Reliving Yesterday ✔

Chapter 33.

When I rolled over, I realized that there was a crick in my neck and no pillow under my head. I frowned, my eyes still closed. I crumpled the blanket between my finger and buried my head in it and breathed in. A familiar scent infiltrated my nose and I opened my eyes. The blankets smelled like Parker. Soon, I sat up and all the memories of last night filtered into my brain.

*

"You know I know exactly how many stars are on that ceiling," Parker said, confidently, smiling up at the ceiling.

"You do not," I argued, also confident.

"I do," he insisted, slightly turning his head to face mine for second before he turned back to face the ceiling.

"How many?" I asked, challengingly.

"Forty-five," he said and began counting along the lines.

I waited silently as he counted all of the stars he had put on my ceiling so many years ago. He looked happy; he looked like he had left every little thing that was bothering him miles away and he was completely here with. His mind wasn't racing and thinking of a million things at once; he was wholly here, doing something as mundane as counting dusty stars on my ceiling.

"Forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty .... four," his arm that he was holding up, pointing at each star, went limp and fell to his side, falling heavily on to the bed between us, "I know I put up forty-four stars, Alex. I'm positive. I wasn't very sure whether I could count well back then so I counted them about thrice. There's got to be one more. I'm going to count again."

"No," I laughed and grabbed the arm that he extended to the ceiling. I reached across the bed, under my pillow and pulled out on more star. "Forty-five." I held it up to Parker. He took it from my hand and turned it over in his own.

"Did you pull it off the ceiling?" he asked, widening his eyes.

I laughed. "No," I replied, "It fell off one day, a few years ago and I could didn't want to part with it because I love them and never actually put it back up because –,"

"Because you can't get two steps up a damn ladder," Parker chuckled, keeping his eyes trained on the star.

I shoved him and he chuckled some more.

He pushed himself to sit and then took off his shoes and socks and stood on my bed and reached the star up to the ceiling. He found the place it had fallen from and stuck it back on. Miraculously it stuck. Parker then plopped back down and laid down next to me to admire his handiwork.

"Tell me something," I said.

"Hmm?"

"Why forty-five?" I asked.

He turned his head to look at me. He smiled. "It's cheesy," he said, looking sheepish, "It's the addition of our birthdays. Fourteenth for me and thirty-first for you."

I breathed out a laugh, unable to say anything because of the breath constricting in my lungs. Parker had always been meaningful like that it had always overwhelmed me. "That is cheesy," I said, finally, making Parker chuckle.

We lapsed into silence.

"Why'd you keep the star?" Parker voiced, softly.

I sighed. "Because you put it up there," I confessed, "It was special to me. It's a reminder of a good time in life. And I love stars."

Parker nodded.

"Remember that time we started a water fight?" he asked.

I smiled. "Which time, Parker? There were so many."