by Justin Olson
We’re both quiet, but at least the fire is keeping me entertained. Crackling and burning, splitting logs and throwing burning amber and ash into the air, glowing until it burns to nothing.
POSSIBLE WORLDS IN A UNIVERSE SO VAST
• • • • •
Tickles lies next to us in our sleeping bags.
The moon is out and the fire is still burning, but not as strongly. We’re neglecting it while we wait and search, talk, and hunt the dark sky.
After some time has passed since we last spoke, Seth asks, “Why do you think we’re here?”
“Because we wanted to go camping.”
“No.” Seth chuckles. “Like, here. On Earth.”
“Oh. Uh. The big bang?”
Seth turns to me. “Do you believe in that?”
“You don’t?”
“Isn’t it weird to think that an explosion caused our being here? Like, we’re just the aftermath of some bomb. A collection of debris.”
“A collection of debris?” I say. “Doesn’t that sound kind of cool? We’re basically made up of space rocks. And we can think. And dream. And write. And love. And we’re just debris. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“I mean, when you put it that way. But what about God? Adam and Eve?”
“What about them?”
Seth shakes his head. “So you’re not a religious person, I take it?”
“I don’t know. If there’s a God, then I’m convinced he’s made out of space dust too.”
“I was raised Catholic.”
“I wasn’t raised anything in particular.”
There’s silence between us as the stars in the far galaxies twinkle and shine and freeze and burn and make other space rock people.
“Isn’t the universe amazing?” I ask. “Like, just so vast?” I enjoy the time looking up, right into the sky. No screen around. Almost like there’s a direct connection between the universe above and me below it all. This is time I spend contemplating my life, and the Big Questions.
Seth looks up and watches the sky with me, but doesn’t say anything.
“There is something like a hundred billion galaxies in the universe. Like, not planets or stars, but galaxies with all their own planets and stars.” I take a deep breath, letting the enormity of the universe settle in on my chest. Seth remains silent. Reflective, perhaps. “Sometimes I think I like looking up because I realize how small I really am. See that star? None of my problems matter to that gigantic star. Or all those stars that make up the Big Dipper? They don’t care what I’m going through. In fact, they don’t even know of my existence. Or care. I am nothing to everything beyond me.”
“That seems depressing.”
“I guess it could be depressing. But also kind of freeing, you know? Like, nothing I ever do will matter to those stars. To our own star. Probably not even to our Earth.”
“So what’s the point of even being alive?” asks Seth.
I shrug, but I don’t think he can see that. “What’s the point of anything?”
Seth smirks. “What kind of answer is that?”
“A truthful one.”
After a few seconds Seth asks, “So we’re looking for UFOs?”
“I think that’s one reason why I want to be taken by aliens. Because then maybe I would matter. I would matter to something out there. Some planet in the Great Beyond. Because I would matter to the aliens on that planet.”
“By that logic, you matter to Earth.”
I keep looking up. “How’s that?”
“Because if you matter to humans, then you matter to Earth. And you matter to me.”
“That’s not exactly what I mean.”
“Well, that’s what you said. Oh, and by the way,” says Seth. “You said it was freeing not to matter to anything, but then you said you wanted to matter to something. Make up your damn mind.”
“Well, I mean—” Crap. I don’t know what I mean. Maybe all this talk is nothing but talk. Maybe I want both? To be free and to matter. Does that even make any sense?
And then I hear what Seth just said: “You matter to me.” It echoes around in my head.
And the earth keeps spinning while the stars stay glued to the sky. And I stay glued to the stars.
You matter to me.
* * *
The night entrenches itself more deeply into darkness as Seth and I stay in our sleeping bags. The fire is nothing but tiny flames though still providing some light. I purposely keep the fire small so that we can still see the sky.
Seth yawns. “So we’re just supposed to stare at the sky for another four hours?”
“Yep. All night.”
“You know what would suck?”
“Huh?”
“If we stayed up all night, and then the moment we fell asleep, at like six this morning, the sky lit up with UFOs.” Seth laughs.
“Okay, jerk. Why would you even say that? Now I’m never going to sleep. Ever again.”
Seth laughs more. “Sorry. That was kind of mean.”
I keep quiet, even though I feel like I should say something.
“I’m sure we’d hear or see something, right?” asks Seth. “We’d be woken up.”
“Tell me more about the light you saw.”
“Uh. What do you want to know?”
“Anything. I want to know if it was the same light as I saw. Maybe the same UFO?” I turn and rest on my forearm. “Can I tell you a secret? They’re looking for me.”
Seth doesn’t say anything right away, and I instantly regret what I said. The feeling of stupidity begins to swallow me.
“I already know you think that,” he says. “But I can’t figure out why you think that.”
In the light from the flickering fire, I can see his face—his eyes as they’re boring holes into my own. He’s looking at me as if I’m an alien. “Because my mom told me.”
* * *
There were a lot of doors slammed that night. It felt like ten people were living in our house. My parents were doing a lot of yelling, which I could hear in my bedroom even though my music was playing.
