Flat-Out Celeste

  There. She had reached out to a friend and received a good response. This was a positive sign. Despite the overt differences between herself and Dallas, Celeste liked her quite a bit. And it seemed that Celeste’s matchmaking maneuver had potential, so discovering that was a surprising bonus.

  She retrieved the pink sweater from the closet and held it up against her chest, assessing her appearance in the mirror. Dallas was right; this was a good choice. As she was looking for a good pair of jeans, her phone dinged.

  Justin: Who invented time zones, huh? It’s past noon and I’m just waking up. I’m going to UNINVENT them. Whatcha think about that?

  Justin: And good morning. I made you a coffee with a picture of me jet lagged and groggy.

  Celeste laughed out loud at the chocolate face that rested on milk froth in the picture Justin attached to his text.

  Celeste: I think that you look dashing, but I am sorry that you are struggling to adjust to Eastern Time.

  Justin: But have no fear, I will be caffeinated and alert tonight, okay? 7 still good for me to pick you up?

  Celeste: Yes, that is fine. I am uncertain about proper attire, as I do not know what we are doing; but I have made a decision nonetheless.

  Justin: I suggest a pirate costume. I’ll bring extra peg legs in case you lose yours.

  Celeste: As you wish.

  Justin: Also, a pair of wings. And a squash racquet.

  Celeste: My anxiety level is rising.

  Justin: Then no squash racquet. Better?

  Celeste: Slightly.

  Justin: Are you actually nervous?

  Celeste: Yes.

  Justin: Why? It’s just me. You know me. Nothing bad is going to happen. I mean, I might fall down or something, but YOU will be just fine. You need to trust me.

  Celeste: I will do my best.

  Justin: I have to go shopping, so as long as I’m not stampeded at the mall on this final Saturday before Christmas, I’ll see you tonight. Wish me luck!

  Celeste: I have minimal concerns about your outing, but I wish you luck nevertheless.

  Justin: #amwearingprotectivegear #picturewithmallsantaforsure

  She felt a bit better. He was right. It was Justin. Justin with whom she had been emailing whom she had been talking to and texting on the phone, and whom she had seen in person a total of three times.

  She sighed. Three was not many. Still, it wasn’t about the amount of face time one had with another, it was about the quality of the overall relationship, and she did believe that she and Justin had some level of connection. Or she was trying to believe that.

  Life was getting better for her. Very slowly, bit by bit, she was allowing the walls she’d so carefully constructed to come down. Every move felt to be a most dangerous risk, but she was taking those risks, and they were paying off. The world might not be such a hateful place after all, and there was the faint hope that she might just be able to find a place in it.

  Celeste abandoned her fretting and headed downstairs to tackle some gift wrapping. The dining room table was set up with wrapping paper, various bows and ribbons, tape, scissors, decorative bags, and tissue paper. Really, more materials than anyone would reasonably need, but Erin had become a big fan of elaborate gift presentation. Matt was coming over later to make use of the supplies. It was Celeste’s understanding that twenty-six-year-old males were unable to purchase their own wrapping paper and that they often had hidden hopes that showing up at their families’ houses would result in younger sisters taking over the wrapping of said gifts.

  She finished affixing a piece of tape to the Come to the nerd side. We have Pi. T-shirt that she was wrapping for Matt. She had wanted to get him the shirt that read, Dear Algebra, Stop asking us to find your X. She’s not coming back, because under normal circumstances he would find it funny. However, now it felt inappropriate, given that Matt’s romantic life appeared to have stalled significantly since he and Julie ended their relationship. She still wasn’t sure exactly what besides distance, if anything, had come between them, but perhaps that was enough to keep them apart. Although it had been two years since they’d broken up, it still bothered her. Matt and Julie not being together felt all wrong.

  When her text alert sounded repeatedly, Celeste couldn’t help but grin over her increased social network. Her stomach rarely dropped anymore when alerts came through.

  Justin: Michelle! Hope you got home with no layovers. I heard the Denver airport cancelled most flights yesterday. Miss you already. Winter break will fly by, and Kevin and I will throw a party the night everyone is back.

  Justin: And why didn’t you let me take you to the airport? I’d even remembered to gas up my car the night before. I heard you leave, but by the time I was fully awake you were long gone. I would have gotten up with you (even at that ungodly hour of FIVE IN THE MORNING!).

  Justin: You left a shirt here, by the way, in case you’re looking for it.

  Celeste read the messages over and over. Obviously Justin had texted her in error, but that did not ease the nauseated feeling that threatened to choke her. The phone shook in her hand.

  Celeste focused on Matt’s present, and she finished wrapping it, carefully and methodically. Then she set his T-shirt under the tree and walked slowly up the stairs to her room. She took the pink sweater and placed it neatly back on the shelf in her closet and shut the door. The full-length mirror was in front of her now, and she turned away quickly. She couldn’t stand the sight of her reflection.

