Stardust

The Star and the Aurora

Stardust: The Star and the Aurora

Jake Gallagher

    I woke up sixteen minutes passed seven in the morning. I only awoke that early on school days or in the event that my mother had guests and recruited me to be her errand boy: Jake, do this; Jake, do that; Jake, stop looking so suicidal when I ask for your help. The latter she voiced quite often lately, but it wasn't my fault that "suicide" just so happened to be my natural facial expression.

    It being Christmas, I could sleep until January if I wanted to, but between the boisterous Christmas-party preparations of my family downstairs and the separation anxiety of not seeing or talking to Skylar for three whole days, my psychological clockwork was about as fine-tuned as my mother's car these days, which really wasn't fine-tuned at all — it was currently a lifeless corpse in the driveway. Old Blue's cause of death was unknown to myself seeing as how I floundered at anything that even remotely required being mechanically inclined.

    Last night, after pacing my bedroom for four hours calling everyone that might have known where Skylar was and driving myself into an anxious madness that boiled in my loins and slithered up my spine like an acidic snake, I went to sleep at a godawful 4:15, but not before contemplating walking across town to see if Skylar was in the field or the trailer park. I didn't like the silence between us. I felt his absence like the moon without its changing phases. With how up-in-the-air Skylar's life seemed to be, it scared me not to hear from him.

    Despite just three measly hours of rest, it was pleasant. Brief, but pleasant, for I dreamed of a beautiful guy with stars in his eyes and a smirk aglow with the orange radiance of a cigarette. How I wished for a continuation of that dream when I dragged myself out of the warmth of my bed at 7:18, feeling significantly more cold and tired than I had at 7:16. I brushed my teeth as Jolly drank from the faucet — missing him by a very narrow margin when I spit out the toothpaste — and pulled myself into a pair of jeans and the dark hoodie Skylar left at my house the last time he slept over, seemingly a lifetime ago. It still smelled of him. Like cigarettes, which I had come to appreciate the scent of, Old Spice and the "shower fresh" scent of deodorant. I didn't want to ruin his smell; I put on the faintest layer of deodorant and left the prismatic bottle of cologne my father bought me ages ago at the bottom of the basket beside the sink.

    Not even the slightest ounce of my willingness wanted to go downstairs where I knew my father — who I would refer to as John in the face of my family to keep up appearances — lurked amongst the ornaments and garland and holiday spice potpourri. Hell, I didn't even want to stick around for the gift openings or my extended family's arrivals. I just wanted to get to the front door as swiftly as possible — which wouldn't be very swift considering how the creaky staircase seemed to break the sound barrier when I wanted to go unnoticed — and start the long walk across town in search of Skylar. Not only was I curious to know where he'd been for the last three days, but I wanted to give him the Christmas present I had been anxiously harboring — more like burning holes in my hands whenever I touched its little, bowed box — since the week before Secret Santa. It wasn't anything too extravagant, but I knew he'd appreciate it. It was a necklace; a silver, five-pointed star on a long, thin chain. I stumbled upon it at the mall the day I bought Brennyn's belt, and I knew I had to get it for him. I had never been particularly enthusiastic about buying anything before, let alone jewelry, but I was just as excited — with a touch of vomit-inducing nervousness —  as a man buying an engagement ring.

    I walked into my already laced shoes as Jolly wound his tail around my ankles. I grabbed the palm-sized black box blooming with a white bow from my nightstand. It felt as hot as lava coursing through the veins in my hand. I shoved it in the pocket of Skylar's hoodie, and I thought I would leave it in there when I gave him the hoodie and he would be surprised when he happened upon it when he habitually shoved his hands in his pockets. Satisfied with the plan, I took a step for my bedroom door.