It was dark outside.
It was a school night.
I had just gotten into bed and turned off my lamp, when my bedroom door opened and in walked my mom. She sat on the edge of my bed and didn’t say a word. She just combed my hair with her fingers.
“Mom? Are you and Dad getting a divorce?”
She laughed. “No, honey. We’re not getting a divorce.”
“Okay. Good.”
“But the aliens . . . they spoke to me again. They’re coming, Charlie. I’m close to leaving. So very close.”
“But you can’t leave me.”
“They are giving me no choice. But I talked with them.”
I sat up. “What did they say?”
“They want me now. But they’ll come for you later.”
“Me later?”
She nodded, kissed me on the forehead, and as she went away said, “Later.”
When I woke up the next morning, the house was empty. I figured my dad had left early for work, like normal. But my mom should’ve been around. She was always around in the mornings. But that morning she was gone. And I haven’t seen her since.
* * *
“Your mom is now with the aliens?” asks Seth.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know, Charlie. This is a little weird. You really think your mom was abducted by aliens? Seriously?”
“She’s gone. And she predicted it. Besides, there are a lot of aliens out there in the Great Beyond. There’s probably more alien species than animal species on Earth. And that’s like millions. And you even saw a light and heard a loud noise yourself. I mean, what else could that be?”
Side note: I know there are many things it could be—and they would make more sense than it having something to do with aliens. But I refuse to lose hope. You can think yourself out of everything magical in life. And what’s the point of a life without the possib
ility of something magical happening? Maybe that’s what I should’ve said to Seth when he asked about the point of being here.
I look at the twinkling stars—and steady my gaze. I am ready, more than ready, to see something out there.
“I made it up,” Seth says.
“Made what up?”
“The light. The noise. I’m sorry, Charlie. I just wanted to—”
“You made it up?” I’m oddly not even mad. I’m more sad, this feels like a betrayal from a person I trusted. “Why would you do that?” I push out of my small, confining sleeping bag and walk toward the edge of the clearing.
“Charlie? Where are you going?”
But I keep going.
“Charlie? Stop and let me explain.”
I hear footsteps on the forest floor of dry pine needles, rocks, and twigs. So I pick up my pace.
“Charlie. Stop!”
I don’t stop until I reach a large boulder and climb up on top of it, my mind a mess of swirling thoughts: aliens-stars-universe-Seth-light-noise-sad-Mom. I stand, looking out across the forest. With the moonlight so strong, I can see the valley and treetops down below. I can see the larger, more intimidating mountain range in the distance. I can see everything. I even see Seth climbing up the rock.
Seth finishes climbing up and sits. “I am seriously out of breath.”
“You betrayed my trust, Seth.”
“I thought this alien stuff was like a hobby or something. And I thought you kind of knew none of this was real.”
“This is all real! I spend my life searching—and looking—and wondering, and that’s real to me.”
Seth stares at me. He looks hurt. “Can I be honest?”
I can’t even nod to him. I stand there, arms crossed.
“I was worried that night after we went swimming. You just seemed so cold and distant to me. Especially on the bike ride home—you didn’t even talk. It was like you didn’t want to be anywhere near me. And that night before, at Jennifer’s, you were so mad at me and ignored all my phone calls. I panicked. I was worried that you might not talk to me again. So I made the UFO thing up, hoping that you’d still talk to me. That you’d still . . . be my friend.”
“Yeah, well . . .”
“I know it was stupid. I’m sorry. But can you at least see why I panicked?”
Even though I don’t want to say anything to make him feel better, because I somehow feel so hurt, I say, “Maybe.”
“I’ll take a maybe.”
I wonder if I should bring it up. I dig my foot into the dirt and then decide to go for it. “While we’re on the subject of Jennifer Bennett, I’d love to know what is going on between you and her.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know I like her. You knew that the first time we walked down the school hallway together. So, are you trying to steal her?”
“Really? Really, Charlie? You know, for someone who’s always looking, you can be so completely blind. You can’t see things standing right in front of you, because you’re too busy staring up. And I hate to say it, but life isn’t above us. It’s in front of us. And maybe it’s time you pay attention to what’s in front of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you think? Is that why you’ve been so mad?” Seth laughs to himself, like he suddenly gets it. “It is, isn’t it? You think I’ve been trying to steal Jennifer Bennett away from you.”
The way Seth is talking makes me feel like I was being an idiot. But I just listen.
“I’m not trying to steal Jennifer Bennett from you, Charlie.”
I muster up the strength to say, “It sure seems that way. Like that night when you were in her room forev—”
“No, Charlie. I’m gay.”
SHATTERINGS
• • • • •
Immediately after Seth’s words are absorbed into the universe, I feel like the world’s biggest dick. How could I not have known that? Or maybe I did know, but the thought scared me. Scared me for what it meant for our friendship.
Seth turns to me. “Charlie, I’m a mess. I’m in love with someone who can’t even see me.”
“So . . . you’re not in love with Jennifer Bennett?”
