Page 104 of A Summer of Stars

When he reached for silverware, I stopped the motion, putting my hand over his. Finally, he looked at me.

“What type of sandwich?” I asked.

“You’re stubborn.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘helpful.’ Now sit down.”

He grumbled but sat. “Peanut butter and jelly. She likes them in triangles.”

I opened the fridge, in search of jelly, and started on the sandwich that would only take a second. “You know a lot about them.”

“My mom is really close with everyone in the neighborhood, as she confessed earlier. I usually see all of their kids on my visits.”

“How often do you visit?”

“As much as I can. Recently it’s only been every three or four months. It depends on the movie, where we’re shooting. With the press tour, I haven’t visited since March. The last time I saw this one, she didn’t even have teeth.” He held Drusilla up in the air. She giggled, looking down at him.

“I’m soooo hungry,” Isla sang, walking into the kitchen. She stopped short when she spotted where I put the sandwich on the table. She cheered, clutching the PB&J like a burger.

Thank you, Kieran mouthed.

Isla pushed her chair right against Kieran’s, shoulder to shoulder with him. Drusilla peered over, watching the young girl eat.

He was their epicenter, and I was gravitating toward him the more I learned.

The sun was piercing the line where the ocean met the sky, burning orange by the time we stepped outside. Five steps from the back door and our feet were already in the sand.

Silence followed us for a few moments until I built up the courage to say, “So your family—”

“Is insane, I know.” He exhaled as if he had been waiting for me to say it.

“I was going to say fun.” I laughed, bending down to pick up a white seashell.

“Ah, yes, the kind word for insane.”

“Insane is definitely better than hollow, though.” I inhaleddeeply, looking down at the sand. “I don’t get to see my brother often; he’s a workaholic. Not that I’m much better, but most of our memories come from childhood now. And my father, he’s out exploring the world, focusing on business ventures. He seems happy. That makes me happy. I just miss that fullness that comes with family. The hectic kitchen, coats by the door, grocery lists on the fridge, arguments at dinner that end in laughter. I can see how much they love you, how much you make them laugh.”

I stopped short again to pick up another shell, one that looked like a mini conch. “I don’t understand why you never told me where you were from, or your last name?”

“I do a lot of it to protect my family. Or at least, I thought I had been. Recently, it seems more to do with keeping my father pleased than anything.”

“He doesn’t appear very pleased.”

“He wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t until I told him that I wasn’t taking over the family business. The fact that I went into something like acting made it so much worse.”

“I don’t understand. You’re the pinnacle of a successful actor.”

“I sometimes wonder if that makes it worse. As if he thinks I’m too good for the family now. That I’m betraying the work he’s done to support us by living somewhere else and entertaining a career like acting. He looks down upon it because it doesn’t require a degree or real talent—his words.”

The more he spoke, the more our boat ride in France came back to me, when he shared why his work wasn’t something to be proud of. It wasn’t because of critics or people online. It was his father.

“As for my last name, I agreed to drop it when my father let me leave for acting school in the States after graduation. No affiliation to the family was our deal, down to the color of our hair.”

My heart deflated. I wanted to push my family story through a shredder for assuming he was happy at home. “Kieran, that’s terrible.”

He paused to reach for a pink scalloped shell in the sand, placing it in my palm. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. None of this is fine. Just because your father doesn’t think acting is a respectable career doesn’t mean he’s right. You’re successful for a reason, there’s no mistake about that.”