Generations 2.7 kindle (40 page)

“But still,” she said, still keeping her eye on the constellation. “Everyone would know about it. There would be pictures of it and stuff.”

“Nope. It’s space’s best kept secret.”

She looked at him again. “That can’t be real. I know I’m not an expert on astrology, but there is no such thing as the Amore Constellation.”

He laughed out loud. That was just too good. “It’s not astrology …
 
it’s astronomy,” he said lightly. He didn’t want her to get embarrassed.

“Oh, yeah. I was … kidding.”

“Right,” he teased. “But just a word of advice: don’t represent yourself if you ever have to appear before a judge.”

She smiled and then put her eye back to the eyepiece. She searched in silence again. Then she said, “That cannot be real. You’re trying to punk me, aren’t you?”

 
“No. How could I mess with the cosmos—that’s impossible. Even for a Wilder.”

Again, the silence. He could see her jaw was set. She looked absolutely serious. Studious. Then she smiled, her eye still at the telescope. “I don’t know how you did it … but those stars aren’t real. I can’t see the gases. They aren’t shimmering. They’re completely … inert. And the color is off too. They’re too white.”

“Stars can be different colors—depending on the temperature of their surface.”

She looked up at him again and gave him a look of consideration. Then she shook her head. “Nope. I’m not buying it. Nice try though; you almost had me.”

He didn’t give anything away. Yet. He held his face in poker-perfect impassiveness. He knew that he could convince her that the Amore Constellation was real. He had some astronomical terminology up his sleeve that would do the trick. But then his face gave way to a smile. He didn’t want to misuse her trust. He reached to the lens and pulled off the vinyl sheet and handed it to her. It was clear—except for those small dots in the perfect shape of a heart.

Kat looked triumphant. “Ha,” she said. “You can’t fool me.”

He slid his stool next to hers, and turned so that he was facing her, their legs intersecting. “If I could write your name in the stars—for real—I would. I’m not afraid to tell the world what you mean to me. I just was hesitant to do so because of you; I wanted to protect you … from the ugliness of the media. But I didn’t realize how keeping it private would make you feel. I didn’t give you any kind of public affirmation of my feelings. Which makes it understandable that you would think … think that I was using you. But I’m not. You’re everything to me. And I’m going to show you that—all the time, not just when we’re alone together.”

She put her hand on his, looking somewhat somber. “I thought that it was best to keep it private too. But it just felt—I dunno, fake or something. Like it wasn’t real—just a dream.”

“My dreams are never that good,” he said with a smile. Really, if his dreams were as euphoric as the time he spent with Kat, he’d never want to get out of bed.

“And I don’t think you need to write my name in the stars,” she smiled a mischievous smile. “I think you already announced … everything … to the world when you showed up at the skating rink.”

“Yeah, the Kat’s out of the bag.”

She gave a little giggle. “I’m sure that news is spreading like brushfire right now.”

“The pap’s probably out in full force, scouring the streets of L.A. for us.”

This time she didn’t laugh. She gasped. “I bet they are back at my house! My dad’s probably freaking!”

“We’ll help you out, any way we can. We’ll hire you a public relations rep. And get security in place. Hopefully it won’t get too crazy. Just tell your dad that if he’s going to cross-dress, he needs to close the blinds first.” Ben surprised himself by that joke. Because what happened with Malia’s dad wasn’t funny. At least it hadn’t been at the time. Although plenty of people had laughed about it. But Ben had seen the pain that it inflicted on Malia when her dad was caught gallivanting through the house in a mini-skirt and stilettos. Now—all this time later, and a heart that still struggled to find anything positive about Malia—maybe it was laughable to think of what her dad had done. Just a bit.

Kat must have thought it was funny, because she gave an all-out hearty laugh. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. My dad can’t fit into my clothes. He’s got a beer belly.”

K
at let Ben lead her away from the little shed with the telescope. They went back to that intersection that was marked with the star sign. This time, they took the other fork—the one that was marked with a painted white lily. About thirty feet down the trail, Ben stopped and turned off the flashlight. Kat could see lights up head: brilliant blue lights hanging from trees and lining the pathway. As she got closer, she could see that they were globes of hand blown glass. And there were dozens of them—maybe hundreds—decorating a small clearing. She stopped to touch one of the globes that was hanging from a lantern rod. It was solar powered. The brilliant color it omitted looked magical. She felt like she’d just walked into an enchanted forest.

They walked into the clearing, the blue globes framing in a large circle. At the center of the clearing was an arbor and a patio table. The table was set with fine china. Kat looked at Ben with her mouth agape. And she couldn’t get her mouth to close. Or to make a sound.

He squeezed her hand. His face was calm, happy, proud. “You hungry?” he asked.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Exactly. I knew we couldn’t be out here for long without food.”