  Celeste pulled off her sweatshirt and pulled the blinds shut. She crawled into bed, wearing her jeans and tank top. The silent tears came easily, wetting her face in seconds. Of course Justin had a life outside of her, a real life with girls at his school who were fun and functional. Who were normal. How she had deceived herself into dreaming that anything meaningful could happen between Justin and herself was nearly incomprehensible. This date tonight could not happen because there was no point. And based on those text messages, Justin likely already had a girl, one who was in his room early in the mornings, one whom he was missing already.

  She rolled onto her side and pulled the covers over her head. It was fortunate that her parents were gone for the day at the outlet stores, so that she could be alone. Explaining her devastation would be impossible. All she could feel right now was the depth of her total inadequacy when compared to every other girl her age. She would never, ever be a girl who could hold Justin’s attention, and why he had even paid her any mind in the first place was a mystery.

  Hours ticked by as Celeste lay still in her bed, her mind spinning. Justin had teased her. Maybe not intentionally, but he’d taunted her with the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could see beyond all of her strangeness. The things that she couldn’t control, but the ones that made up who she was. Even if he had, for a split second, liked her to some degree, he clearly had a college full of women with whom he could engage on normal social levels. Romantic levels. Probably sexual levels, if she was being realistic.

  The bedroom darkened as the afternoon wore on. If she could just hold on, time would take her through the night, through the next day, the next week. This day and this awful misery would ease. Celeste knew how pain lessened with time. So she would just hold on. She would cease to exist until tomorrow, after the time for her date had come and gone. Then it would be easier.

  Her room was virtually pitch black when she heard Matt’s voice. “Celeste? Are you in here?”

  She didn’t bother to move. She couldn’t move anyway.

  “Celeste?”

  Through closed eyes, she saw the darkness lift a bit. He must have turned on the nightstand light. She felt him sit on the bed next to her. “Are you okay? What, do you have the flu or something else disgustingly gross and contagious? Do I need to begin a bloodletting routine or what?”

  She wanted nothing more than for him to go away. As much as she loved her brother, he would not understand, and she was too embarrassed to tell him what was happening. Or to tell him
who she really was: an utterly pathetic, despondent mess.

  Matt put a hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She pulled away, and again he rolled her over. Celeste shoved him away, hard, and resumed her place on her side. She moved an arm over her eyes. “Leave me alone, Matthew.”

  “Hey, what the hell’s going on?” He was angry now. Or maybe scared. Either way, she didn’t care.

  “I forgot that you would be coming to the house today. Just. Go. Away.”

  “Don’t yell at me because you slept through your date.”

  “Get out of my room. Now.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “No. You’re going to tell me what this all about. All I know is that I was downstairs happily gift wrapping and listening to One Direction sing a fanciful medley of uplifting Christmas carols when that Justin character shows up at the house, saying that he’s supposed to pick you up at seven.”

  “You were not listening to One Direction.”

  “Fine. It was Hillary Duff, but whatever. The point is that there is a dude in our front hall telling me that he’s been texting and calling you for hours, and you’re not answering. Are you supposed to go out with him?”

  “Tell him to leave. I am not here.”

  “Well, you are here.”

  She didn’t respond. She could wait him out. He would give up and leave soon enough. Except that he didn’t. Ten minutes must have gone by when he said her name again. “Celeste. Please explain this to me.” She felt him shift on the bed. “I wish that you would let me do something. Do you want me to kick him out of the house? Did he do something to you?”

  Another voice echoed in her room. Justin’s. “Maybe she’ll talk to me?”

  Oh God, why had Matt even let him in the house?

  “Do you want him to stay?” Matt asked.

  Silence.

  “Celeste.” Matt’s frustration was evident, but she simply had nothing to say. “I don’t know what to do here, so I’m going to have to give Justin a shot. Yell if you need anything.” His weight lifted from the bed. Knowing Matt, he was likely staring Justin down as he left the room. He might not be a typical alpha male, but Celeste knew that Matt was fiercely protective when it came to her.

  Willing herself to become invisible was not working, it seemed, because she heard Justin cross the room and then felt him next to her. The sound of his footsteps even tugged at her heart. She felt him kneeling next to the bed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day,” he said softly.

  This was an impossible situation. If she was lucky, he would give up on her, get back in his car, and vanish from her life altogether. It was the only way to recover from this.

  “It took me six hours, but I finally realized that I texted you by mistake.”

  Despite herself, she nodded.

  “And you’re upset about that.”

  She nodded again.

  “I think you’re misunderstanding what you read. Will you let me explain?”

  It was best to get this over with. She rubbed her eyes and turned to face him. It didn’t matter that he looked distraught because that meant nothing to her right now. “I understand, Justin. I understand very clearly.”

  He moved a hand to her face and brushed the hair from her cheek. The sorrowful expression in his eyes made her feel worse. He felt sorry for her. “I don’t think you do.”

  “I understand that having a girl in your room during early morning hours—”

  “No,” he said cutting her off. “No. It’s not what you think it is. Michelle is my roommate Kevin’s girlfriend. We live in a tiny dorm suite, and we each have our own miniature bedroom and a small common room. She slept in Kevin’s room that night. I was just going to give her a ride to the airport. Yes, she’s a friend of mine, but that’s it. I met her on the first day of college last year, and we’ve been friends ever since I stopped her from taking one too many vodka shots and saved us all from having to listen to ‘Don’t Rain On My Parade’ for the ninety-seventh time.”

