To Catch a Falling Star (45 page)

I need you to promise me you are going to be happy without me. I need you to promise you will move on. I need you to promise you are going to love again. I need you to promise you will be okay.

Remember the tree under which I proposed to you? Its name means “tree of life.” Never allow our love to become a crypt and imprison you. This box symbolizes how I see our relationship. A treasure. Lock our precious memories inside and visit them occasionally. But move on, darling.

When I think of you, I think of your brave heart, your kind soul, and the bright halo surrounding you.

As I leave this earth, I’ll carry your smile with me, but please don’t let it die from your lips because of me.

Don’t settle for anyone less than someone who takes your breath away.

I lift my eyes to stare at my surroundings. Nothing has changed. The trees continue to sprout their new leaves. The air is nippy, the flowers huddle together, and my heart remains broken.

Before writing of his endless love of me, Tim ended the letter with a quote from J. R. R. Tolkien’s
The Hobbit
, his favorite book:

“Farewell, wherever you fare till your eyries receive you at the journey’s end! May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.”

I love you, my dear.

I love you infinitely and eternally.

Fly, my dear, fly fearlessly; fly to the arms of happiness. Because I want you to do so.

Forever yours,

T.

Life is funny and capricious. For years, I’ve waited for an aha! moment that would free me from my cage of pain, but that never happened. I held on to a lost love, broken dreams, and a future that would never come. I wonder how much I lived my life and how much I dwelled on my pain and losses.

I clench the letter to my chest, the crisp paper crackles under my firm grip. My heart continues to ache because I miss Tim. Yes, I miss and love him with all my heart. Always will. However, the ache no longer suffocates me. It reminds me of the special privilege to have had him. It hurts without consuming me. I now understand what letting go means. I smile and let go. When I do, I feel Tim’s presence stronger than ever. It feels as if I had to let go of the pain to be closer to him. Instead, I held on to the pain, desperately and vainly trying to keep him closer.

“Oh, Tim, please forgive me for selfishly holding on to us, and becoming bitter instead of rejoicing about how beautiful we were together.”

I smile. All I want at this moment is to have Tarry’s arms surround me. I remember what he told me regarding bald eagles mating for life. “Oh, Tim, how would you have known?”

I inhale the cold air deeply. Life is not always what we want. It’s not a fairy tale. But I make peace with the lot given to me. My heart swells with love. I’m privileged to love two of the most amazing men I’ve ever met. The knowledge makes me closer to Tim than ever. Also, it heals my wings and releases my soul to freely love Tarry.

“Yes, Tim, I’ll soar. I’ll boldly soar high and far.”

I NEGLECT THE speed limit, red lights, and stop signs. With record speed and after breaking my personal rigid rules of following traffic laws, my car screeches to a stop at Will’s house.

I storm out of the car and inside the unlocked front door.

“Hey, Mel.” Portia is spoon-feeding Livia and Ella is feeding Antoine.

“Mom, you’re back!” Ella abandons the spoon and jumps in my arms.

“Hi, sweetie.” I kiss her cheeks. “Hi, Portia.” I glance at a surprised Portia.

“Mel, why are you here? I thought you were spending a couple of days at the shack.”

“Change of plans,” I say.

“Mom, you want to help me feed Antoine?” She heads back to her task.

“Go ahead, honey, you’re doing a good job,” I reply and study the baby. He has the same color eyes as Tarry. I approach him. The moment he glances my way and bounces his chubby hands, he grabs my heart. I smile. “He is beautiful,” I say.

“He looks just like Tarry. Have you seen pictures of Tarry as a baby?” Portia asks me.

“No,” I say. I sit next to him. “Hey, Antoine, you’re a very cute boy.”

He rewards me with a toothless smile and a giggle.

“He likes you, Mommy,” Ella says as she slides another spoon of baby food in his mouth.

“Yeah, I think he does.” I compose myself and turn to Portia. “Where is Tarry?”

“He’s in the city.”

“Why is Antoine here? Where is Nola?”

“You haven’t read about them lately, huh? And since you don’t allow me to talk to you about Tarry, you’re clueless to the hell Tarry has been going through.” Portia sighs.

“Tarry and Nola finalized the custody papers last month, Mel,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“Nola tried to do the oldest trick there is and got pregnant to trap Tarry. According to Tarry, she realized her modeling career was over. Since she knows about Tarry’s fortune, she figured she would have his heir.” She wipes Livia’s face, then picks her up from the high chair.

I do the same with Antoine. “Hey, I’m Auntie Mel,” I croon to Antoine. His small fingers tangle in my hair. He rubs his eyes.

“Let’s change their diapers. They’re both exhausted.”

“Mom, I’m going to watch TV with Uncle Will and Dominique,” Ella says.

“Sure, honey. I’ll help Auntie Portia with the babies.”

“What Nola didn’t anticipate was that Tarry would sober up.” Portia shakes her head. “She thought Tarry, like Monique, would overdose soon. And she would be the mother of his only heir.”

“Oh, my God.” I follow Portia to the nursery. We change the babies and put them in their cribs. Whoa, it’s starting to sink in. Portia has a crib for Antoine.

