Slave to the Sun

Celeste didn't know what came more naturally to her: breathing or loving Finn Abott.

While sitting at the cafe he worked at one day, she asked him if he remembered the first time they spoke, the first time he saw her.

“I don’t know. It feels like you’ve always been there, following me around.”

Celeste flashed a smile. Finn’s glance did not fall to her lips. No, he continued to stare out the window.

Finn’s eyes changed in the sunlight. Not for the first time, Celeste wondered if Finn had brokered a cosmic deal with the sun, whose light only seemed to make him more beautiful. The sun gifted Finn with endearing freckles, faint enough to make you lean closer and see if they were really there. Usually the color of coffee, his eyes had tiny flecks of gold and green that shone brighter in sunlight. Celeste was put on Earth to gaze into those eyes. Or, more accurately, to watch those eyes look anywhere but at her.

“Do you think I’ll go bald someday?” Finn was messing with his hair in the window's reflection. “My dad was bald by thirty.”

“You’re nothing like your dad.”

“I know, but I still have his DNA.”

“Do you miss him?” Finn's dad had walked out on his family last year.

“No. I feel like I should, but life is just easier without him.”

“You don’t have to miss him. You’re better off without him.”

Finn ignored her. “You start school tomorrow, right?”

“Right.” Celeste dreaded completing her senior year alone, but Finn had dropped out to get a job after his dad left.

“Can you stay out late tonight?”

Celeste's heartbeat quickened. They had always had daytime friendship. Celeste would join Finn for his morning and afternoon shifts, but he would always take her home before the sun set. She had never seen how he looked in the moonlight. She imagined dreamy light making his smooth skin glow the color of lilies in winter. If Celeste loved Finn in the sunlight, she would worship him in the moonlight.

“Why?”

Finn shrugged. “Just thought we could watch a movie in my garage or something.”

He was going to make a move tonight. Celeste was sure of it.

That night, Celeste and Finn were seated on the old couch in Finn's stuffy garage.

With sweaty palms, Celeste asked, “What are watching?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Finn was studying his knuckles. With a jolt, Celeste realized he was nervous.

“What?”

He kept staring at his hands. Celeste decided to make it easier on him. Before she could second guess herself, she pulled off her top, and Finn’s gaze quickly abandoned his hands in favor of her breasts.

For the first time, Finn’s attention was entirely on her.

Until it wasn’t.

“What are you doing!”

Celeste scrambled for her shirt.

“You don’t know how to say you love me, so I’m helping you find the words!” Celeste didn't like feeling embarrassed. She didn’t like it at all.

“I was just gonna ask you if I should go back to school, not confess my love!"

“What?” Her voice was too soft, screaming vulnerability in a way Celeste despised.

Finn had the nerve to look sorry for Celeste. She couldn’t breathe. She started for the door. “I need some fresh air.”

Night had fallen as Celeste escaped Finn’s stifling garage. She barely made it across the Abott’s front yard before she collapsed against the garden shed in tears, knocking over a rake in the process.

Minutes later she heard the approach of Finn’s footsteps. “Let me drive you home, Cel.”

“Don’t call me Cel,” Celeste mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, don’t call me Cel.” Celeste dared to look up at Finn’s face. The moment she saw him in the moonlight, she was speechless.

If the sunlight brought out the best in Finn, the moonlight brought out the worst. His eyes appeared sunken, with dark shadows underneath them. His skin did not glow the color of lilies. Instead, he looked as pale as a corpse.

Celeste realized then what he reminded her of. “You look like your dad.”

“Come on, Cel, you’re just saying things to hurt my feelings. Let’s go-”

“No,” Celeste interrupted. “You look like your dad the night I killed him.”

“Celeste, you don’t need to come up with crazy stories to get my attention. My dad’s alive.”

“How do you know? Because he left you a letter when he left? ‘Dear Finn, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father to you. Take care of your mom.’ Do you think he gave a shit about you or your mom, Finn? No. I wrote that letter so you would have something left of him.” Celeste stood, her eyes now dry.

Finn tried to back away, but Celeste grabbed his wrist. “I did you a favor! You said it yourself! Life is easier without him. I made your life better.”

“Let go of me,” Finn sobbed. He tried to pull away, but Celeste was stronger than he knew. Celeste was so much more than what Finn Abott thought of her.

“We would’ve been great,” Celeste whispered as she caressed Finn’s cheek. The tears in his eyes glistened, showing those green and gold flecks she loved so much. “You really do have the most beautiful eyes.”

With lightning speed, Celeste grabbed the rake she had knocked over, and hit Finn, hard, in the head.

Hours later, after Celeste had stuffed Finn’s body into the backseat of his truck and driven to the middle of the desert, where no one would find him for weeks, she waited for sunrise. Celeste wanted her last memory of Finn to be a fond one. She wanted to see those few, faint freckles.

When morning hit, Celeste knelt and traced the lines of Finn’s cold face. She gently closed his eyes, those wonderful eyes that never bothered to look at her, so they’d never look at anyone ever again.