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What are you doing here?” I ask, staring at the man I haven’t seen in nearly five years outside of magazines and television. “Coming to see my wife,” he says, and my world shifts on its axis.
Recurrent brief depression, my psychiatrist calls it. I call it the waters. My life is like the ocean. Sometimes, I’m at the top, floating on my back, the sun on my face. Happy, warm. Whole. Other times, I’m in the deepest, dark blue depths, so cold I can’t remember what the sun feels like anymore. I'm numb.
I spend my days on the edge of a knife, knowing that if I stay directly on the blade, I can swim in the happy blue sea, but the slightest breeze can send me plummeting into something dark.
“I’m not leaving you because you’re coming with me,” I say, my words low and quiet. Again, her eyes widen.
“I’m always Riggs to you. And you’re my little star. Ironic when you’re my goddamn sun, when my entire world revolves around you.”
And for the first time in seven years, I kiss my wife.
“This isn’t who I am anymore, Riggins.” “Then I can’t wait to get to know the new version of you, Stella. Make her my best friend, too.”
“I’m yours. I’m yours, and I’m back, and I’m here to protect you,” he says to the top of my head.
“You’re my everything, Stella. But yeah, for right now, we can call you my girlfriend.”
“I’m busy,” he says, concentrating on the stars. “What are you doing?” I ask with a laugh. There’s a pause before he turns his head to me, a smile on his lips. “Finding the brightest star other than the North Star. That one’s already taken.” “What?” I ask with a laugh, and his head turns back to the night sky. “That one,” he whispers, pointing to the sky. “That’s the one I’m naming after you. My little star gets the brightest star.”
I can’t look away from the screen, knowing that as he tends to do, Riggins Greene is going to ruin my fucking life once again.
“Alright, man. Just don’t make us lose her again, yeah? She’s your wife, but she’s all of ours. You know that.”
Riggs can show me and everyone can tell me over and over he has changed, but at some point it becomes my job to believe in him.
“The night I left. I cried for three weeks in my sister’s apartment. What did you do?” His face goes blank, confirmation I wish I didn’t have.
“Why the fuck not, Stella? That’s how relationships work. You try to make it work, and if something isn’t working, you fix it. You don’t go into expecting to have problems.”
