Stella

Everything’s changed. Feels like that last week of summer vacation: long, golden days that feel like they’ll go on forever—but you stay up as late as you can, because you know that they won’t. Something’s hovering in the air. An ending, and not a happy one.

“Ready to go?”

I smile, because that’s what you do at the end of summer. You dive off the pier; you swim out to the raft; you sail and you tan and you barbecue. You soak it for everything you can get. “Where are we headed?”

“It’s a surprise.”

It’s all been a surprise, lately. Jack’s been perfect. Patient. Kind. Got me back on my feet with teasing and card games and homemade soup. It’s like a wall’s crumbled away, and our endless game of truth-or-dare has become a conversation. He’s been affectionate, respectful—almost like a real relationship. Exactly like a real relationship: no inspections, no rules, no codes of conduct. And it feels like a long goodbye.

“How cold is it out there?”

Jack stares out the window for a moment too long. “I’ll grab you a jacket.”

Starkey’s been different, too, distant and subdued. When I added a pregnancy test to my shopping list, he brought it without comment. I wasn’t even surprised when it came up positive. Concerned, definitely. Homesick, as well—it’s been weeks since I’ve spoken to anyone I’d want to tell, anyone who’d be excited to know. But not surprised.

I both feared and anticipated Jack finding out. Would’ve been easier than telling him myself, but Starkey must’ve kept his mouth shut. No one’s said a thing. Maybe we’re all pretending we don’t know. Waiting for...whatever’s coming.

“Catch!” My jacket comes sailing across the room, plopping gracelessly in my lap. I shrug into it, and let Jack help me to my feet. My ankle’s still tender, and I’m stuck with a big, stupid boot, but I’m getting around.

The ride to wherever we’re going is weird and quiet. Reminds me of the trip to the Hamptons, but without the mortal fear. Jack keeps looking at me like he’s trying to memorize my face. Every time I start to ask him what the fuck, I lose my nerve and wander into small talk. We go over the weather, the relative merits of tacos versus burritos, the way no one in New York dresses for the season, and we’re here.

“The planetarium?”

Jack conjures a vague smile. “I booked it just for us. We can stay as late as we want.”

I take his arm and let him lead me inside. It’s beautiful in the dome: the sound’s turned off, and it’s like stepping into the silence of space. Galaxies and constellations spiral overhead, slow and majestic. But all I feel is foreboding. This is too much like...like the kind of perfect memory you try to leave someone with, when you know you’ll never see them again.

“Sit with me.”

All the seats are empty, so I take the closest one. Jack sits down next to me, and we lean on one another in the dark, watching the universe go by.

“You’ve... You’re going to do something. Aren’t you?”

I feel, rather than see, Jack turn his head toward me. “Tomorrow.”

So soon? I want to scream at him, shake him, demand an explanation. But I can’t ruin this for him. “It’ll all be over then. Won’t it?”

“You can be there for your mother, like you wanted.”

It’s not an answer, but it fills me with a terrible certainty, anyway. He’s going to sacrifice himself, somehow, throw it all over, and I don’t want him to do it. I might have come here to bring him down, but now that it’s happening, I can’t think of anything I want less. “You might as well tell me, then. What did you do?”

I can hear him breathing—sharp gasps of air; long, shuddering exhales. I can’t tell if he’s crying in the dark, but his distress is clear.

“I’ll tell you. Just not now. Let’s enjoy this for a moment.”

I’m not sure either of us is enjoying it, exactly, but I nod anyway, and squeeze his hand when I realize he probably didn’t see me. I watch a series of bluish, Earth-like planets orbit a distant sun as a trio of comets passes by.

“I saw something terrible going on,” he says at last. “And instead of blowing the whistle, instead of doing the right thing, I took advantage of the situation. Made myself rich.” He shifts in his seat, wiping at his face. “Thought I shut it all down, while I was at it, but....”

“But?”

“But I don’t think I did. I don’t think I did at all. Might even have made it worse.”

I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to know. “Did anyone die?”

“Yes.”

There’s nothing to say to that. No way around it. I stare into the endless starfield, seeing nothing.

It’s dark when we finally leave. The real stars seem faint and impossibly distant after the ones in the planetarium. I turn to Jack to comment on that, but the words die on my lips. What difference does it make? Vacation is over, over, over.

I turn to him again as our building comes into view, but again, I can’t say what I want to say. Which is no, please—you can’t go! I’m pregnant! I still don’t know what he did exactly. Or who he might be hurting. Demanding he save himself might be unconscionably selfish.

That leaves one option: I have to make him talk. And it has to be tonight.

A faint ember of hope glows in my heart as we make our way to the penthouse. Summer doesn’t always end. Some people chase the sun all year long, one paradise to the next. We could do that. Run away together, leave it all behind....

“What are you thinking?”

I smile up at Jack—almost a real smile, this time. “How it’s always summer somewhere.”

“That’s a good thought.” He tilts his head. “Reminds me of our first morning together. The dream you had.”

I remember that, too. How the whole thing felt like a dream—not at all how I thought it would go.

The elevator doors open, and Starkey’s in the hall. Waiting for us. I whirl on Jack—what? This is it? Not even a last night together, a chance to talk, say goodbye?—but he looks just as surprised as I am.

“Starkey?”

“There’s....” He swallows with an audible click, and for the first time, I notice how pale he is. “You have to come inside. There’s something on the news.”