Brody was late coming home, so Charlie sat in the bow-window and waited for him. Brody’s supper was ready and she had borrowed some preserves from Mrs Webly, next door, to make a pie. It seemed like a good idea, considering. If she could find the right words to explain everything to Brody, he’d be ok about their visitor.
+++++The streetcar stop was way down the block, but Charlie recognised Brody’s lanky form as soon as he stepped off. She hurried through the open door and sat down on the porch steps. Brody’s long legs made short work of Stilton Street. He whistled and flashed his familiar, lopsided grin when he spotted her sitting there, half in shadow.
+++++“Hey, Charlene,” he said, taking the steps two at once. “What brings you out tonight? Looking for shooting stars again?” It was just like Brody to remember how they’d met, and Charlie felt years and disappointments melt away. He never forgot the little details and, though she loved him for it, sometimes it was a problem.
+++++“Oh, you!” she said, gently taking his hand. “No, I was waiting for you.”
+++++“Is this an, ‘I couldn’t wait to see you!’ occasion, or an, ‘I spent all the grocery money,’ occasion?” Brody joked, recalling an incident back when she was a new bride of eighteen.
+++++“That only happened but one time,” Charlie said. “And that was twenty years ago.” It was longer than that, but Brody tactfully didn’t mention the inaccuracy.
+++++“We don’t want it becoming a habit,” Brody said as he slipped down beside her. Charlie loved when he sat close, but there was no time to canoodle. She had to let him know, soon.
+++++“It’s just…” there was no gentle way to say it, so she blurted it out. “Annie is back.” She could feel Brody stiffen; she didn’t even need to look to know he was mad.
+++++“What is it this time?” Brody asked, through gritted teeth. She chose her words carefully, trying to pick her way between his resentment of Annie’s success, and his annoyance at her fecklessness.
+++++“Now, Brody,” Charlie said. “She’s your sister.”
+++++“My famous sister!” Brody said with a snort. “The Sweetheart of the Silver Screen! The Autograph Girl… she barely sends a postcard when things are good, but as soon as things are bad, back she slinks to Durrand. And her hand always slips into my wallet, too.”
+++++“Brody Dunn, that’s a terrible thing to say!” Charlie told him. “It’s not true, neither, and you know it. She done lots for us: gifts, cards, and flowers, too.”
+++++“When the kids were little, sure. She wanted to be their favourite auntie. But that was years ago,” Brody scoffed. “Back when the studio heads were all chasing after Annie, and throwing money her way. Now she only remembers us when something is wrong.”
+++++“She still sends cards and presents every Christmas,” Charlie shot back. “It’s not her fault times got tough.”
+++++“I’m not saying it’s her fault,” Brody said. “But when times are good, you put something away for when times go bad. That’s what ordinary people have got to do.” Charlie nodded.
+++++“I know you say Annie’s a scatterbrain, but she’s not a spendthrift,” Charlie said. “Not everybody can hold onto money. Sometimes, life comes along and eats away at what you put aside. You get sick, or there’s a fire, or someone you trust takes it.” Charlie reached out and stroked his shoulders. She could feel the tension under his coat. The two siblings had fought more than once, as siblings do. Charlie knew Brody’s strong opinions were mostly misplaced worry for his kid-sister; Annie lacked luck with men, romantically or as business partners.
+++++“Who stole her money this time?” Brody’s words came out hard and peevish, but Charlie kept trying to explain.
+++++“This time is different,” she said. “I could feel it when I talked to her. She seemed … dim, I guess. Like the sparkle was gone from her soul.” Brody grunted something unintelligible, and Charlie kept talking.
+++++“It has to be hard being a fading star, Brody. People expect stars to shine and be bright, to have wonderful lives. We sit in the dark, with nothing in our pockets, and watch them dance on the screen, lights and shadows; it’s not real, but we want it to be real. We want the roles stars play to be their whole lives.”
+++++“But they’re not.”
+++++“No, life isn’t fantasy,” Charlie replied. “Real people have real problems; but no-one wants to face the fact that stars are just people. They get old, and tired, and sick, just like anyone else. They have lousy marriages, and go broke, like the baker or the tailor, but only mean people enjoy that part.”
+++++“I can understand the audience confusing what’s real with a story,” Brody said. “Stuck in a factory all day, or shovelling manure out on the farm, who can blame them for having fantasies. But Annie is just as bad, and she should know the difference. I just don’t know if I can find it in me to patch things up for her once again, Charlene. It never gets easier.” Charlie guessed he was thinking about Annie’s makeup business that collapsed in the Depression, or the investments that had been stolen by one of her partners, or maybe something else. Charlie had lost track of all the times Annie had needed help.
