Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

much time spent in hell meant I’d take as much goodness as possible. Goodness might push back against the tension that mounted on some days. Today happened to be one of them. Maybe it was appropriate Brooke was here.

I grabbed drinks for the kids, a puffed corn snack for Lexie, and another favorite game, Spot It, and I went back to the living room, serving tray piled high. Charlie and Delia were deep in conversation about something while Lexie spun in a circle. The hushed tones of the kids whispering tunneled into my ears, making me pause, and I stood there, questioning myself and my abilities. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three.

The whispering turned to chittering, and a clamor inside my chest grew. The tray began to shake, drops of grape juice sloshed over the sides of the cups, and a napkin fell to the floor.

“Theo? Theo? You okay?” Brooke took the tray and set it on the table, then put her hand gently on my wrist. Months before, we’d determined a light touch to my wrist pulled me out of wherever I was. “Take a few deep breaths, okay?” she said and guided me to the chair.

The pounding in my chest subsided, but a ticking in my head took its place. “I’m okay. Sorry about that.”

“It’s no trouble. Why don’t you sit here with Charlie and Delia while I put Lexie to bed? Is that okay?”

“Yes, but let me hold her just a minute, please?” I opened my arms, the universal sign for “give me a hug,” and Lexie jumped up on my lap and burrowed her head into my chest as she snuggled against me. Putting her to bed would be my first choice. “Do you think I—”

Brooke held up her hand, palm facing me. “Theo, I’d like to say yes, but I’m going to say no. It’s hard to say that to you. But I’m here to help all of you. And right now, if you stay out here and relax, that’s the best thing for everyone.” She checked her watch. “Take all the time you need with her. Okay?”

I leaned forward, kissing the top of Lexie’s head before she looked up at me and blinked. “Song?”

I’d never been much of a singer, but with Lexie, it hadn’t mattered. A minute into “The Frim-Fram Sauce,” and she’d burrowed in so tightly, it took convincing on my part to get her to go to bed once we’d finished. “Honey, I’ll carry you to your room, but Brooke needs to put you to bed tonight.”

Lexie smiled around the thumb in her mouth and nodded her head. When we reached her room, she flung herself against her small mattress and waved at me. “Night!”

I closed the bedroom door, the ticking keeping time in my head much like a metronome, and then stopped in my room to grab my favorite sweatshirt. Sometimes warming up helped temper the anxiety, but the chair where I’d put the clothing stood empty.

“Charlie, Delia. Where is my sweatshirt?” I asked as I moved through the living room.

“Check the office. And can you hurry? We want to watch a movie!”

“Yes, I’ll hurry. But go ahead and set things up. I’ll be right there.”

And I would have been right there, had a certain slip of paper peeking out of a file folder on Sadie’s desk not distracted me. That paper. A letter from me.

The movie’s opening credits sounded as I unfolded the paper and turned it over in my hands. Fifteen years ago, life had been so different. So good.

My hands shook as I read the letter, my eyes unable to stay on one word for too long. Forever. Filled. Home. Immeasurable. Longing. Beauty. Sleep. Image. And then: Without you, I can’t cope.

Fuck. A sinkhole formed in my chest and tremors coursed through my legs. It took all my energy to put the letter back where it belonged before emotions pulled me under, forcing me to fall onto the couch. My thoughts ricocheted. Sadie had kept the letter, maybe all the letters I’d written. I’d written those letters in the first place. We were so far from there now. What did it all mean? And the kids. They waited for me, the movie waited for me...

Fear and panic would ensue if I thought about the letter anymore, so I walked back to the kids and tried to watch the movie, fists balled at my sides, my jaw clenched. The time couldn’t pass fast enough. Soon, after I’d put Delia to bed with a sloppy kiss to the forehead, I paced while Charlie watched The Princess Bride and Brooke watched me, eyebrows raised.

“You okay, Dad?” Charlie asked for at least the fifth time.

“Yeah. I’m just tired.”

Fatigue didn’t explain the treads I’d worn in the carpet or the hole I’d picked into my jeans. That damn letter.

“Brooke, I can get Charlie to bed. It’s no trouble. You can head back.”

She raised her eyebrows again and narrowed her eyes. “I’m staying, Theo.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well then, head to bed. Will you be here in the morning?”

“I’ll likely leave pretty early, if that’s all right with you.”

“You know it. And really, I’ve got this.”

“I trust you.” Brooke reached over and smoothed Charlie’s hair against his head. “Goodnight, kiddo. Goodnight, Theo.”

Charlie and I sat for an hour more before I bundled him off to bed, hoping against hope my anxiety would begin to subside.

.    .    .    .    .

 

The night vision goggles did nothing to help my view. Out there, in the complete blackness, they lurked: Faces. Eyes. Limbs. Landmines. Everywhere. To the right, to the left, in front, and behind. Flashes of light blinked on and off to my right side, but when I turned my head in that direction, they’d vanished. The flashes picked up to the left, and in anger, I threw my hand out, hoping to hit at least a few, but again, they slipped through my fingers. A blast sounded—one, two, three—with each new step I took,