Body of Stars Laura Walter (chrome ebook reader .txt) 📖

lines to connect them as if to conjure new possibilities. The visual evidence of his obsession and his uncertainty.

“Check the back,” he said.

Tucked inside the notebook’s back cover were loose sheets of paper, mangled and torn but taped together in rough topographies. At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, but then I understood: These were the practice drawings I’d ripped to pieces before I left for the mountain two years prior. These were ravaged drawings that my brother patiently put together again, using transparent tape to seal the wounds.

“I thought you should have all of this, especially after I’m gone.” He paused. “It always belonged to you, anyway.”

I clutched the notebook to my chest. On this, the last of our birthdays spent together, we’d given each other paper. Paper like the tissue-thin pages of Mapping the Future. Paper like the drawing of my abductor sealed under my bed. Paper like the letter I’d written to Miles but never sent. Paper like the tarot card revealing the truth of my body and my fate.

Breakable, burnable paper.

*   *   *

In the backyard, my mother prepared a table for my birthday luncheon. She spread out a lace tablecloth, made a centerpiece of lilies, and set five place settings with a seating card tucked behind each plate: Celeste, Marie, Louise, Angel, Cassandra.

I stood barefoot in the grass with my arms crossed, watching her.

“I’d rather spend the day with you and Dad and Miles.” I had to hold myself back from pointing out this was our last guaranteed day together as a family. No one needed that reminder.

“It’s your birthday, too.” My mother adjusted the vase of lilies, making sure it was centered. “You need time with girls your age.”

I did miss the close company of other girls. My friends from the mountain sent me letters enclosed in pale violet envelopes, but it wasn’t the same. Since returning, I’d spent nearly all my time working with Miles and Julia. Even my visits with Marie focused on work. Now, with Cassandra, Marie, and Louise each home from university for fall break, my mother was convinced the timing was perfect for a girls-only birthday lunch.

“They’ll be here any minute.” My mother checked the lilies one more time before letting her gaze rest on me. “You look lovely, Celeste. Like that dress was made for you.”

I wore the blue dress she’d brought to me from her work with vulnerable girls. It was a dress envisioned and crafted as part of therapy, a dress of blues as deep and as complex as water.

Aside from putting on that dress, I didn’t bother much with my appearance. I let my hair hang long and loose, and makeup wasn’t even a consideration—I wasn’t sure if I still had any, and I didn’t care to look. Trying to find an appropriate pair of shoes felt like too much effort, so I remained barefoot. Besides, standing directly on the grass, the slight chill aside, was comforting. It made me feel grounded.

My friends began to arrive. Marie and Louise were first, carrying an overflowing bouquet of flowers between them. Angel was next, wearing a smart pantsuit that made her look older than her fifteen years. She gifted me a delicate silver locket, the space for a photo empty and waiting. I could already see my brother’s image there, miniaturized and hanging close to my heart.

Only one seat was still vacant. I stood and paced, too nervous to relax, until finally she came. Cassandra. She stepped into my backyard in a fitted black dress, her kitten heels digging softly into the grass. She struck me as sophisticated, confident, adult. She was, I reminded myself, a young woman studying to become a doctor. She was going to live a beautiful life.

Instead of the flowers or jewelry I might have expected from Cassandra, she held a wreath of ivy leaves.

“Ivy for remembrance,” she said. “And some say for immortality. May I?” She lifted the wreath and gently placed it on my head, adjusting my hair under it. I stood perfectly still, unsure of how to respond, and grateful when Marie and Louise came forward to help.

“Your hair has gotten so long, Celeste,” Marie said, moving it gently around my shoulders. “It suits you.”

I hadn’t thought of my hair in ages, and I certainly couldn’t remember the last time I’d cut it. It was a part of me, but it didn’t warrant my attention—it just kept growing quietly in the background. Now I ran my fingers through the long strands and marveled at its length, its strength. How it would keep on growing even after Miles was gone.

We took our seats, and my mother served us the food my father was busy cooking inside. Only later would I understand that my parents were giving me a gift. They were showing me that life would go on, that I needed friends and normalcy, and that grief aside, there was beauty in enjoying a warm autumn day with people who mattered to me.

My mother brought out a bottle of dry white wine so my friends could toast my birthday. I kept sneaking sidelong looks at Cassandra until she met my eyes. She knew about Miles. She knew about my work with Julia. She knew, and yet she was so far away from me.

“Marie,” Cassandra said, but her gaze was still on me. “Have you told Louise the story of the banner downtown? The one for the skin cream. Remember?”

“No one could forget that banner,” Marie said with a laugh. In a flurry, she and Cassandra filled Louise in: how the banner showed a naked woman without markings, how the entire town erupted over it, how it was removed in only days. Louise sat listening with wide eyes. She was from a more cosmopolitan city, where she said such a banner wouldn’t be quite as scandalous.

“Some people might have a problem with the nudity,” she clarified, “but not to the extent that it would be removed so quickly.”

“It was a