Page 15 of Counting the Stars

“I’m not.” He brushes my hair away but then takes a few rogue curls and gently wraps them around his finger. “My parents both work for our town’s local TV station. My mom is a news anchor, and my dad is a meteorologist.”

“Wow! Would I recognize them?” I try to avoid news and media coverage, but sometimes it’s inevitable. Especially when patients have it on in their rooms. That is definitely something I’m looking forward to when I switch to Pediatrics. Instead of hearing doom and gloom in the background, I’ll hear Sesame Street or Paw Patrol orsomething.

“Not unless you’ve traveled to Elmwood Grove or any of the surrounding areas. I purposely moved to a town where no one would recognize me. My family was constantly under a microscope and I couldn’t stand that. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Keeping up with the Joneses’?”

“Of course.”

“Well, everyone was literally trying to keep up with us. If my mom wore a nice dress on air, the local stores would sell out of it. We couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. I hated going to restaurants because everyone would stare at us, and of course, I had to be on my best behavior.”

“That had to be hard, especially as a little kid.” It’s nice to see people you recognize here and there, but I don’t think I’d want everyone up in my business all the time.

“It was, and I wasn’t a bad kid or anything. But I was the youngest and had a lot of energy. School was the worst. Try going to school after six of your siblings have already passed through. The teachers already had predispositions about me. They expected more of me because I was the brother of Roberto, the crowd pleaser, or Isabella, the math genius. I didn’t get a chance to just be me.”

“That’s so sad.” I attempt to imagine Alex as a little boy. Trying to subdue his larger-than-life personality for the sake of his family’s reputation must’ve been a heavy weight to bear.

“Anyway, back to the insomnia thing. I was under so much pressure to act perfect during the day, I would be a total mess by nighttime.”

“That’s understandable. You were just a child trying to process a bunch of big emotions.”

“Yeah, and I guess my parents tried to understand. I could tell my mom was getting frustrated with me being up all hours of the night. One time, on a particularly rough night, she told me to count sheep. I thought that was ridiculous. I couldn’tpicture sheep in my head. But it gave me an idea. I needed something physical to count and I needed a lot of it.

“I think it was sometime in the fall because I remember putting on my coat and grabbing a blanket,” Alex continues. “I went out back and sat in one of our Adirondack chairs. I decided I was going to count every star in the sky.”

“You do realize that’s impossible.”

“I realize that now. But as a little kid? I had no clue. Anyway, it worked. I have no idea what number I got up to. I doubt it was high since I was so young, but I eventually fell asleep because the next thing I remembered was waking up in my bed. My dad must’ve carried me in. I woke up feeling very refreshed. Being alone outside in the middle of the night was incredibly peaceful. From then on, whenever I couldn’t sleep or just needed to calm down, I would go outside and count the stars.”

“That’s so sweet. I’m glad you found something that worked for you. But…what did you do in the winter?”

“I will admit, there were a few times I went out dressed in my snow gear.” He chuckles. “But enough about me. You have a job to do. Start counting.”

“Wait, that’s crazy. You can’t expect me to—”

“I’d start with that cluster over there.” He grabs my hand and points it upward and to the left.

“Are you serious?”

“Like Hilda giving a tetanus shot. Start counting and if one of those stars blinks, it’s an aircraft and you have to start all over again.”

“But—”

“Those are the rules.”

“Okay, fine.” I begin counting in my head.

“Out loud,please.”

“Oh my God! One, two, three. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. Four, five, six. This is crazy. Seven, eight, nine. Only you, Alex.” My gaze moves over to a large cluster of stars and I keep counting. By the time I’m somewhere in the nineties, my eyes start to feel heavy. “Ninety-ninety.”

“Ready to go home?” Alex says in a hushed tone.

“Mmm…not yet.” I yawn. The tense feeling in my muscles has eased, and the thought of leaving the cozy warmth of the vehicle saddens me. “How do you drive home after doing this?”

“I don’t. I usually just sleep in the car with the windows cracked open to let some fresh air in.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Do you have work in the morning?” He shuffles some things around and leans back, allowing me to lay my head on his chest.

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