Iheld the weathered paper in trembling hands and unfolded it carefully. “I can’tbelieve you kept this,” I said in a quiet voice as I took in his younghandwriting. I smiled as I read a few of the items on the list.CelebrateEvery Birthday with BBQ,Havea Hot Girlfriend,Be Molly’s Friend Forever… “How many of these have come true?”
“Allof ‘em,” he said with confidence. “In one way oranother, every single one of ‘emhas come true.SoI’mthinkin’, maybe there wassomething to that wholewritin’ ‘emdown thing.”
Ismiled, scanning my eyes along the ruled piece of paper. “Maybe there is.”
“Rememberwhen you told me you stoppedwishin’ for stuff,because you only wanted to work for the things within your reach?”
Inodded solemnly, as I lowered the paper to my chest. “Yeah …” My voice came outas a whisper, enveloped in darkness and the noises of the night.
“So,let’s pretend everything’s within your reach right now.” He pointed toward thesky and held me tight. “What would you wish for?”
Ithought about what my reply should be and what I should tell him. I wondered ifI should be honest and tell him exactly what I wished for more than anythingelse. But instead, I told him, “Kylie called me today,” figuring it was as gooda segue as any. “She wants to be my manager, sign me onto Blue Daisy Records,and get an album recorded as soon as humanly possible. To keep the momentumgoing, I guess.”
Mygaze was pinned to the sky, but I felt him nod. “Dev told me they were givingyou a call, and they’re right. If you’regonnago forit, now’s the best time. Strike while the iron’s hot.”
Ihummed contemplatively, and the conversation lulled into nothing, but ourthoughts were loud enough to echo through the night. We were at a precipice ina relationship that had the potential to last an eternity but could also endwith a simple difference in choice. I wondered if love was enough. I wonderedif our bond was strong enough. I wondered ifwewere enough. My vision blurred, speckling the starlit sky withtears, and I blinked them away. My gaze settled on one star, seemingly brighterthan the rest. It winked at me and I made a wish.
Then,I prepared myself for the worst. “I haven’t given her an answer yet,” Iconfessed.
“That’sgood. You should think about it first.”
“Idon’t need to think about it,” I replied meekly, as I pulled out my phone. “Ijust wanted to show you something first.”
“Sure,”he nodded eagerly, taking it from me, and I swallowed a deep breath.
35
Molly
CHAD
“ATTHE BEGINNINGofthis summer, on a plane to Connecticut, I had told Chad that I was afraid, andthat he was always meant to be the star, not me. He’d told me that the starsaren’t in competition with each other. That the sky is big enough for all ofthem, and they need each other to shine, to become a part of something huge. Hemade a promise to me that night, that if he possessed the ability to dim thestars, he would. Just to make me feel a little brighter than all the rest.
This summer, I realized he waswrong about the stars. Yes, there is plenty of room for all of them in the sky,and yes, they do need each other. But some aremeantto bedim—blackedout, even. And they help to make the others appear brighter; the ones meant tobe noticed.
Chad was meant to be noticed.He was meant to shine, and he does, while also managing to handle theresponsibility of being in the public eye with dignity. Even while battling adisease I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Even while the public has chosento shove him and our relationship undeservingly underneath a microscope.
Then, there’s me. And asblessed as I’ve been to have experienced the opportunities that this summerbrought for me, I have to say, nothing has made me feel brighter than by simplybeing with him.
So, with little regret, I’ve madethe decision to forget the stars and simply be with him.”
***
“So,”I said, my voice gruff and rasped to my ears, “you’re turning them down.”
“Iam,” she confirmed, confident and sure.
Inarrowed my eyes at the sky. “Is this because of all the—”
Mollyshook her head. “No. I mean, is it shitty that there are a bunch of people outthere saying crap about us? Sure. But that’s not what this is.”
Iwinced apprehensively before saying, “You sure? Because itkindasounds like you’re running away.”
Shepulled herself up and out of my grasp. Her knees were hugged to her chest andher sigh resounded through the night. “I realized something recently, Chad; I’mperfectly content where I’m at. As cool as it was to play for thousands ofpeople every show, I don’t love it. You know what I do love, though?”
“Me,”I replied cheekily, and she laughed, shoving against my leg.
“Obviously,”she laughed. “But I also love the Locust Lounge. I love the regulars that showup to listen to me sing. I love the occasional newcomers who become regulars. Ieven love Donnie.” She tipped her head back, andall ofthose curls fell over her back in beautiful disarray. “It’s comfortable, youknow?And for a long time, I thought comfortable was bad.Like, uh … like a habit meant to be broken orsomethin’.But I realized over these past few months that sometimes comfortable is justfine. And if it’s not broken, why fix it?”
