The Brightest Star in a Constellation

43: Binary Star

☆ Evan ☆

"Surprise!" Elaine calls as she bursts into the room. I crack the hotel door open to let her inside. "It's me. I'm back in town!"

This isn't news to either of us, but I grin and reply, "Really?"

She leans over to hug me and skips into the room. A pile of clothes on the desk chair rivals the height of the bed. Elaine kicks her shoes off in the entryway and leaps onto the bed. She jumps once; her hands graze the ceiling. Like a kid on a trampoline, she jumps again, this time beckoning me to join in on the fun.

I huff a bit, then climb up. And for the few seconds that I hang in midair, I almost feel like I could forget.

Laughing, Elaine collapses into a heap. For a few seconds, there's a silence that we let hang. She's finally back in Northwood. But she's going back after this weekend, and my life is awfully boring without her.

It might be bitter of me, but in my head, that bitterness isn't a bad thing at all. I was fine with the way we were before, when I could predict what would happen. When I didn't have to talk about my fucking emotions. And I keep looking at the door instead of the television screen in front of me. Looking at Elaine, knowing that when she leaves, we'll be back to talking over the phone again.

"How are you doing with staying at the hotel?" Elaine asks as she leans against the bed frame. She turns on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through the channels, and when she blinks, her eyes refuse to open for a long moment, as though she doesn't want to look around again and face my new reality.

"Fine, I guess. It's only temporary. At least until Carolyn has calmed down."

She frowns, turning to me. "It's almost like we're running and hiding from her."

I bite my lip before settling back with her, crossing my arms against my chest. I'll only be here for a few months. Just a few months before I can leave, and before I can stop hiding.

Another few months before I can leave and never look back.

"How is Randall?" I ask. "And your time in Newfoundland—have you become a different person yet?"

Elaine laughs. "He seems fine."

The two of us joke around together. We watch the television screen together. It cycles between commercials advertising dairy farmers and a bunch of PSAs, and the news—broadcasting the weather for next week. Elaine makes an offhand comment about how it's going to rain on Wednesday—like she'll be there to see it.

She takes the hotel phone and orders food for herself and me, grinning conspicuously the entire time.

Eventually, Elaine challenges me to a game of tic-tac-toe using the hotel's complimentary stationary, and she wins the majority of the rounds. Sitting there on the bed, crumpling the bed runner draped on top of the white sheets. I've kept Peter from taking them down to the laundry, and have told him no less than five times that I can clean sheets myself, regardless of that it's his job.

Sitting there with Elaine, I find it difficult to remember any of the games we played as kids. We used to play pretend at escaping, when our phones became flashlights and towels became a house. Sometimes, I would bring snacks, and we'd have to keep our voices down, to make sure nobody could hear us. But it wasn't the darkness I was worried about.