’d been taking a walk, a dog ran up to Simon, they played catch with him for a bit … then they posed by the wall, and she lost her scarf—the scarf, Simon made another one just for her—what part of the ploy was that?—no, stay on topic. There was something else nibbling on the fringes of her memory. Rewind to the dog. Somebody was shouting Simon’s name. They looked to Stan—he was detaining a woman.
Her.
“You were there,” Simon said, reaching the same conclusion.
“You’re the stalker,” Callie added.
The woman put her hands on her hips, but her mismatched, brightly colored tunic and pants made her look comical instead of angry. “I’m not a stalker. I’m his wife.”
