Page 4 of To Love the Stars too Fondly

Feeling cheeky, I covered my name tag with my hand. “What’s my name, Alex?”

“Your name is Terra.”

I couldn’t smile anymore. She’d said it so genuinely. The order was up, and when Barbs handed the steaming cup to me, I offered it to Alex, noting how she very deliberately didn’t brush my fingers with her own. I’d never bothered to notice the complexity of her tattoos before, but with her biceps—tragically—covered, I managed to catch a proper glimpse of the neo-traditional nude mermaid on her forearm, surrounded by some sort of geometric pattern—

And the horrific, scarred gash running from her wrist to the crease of her elbow. “Enjoy your Saturday,” I said, forcing eye contact instead.

Big mistake. She looked so god-awful sincere. “You too, Terra.”

Maybe it was good that Liam hadn’t come in today. He’d never shut the hell up over that.

She left, but I couldn’t even think about her bubble butt in those black jeans. That scar…. It was like looking under a supervillain’s mask. Like it was forbidden. Some secret the world had never been meant to know.

“Terra, do you want to take your break?”

The lull before the storm was a good time, or perhaps Barbs noticed I was miles away. I nodded and disappeared into the backroom, grateful for the hum of old fluorescent lighting and the rattling AC to block out my thoughts.

I didn’t know much about Alexandria Winthrop, only that she’d started coming in almost daily over a year ago, dressed to work out on weekdays. I'd hated her from the start.

Liking her was much too dangerous.

I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket—missed call from mom, unread message from Liam, unread message from Cliff—

Free tonight? There’s a party at Jamison’s place. Lots of booze and a basement we can sneak off to 😏

My stomach dropped. Technically yeah, but tomorrow was Sunday rush day, and sleeping for twelve hours beforehand at minimum was high on my to-do list. I typed up a few words: I dunno. I’m pretty tired.

My hands felt cold. What if he was mad? Cliff gave me hives. Dammit, dammit….

I erased the reply. I’d figure it out later.

Liam had shared a meme from his apparent deathbed. I knew he was with his husband sleeping off some punk concert from last night, but Barbs didn’t.

Thinking of you today ❤️, Mom’s text said. I stared a moment, wracking my brain through the fog of perpetual exhaustion and too much caffeine, then glanced at the calendar on the wall and remembered.

Five years. How was that possible?

My stomach hurt as I pulled Instagram up on my phone and stupidly typed in the name Eloise Vanderborne.

She smiled alone on her memorial page photo, and scrolling through her photos meant reminding myself that I’d been utterly erased by her family. There was nothing here, just a blank template of a perfect daughter, tragically taken before her time.

I hadn’t gone to the funeral. I’d still been in the hospital.

“I miss you, El,” I whispered, but I shoved the rest away and swallowed my tears. I couldn’t cry at work; I’d never stop.

I love you, Momma, I replied, then was forced to stare at the message I’d left on read.

Cliff would see it. He’d know I’d blown him off. Dammit all. Instead, I wrote and sent: I’ll think about it. 😜

Before I could even set her phone aside, it buzzed again. Could I get a sneak peek?

I glanced at the door, not realizing I was shaking until I stumbled through undoing my top buttons and turned on my camera. It was good to be wanted though, right?

I’d forgotten to move my laundry, so it was a dirty sports bra day. Whatever. I pulled it down, snapped a selfie, and hit send.

Tonight wasn’t the night to be alone, anyway.

After El’s death, Mom had moved heaven and earth to get me into therapy with her shitty insurance. The therapist had warned me against ‘self-destructive behaviors’ or some shit. After Liam’s teasing, I’d looked up the word ‘fawning’, confused at first because I didn’t think I was doing any sort of flattery, only to stumble upon a psych article and realize maybe I didn’t want to know what it meant after all.