The more people checked on me, the more I wanted to disengage. They could sympathize, but they didn’t understand how I was feeling. The exchanges all felt superficial.
Mom insisted, however, that I participate in the graduation ceremony.
“We must have pictures of you in cap and gown! You’re only going to do this once, remember.”
I grudgingly relented. With so much extended family in town visiting my dad, I knew they would all be coming to watch.
So despite the fact that I hadn’t been to school in weeks, May thirtieth rolled around, and I had to get up and I had to become a member of the student body again.
I woke up that morning feeling despondent, just as I had for days now. In spite of the conversation with my dad, I couldn’t work myself up to “fine”, let alone “passionate”.
I put on my robe and went downstairs to the kitchen, where my aunt Claire was frowning at the laptop in front of her on the kitchen table. She looked up when she heard me.
“Morning,” she said.
I grunted a reply, and helped myself to one of the muffins sitting on the counter. One thing about having relatives around is that they insisted on doing all the domestic chores. Mom hadn’t had to cook or clean in days.
“Sleep well?” Claire asked.
“Sure,” I lied.
“Well, today’s the big day.”
“I guess so.” I knew I was being lousy company, but I didn’t much care. In fact, I rather resented people expecting me to be any sort of company. And with that thought, I filled a glass with water and took it and the muffin back up to my room with me.
I ate. And then I reluctantly went through the motions of showering and primping. I stared at myself in the mirror as the silver graduation gown was draped over my new red dress, the cap adjusted (not quite covering the bare spot on my head), and wondered who that grim person with the sallow eyes was.
The auditorium was packed, of course. Cameras and smiles were abundant. Yearbooks were pushed under my nose and honor cords placed round my neck.
“Alex!” Cora floated up to me. “Haven’t seen you for a while—loving the new hairstyle!”
I self-consciously touched the bare skin on my head while she pranced away to pollinate other social circles.
Knowing it was what Mom wanted, I manufactured a smile and pointed it at everyone who came to greet me. I even managed several group hugs. But despite the tangible buzz of energy and excitement in the air, I felt nothing but grief. A small part of me was aware that my fellow classmates must have thought me a real killjoy, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The ceremony was the same as pretty much every other graduation: long self-congratulating speeches, with just enough dumb humor to illicit courtesy laughs from the audience. I spent the time searching the sea of faces for my family.
Eventually it was time for me to stand and walk through the procession to receive my diploma. The line moved slowly. Each name called was met with a loud cheer from a different part of the spectators, like surround sound with a hundred different speakers.
It was nearly my turn when I finally spotted my family. I gave a tight smile and waved, and that’s when I saw my dad.
He was sitting next to my mom, looking pale and weak, but smiling and waving at me. I hadn’t even bothered to ask if he’d be coming because I knew it was impossible. But he had.
A strange blend of happiness and sadness swept through me, but there was enough of the happiness to materialize into a real smile. And when they called my name, I was genuinely pleased.
I walked off the platform and returned to my seat. I clapped for my peers, and turned to wave again at my Dad.
But he wasn’t there. Mom too was missing from her seat. And my uncle Jed. They must have left early so Dad could get some rest, I thought, and turned back to the stage. But a dissatisfied feeling kept nagging at me, and I looked again at the stands. One of my uncles was on his cell phone, and Claire was guiding two of my younger cousins toward the exit.
Something was wrong.
I sat for a moment, restless, then (despite the fact that the principal was only on the ‘E’s) I stood and made my way down the row and toward the exit, drawing disapproving looks.
The lobby was mostly empty, but through the exit doors I saw an ambulance just pulling away. My aunts and uncles and cousins were scattered on the curb, but I didn’t see my mom.
Don’t rush to conclusions, Alex, I told myself. Don’t assume the worst.
I walked out the doors, squinting into the bright sunlight. Aunt Claire came straight over to me and enveloped me in a hug.
“They took your dad to the hospital,” she said quietly. “We were thinking of going over too. Do you want to come with us or stay here for the rest of the program?”
“I want to see my dad.”
“Okay. Jed’s bringing the car around. Do you want to go tell anyone that you’re leaving?
I shook my head. I hadn’t even wanted to come in the first place.
My uncle’s black car pulled up and we loaded in just as a loud cheer rose from the auditorium.
Chapter 13
“Our agreement has been met. I must leave now.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’re withholding information.”
“Of course I’m withholding information. Does a professor teach a baby calculus? I’ve shared all I will, and will be leaving.”
“We will detain you.”
“You could try. That worked so well the first time.”
