Page 85 of Falling Like Stars

“I did not bring the Oscar,” I say. “I’m not a complete asshole.”

Jeremy sighs. “Why am I not surprised. You’ve probably shoved it in a closet somewhere.”

“It’s got a shelf.”

“On the back of the toilet,” Rowan puts in.

Jeremy laughs. “Figures. Of all the places in that huge house of yours…”

I shift and shoot Rowan a glance. She reads my silent plea to not tell them I’ve been living in a hotel for the past six weeks and nods.

“I’m not in the house anymore,” I say. “I’ve sold it and…I’m renting a place.”

“Really?” Mom says and exchanges glances with Dad. They both look relieved; the big glass house had been Eva’s idea. “Well, we’re all just so proud of you.”

The topic moves on, but I feel Jeremy watching me. He shoots me a look.

I have questions…

I give him one back.

Later.

The five of us sit and chat, and then chatting becomes talking as the conversation deepens. Jeremy regales us with his exploits and has us all crying laughter. By the time the sun has set, and twilight turns the sky a deep blue, Rowan seems at ease, and my mother acts as if she’s not going to give her up for anything. Dad eventually cooks us his trademark meal: pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad—nothing fancy but everything I love about being home.

At the dinner table, I watch Rowan eat, surrounded by my laughing, warm family. More than once, I catch her looking around as if it were hard to believe a scene like this could exist outside of TV or movies. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe too. How lucky I am and how I want to re-create it someday for kids of my own. The world is brutal enough; I want to build a place that’s stable and safe, like my parents did for me and for Jeremy.

After dinner, Jeremy insists that we all go out for ice cream.

“Yes, let’s,” Mom says. “There’s a small shopping area nearby with a cute Main Street full of shops and restaurants. Rowan, you’ll love it.”

We all pile into Dad’s Suburban, and head out. I’ve put on a hoodie and baseball cap, although with Jeremy around, it’s basically useless to try to go incognito. We look enough alike that he’s stopped on the street almost daily by people thinking he’s me. That night, as we walk down the quaint little street, there’re the usual stares and murmurs, but thankfully, no one approaches for selfies or autographs.

The ice cream shop is a family-owned business called Terri’s. We each order cones and when it comes time to pay, Jeremy pounds my back.

“This one’s on you, Mr. Hollywood.”

“Behave yourself, Jeremy,” Dad says, pulling out his wallet.

“Yes, behave yourself, Jeremy,” I say.

He gives me a dirty look that instantly breaks down into a laugh. Then he turns serious, taking me by the shoulders and staring at me intently. “God, it’s almost like looking into a mirror.”

A smartass remark comes to my lips, but I’m too happy; I missed him too much. All of them. And now Rowan is here, and it feels kind of perfect.

We head outside to find seats; the evening is warm but not yet humid. The only tables that line the front of the shop are built for two. With a lot of loud clanging, Jeremy drags a wrought iron chair to the wrought iron table where our parents are sitting. The last open table is grabbed by a mom and her toddler, so Rowan and I stand against the wall instead with our ice cream cones. Mine, Rocky Road. Hers, mint chocolate chip.

“What’s the verdict?” I ask. “Do you think you can handle a few more days with these people?”

“They’re wonderful,” Rowan says without a trace of her usual edge. “Your dad reminds me of my dad.”

“I feel like that’s a huge compliment.”

“It is. I just… Makes it hard for me to talk to him.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m fine.”

I didn’t ask if she was fine; she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Jeremy is a riot,” she says, clearly changing the subject.

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