+++++“We all want fantasies, Brody. Everyone,” Charlie said. “That’s why people go down to the Odeon and the Palace and the Capitol and pay for tickets when they can’t even put food on the table. Can you blame Annie for wanting fantasies too?”
+++++“I’m not saying she shouldn’t have dreams,” Bordy said, “But why the Hell…”
+++++“Mr Dunn, you watch your language!” Mrs Webly’s voice sounded out of the dark. “There are children in this neighbourhood.” Charlie suppressed a laugh and pulled Brody inside after her; there was no point giving the neighbourhood gossips more to talk about.
+++++Brody looked around for his sister, and seemed surprised not to see her in the parlour, or the kitchen.
+++++“Why does she never go to one of her men, though?” he asked with a sigh, and sat down at the table. “She runs off with them, until they start to drink, until they rob her, or start to hit her; but she never runs to one of them when things start going bad.”
+++++“Oh, Brody!” said Charlie. “Listen to yourself! Would you turn to someone you knew was bad to you before?” She put the meatloaf and potatoes in front of her husband, and carefully set the pie in the centre of the table, making Brody’s nostrils twitch. He dug into the meal, speaking between mouthfuls.
+++++“Sure, but she takes them back.” Brody was unwilling to give an inch. “That guy who stole her farm in New Jersey – the farm she said was her life’s dream – he wrote her a couple of sob-story letters and she took him back.”
+++++“She finds it in her heart to forgive,” Charlie said. “She holds out hope. That’s how Lotte raised you both, when you and Annie toured all across the states and Canada giving shows every week.”
+++++“That was the Gilded Age, Charlie,” Brody said with finality. “Times were hopeful, then.”
+++++“You and Annie were full of pepper and schemes to make good, then,” Charlie replied.
+++++“It doesn’t do her much good,” Brody grumbled. “Things are different now. The world is a hard place. Only fools think otherwise.”
+++++“Maybe only fools think things will be better, next time,” said Charlie, “They dare to dream that the people who let us down will change, even though part of them knows it won’t be like that.” Brody took another mouthful of the meal and didn’t reply. Charlie sat down opposite him and leaned across the table, looking into his eyes.
+++++“How else can people go on, Brody? We grab onto the good and forget the bad, because if we get too caught up in the bad, the darkness eats us up. We have to hope people will change for the better.”
+++++“Well, Annie’s changed for the worse,” Brody said. It was an awful thing to say, but Brody continued in the same resentful vein. “Riches, fame. It changed her for bad.” Charlie shook her head. Annie had seemed to rise easily, but everything Annie had was gone, now.
+++++“Everybody wants family when it’s easy,” said Charlie, quietly. “Nobody wants them when they make demands, or get sick, or need help and seem ungrateful. It’s just like the movies; we want the dream, not what’s real.”
+++++“Annie comes here because she knows you’ll take her in,” Brody said. “She knows you’re a soft touch.” A tear slipped out when he said that, and Charlie turned away. She needed to make him understand that any family is as much fantasy as reality, and to agree to let Annie come home; she didn’t want him to give up because her tears made Brody feel bad for her.
+++++“You have things Annie never had,” Charlie replied. “Who else would take her in? Where else would she go, but to her hometown, and her big brother? Everyone needs somewhere to turn to; most of us spend our lives trying to find it. This is her sanctuary.” Brody stayed quiet and Charlie knew he thought it wasn’t fair of Annie to ask him for help. Brody had worked hard, scrambling to get ahead, through good years, and bad.
+++++“For the last nine years she’s shown up regular, with a sob-story every time,” he said. “She begged off Ma, until she passed, then it was my turn.” Charlie knew Brody had taken money he’d been saving for the kids, for her, and handed it over to Annie. She knew he was angry with himself for his weakness, but Charlie had never resented his generosity, had never fought about it. That’s what family was for. The clock ticked in the silence; it must have been a minute before Charlie spoke again.
+++++“When I got home from the store,” she said, “I found Annie on the steps, curled up and half-asleep. I hardly recognised her, she looked so tired-out and miserable. I gave her some tea and bundled her upstairs to bed. She was sleeping last I checked.” Brody hesitated for a fraction before replying; there was a note in Charlie’s voice that alarmed him.