 
He escorted her to the table and pulled out her chair. “Hold on a sec,” she said. She pulled her cell out of her pocket. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get some pictures of this.” She looked at her phone—no service. Sheesh. Were they really still in California? She wanted to ask more about their location—not because she was worried or anything. Just curious. But she didn’t want to ruin the ecstasy of the moment.

She took pictures of everything: the white china, the teak table, a blue globe, Ben. Ah, Ben. She couldn’t believe how good it was to see him again—in person. “This is so awesome, Ben.” She knew she was smiling a goofy, I’ve-been-bitten-by-the-love-bug-smile, but she couldn’t stop. This was seriously the most amazing night, ever. She couldn’t imagine even her wedding night trumping this. Unless,
 
of
 
course,
 
it
 
was
 
Ben
 
that
 
she
 
married, then ….

She forced herself to stop that train of thought. She was getting
way
ahead of herself.

“You like it?” Ben asked. “I didn’t know what color lights to do. I realized that I don’t know what your favorite color is.”

“Oh. It’s blue, actually.” Kay, so she’d never given that answer before. But don’t be so judgmental. Maybe purple just wasn’t doing much for her anymore. And Ben’s eyes were blue, so it only made sense to change her favorite color. So it was blue now. And probably would be for the rest of her life.

“Lucky guess,” he said.

 
Kat expected, what with the fine china and elegant ambiance, to have a five-course meal served. She laughed out loud when a butler—dressed in full waiter attire—lifted the silver lid off the tray he had just placed in front of her, revealing a paper bag bearing the name In and Out Burger. “A Double, no onions,” the waiter said.

After the waiter left—vanishing into some dark spot in the forest—Ben asked, “Is this okay? Would you rather eat something else?”

“You kidding me? What could possibly beat a Double?”

“Lobster maybe. Or swordfish.”

She laughed again. “I don’t see any of those on the menu.” She pointed at his plate, which also had a In and Out bag. “Unless the food in your bag didn’t really come from a burger joint.”

He pulled out his burger. She could see the grease seeping through the paper wrapping. He had to be cringing, but he took a bite anyhow.

After dinner, Ben turned on his flashlight and walked Kat away from the clearing. They went downhill a bit, to another, bigger clearing. This one wasn’t lit at all. And then he turned off the flashlight. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

“Ah, Ben? I can’t see anything. Why do I need to close my eyes?”

“Because I said so,” he said in this mock parental voice.

She obeyed. He held her arm and pulled her forward several feet, then a few steps sideways.

“Okay, sit down now,” he said.
 

She cautiously sat back, hating that feeling of not knowing when (or if) her butt was going to make contact with a chair. And for all she knew, he could be telling her to sit on a rock. But then again, this was Ben and not her Dad. It would be a chair.

When she felt the seat, she opened her eyes. It took a little while for her eyes to adjust to the dark. The chair that she was sitting on was warm. She put her hands down on the seat. It was the softest leather she’d ever felt. And it was heated. Heaven. Finally, her eyes adjusted and she could see Ben. He was sitting on a chair identical to hers—a plush lounge chair. His was set right next to hers, their armrests touching.

“Recliners,” he said. “So we can stargaze.” He pushed a button and his chair reclined.

She didn’t recline hers just yet so she could see everything around her. There was a dark spot on the ground about ten feet ahead of them. “Is that a pond?”

“Technically, it’s a lake. But it’s not much bigger than a pond.”

“Is it stocked?” Her dad would be all over that.

“Yeah.” Ben told her that he actually caught his first fish here, back when he was six or so. “Come to think of it, this is the only place I’ve ever freshwater fished.” Then he told her about a few of his deep sea fishing trips. Yeah, she definitely needed to get out more often. Her life was so boring in comparison with his. So unspectacular. And even though he’d just said that he’d write her name in the stars, she still didn’t understand that—why he had picked her. It was perplexing. And completely amazing.

Just a few feet in front of them was a small fireplace—it was gas, not wood. So her hair and clothes wouldn’t smell like campfire all night. It was going to be hard to go camping with her dad this summer. Ben’s luxurious take on the great outdoors was much more enjoyable.

“Did you bring stuff for s’mores?” she asked. Not that she was hungry. But it just seemed fitting.

She saw Ben give a look of shock. “I didn’t even think about that. Dang. I’ve never even had a s’more.”

“What!” Her voice echoed across the pond. “Kay, I just won for infinity. That beats all. Never had a s’more? Unbelievable! You poor, deprived boy.”

He chuckled and said, “We’ll have to do that next time.”

She reclined her chair all the way, so that she was practically lying down. They both had their eyes fixed on the sparkling sky. It was absolutely silent. Completely peaceful. Perfectly serene.

