Understanding the Stars Read online

  Understanding the Stars

  By X. Culletto

  Copyright Xela Culletto

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-10: 1520283180

  ISBN-13: 978-1520283180

  No parts of this book may be used or produced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This book is dedicated to

  Alexis, who has waited patiently for a complete novel from me,

  Garth, who supported me every step of the way,

  and Michael, whose companionship means the world to me.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 1

  Ronan, we must leave soon. The Kema’dor approach swiftly.

  “I understand…. I just…”

  Yes, humans do get attached to their homeland.

  “There’s no chance of return?”

  Perhaps. But not for eons. We have already attained most of what Earth has to offer.

  “From an anthropological point of view, perhaps. But there is … something… I regret leaving.”

  You humans can be so odd.

  I remember sitting in astronomy class a couple years ago, listening to the teacher recite statistics. He said astronomers estimate there are one hundred billion habitable, life-sustaining planets in the universe. Which means that the chance of alien life is exceedingly high. Practically guaranteed. It seems inevitable, then, that eventually we were bound to clash at some point.

  Or perhaps we already had.

  My own close encounter began one spring afternoon, as I was getting ready to go in for a shift at the Pizza Barn. High school graduation was looming and I was trying to stock up on cash before summer hit.

  I pulled the red polo shirt and black slacks on, then seized my long dishwater blonde hair into a ponytail. Well, I call it dishwater blonde; Mom says it’s “sandy blonde”, but she’s always romanticized my rather plain appearance.

  Instead of leaving right away, I sat down on the couch next to my dad as he gazed without focus in the direction of the TV. We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments with just the sound of the jovial game show host in the background.

  But, as it does, the clock got pushy.

  “Can I get you anything before I leave?” I asked.

  “I could use some water. Time for more pills.”

  I filled his glass in the kitchen, and brought it to him.

  “You sure you’ll be okay by yourself ‘til Mom gets home?”

  “You worry too much,” Dad replied. “Just like your mother.”

  “I’m not as bad as her,” I replied, smiling.

  “I’ll be fine. Have fun at work.”

  “Oh I’m sure it will be nothing but,” I said dryly. “Thanks for the Scrabble game.”

  “Thanks for losing.”

  I hmphed, then bent over and kissed his pale forehead. “Bye Dad. Love you.”

  A year ago Dad would have been at work in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, like most dads, but that was pre-cancer. Now he mostly just rested while Mom and I try to make him comfortable and “prepare” ourselves.

  My maroon Corolla cruised into a parking spot just as the clock hit 5:07. My boss greeted me with a scowl as I entered the side door to the restaurant.

  “You’re late, Alex.”

  “Nice to see you too, Jason. How was your day?”

  He scowled at me and I rolled my eyes as I clocked in.

  “Take this,” he said, shoving a pizza box into my hands.

  I peered at label for the address, which wasn’t familiar. I scanned the big map posted on the wall for directions, and reflected that I probably wouldn’t need this job if I didn’t spend so much time at the bookstore. No wonder I’d never had a boyfriend.

  The address was really out there—I didn’t even think it was within our delivery range. But I punched the location into my phone and headed out.

  The landmarks became less and less familiar as I drove and the scenery gradually changed from organized and manicured to wild and hostile. I began to get worried I was headed in the wrong direction, despite the fact that Siri had never led me astray before.

  Finally, a small sign proclaiming “Wildberry Way” came into view and I turned onto the narrow road. Lowering the radio volume, I meandered slowly down the curving lane until a thick black iron fence presented itself. Behind the fence, a huge green lawn lay deep like a welcome mat in front of a house.

  And what a house.

  The manor spread across the estate like a big cat stretching in the sun. Regal and three-stories-high in the center, with wings tapering to two stories stories on either side. The fawn color was in perfect contrast to the greenery that surrounded it.

  The road was a good quarter-mile away from the actual house, but luckily for me the numbers 724 were shaped into the iron fence, so I knew I’d found my destination. I wasn’t so sure about how to actually get to the house until I saw the intercom.

  “May I help you?” A clear male voice came through the speaker after I pressed the call button.

  “I’m here to deliver a pizza,” I replied, a little nervously.

  “One moment.” A pause. “Please come in.”

  The wide gate swung slowly inward and I self-consciously pulled onto the smooth black driveway. I’d never really felt particularly embarrassed about my car before, but now, driving it up to this house that was practically a palace, I became more self-conscious of the rust marks and unmatched hubcaps.

  I parked in front of the stairway, pulled out the sure-to-be-cold-by-now pizza and pressed the doorbell that was to the right of the huge double oak doors. Did people buy houses like these for the very purpose of disconcerting their guests?

