Starry Night

'You are my moon and stars, the light in the darkness of my dreary life.
You are the light which causes my heart to bloom, joy flowering rife.'

Those were the only two lines I could remember. I could not stop repeating them in my mind. They were embellished words with no meaning. 'Rife,' where did he get that word, anyhow? He never spoke that way. That should have been my first clue.

My breath formed into a cloud in front of me as I let out a long exhale. I looked down at my fingers and was stunned when I saw a gold ring that didn't belong. I touched it with my other hand, but it wasn't there anymore. I held my breath and counted to ten as the tears threatened to well up. I refused to cry.

I rifled through the front pocket of my suitcase and grabbed my cell phone. Another twenty minutes before the Uber car was to arrive. Now I wish I would not have let him drive me home, though I had not planned on confronting him about the girl he worked with, her flirtations, him continually glancing her way. After his screaming denial, I packed my bags and pulled the poem from the nightstand and tore it up into small jagged strips on the bed. He didn't stop me as I walked out the door.


I gave Uber the address of the house two blocks away. I passed it every day on the way home. I had memorized the address of the blue Cape Cod, for the same reason that a schoolgirl would repeat what her name would be if she married her crush. Perhaps that was my problem; I had too many dreams, some unable to exist at the same time. But I was drawn to the house, the 'white-picket fence' feel of it, a promise of a happy life, even though it was overpriced.

'...the light in the darkness my dreary life,' I wandered where I would be now if it wasn't for that poem. What a giddy mess I was after reading it, later willing to break my lease and move with him to the land he inherited. I acted like a teenager, thinking that every story had a happy ending. Now I have to go home, beg for my job back, and ask my sister if I can move in with her until I can get my own place. Oh, what fun she was going to have with me. I was supposed to be the responsible one.

He had dreams, though. He said we were going to start a dog kennel, that we would be the only kennel in that part of the county.

'We will be raking in the money,' he would say. He wanted to save up enough to have a grand wedding, in the same church his parents were married in, and a honeymoon in Italy.

'You are the light which causes my heart to bloom....' Those words now made my stomach turn. That light must have paled in his eyes when it was compared with a bright smile and the shine of golden hair. Though, it had been over for me, even before then. We lived in a small cabin that was always musty and didn't keep us warm at night. He found a job as a bartender, and I took on a position at the local real estate agency. But his ambition stopped there.

"What about the dog kennel? We need a plan," I would say.

"We will talk about it later." "I have a lot going on right now," he would complain.

As my frustration mounted, he became more withdrawn. I was ready to leave long before I noticed him and that waitress getting cozy at the bar when I stopped by his work tonight.

My stomach made an awful growling noise. I began searching through my jacket pockets and pulled out a half-eaten bag of gummy bears. I popped a yellow bear in my mouth. I hated that it got dark so early, now. I looked over my shoulder at the house faintly illuminated by the street light. I thought since it was my last chance, might as well.

I grabbed my suit case and walked over towards its large front window. That was when I started smelling the enticing smell of food cooking. I took a deep inhale, as if it would manifest the vapors into sustenance. With each step I took towards the house, the smell intensified.

This place was vacant; there was no way that someone would be cooking inside. Perhaps, it was coming from the neighbor's house, or maybe I was hungry enough to imagine it. As I stood in front of the window, I could not see anything through the pane, except darkness. I was waiting for my eyes to adjust, see if I could find the source of the delightful smell, but all was black inside. Then as if it had been there all along, a simmering pot came into view. Now, nothing else existed but that pot and the steam rising from it. I took another deep breath. I could taste sweet tomatoes mingled with spices and salty meat. I found that when I moved my jaw, I could feel the meaty texture inside my cheeks and the soft, dissolving sweetness on my tongue.

I wrapped my fingers onto the sill. I began to feel my hands warming. I saw a fireplace off to the right, and it sent out a warm rippling light, illuminating a nearby couch, giving it a burgundy glow. It warmed me as it warmed the pane, allowing heat to seep through the cracks in the sill until the warmth enveloped my hands, ran up my arms, and flushed my cheeks. Perhaps someone has moved into this house after all.

I sucked in a quick breath when I saw a man walk in, partially eclipsing the fireplace, a wine glass in his hand. I wanted to hide, to duck out of sight, but for some reason I couldn't move. I started taking in all of his features, his dark hair, brown eyes, five-o-clock shadow. I noticed the two top buttons of his white shirt were undone. I put my hand on my neck, tilted my head to the side, and ran my hand down to my collarbone, watching his shadow towering across the wall. The touch caused a stream of electric sensations to run across my shoulders and down my spine.

He tilted his head back; a tide of deep red tipped from his glass onto his lips. I could feel the sweet sting of fermented fruit on my tongue. A swirling intoxication rose to my head. He smiled and set the empty glass on the mantle as she walked in the room.

I caught my breath, again. He grabbed her hand. Her dark hair whipped back as he quickly pulled her long body close. He swirled her around, one large hand on her waist, the other holding her hand. She wrapped her red-painted fingers around the back of his neck. He used his guiding hands to tip her backward until her body was a straight, sixty-degree line. His quickening breath quickened hers. His arms pulled up, and her body followed; they were one. My heart raced.

I leaned my head back and reached my hand towards the audience of bright stars, asking them to reveal some great secret of the heart, but all remained silent. So I tilted my head up to the window, but now I was staring through a dark, empty pane. Everything was gone. The word "no" squeaked through my throat. I slammed my hand on the cold pane. It vibrated and shook, threatening to shatter. The cold bit at my fingertips as I held my hand to the pane, so I let go and I shoved my hands in my pockets. The acidy grumble returned to my stomach. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. But one tear followed another. I held my breath, and that's when I heard the sound of gravel crushing as a car pull into the driveway.


'You are my moon and stars....' I grabbed my suitcase, wiped my face, and left my childish dreams behind.