“You’re no better than the Solamure—a greedy information hoarder. And I thought you were human.”
“I am neither.”
Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, with my young cousins crawling over the chairs and tables, while my aunts and uncles spoke in hushed voices, was excruciating. All I wanted was to go home with my parents and block out the rest of the world.
Nurses came and went, and strangers peeked at each other, wondering what sort of trauma brought the other to the emergency room. The distinct and odorous hospital scent hovered in the air like a fog.
I sat still in my chair, staring intently at a dark green plant in the corner and tried to decide if it was real or fake.
“Alex, come play horsey with me.”
My six-year-old cousin Marley looked up at me with her big brown eyes. I was about to respond when her mother came over and shushed her.
“Leave Alex alone right now, dear. Why don’t you come play on my phone?”
My aunts and uncles were deliberately giving me some space. Because they knew. We all knew.
My dad was dead.
No one had said anything official yet, but it was only a matter of time.
“The Blackwood family?” a woman with a clipboard said.
No, not even a matter of time.
Those of us who had been sitting rose, and the adults were escorted to a smallish room with chairs lining the walls.
Mom was already in there. She was holding a box of tissues, but she wasn’t crying. Just staring into the carpet.
I sat next to her, and we kind of leaned into each other slightly.
Once everyone was seated, the woman introduced herself as a social worker, and went on to describe the medical details of Dad’s cancer. She finished with the information we already knew.
Dad was dead.
Officially.
I had imagined this moment—what it would actually be like. But I didn’t sob like I expected. And I didn’t lash out in anger, another possibility. I just sat, leaning into my mom, and tried to figure out exactly which carpet thread she was staring at, so I could stare at it with her.
I was aware that there were people: crying, hugging, burying their faces in their hands. But it was like TV: you know what’s going on, but it doesn’t really affect you.
After a while, Mom stood, so I did too. And then they wanted us to leave the room. My mom was stronger than me. She accepted condolences, pamphlets about griev
ing, offers to help with the funeral. I walked over to the plant that was in the waiting room and pinched a leaf. A tiny bit of liquid seeped under my nail.
It was real after all.
“She hasn’t said a word to anyone.”
“She’s taking this very hard.”
“Poor thing. I’ve always wondered what goes on in her mind.”
I don’t remember the rest of that day.
But I do remember that night.
Somehow I was wearing pajamas, and tucked into my bed. My room was dark. Even though some of the relatives were staying with us, the house seemed vacant. I couldn’t stop thinking about the half-empty bed Mom was laying in.
This keen sense of emptiness finally triggered the emotional outburst that had to come. Quiet tears streamed involuntarily down my face, and hands cradled my head. I rocked back and forth in fetal position. Minutes became hours.
Eventually I realized I needed to use the bathroom. How mundane. How inconsiderate of my body to continue on as normal.
I left the bedroom and returned shortly. But I didn’t get into bed. There was no point; I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Instead I walked to my window and looked out at the quiet lamp-lit street. Not even the shadows moved.
Numerous cars lined the curb, many of them belonging to various relatives. But the one sitting in our driveway was unfamiliar. I was certain none of my suburban middle-class aunts or uncles drove a black sports car.
Wait a second…Was that…?
Maybe I did recognize that car.
I noiselessly left my room and went downstairs. I unlocked the front door and lingered in the doorway, peering into the night.
Suddenly the car’s driver side door opened and a shadowed figure got out. Even with only the silhouette to go on, I recognized him. Of course it was him. Undoubtedly he’d been ‘watching’ me, and for the first time, I was glad of it.
He walked softly down the sidewalk toward me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him until I saw his face again.
Without warning I flung myself at him. He caught me with open arms and held me tight. I’d thought that my tear ducts were dried out, but apparently they weren’t.
Ronan smoothed my hair while I wept into his shoulder.
After a moment I managed to compose myself and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be.”
“I knew you would come. I mean, I haven’t even let myself think about you, but as soon as I saw you, I realized I knew that you would.”
He half smiled. “To the vexation of our friend Nash.”
“…I promised him I wouldn’t contact you.”
“And you haven’t. I’m contacting you.”
“I’m glad.”
“I know what happened. I couldn’t just leave you alone.”
I closed my eyes and shivered involuntarily.
He noticed. “Do you want to go back inside? It’s a chilly night.”
“No, I—I’d rather just…go somewhere.”
“Okay,” he said, and held out his hand. I took it and he led me to the car.
He opened the door and I settled into the passenger seat. He got in and started the car. The dashboard lit up a deep violet color.