  The door opened immediately, as if someone was just standing behind it, waiting.

  And then.

  Suddenly, I knew what the books meant when they talk about having your breath taken away. Because I did, actually, stop breathing for an instant, when I saw him—broad-shouldered and green-eyed. He was dressed casually in a faded blue t-shirt and loose jeans.

  “Hi, um, the total is 13.87,” I managed to stammer as I looked away, worried I’d been ogling.

  He was silent, and I looked back up at him. He was gazing at me intensely, studying. There was a calculating look in his eye, and, I was surprised to see, a hint of familiar affection.

  We stood like that for a moment, just staring at each other. It should have been uncomfortable, but for some reason it wasn’t.

  “Um… 13.87?” I offered in the way of conversation.

  “Right,” he said, pulling out a dark leather wallet from his back pocket. He had a slight accent I couldn’t place. “How’s your evening, Alex?” he inquired as he pulled out some cash.

 
“Fine. Um, do I know you?” I asked, even though I knew there was no way I’d ever met him before.

  “You have a name badge,” he said with a slight smile.

  “Oh, right.” I handed him the pizza.

  “Keep the change,” he said, placing a twenty-dollar bill in my hand, just a bit more slowly than necessary. Our eyes met again and I found myself reluctant to leave. There was just something… welcoming about him.

  “Thank you. Have a good night,” I recited, as I did at every delivery.

  I could feel his eyes following me as I descended the steps and got into my car. I didn’t look back as I drove back down the driveway. The gate opened and as I exited, I felt a strange sense of relief mixed subtly with a nonsensical feeling of yearning.

  By the time I got back to the restaurant, my head was clearer and my inner detective had been roused. I wanted to find out more about the stranger who, for some bizarre reason, seemed so fond of me.

  Jason poked his head around the corner. “Took you long enough,” he said.

  “It was way out there,” I replied. “Look,” I pointed at the location on the map.

  “That’s not in our area. You’re not supposed to go out there.”

  “I didn’t take the order.”

  “Stacey!” Jason hollered, “Don’t take orders for places out past Holland Drive!”

  But Stacey was on the phone and ignored him. I was hoping next time he called (if there was a next time), I’d be around. And that Jason would forget all about boundaries.

  The rest of the night flew by and I arrived back home at 10:15 on the dot. As expected, Mom was sitting on the sofa in the living room waiting for me. When I walked in she set down the thick book she’d been reading and asked me about my day.

  “Good. How did your class go?”

  “Oh you know. College students think they already know everything. But at least they’re enthusiastic.”

  “About French verbs?” I asked skeptically. I was sure Mom was a great professor, but there’s only so much one can do to make French exciting.

  She frowned at me. “There are no boring subjects, Alex, just—“

  “Boring minds. I know.” I smiled a little, but it didn’t last long.

  “How was he tonight?” I asked. She knew who I meant.

  “Weak,” she sighed. “But determined to stay awake for the ball game. I swear he’ll outlive us all, with just willpower.”

  She was right. Whenever Dad set his mind, he held like a bulldog grappling with a shoe. His most recent project, before the diagnosis, involved helping the homeless get on their feet. It wasn’t until he’d collapsed in a soup kitchen and was handed a doctor’s order that he’d given it up. Even then, he’d insisted on working through email.

  “You’d better go do your homework, honey. It’s late,” Mom said.

  “Goodnight,“ I said, and took my buzzing mind and heavy heart upstairs.

  Chapter 2

  That was her?

  “That was her.”

  This compulsion to meet her is understandable; but won’t leaving be more difficult for you now?

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Then why?

  “I thought that meeting her face-to-face would be a good way to say goodbye. I thought that it would give me a sense of closure.”

  And?

  “I was wrong.”

  Beep, beep, beep. Eyes closed, my hand floundered around the bedding. My fingers closed over the phone and I hit snooze without looking.

  Mentally cursing my math teacher for giving out such a long homework assignment, I grudgingly sat up in bed and turned the alarm off properly. Somehow I managed to make it to the shower, and put on a shirt, pants, and shoes on all the right body parts. A hair dryer and cereal bowl later, I went to face the day.

  Classes went by in a blur. Nobody really seemed to care much about academics now that we officially had less than a month to summer vacation. Naturally, seniors were the worst.

  “Hey Alex!” Cora’s smiling face suddenly appeared between classes. “Want to go to Josh’s tonight? He’s having a graduation party.”

  I gave a small laugh. “Isn’t it a little early?”

  “Oh like anyone cares,” Cora said breezily. “Can you make it?”

  “Well actually, I promised Natalie I’d call her tonight, and then I’ve got work, so probably not.”