  Celeste sniffed. “I dislike that song.”

  He smiled and touched a finger to her wet cheek. “Don’t cry. Please. You don’t have to hear it ever again.”

  Celeste couldn’t smile back.

  “Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered.

  “Okay.”

  “Your brother really was listening to One Direction.”

  “He was not.” But now she did smile just a bit.

  “Oh, but he was. And I think I saw him dancing a little. It was subtle, but there was some foot tapping and a few shoulder shakes.” Now he took both hands and rubbed his thumbs under her eyes. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I do not think this is going to work out, Justin. I appreciate how kind you are being, but you should not have come here.”

  He shook his head. “Why would you say that? You understand now, right? That the texts were nothing.”

  “I do. But that does not change the inherent problem present. Even if Michelle is solely a platonic friend—”

  “She is,” he insisted.

  “Even then, I was reminded today that you are immersed in a crowd of young women, all of whom likely possesses much more typically alluring traits than I.”

  “Celeste,” he said, “you are beautiful.”

  “Perhaps physically, by cultural norms. But that only serves to make the non-physical parts of me even more unsuitable.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I am not like other girls. I recognize that, and I understand that my traits are incompatible with what is traditionally desirable in a romantic partner. I cannot compete. That is all. I will never be regular.”

  Justin looked around the room as if searching for how to handle her. Then he rose from his kneeling crouch and stretched out on the bed, resting on his side next to her so that they were eye to eye. He took her hands in his. “You listen to me, okay? Listen. Yes, are you are a beautiful girl. Stunning, really. Anyone can see that. But that doesn’t really mean anything to me. I see past your beauty, and I find more beauty. The important kind. Don’t you know that? I’m doing something wrong if you don’t, so let me be really clear here.” Justin lifted her hands a bit and delicately kissed her fingers.

  She could hardly breathe.

  He looked at her again. “I am staggered by you. I am intoxicated by you. I think about you way more than I should. I want to get to know you as much as possible, but you have to let me. I mean, if that’s what you want. Maybe you think I’m a huge jerk, and maybe you’re done with me. So tell me that if you need to.” He kissed her hands again and peeked up at her, his eyes sparkling. “But please don’t, because I desperately want to take you out tonight.”

  Celeste was sure that he could hear her heartbeat. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. But I’m afraid that I do not look very nice.”

  “You could wear a garbage bag, and I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

  “I was not going to wear a garbage bag. Or this plain white shirt. I was going to wear a pink sweater.”

  Justin eased himself to sitting. “Then let’s get your pink sweater.” He looked behind him. “Closet or dresser?”

  “Closet.”

  He squeezed her hands and let them go, getting up and going to her closet. He returned in a moment with her sweater. “This one?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Justin slid a hand under her back and gently pulled her to a sitting position. She watched him, mesmerized, as he lifted up the sweater, lowered it over her head, and then smoothed out the fabric as she eased her arms into the sleeves. He took one of her hands back into his. “You look very sad today.”

  “I am sorry. I am not an easy person.”

  He pointed back and forth between them. “Pot, kettle.” He winked. “Are you sad just because of me, or is there something else?”

  Celeste thought for a moment. “I am sad because of me. I am embarrassed.”

  “Tell me why.”


  Celeste dropped her head while she spoke. “I am embarrassed because things that are easy for other people are challenging for me. Going on a date with you should not be as monumentally terrifying as it is.”

  “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  Celeste had no idea. She looked at him, helpless.

  “Would it help if I told you that there is no pressure here? We’re just going to go out and have a good time. Neither of us gets to have performance anxiety, okay? We don’t. If at any point tonight you decide that you want to go home, I’ll take you home. That’s it. I won’t be angry, or think less of you, or anything. Deal? I’m humbled that you would let me take you out when, as you said, this feels hard for you.”

  “It is not your fault. I have issues centered around loss. Perceived abandonment. Solitude, which I both crave and detest. It’s too much to explain.”

  Justin looked down and thought for a moment. “I saw a picture downstairs while I was waiting for you. In the front hall. It’s a picture of you and Matt…”

  She finished the sentence for him. “And Finn.”

  “A second brother.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Older than Matthew. He died when I was much younger. I did not handle his death well. Nobody did. It is my assessment that my personality type, coupled with a high level of family dysfunction and a mother with unmanaged depression at the time, was not adequate to cope with losing Finn.” She couldn’t tell him about Flat Finn. Not now, not ever. It would be the ultimate deal breaker, revealing that she had relied on a cardboard copy of her brother to get her through even the most basic basics of daily life for almost two years. She could only expect a certain degree of understanding and tolerance, and Justin had already gone above and beyond. “Finn was my savior, and then he was dead. Some days the aftershocks can still be felt.”

  “We all have aftershocks.” Justin stood up, pulling Celeste with him, and bringing her into his chest. She tucked her arms up between them, letting him hold her.

  “It feels as though I must work very hard for everything. It’s not easy.”