When The Stars Cross
Chapter 11
By: Erynn*Alice
“Benji…”
“Tony?”
“Yeah, man, it’s me. I know it’s late.”
“It’s three in the morning, Tony. What’s going on?”
“I found her number, well, her office number.”
“Who’s number?”
“Ashton…”
“Oh, right. It’s late, man, I’m out of it.”
“That’s fine.” Tony picked at the scab that was forming on his new tattoo. The inked skin flaked off and onto the arm rest of the van. The rest of the guys had fallen asleep in the back a few towns ago, and Tony was left to drive the vehicle to its next stop. A friend from San Diego, who Tony had asked to track down Ashton, had called ten minutes earlier with the office number of the Ashton Keats. He was excited to call Benji and tell him the good news.
“Mmmkay…let me get some paper or something.” Benji rustled around in his bed. The only light he had was the street light that glared through his window. “Isn’t there supposed to be a memo pad in a hotel room?” He stood up and walked over to the door that was linked to Joel’s room. He opened the door to his brother’s room, surprised to find Joel sitting straight up in bed and his pale face illuminated by the glow TV.
“What are you doing up?” Joel asked wearily as Benji walked in the door, wearing only his boxers. It had been another restless night for him. Every night seemed to tick by slowly. He’d replay his last night with Ashton over and over in his head, and he even thought for a brief moment every night that her hand was still in his, it was still warm. It was always warm. He realized it was never cold, because she never died. And when he thought about her being alive, and how he left her, he wanted to die, because he felt he deserved it.
“You.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“What?”
“You and this girl you love so much.”
Joel stood up quickly from the couch. “I don’t get it Benj. Don’t fuck with me man. What’s going on?”
“Tony found her number.”
“Ashton?”
“Yes.”
“You know what? Damn it. You two fucking talk. I’m tired as hell.” Benji tossed the cell phone in his brother’s direction before he returned back to his room.
“Hello?”
“Joel?”
“Tony?”
“Yeah, hey man.”
“What’s going on?”
“I found Ashton Keats’ office number.”
“How’d you find it?”
“I had a friend get it for me. I guess he asked around and found out she was at this show last night, gave her card to one of the bands she watched.” Tony picked at his scab. “I met her last night, too.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she had to re-shoot some pictures of us. Too bad you left early, Joel. It was that same bar, you know.”
“Fuck,” He whispered. It seemed like she was just right in front of his eyes, and he was blind. “Why didn’t you keep her there, why didn’t you call me?”
“She got this deer in the headlights look on her face. I was going to have her stay, and try to get you or Benji, or someone down. Her cell phone rang and she had to leave, Joel. I tried to call you, but I kept getting your voice mail.”
“I left my cell phone in the room.” His voice was sullen, and he seemed disappointed. He wondered if maybe the thought of him scarred her away. If maybe she really did hate him. “Do you think she hates me?”
“No. She seemed generally interested in why you ran out. She seemed like she wanted to talk to you.”
He sat down on the bed and pulled a pad of paper out of his backpack. “What’s her number?”
Tony gave Joel the number he had scrawled on his hand. Joel thanked him and let him go. He looked at the numbers, traced them with his pen over and over again until they bled onto the next page. Above them, he wrote Ashton’s name in big bold letters. He ran his hands over it, like his was touching her skin.
He looked at the phone. The clock next to it was blinking 3:45. He picked the receiver up and dialed her number.
It rang four times before the answering machine clicked on.
“Hi, this is Ashton Keats’ desk. Leave me a message. Thanks.”
He paused, still in awe. Her voice was so beautiful. He imagined her saying those words. Her voice echoed in his head, even after he was signaled to record his message. He wanted to jump through the phone and find her. He wanted to be next to her. He knew she was probably lying in bed, at her house, far from the office, but he wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her breathe again, because it had been all too long since they had been together.
“Ashton…” He wasn’t sure of what to say. He was shocked. “This is…Joel. Joel Madden. Umm, I…I want to talk to you. I leave tomorrow night. Please, Ashton, give me a call. I need to know you’re alright.” He left his number and set the phone down on his cradle. He ran his fingers over her name again, not knowing when or if he’d ever get to see her.
She was always alive. She had never died, but she had been dead for months in his world. As his head hit the pillow, he knew she really was alive. She really was out there, somewhere. Ashton Keats was alive. He smiled to himself as he fell asleep, clutching his pillow. He only hoped that he would have her to hold late at night later on.
I’ve been bleeding well From this old wound
Cleaning it with salt, So it will still feel new
Sometimes eyes turn black, And sometimes scars are tracks
But every time that you’re gone I wish that you’d come back
And everyone watched me waste myself
And everyone cheered at last
And all of them found it comforting
Its better it’s me then them.
I think I’m doing well from what they say
They’ve taken both my belt and shoelaces away
Well I believe in luck I think I do
Well I believe for sure If ever I see you
I’ve been fanning flames from these old coals
Feeding them with tender And hoping they will grow
And I’ve been savoring What I can’t hold
A blind belief in goodness That doesn’t seem to show
But I’ve been bleeding well From this old wound
Cleaning it with salt, So it will still feel new
(“This Old Wound” by Dashboard Confessional)