  “Oh well. Maybe next time!” She pranced off to find other, more interested people.

  I’d been melancholy and a little dejected when my best friend Natalie had graduated the year before. It hadn’t seemed worth the effort of making new friends when everyone would be dispersing after graduation. But Natalie and I had such a long history, moving across the country didn’t change our relationship. That much.

  As I walked across the school parking lot to my car, I called Natalie’s phone. She’d been away on the east coast for almost a year now, overloading on college credits. As usual, she sounded swamped.

  “Finals are next week—ugh. But how are you? Any exciting news?”

  “Just trying to survive the last few weeks of high school. What’s new with you?”

  That was all the invitation she needed to launch off on her favorite subject: boys. I listened patiently as she went from Ryan to Jake to Calvin, describing each in flattering detail. To hear her tell it, college campuses were the next best thing to a Chippendale’s show.

  She asked about Dad and school, but my life didn’t seem nearly as exciting as hers, and there wasn’t much to say. Eventually she decided it was time to get back to the books, and I let her go, slightly dissatisfied. The fifteen hundred miles between us seemed to stretch a little more each time we talked.

  That night I was scheduled to work again. After watching an episode of Jeopardy with Dad (he beat me easily—the man had a freakish capacity for remembering useless trivia), I reluctantly left him on his own.

  Being a Friday, it was pretty busy and I was making decent tips, which I was grateful for. I would need every penny in California, where I was planning on moving for college in a few months.

  Although, now I wasn’t as sure I wanted to go. College had been the plan before cancer seized hold of our lives.

  Near the end of the night, after things had slowed down, one last order came in. I recognized the address immediately: 724 Wildberry Way. My stomach flip-flopped and I realized, without even being aware of it, I’d been hoping for this. I grabbed it quick, before anyone could argue, and headed out.

  The distance to the house didn’t seem so far this time, since I knew where I was going. I tried to think about something—anything—I could say when I got there, but everything I could think of just sounded stupid—even to myself. I wished I was wearing something more flattering than a polo shirt with a bug-eyed, smiling pizza slice pictured on it.

  Before I was ready, I arrived. The house was even more stunning in the dark, with the dramatic lighting illuminating every corner and gable. Once again, I approached the intercom. The voice that answered was startlingly loud against the quiet of the night.

  “May I help you?”

  I cleared my throat. “I have a pizza delivery.”

  “Please come in.”

  The iron gate silently and slowly swung open and I coaxed the car forward.

  Butterflies in my stomach, I nervously parked, shuffled up the stairs into the entryway, and rang the doorbell. And just like that, there he was. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t do him justice. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  I was prepared this time, though, and didn’t stare as much (at least I don’t think I did—I hope I didn’t). A rich scent of vanilla wafted out the door, and it somehow helped calm some of the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach.

  “Hi. How are you?” I spoke. Not quite the impressive line I would’ve hoped for, but not as dumb as some of the other things I’d thought about on the way here.

  He looked directly at me—i
nto my eyes—into my soul, it seemed. My heart flipped.

  “I’m well tonight, Alex. How are you?” That accent—it was subtle, yet so foreign. I’d never heard one like it. It was then that I noticed the quiet instrumental music that was playing somewhere in the house. It was soft, but entrancing. There were at least three complex melodies being played over each other at the same time and the way they wove in and out of each other was mesmerizing.

  “That music is beautiful,” I blurted. “Who is it?”

  “Oh, just something a friend of mine wrote,” he said casually. “You like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I repeated. Other, better adjectives came to mind—angelic, magnificent, sublime—but I’ve learned using words like that earn me weird looks. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

  He smiled and, suddenly shy, I looked away.

  “I’m going to miss you, Alex,” he said, so quiet it was almost to himself.

  A little warning went off in my head and the magic cast by the music broke. “Miss me?” I asked hesitantly. “You don’t know me.”

  He chuckled a little and said, “We’re leaving soon, and won’t be back.” He sounded so full of regret.

  I realized I was standing there, just holding the pizza, but I wasn’t ready for this conversation to end, so I continued to clutch it and asked, “Why are you moving?” That was an innocent enough question, right?

  He looked up into the night sky and sighed. “There are… those… who don’t want us here. And so we’re leaving.”

  “That’s … vague,” I said candidly. He didn’t answer, so I continued, “And besides, who cares what other people want? You should be able to live wherever you want.”

  He smiled again and at first I thought it was meant to be patronizing until I saw the faint hint of distress in his eye. Whatever was going on, he really was torn up about it.

  “Well, good luck,” I said, “on wherever life takes you.” I handed him the pizza and he took it. Then he carefully folded some money into my hand. His hand was so warm.