starlight

“Don’t you dream impossible things?”

Despite the fact she had checked the trial results twenty times already, Sharon decided to check them just once more. Part of her was afraid the words would magically change from the last time she read them. The other part of her was beyond thrilled and could have read that report a thousand more times. The results gave her the same information from the first time she’d read them. Sharon knew this would have to be quadruple-checked, that dozens of other scientists and laboratories would replicate her process to authenticate its accuracy. But Sharon was sure. Because the first time she’d had similar trial results was nearly five years ago. She knew she had been close but hadn’t really believed she would ever get there. There it was all laid out in front of her, the mystery of the chemical, genetic, and environmental factors that caused autism.

There were the kids. Sharon actually had had very little interaction with the children involved in the trial, occasionally speaking with parents when they had questions or to personally observe the children with significant difficulties or abnormal results. Sharon’s own results wouldn’t really change the lives of the kids that had participated in the trial. One thing that was clear was that autism was like a switch in the brain; once turned on it was impossible to turn off. But there were so many future generations that would benefit from this information and the rate of autism should drop drastically. It would be a preventable condition by parents if they were aware and cautious of all the factors.

But honestly, Sharon wasn’t sure who she was more excited for. It was selfish, especially considering how important this project was and how many other people had contributed time and energy, but she was so proud of this accomplishment she could barely breathe. She had put in the past ten years of work in this laboratory, day after day smothered by scientific research and medical records. She had spent the ten years before that studying, undergraduate degree then master’s degree and finally her doctorate. Twenty years of her life that she willingly sacrificed but didn’t truly believe would amount to much in her lifetime. Sharon had always believed she was putting in the work that someone someday would turn into the miracle that sat on her desk.

tell me why

"Down here from the ground I see who you are."

It had changed so many things in her life. It wasn't really the big stuff that bothered her. The trial, the look of pity on her friends and families' faces. She had prepared herself for that and she was a fighter. And it wasn't the things she expected. It had only taken three months for her to start back dating. Now, seven months after it happened, she had a boyfriend and they had a healthy, normal relationship.

But there were these things. She used to be a stomach sleeper and now just laying on her stomach for a few seconds created instant panic. The elevator at work made this loud clicking sound when it arrived on a floor, a sound too similar to cocking a gun. Just two days ago, her infant nephew had pulled her hair and it took all her bodily control to not drop him immediately. The smell of coffee. It was these strange, small, unexpected moments that brought up the terror of that night. She didn't know how to get past it.

It seemed like it had happened so long ago. Almost as if it happened to another person. Maybe her radar was down, but she had never gotten an uneasy feeling about the guy. They had run into each other at the grocery store a few times, flirted shamelessly, and finally he had asked her out for coffee. They had coffee and everything was fine. Pleasant conversation, a respectable amount of chivalry, no sexual advances or innuendo. So when he asked her to dinner at the end of the coffee date, she felt completely comfortable saying yes.And even dinner had gone well. They dined at one of her favorite restaurants. Shared a bottle of wine. More great conversation. Then he drove her home. They sat in the car talking for fifteen minutes, so eventually she invited him in for coffee. The night was still relatively young and she wanted to finish their conversation.

The mistake of her life. It didn't take long after they were both inside and the door was locked that everything changed. A lot of it was blurry, almost like a dream. But there was a distinct moment, before the nightmare really started, that she knew something was wrong. She dropped her keys after she came in the house. When she bent down to pick them up, she glanced up at him. Really she was trying to see if he was checking her out. And he was, but the look in his eye wasn't a man checking out a woman's cleavage. It was a savage look of a tiger stalking its prey.

untouchable

"I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why."

It felt like being lost. He was in a chair, in a hallway. That much he knew. He could see sun shining through an open window at the end of the hall. The thought suddenly came to him that he liked sunny days. He looked eagerly at the window for just one second, but the cloud of confusion he was under was overwhelming. So he continued to sit.

Otis. The name came to him and he was almost sure it was his name. Otis. It was a good name. Reliable, masculine, hardworking man's name. So Otis sat in his chair searching for a memory. How did he get here? And where is here? He closed his eyes tried to remember, but there was just fragments of childhood. Climbing trees, eating supper at a large table busy with lots of kids, sitting in a classroom, playing football with a beat-up, practically flat football. He opened his eyes. These were not the hands of a child. These hands were old, worn from time and hard work.

Then there she was. A beautiful woman. Thick, silky gray hair. Dressed well, with an energy that defied her age. And she looked directly at him and called his name. Otis. Yes, that was his name. The woman knew him.

She came and sat in a chair beside him. She talked about things he didn't know. People whose names were unfamiliar. She showed him pictures of young kids. Someone else's grandkids. He held one picture for a long time. That kid looked so much like himself in the fragmented childhood he was trying desperately to hold onto.

