I had been trying every night for exactly one year, four months, and three days to catch the stars in my hands. If I could catch one, I could wish upon it as Oliver told me to. If I could catch one, I would be able to wake up from this nightmare and he could come home. I promised that I would reach out every night until I could catch a star and bring him back. While the minutes ticked by, I stood on the edge of my window, grabbing onto the handle of my dresser right next to me, and with the other hand reached up as high as I could. It was a while after midnight when I realized tonight was not the night that Oliver was coming home.
“It always comes true! Catch a star and make a wish upon it.” Oliver beamed down at me.
“Always? You promise?” I asked him.
He stuck out his pinky and I hooked mine into it, “I promise,” he said. Maybe it was because I was five and gullible, or maybe it was because I trusted Oliver to never lie to me, but I wholeheartedly believed him.
Oliver always had a fascination with stars. Mom said it started when he was seven after she bought him a book about astronomy. She told me stories about him standing outside every night, even in the rain and snow, to make a wish upon as many stars as he could. After I was born and he could hold me, he would take me outside to do it with him, pretending that my simple mind at the time could fathom what was going on.
The night after, everyone told me not to worry because Oliver had now become one of the stars. I like to think that if I could catch the star that is Oliver in my hands, I can tell him to come home. He promised me that a wish upon a star will always come true and I know that he would never break a promise to me.
“Ollie! I’m going to fall, I’m scared.” Oliver had blindfolded me and was leading me somewhere in the house, where he claimed he had a surprise for me.
“I’ve got you, don’t worry. Lily, I won’t let you fall,” he reassured me. While I felt safe with him keeping his hands on my shoulders and guiding me through the house, I was still scared that I would trip and slam my face down.
“Please don’t leave me, I’m not ready to become one with the floor yet.” I could hear him laugh behind me.
“I won’t leave you, I’m always right here.” We came to a stop and he let me take the blindfold off. The blaring light of the hall forced me to squint while my eyes adjusted.
“Always? You promise?” I asked him.
He stuck out his pinky and I hooked mine into it, “I promise,” he said. Maybe it was because I was eight and gullible, or maybe it was because I trusted Oliver to never lie to me, but I wholeheartedly believed him.
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Today marked exactly one year, four months, and four days of me trying to bring Oliver home. Every night I reached and reached until I no longer had the energy to do so. When my arms were sore and felt as if they were about to fall off, I knew that it was time to stop because that wasn’t the night that Oliver would be coming home.
After I gave up for the night, I stayed on my roof, lying on my back and looking up at the stars. I realized that I never talked to him. Since that night, I had tried to bring him home, but I never talked to him. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t ready to yet or because I didn’t know what to say, but it seemed easier to bring him home than to just talk to the stars and hope that he heard me. I stayed still, thinking of the right words to say and wondering if he could hear my thoughts. I wasn’t ready yet, so I continued looking up until eventually I fell asleep and dad found me on the roof asleep the next morning.
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“It’s too high up, I can’t!”
Ever since I was eight, Ollie would sometimes surprise me by making stars and hanging them from the ceiling. He would turn off the lights and somehow the stars would glow beautifully. We would spend hours pretending that we were catching real stars and making wishes upon them.
“You can do it, Lily! I believe in you. If you’re reaching high and you can’t catch the stars, reach higher.” His belief in me gave me the strength to reach higher and catch two stars in one hand. We spent our time talking to those stars until we were content with everything we had said to them.
There was only one star left and I tried to reach for it. I soon realized that no amount of motivation would allow me to catch this star. Oliver went up to it, plucking it from the ceiling, and handed it to me. “When you can’t catch the stars, I’ll always be here to gather them all for you.”
“Always? You promise?” I asked him.
He stuck out his pinky and I hooked mine into it, “I promise,” he said. Maybe it was because I was thirteen and gullible, or maybe it was because I trusted Oliver to never lie to me, but I wholeheartedly believed him.
We had pictures of him everywhere. Somehow even more now than before and they were all scattered around the house. Dad didn’t let me go out on the roof tonight because of yesterday, so I tried to reach from my window again. When my arms got tired, I left my room and went into the living room, not bothering to turn the lights on. The rest of the house was asleep so I sat on the couch and looked around. He was everywhere.
Looking next to me, I saw a picture frame. When I grabbed it in my hands, the metal of the frame was cold, but the picture inside warmed my heart. It was one of the times that Oliver had surprised me with the stars. I had fallen down after trying to reach too high and, in the picture, Oliver is putting bandaids on my knees while I’m holding one of the stars.
I take the picture with me and run outside onto the roof. I might fall asleep and get in trouble again, but I don’t care. I lay down and put the picture frame next to me. This time, I decided to talk.
I don’t know how long I talk for, but I talk until I run out of things to say. I say everything that I need to until I slowly grow tears in my eyes. I let myself feel the pain until the top of my shirt is drenched and the tears roll down my neck, into my hair.
“I need you here with me, trying to catch these stupid stars. I’ve tried so, so hard, but it’s not working. And you’re supposed to be here to catch them for me, but you’re not and I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused, Ollie. I don’t know how to deal with this, or what I’m supposed to do. Is there anything that I’m doing wrong? I’ve tried and tried, but my fingertips can’t even graze the edges and I miss you and I don’t know how to accept that you’re not here anymore.” I sob until my lungs set fire and, tonight, a part of me knows that the stars are silently sobbing with me.
I don’t know what I’ll do without him, but I think it’s time that I stop trying to catch the stars. I let myself feel everything I haven’t felt in a long time. I let myself feel heartbreak and sadness, anger, and fear. One of the biggest emotions I let myself feel is disappointment in Ollie because I trusted him to never break a promise, and he broke three.