“Tarry’s sobriety and the reality of having a baby worked against her plans,” Portia says. “As soon as Antoine was born, Nola got restless. At first, Tarry thought it was just postpartum depression. Also, he realized he was not the best partner—his mind was always drifting to you. According to Tarry, Nola refused to hold the baby, she complained about stretch marks ruining her career. She chose not to breast-feed, which was a relief for Tarry, since she smokes, drinks, and shoots up cocaine. She was bored and resentful with them. She blamed Antoine for Tarry not touching her.”

“What happened to her?”

“Have you been living under a rock?” Portia asks. “After relinquishing her maternal rights of Antoine to Tarry, Nola eloped with one of the richest men of Monte Carlo.”

“What?”

“Yep, as of now, poor Antoine is up for maternal adoption.” She flashes me a meaningful smile.

“Whoa, I can’t believe she left them.”

“I can. Nola never loved Tarry. In fact, Tarry supported her through the pregnancy and the birth of the baby, but he only interacted with her for the sake of Antoine.”

“Why is Antoine here with you?”

“Because Tarry and Antoine are moving here, Mel.”

“Oh.”

“By the way, Tarry left you something. I think it’s for your birthday. It’s on the counter.” She points to the counter.

“Thank you.”

I walk to the counter and spot a bouquet of chamomile. My heart beat increases. With trembling fingers, I retrieve the small card attached to the flowers. I open the envelope and read the note.

My sweet Melody,

Please meet me at Times Square at midnight.

Love,

T.

I wonder how he knew I would come back for him.

I sit on a stool and reread the note. It’s only eight o’clock, so I have plenty of time to get to him.

“THE HEART OF the world, the center of our galaxy—that’s what it is,” Portia said once as we looked up at the bright digital screens.

I stand at Times square, the center of the world and the center of our galaxy. My heart reaches to a record high. My cell phone rings. Wondering if it’s Tarry, I answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello.”

“Hello, lady.” A cheerful male voice greets me. It can’t be. Too many emotions, my poor heart won’t take it.

“This is Elvis Duran from
The Elvis Duran Show
. I heard that at midnight you will start celebrating your birthday, so I called you to wish you a marvelous birthday.”

I need to produce an answer, but my wits vanish and my voice falters. Finally, I mumble, “Thanks.” I can’t believe I’m talking to Elvis Duran.

“You must be wondering why I’m calling you.” I look around and don’t see Tarry.

“Well, here at the station, we are big fans of Tarry Francis, so when he called us and ask us to introduce his new single, we were only too happy to do it.”

I’m confused. My mind is sluggish from the nerves of talking to Elvis.

“So, with no further delay I want to introduce, ‘Sweet Life Melody.’”

I look at a billboard directly above me and a countdown in black-and-white numbers begins.

“But before I go, I heard you lost a bet to Tarry, Melody. So pay up.”

Like an idiot, I mumble a good-bye and hang up. God, I had the chance to talk to Elvis Duran, but I became mute, and I made a fool of myself. Before I can beat myself up about it, the huge digital screen displays my painting with the quote “Follow your dreams, because one day you will die.” It’s the quote I used to have on my windowsill flashing on the digital screen. The image smears and a valley of chamomiles spread before the camera.

My breathing halts. My heart feels like it’s somersaulting. My eyes are fixed on the screen and I see Tarry appearing alone in the middle of the vast field. He holds an acoustic guitar. He begins singing; the melody is pure, but bold. The camera zooms back and shows the band playing with him. A new flash of the same quotation appears, transitioning the band to a different field of chamomiles. Tears brim in my eyes. Another billboard lights up and displays another field of chamomiles, then a third screen shows yet another one, then a fourth. Dozens of digital screens flash fields of chamomiles. The sight is a wonder. Each billboard has a different field, but all show a flash of the music video containing Tarry with his band.

Tears are rolling down my face when the song ends. I close my eyes and wipe my tears.

“Melody!”

I can recognize the low raspy voice anywhere. My insides melt at the sound of my name. There is only one person who has the ability to make my name sound like a note.

I open my eyes, and turn toward the voice. Tarry stands in front of me, sporting a full beard. He holds a bottle of shaving cream and a small bouquet of chamomiles. His eyes are the deep shade of a stormy sky. The same eyes I’ve missed so much.

“I need shaving. Badly,” he says and his eyebrows knit together.

For a moment, I forget we are in a public place. I jump inside his embrace. He drops the shaving cream and the flowers. His arms form a vise around my waist. Tears escape. His scent overwhelms my senses. My body trembles. I’m torn by the overpowering desire to consume Tarry and the reality of where I realize we are.

“Tarry!” Tears continue to roll down my face. “God, Tarry, I’ve missed you. I love you—”

His lips crush mine. We are at the heart of the world and center of our galaxy, but everything disappears around us. There is just Tarry and me. For a moment, all stars have aligned into perfection. Without touching one another they burst into a perfect display of shooting stars. They blaze so beautifully that they are blinding. This is one of those perfect moments. I inhale his pure scent. I surrender and melt into his smoldering embrace. I know I’ve caught one of the falling stars. I know I’ll never let it go.

After a long kiss, Tarry surfaces for air. “Mel, please take me back, I can’t go on without you.” I have never heard Tarry’s voice so pained.

“How did you know I was going to come here?” I ask.

“An old friend said you would. And I decided to have a little faith.”

“God, Tarry, is this really happening? I feared you were over me, over us,” I say between sobs.