+++++“What’s wrong with her?” His concern batted with suspicion, though the contest was uneven.
+++++“She told me what it was – some long name I forget,” Charlie said, “But she’s worn out, burned through, like a big candle; the wick is gone, all that’s left is a shell. It scared me, Brody.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
+++++“She’ll pull through,” Brody said. “Annie always lands on her feet.” Charlie shook her head; he was just trying to convince himself, and she couldn’t let him.
+++++“Mayer gave her a job at his studio, bit parts, for $16 a week.”
+++++“That’s pretty good money, for most people,” Brody said. “A lot of people here in Durrand haven’t dreamed of a paycheque like that since before the Market crashed.”
+++++“It’s not a lot for a star,” Charlie said. “And bit parts are an insult for someone like Annie.”
+++++“I work damn hard for not much more than that, Charlie!” Brody said. “You work 44 hours a week at Robinson’s store for less.”
+++++“But we aren’t stars Brody,” Charlie replied. “You turned your back on acting and built something different. We never had that much, but we always had enough. What does a star do, when the studios don’t call any more and the crowds go home? How can you be jealous of Annie? Especially now she has nothing.” Brody thought for a moment, his sister’s achievements flickering through his brain like a newsreel.
+++++“They loved Annie, back before the War.” His voice sounded thick. “She made fifty movies in 1912. Fans couldn’t get enough of her. They mobbed her in St Louis, Chicago, New York…”
+++++“Even here in Durrand,” Charlie said. “The crowds lined the streets all the way up from the Great Eastern station to the President Hotel.”
+++++“Local Girl Now World’s Biggest Star,” Brody half-smiled. “I remember the headline in the Gazette.”
+++++“And you know how it had been before,” Charlie reminded him. “You told me yourself, when you were young, how people had snickered behind Annie’s back. You heard them tell dirty jokes about actresses. That sort of thing is worse for a woman.” She could tell the words hit home. She kept pushing.
+++++“Then she got the chance to shine, to be better than anyone. And now it’s all slipped away, like leaves in the wind,” Charlie said. “And when she turns to her big brother, he gets all resentful of her for losing her success.” Brody took a deep breath.
+++++“Is it serious? Is she alright?” he asked. Charlie looked at him, and Brody could see the worry in her eyes.
+++++“Whatever she’s got makes her blood weak and she gets sick and depressed,” Charlie answered. “She called up Mayer last week and told him she was too ill, even for bit parts.” Brody was taken aback by that; Annie was always a the-show-must-go-on type.
+++++“Honest, Brody, she looked so bad,” Charlie said. “I know you told me never to let her back, but I just couldn’t shut the door on her.” Brody took her in his arms. She looked up at him; her big eyes always softened him, in the end. They were never brighter or more beautiful than when she’d been crying.
+++++“I guess you couldn’t,” he replied. “That’s what makes you special. OK, I’ll talk to her.” Then Brody took a deep breath, like a swimmer about to take the plunge on a cold day and Charlie gave him a hug.
+++++“You go up, first,” she told him. “I’ll fix some soup for her, and bring it after.” Charlie listened to his feet going up the stairs, then turned the burner on. Before she could even set a pot on the flame, Brody was back. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand; he didn’t say a thing, just handed her the note. Then he walked to the back door and stepped out onto the porch.
+++++Charlie read what was written on it:

Dear Brody,
I am tired, so tired. Hope these pills work. Good bye, my darling. They can’t cure me, so let it go at that.
Lovingly, Annie

P.S. You and Charlie have been swell. Everything I’ve got left is yours.

Charlie followed Brody outside, waiting for him to say something. She needed him to tell her it was a joke, one of Annie’s pranks. He was staring up at the stars and, as she looked up too, a shooting star flew by, far overhead.
+++++“A star has gone out, Charlie,” he said, putting his arm around her. “Every star goes out, eventually. A spark glimmers in the darkness and then it fades. It happens all the time, but there are so many we don’t notice it.”
+++++Charlie held him tightly and Brody wept on her shoulder.

[Image Credit : Photo by Barry Weatherall on Unsplash]

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Eolas Pellor

Eolas Pellor’s stories have been published in more than 17 online and print publications. He is an autistic former reporter, who taught a wide variety of subjects in inner-city schools for nearly 30 years before retiring from teaching.

Latest posts by Eolas Pellor (see all)

• Every Star Goes Out - August 25, 2026