“Oh my god. No. I’m not. Never have been. She’s, you know, not my type.”
Tickles, tied up by the sleeping bags, barks in the distance.
“So who are you in love with?”
Seth laughs.
“What’s so funny?” But he won’t stop laughing. “Seriously. I’m trying to help.”
He quiets down and looks up at the stars. “Let’s just say he’s the world’s most oblivious person.”
I’m starting to think that it might be me . . . but it couldn’t be. Right? So I ask, “Do I know him? Is he gay?”
“I’m not sure you’ve ever actually met.”
“Does he live—”
“And as far as your second question, I’m not sure.” He stares into my eyes. “Are you?”
I find myself leaning back. “Me? What? You’re . . . with me?” Maybe I’m overreacting because I don’t want him to think I’ve suspected anything. But I think I have suspected. But that doesn’t erase the shock when hearing it confirmed.
I find myself hoping that a UFO will appear right now, if only so I can be taken to a world where shame and embarrassment don’t exist.
“Dumb, right?” says Seth.
His words hurt me. I don’t like the pain I’ve caused my best friend. No, it’s not dumb. I mean, yeah, kind of dumb, because I have never given Seth a reason to believe I’m gay. Have I?
Am I?
Do I like Seth as more than a friend? Do I even know what that would feel like? And what about Jennifer Bennett? I thought I liked her, too. But I feel so much closer to Seth.
Frankly, I spent so long without a friend that the thought of anything more has never crossed my mind. This is all a big mess that I’ve caused. I clearly suck at being a friend.
“You really think I’m gay?” I ask.
Seth leans back. “Charlie, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make me answer that.”
The only girl I’ve ever liked, or found truly attractive, is Jennifer Bennett. A girl so far out of my league that it might as well be a fantasy. A girl I can’t bring myself to talk to. Do I like her only because she was the most human person at that school?
Did I ever have a chance with her?
Could I still have a chance? It could be like in one of those movies where the dorky guy gets the hot girl. That happens in real life, right?
Somehow thinking through my situation with Jennifer Bennett, knowing that my chances with her were never based in reality, is kind of a revelation to me. Even somewhat freeing.
“Can we just forget that this conversation ever happened?” asks Seth, and I see his eyes glisten in the moonlight.
But the more I let his words sink in, the more I feel that they’re drilling a hole into my soul, shattering some kind of wall.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think this is a pivotal moment in our friendship. And I see two options—one will allow us to become the bestest of friends, and the other will destroy our friendship. We need to proceed cautiously.”
I jump down from the boulder and put up my hand like it’s a gun at the ready. I’m like a spy getting ready to bust into a building. Except I’m not. At all.
“Where are you going?”
“Proceeding cautiously.” I walk a few feet and turn to Seth, who’s watching me quizzically from the rock. “Well, come on.” I keep the hand gun at the ready.
Seth jumps down off the rock. “Charlie. This is ridiculous. I feel like an idiot. I just want to go back to my sleeping bag.”
“Nonsense.” I’m walking farther away from the sleeping bags.
“What are you doing with your hands? What is going on? I literally just told you I’m gay, and now you’re acting weird.”
It’s true—I hav
e no idea what I’m doing. I think I just want to make Seth laugh. I want to make him forget about all this, but I’m acting like too big a weirdo and am probably just creeping him out.
“They’re just right over that hill, Captain.” I slowly sneak like the spy I’m not. I even get down onto my knees and slowly move toward a fallen tree. When I turn back, I see Seth walking back to the sleeping bags.
Shit.
SEEING
• • • • •
As I follow Seth from a distance, I begin to think that he might be the only person who actually sees me. It’s an interesting thought to have, and maybe it has something to do with his being a photographer? His life is all about catching moments that others miss, finding those quiet and unobtrusive slices of life on a busy city street; or seeing those loud, unignorable cracks in a person that the person can’t see in himself.
But I also think Seth sees me in ways that aren’t visible to the eye, a way of seeing that requires truly listening, and being attentive, and stepping away from one’s own fleeting yet constant needs, in order to actually be there for someone else. Maybe I’m reading way too much into this, and I just feel terrible for not seeing Seth in a deeper, more meaningful way. How could I be so blind?
Seth walks in front of me with his head down. I don’t even know how to begin to salvage our friendship. I really messed things up.
We get into our sleeping bags, and I move around for a few seconds, listening to the nylon scratching.
“Tell me more about you,” I say.
“It’s okay, Charlie. I think I might just get some sleep.” Seth turns away from me and lies on his side.
Normally I don’t mind the silence, especially in the woods, but when I think about Seth no longer awake, anxiety washes over me. I am so small against the backdrop of the sky, and Seth is turned away from me. I am neglected, and it’s my own doing.
“Please don’t sleep,” I whisper.
“What?”
“I’d really love to know,” I say.
An occasional wheeze comes from Tickles as he sleeps away. Sometimes I’m jealous of animals who seem to be able to sleep no matter what is crumbling around them.