But there was her. Everything about her seemed familiar. The urge to caress her hair and hold her hand was strong, but she would think he was crazy. She seemed so familiar. He could imagine her younger. Making dinner in a kitchen surrounded by kids. Kissing him quickly on his way out the door to work. He felt connected to her. Like he had known her all his life. This must be love at first sight.

Then she was leaving, though it seemed she had just gotten here. She kissed him on the cheek, squeezed his hand gently, and was gone.

He was in a chair, in a hallway. That was all he knew. The sun was shining through an open window at the end of the hall. The memory of a young boy standing happily in the sunshine on a summer's day fleeted by. And the image came to him of a young woman kissing her husband on his way to work in the morning. He smiled.

come in with the rain

"And I, I've got you down. I know you by heart. And you don't even know where I start."

It was clear even to a stranger. A person walking down a crowded street could have looked at Bianca and Joe and could have known what somehow eluded Bianca. That while she adored him, he barely even acknowledged she was there.

In restaurants, Bianca would lean in to him, eager to talk, and he would lean back. Joe would take her to sports bars, where he could avoid her under the guise of a football game. Every chance he had, he was checking out other girls.

When they hung out with friends, the two would come together but Joe would always separate from her. He would spend his time chatting with his friends. When Bianca would approach him, he barely looked up and would only grumble a meaningless response.
Even when they were alone, Joe would chatter on about his day or his problems but never ask about hers. When Bianca tried to talk, he would find a way to bring the conversation back around to him or end it all together.

Yet Bianca appeared oblivious. Completely unaware of how little Joe cared. But there was a truth a stranger could never know. Joe cared but didn't know how to show it. He had never been in a relationship and didn't realize there was more to it than just showing up. And Bianca was aware of how Joe treated her. She was trying to be patient but was close to giving up on him.

Maybe a stranger should have pulled Joe aside...

you belong with me

"She wears high heels. I wear sneakers."

There was no way Maia could compete with her. Amanda wore eyeliner and mascara, she got manicures and pedicures, and she wore designer clothes. Maia had never considered indulging in personal beauty services. She only believed in bargain shopping. Her experience in make-up was minimal, and only consisted of people putting it on for her.

To be honest, Maia never wanted to be an Amanda type of girl. That is, until yesterday. She and Amanda were having lunch when a man walked in the cafe. Well to call him a man is really a disservice. He was an adonis, a god. Tall, dark, with these muscles and this smile.

He sat at the table next to them, and quickly turned to introduce himself. He spoke first to Maia, introducing himself as Lance, Maia's delight soon faded when he turned to speak to Amanda. The spark in his eyes changed. There was a light of intrigue and passion that wasn't there when he spoke to Maia.

As the two chatted, Maia began to think about her unshaped eyebrows, messy ponytail, sensible flats, even her unshaven legs beneath her pants. Before she got too emotional, Maia excused herself from the table, making up some excuse about needing to get back to work.

As she rode the elevator up to her office, she thought more about Amanda and herself. Maia had always been the sensible one. Amanda had always enjoyed the spotlight. Maia was captain of the debate team. Amanda was captain of the cheerleading squad. Maia attended Brown with an academic scholarship. Amanda went to Florida and partied.

These things had never bothered Maia. She had always found comfort in her practicality. But today she recognized something their mother had been telling then for as long as she could remember. That Amanda and Maia could stand to be a little more like the other. Maybe it was practical to care more about her looks if Maia ever wanted to get married. She hadn't even had a date in eight months.

Lance had liked Amanda. Her face was dolled up. Her hair was luxurious. Her perfume was alluring. These material things made a difference. After all, Maia and Amanda are identical twins.

breathe

"Its the kind of ending you really don't want to see."

Rebecca remembered closing her eyes. It was painful enough to listen to this argument, let alone watch it unfold. Ben and Yvonne had been going at it for what seemed hours. And there she was stuck in the middle. Again.

The two had had such a fairy tale romance. Ben wooed Yvonne with flowers and romantic dates and love poems. Yvonne had been the perfect poised damsel, awaiting a Prince Charming rescue. So maybe they got swept up in the story. Maybe we all did.

Three years later, there were nothing but fights. Over how the groomer should cut the dogs hair. Over where the TV should be in the bedroom. Over how long it should take for them to eat dinner. Senseless arguments that elevated until the two were screaming.

Rebecca was always in the middle. Yvonne's best friend. Ben's little sister. They called her and she helplessly watched their relationship unravel.

She was so tired of the fighting. Resolutely she opened her eyes. Rebecca stepped in this time. She confronted them in the heat of their argument, and suggested this fight be the last fight. And they listened and followed her instruction.

But Rebecca hated to see the fairy tale end, as much for her own sake as theirs. She had found hope in Ben and Yvonne, a fulfillment of every little girl's dream that she didn't want to let go.