The Last Night of Stars

The Last Night of Stars

On that night, the dark sky opened up to show us the moon. The moon shined so bright that our eyes could hardly contain their splendor. Our eyes reflected back the light from the heavens, but not nearly as bright, not nearly as beautiful.

We laid there upon the ground, with our heads upon the soft grass. The grass prickled against our cheeks, leaving warm wet kisses upon our faces that were ever so brilliant within the heat of the Colorado Summer air.

There was a breeze that passed over us too, a nice cool air that uplifted our spirits like kites upon the wind. Little did we know that the wind would change us, that it was drifting us in different directions.

We looked at each other, eye to eye, face to face, me and my girl. She looked so pleased that we’d come. That we’d seen this place that so many people fail to see, because of the smog, because of the pollution, yet even here, the world smelled like acid rain and sewage.

Her eyes, her eyes were so much like the stars in the way that they glowed like the sunlight and in the way that her pupils were deep dark even in the midst of the light. She was so different from everyone else I ever met, and ever would.

She leaned towards me. Her voice woke me up from the night, from the stars, from the moon, all that. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Melody said.

“Yes,” I said, pressing her tighter in my arms, even though her slippery skin didn’t make it easy.

“Do you ever miss the stars?” Melody said. “Do you ever miss seeing them like this, so bright, so wonderful?”

I laughed then, because I didn’t know what was coming. I had no idea. “Of course I do.” I said. “Of course I miss them.”

“Why,” she asked, and there was a chill in the air that I never felt before. It pierced through the hardness of my skin, into my bones, into my heart.

I sat up. I buckled my hands around my knees as though I was strapping myself into a car seat. I thought about what she said for a while, replaying the moment over and over again in my mind, but it didn’t make sense to me. “What do you mean?”

That was when Melody laughed. “The stars silly, the stars, why do you miss them? Is it their warmth? I guess what I’m really trying to say is, what, do you miss about the stars?”

I let a long warm breath out of my chest and looked over at her. “It’s not something I can really describe in so few words. I’d need more than that. I’d need almost a thousand, no, a million more sentences to describe all of the things that I miss about seeing the sky like this.”

She stared at me then. She scanned me over as though she thought that I wouldn’t notice. She was questioning me, with her lips, but there was no sound there was no voice.

Melody tied her fingers into her dark black hair. Then she ran those fingers through. That was the closest thing that she had to magic in my heart. “Will you miss me that way when I’m gone?”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. I was out of breath. The thoughts wouldn’t come. “Of course I’ll miss you when you go off to college.” I put my arms around her, but not as tightly as I had before, not nearly as close.

She turned into me and glanced up at me. “But what will you miss Jackson? Will you miss my thoughts? Will you miss my dreams? Will you miss my hopes?”

“Of course.” I said. I’ll miss all of those things.”

“But you can’t describe what you’ll miss. Can you?” Melody said.

I let out another breath, another difficult question that I just wasn’t ready to answer. I rubbed the back of my shaggy brown hair. Anything I said at this point was a deathtrap. She had me caught, checkmate. “One doesn’t so simply describe a star like you.”

“I’m not a star.” Melody said. “I’m just dirt. I’m just mud. I’m just smoke in the wind ready to blow away.” She leaned her face into my chest. I didn’t move, because I wasn’t sure what to do yet. “Smoke, ready to blow away in the autumn wind.”

“Was that you trying to be philosophic?” I asked. “God you suck.”

Melody punched me in the chest with the side of her fist, but I didn’t feel a thing, too much padding. “You’re just a big jerk.” She was joking in her voice at least somewhat, but it just didn’t feel that way.

I held her closer to my chest and I felt something wet drip onto my pant leg. She sniffled into my shirt. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” Now it was her turn for the release of deep breaths. “It’s not you. Don’t blame yourself. It’s just—“ She took a pause as she wiped her eyes and sat up from the grass. “It’s me. There’s no way that any of this is fair to you.”

I sat up too. “Why isn’t it fair to me?” I let out a small low laugh, almost a rumble. “I’m nothing.”