Eventually, Ben spoke again. “It really puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it?” She looked away from the sky. His face looked peaceful. Like how Taylor looks when she’s asleep—when a child is closest to heaven. “Your place in the world,” he continued. “We are all so small, so insignificant. So powerless.”

“And you like that feeling?” she asked. To her, that feeling was discouraging. Hopeless, almost.

“Yeah. I do. I think I need it.” He was quiet for a minute. When he spoke again, he sounded subdued. “Everywhere I go in this world, I’m
someone
. I can’t escape that, no matter what.
But if I focus for long enough and feel like I’m out there,” he gestured to the dark expanse above them, “it all changes. Looking on the earth from out there—from a different perspective—I’m a
no-one
. I’m just this little speck like everyone else.”

Even with the darkness around them, Kat could see the passion—the depth—behind those eyes. Or maybe she could just feel it. The intensity, the ceaseless assiduity that was the essence of Ben. She could imagine him sitting outside for hours, letting his spirit soar into the vastness of the heavens, just so he could feel small. Insignificant. Powerless. The antithesis of what the rest of humanity was looking to feel. She understood why he would do this, but somehow, she felt he was wrong in looking for that verification. He was bigger than the rest of the specks for a reason. But she didn’t know how to say that without taking away his blissful state. She thought it through carefully, choosing her words with precision.

“You see that star right there?” she asked. When Ben had his eyes on it as well, she began her approach of the issue. “You see how bright it is?”

“Yeah.” Ben’s tone sounded like “Ah … hello? You just noticing some of the stars are brighter than others?”

She hadn’t proved herself to be a real brainiac so far that night, so she jumped into her prose quickly. “Do you think that maybe the reason it’s brighter is because it has a greater responsibility? Like to guide night-travelers? And that if it wanted to be like all the other stars—small and dim—people might get lost. People always need something—or someone—to guide them. They are always looking for leaders, role models. Stars to guide the way.”
He looked at her with creased eyebrows. Not that he looked angry, but more contemplative. “So you don’t think I should want to be … small. Like everyone else?”

“I can see why … why you’d want that. It’s completely understandable that you would want to just blend sometimes. But no matter how much you wish for that, it’s not going to change who you are. You have a great privilege to lead, to do good, to help others find their way. You have an opportunity that reformists around the world spend their waking—and sleeping hours—praying for.”

“I’m just a musician, Kat. Not a reformist. I don’t have an agenda. I’m just supposed to entertain. Not preach to people.”

“I know. Right now, that’s what it’s about. But you are the voice of our generation. Do you realize how amazing that is? When you sing, the world listens. Don’t you see the power in that? The power to do good. The power to lead. The power to change lives, and change the world.”

He was still quiet, but he leaned in closer. The creased eyebrows were gone. He pulled up the sleeve on his sweatshirt and held up his arm. “You gave me goose bumps,” he whispered. His eyes looked bright, but concerned. “I guess I haven’t thought about it like that. I spend most of my time just trying to stay on top. It’s … hard to balance sometimes. Like running on a log. You can’t ever slow down … can’t ever lose your momentum. It’s tiring. Consuming.”

Her heart bled for him. He sounded so … overwhelmed. So fatigued. She regretted adding more weight to his life. “I can’t even imagine … how you keep your balance. I’m so impressed with your stamina. And that’s what makes you a natural leader. People need someone that they can count on. Someone who will never surrender. But, I don’t think you need to worry about all that right now. Just know that you’re in training, and that someday, when you see injustice, you’ll be ready to step up and lead.”

Ben grasped her hand in his. “You’re pretty awesome,” he said. His voice was quiet, like he was overcome with emotion.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she replied. “This entire night. Wow. It’s been incredible. Thank you … for all of this. And for asking me to prom. Are you sure you want to go? It’s in a high school, after all.”

“Of course I want to go.” He was quiet, and then he asked, “Why? You want to go, don’t you?” She could hear the apprehension in his voice.

“Shya. Totally.”

“You sure? Because you did … hesitate when I asked you.”

She gave a little laugh. “I did, didn’t I?” She rolled to her side, completely turning her body towards him. “I was just a little … in awe. It was so unexpected.” At the time, she’d thought that surely she was dreaming. It seemed so idyllic. Too good to be true. She’d worried that she’d look down and find herself naked in front of all those people. That was more like what happened in her dreams. But then he’d brought her out of that trance and asked her again. “Well, Kat?” he’d said. Wow. He was the one that was naked—exposed. He’d made himself entirely vulnerable. He had asked Kat to prom even though he knew that she was mad at him. She could have said no. Well, actually, she knew she couldn’t have. How could she ever say no to Ben? But he didn’t know that—did he? He had risked public humiliation. For her. It was more than endearing. It was like he had taken her heart away from her body and locked in up in a tower that could never be accessed. She would never get her heart back. Ever. And she actually didn’t want it back. She wanted Ben to have it, forever.