So it's her birthday already.
I reach out to the balloons, barely touching them. I don't know why James thinks it would be good for me to release them up into the sky. Seeing them already brings the familiar suffocating lump in my chest that I know will grow and grow until I end up in a breakdown, as usual. But I start untying one of the balloons, with trembling hands, if only to get rid of them, so I don't have to keep looking at them.
The moment I untie it, the balloon soars up. I untie two more before James says, "Don't let them go all at once. Take your time." He's propped on his elbows on the blanket, staring up at the sky. He motions to me to lie next to him. I hesitate, looking from him to the remaining balloons in the stack, then lie back on my elbows too.
I look up at the black sky, and I grit my teeth at the sight of the three glowing bulbs. From here, it looks like fire burns inside them. Bright and inextinguishable. Yet, as I watch them go higher and higher, something happens to the lump in my chest.
Something I wasn't expecting.
It eases. Slowly, very slowly, as if someone were pulling it out bit by bit with a clipper. The balloons become so small they could almost pass for stars, if they weren't moving upward. Eventually, they get lost in the clouds and I don't see them anymore.
I untie another one, and watch it sail up in the sky after the others, farther and farther away, taking my pain with it.
But not my guilt. Nothing will ever be able to take that away.
"It looks a bit like a star." I only realize I said it out loud when James chuckles. My cheeks heat up instantly. He'll think I'm five years old.
"You're right, it does."
"People say to make a wish when you see a falling star. Do you think it will work if I make one now?"
"I think there is no such thing as a bad time to make a wish," he says softly.
The balloon is so high now, I almost can't see it anymore, and an irrational panic grips me. I have to spell my wish out before it disappears in the clouds. I have to. Maybe it can carry my wish to her.
I wish Kate could forgive me. For not doing more for her. For letting her waste away because I was too afraid to get involved in her world. Jess was more spot on than she knew when she said that I always hide in my safe little corner, where nothing risky can harm me. That's exactly what I did with Kate. The worse the people were that she got involved with, the more I pulled away from her. I just abandoned her into their hands so I wouldn't risk my own safety.
I hope she will forgive me for that. I know I won't forgive myself.
And maybe my guilt floats in the air like a damned aura, or maybe he can just read it off me, but James says, "Don't blame yourself."
I turn my head to the right until I can't see him even from the corner of my eye. "I don't want to talk about it." I focus my gaze on a tree in the distance.
"People sometimes make bad choices, Serena. Kate made quite a few. Trust me, no matter how much you try to deter them, they will still make them. Even when they know just how bad those choices are for them. Mostly they do it because they think those bad choices are the only thing they deserve."
There is a long pause, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds dead. "The worst choices are the ones who hurt others. And I made so many of those that I think two life times of right choices won't be enough to make up for all the wrong I caused."
I turn around, and find him gazing at the sky, his eyes glassy with tears.
Of course, that's why he sensed my guilt. He knows the feeling only too well. It consumes him too.
"James, that's not—"
"Do you want to release the rest of the balloons?" he interrupts, sitting up straight. "You've got four left." He presses his palms on his eyes briefly, then plasters a fake smile on his face.
I sit up straight too. "No, I want you to release them. For Lara."
The smile freezes on his face. "I don't think this is such a good idea."
"Just try it," I say, untying a balloon and shoving it into his hand. "For me."
"You're not playing fair," he whispers, his eyes begging.
"Please."
He tilts his head, staring down at the balloon in his hand. He lets go of it, following it with his gaze. I don't watch the balloon at all. Instead, I watch him. The muscles around his eyes and mouth tighten; his fingers dig deep in the blanket, as if he'd like nothing better than to carve holes in it.
"You release the rest," he says after a while, untying the remaining three balloons and shoving them in my hand, just like I did earlier with him. His features haven't relaxed one bit. I instantly let go of the balloons.