“You’re everything to me.” Melody said.

At first I didn’t know what to say. I enjoyed the compliment, but now it was time for the hardest thing., to give it all back, not just the compliment, but everything I’d ever gotten from her. Now was the time to tell her that it’s time to break away. “No, I’m nothing. You’re special. I couldn’t even get into Harvard if I tried. I’m not smart like you. You’re the star. I’m dirt, just plain dirt.”

“But—“ She sniffled. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to forget about you. Couldn’t we still be together even though we’re apart.”

“Of course we can’t.” I said. I put on a fake smile, stood up, and walked to the edge of the hilltop. “You want to have fun up in college don’t you?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “You can’t have someone like me holding you back.”

Melody walked up next to me, but didn’t say anything.

“Look.” I said. “You belong up there, in the heavens, lighting the way. While I belong, well, there, in the city, being walked on and stepped all over. It’s as simple as that really.

“This is anything, but simple.” Melody said.

I hated to admit it, but she was right. This was anything but simple. It must have been harder on her though. She had a lot more to live up to, a lot more to think about than just this. She placed an arm around me, but I’d already let her go. This was the last night that I could see her like this, with me.

I laid in my bed that night, questioning what I thought, thinking about what I felt, and feeling all of the things I questioned, but it was pointless. The decision was made. It was over between the two of us.

I opened my eyes the next morning, somehow, quite calm. The love that I felt last night had come and passed. Last night was the epitome of the love that I felt for her and now it was gone.

Yet still, I felt a hard pang in my heart as though all of my feelings had been emptied from my stomach. Yeah, I was gutted like a fish and thrown back out into the ocean to sink to the bottom.

My world was frozen like ice. Even the syrup on my pancakes ran slow, dripping down into a slump above my plate. Even the pancakes themselves were hard as rocks. I could’ve robbed a bank with those pancakes because once those hit me, I was dead right in my seat.

I heard a strange sound behind me, so I turned around. I glanced around the room, but there wasn’t really anything to out of the usual. I laughed when figured out what the ticking was.

It was the clock, above my head, beating like a drum in the middle of the night. Without her voice, the room was quiet. I’d never really heard the sound of my own clock ticking up till this point, but with her gone, the sound was immense.

I looked back down and drew in my syrupy plate. Nothing in particular really, just drew. I sat there for what seemed like only a little bit, drawing in my plate, thinking about my actions that led me up till this point.

The next time I looked at my watch, it was nearly 9’ o’clock. I was going to be late for my interview. If you were in my house that day, you would’ve felt the strongest gust of wind rush by you that you’d ever felt. I hardly even took the time to dress myself before I hit the road and I almost dressed myself in the driver’s seat. The shoe took time.

I thumped the shoe onto my foot as I reached the front of the news station, Channel 8 News, the best place to find your news today.

The waiting room was cold, and blue. The guy next to me was chewing on his pencil, like some kind of a rodent. The rest of him was pretty pest like too. He had beady little eyes, that squirmed around, his hair was frayed and twisted—god, what the job market must’ve done to this guy.

I didn’t want to end up like that, all squirrely and twitchy. The thought of it gave me chills.

“Mark, Mark Elrond.” The woman called.

The man jumped out of his seat, tossing 20 or so resumes into the air as he did so. He rushed to pick them up, scuttling left and right.

The woman called his name again. “Mark—Mark Elrond are you in the office?”

“I’m right here!” Mark said, piercing every ear in the office, all accept the receptionist I suppose, because she just kept on going.

“Mark—Hello?” She said.

By that point, Mark had gathered his resumes up. He waddled toward the office as though his legs were made of lard or jelly, probably both by the looks of things. From the way he wobbled, I couldn’t believe he kept those think black glasses on his face.

However, it felt like just as soon as the man walked into the office, he was back out again, but somehow the guy seemed even worse than before. His glasses were fogged up with tears and snot ran down the side of his face. He reminded me of my car after a Christmas party he was such a train wreck.

“Jackson Erickson.” The receptionist said.

I walked up to the desk, hands sturdy, chest firm, back straight. My hair was clean, my skin was almost clear, my breath smelled good. I was ready. “Yes.”

The receptionist wore a red jacket with red eyeglasses to match. Her fingertips were quite plump for a secretary. All the receptionists’ hands I ever saw were torn up pieces of cloth up till that point. When I looked at the woman’s face, I mean really looked at the woman’s face, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Her skin was gorgeous. No wrinkles. No tan lines. No gray hairs. She couldn’t of been more than twenty maybe.

“Sign sir.” The woman said, and sign I did. Once I was finished, she took it and looked it over, once or twice. “Your interviewer will see you now.”

I slicked back my hair once more as I prepared to enter the room. I took my first step forward and couldn’t stop myself from progressing after that. I reviewed all the things that I learned in school.

What do you do if they ask you what kind of sandwich you are Jackson. I’m a honey crusted ham and baloney sandwich, I replied to myself. What if they ask you how much money you made at your last job? I tell them my last job didn’t pay me. What if they ask you how often you shower at night? I tell them, just once sir, but I like to keep myself very clean.

When I opened the doors to the interviewing room, everything was calm and quiet. The anchor man from Channel 8 News sat before me, dressed in a red overcoat and black slacks. He sat in a wooden chair that never squeaked against the glossed white floor, not even once, as he tilted back and forth.

I walked up to the anchorman and shook his hand. “You must be Ron Jacobson. It’s nice to meet you sir.” I smiled my best smile, but the guy seemed to be taken a bit back by it.

At first, all he did was raise one of his thick black eyebrows. Then he gave a short cough behind his over-moisturized lips. “You must be the kid we decided to interview for this position.”

“How can you tell I’m a kid?” I said.

The anchorman looked me over just once. “Your scrawny arms, the way the light reflects even in your dark brown eyes, the happiness in your voice. There are lots of ways to figure out a person at a glance. Even you kid.”

I let out a little breath of amusement. I sat down in the seat in front of the man and slapped my hands against my pant legs. “Wow sir, you really are one in a million. I could never do something as cool as that.”

Ron pointed a finger at me. “No time for flattery kid, and even if you can’t do it, you’re damned well going to try. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” I said. There was a long cold silence. “Does that mean that I’m hired sir?”

“Oh boy, I don’t get paid enough for this.” Ron said. He glugged down something in the cup in front of him, which I could only assume contained some kind of juice, but I wasn’t sure. “No, I want you to tell me what I’m like. Define five things about me, right here, right now.”

I scanned over the man more times than I could count. Eventually, I just sat back and laughed. I laughed so hard that I almost cried.

Ron smiled. “Let me guess. You’ve gone mad with hysteria. I’ll get the receptionist.” He cuffed his hands over his hairy lips. “Mary! We’ve got another looney.”

“No.” I said. “I’m just laughing at the Toupee you’re wearing. You have on way too much making for a broadcaster and it doesn’t hide anything. You don’t shave cause you can’t shave, you’d get razor bumps. I can tell from the red skin around your mouth.”

Ron retracted his lips.

“Oh yeah. That’s why you use Dove for Men right sir. Did you clean your ears yesterday? They seem very clean, but I can just see that little but of ear gunk right above the ear lobe.”

“That’s enough.” Ron Jacobson said, lifting up his white palm. “You’re hired. You start your paid internship on Monday. Don’t expect me to hold back on you just cause you’re right out of high school all right.”

I walked out with the biggest smile on my face that not even the sun and the moon combined could cover up my lips. My smile was so big that it attracted this red-headed girl named Molly. She told me, “you look like some kind of super star,” and maybe, just maybe, I was.

Now, ten years later a look back on it all as though it was just some memory, but sometimes I still think about the bright night beneath and between the stars. Now that I think about it, it’d make a great story wouldn’t it, The Last Night of Stars. Hmm, I’ll have to tell Molly on Monday or put it on the air. Nah, even a star’s got limits.