“Wait,” I said. “I’d better leave a note.”
Ronan reached over and opened the glove compartment and took out a small pad of yellow paper and a pen.
“Here. You write and I’ll take it in.”
Quickly I scribbledDear Mom, Went out with a friend. I’ll be back soon. Love you. -- Alex
I almost wrote “back before breakfast” but realized I didn’t really want to be back when everybody was up and gathered around the table. Hopefully that was okay with Ronan.
He took the note and delivered it into the house, then came back and put the car into reverse.
“Where would you like to go?”
I leaned back and looked up through the tinted sunroof at the muted stars.
“Somewhere nice,” I said.
He nodded and pulled out of the driveway.
Forty-five minutes later we were just taking the last turn on a narrow, winding road that had led us to the peak of a forested mountain. Ronan parked and opened the sunroof, and my jaw dropped at the expanse of the stars that could be seen. I got out of the car and gaped upward.
Usually when I’d looked into space, it seemed flat, like a child’s drawing. But this—this was so big and so bright I felt like I could reach up and touch it. Some of the stars were so radiant they could rival the moon, while some—like those in the milky way—were just a tiny morsel of glow.
The earth that I was standing on suddenly seemed small and vulnerable, just bobbing around in the middle of, well, nothing. And everything.
“I like to come up here sometimes. It helps me keep perspective,” Ronan said quietly.
“What perspective?” I asked without looking away from the sky.
“…That life is the most precious thing in the universe.”
Dad.
My eyes fell back to the earth and I sat down on the hard ground.
Ronan went to the car and opened the trunk. After rummaging around a bit he came back to where I was sitting, bearing blankets.
“If I’d known we were coming here I would have brought some chairs, but this is all I have.”
He spread one of the blankets out and sat on it. I joined him and he drew the other blanket—a quilt actually—around our shoulders. I pulled the corner of it into my chest and leaned against him. The sound of crickets and the occasional owl hoot filled the air.
We were silent for a while until it eventually dawned on me that Ronan wasn’t going to talk unless I wanted to.
I thought about talking about my dad. Telling Ronan about all the little things he did that I would miss. The way we used to compete to see who could solve the Wheel of Fortune puzzle first; that he sometimes would sneak us out for an ice cream sundae when there was no dessert at home, telling Mom that we were going to the “library”; how he watched the Cubs lose year after year after year, but would always still cheer them on wearing his beat up old cap.
But Ronan already knew all that stuff.
So instead I said, a little awkwardly, “So, um, how’ve you been?”
“Fine. Except for worrying about you.”
“You’re the one being held hostage by the CIA, and you’re worried about me.”
“I can handle the CIA. But you—your loss. I want to help.” He was almost whispering.
I looked at the brightest star in the sky and let it fill my vision.
“I just wish—wish it wasn’t real,” I whispered. “How do people go on with their lives?”
Ronan took a deep breath then spoke quietly. “Well, just one day at a time, I guess. Eventually the days add up, and then one day you realize you’ve adapted. People are good at that.”
“I don’t want to adapt. I don’t want this to be real.”
“I know.”
He pulled me closer to him and I rested my head on his shoulder.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.
“Okay. Like what?”
“Tell me about you. Your life.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Whatever comes to mind.”
“Well, let’s see.” He paused a moment. “Did you know that I mostly learned English from you?”
“You did?” I asked, surprised.
“I studied some, on The Explorer—that’s the ship I was on, but to really learn a language, you have to be exposed to it naturally. The information I studied didn’t have words like yolo, legit or bae either.”
“I don’t say those,” I protested, a little indignant.
He half smiled. “No, but just being able to watch people through your eyes helped me learn.”
“Well, you speak very well,” I said. “I never would guess you’re an alien.”
It was his tu
rn to be indignant. “I’m not—“
“Teasing,” I said. “So what is your first language? Solamure-ese?”
“Yeah, you’d think that. But the Solamure communicate telepathically. And their technology records the thoughts, so they haven’t really needed a spoken or written language for a long time. I was taught an ancient Egyptian language called Coptic, since it’s the tongue my ancestors spoke. It’s pretty much a dead language now, though the Solamure do have the computers speak and write to me in it.”
“Say something Coptic,” I requested.
Ronan spoke a few syllables. I thought it sounded rather elegant.
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t translate directly, but the general meaning is a lament: ‘would that I could have brought this treasure into the heavens with me’.”
He suddenly took my hand. I hadn’t realized how cold it was.
“I know that it was wrong—wrong to feel gratified when I thought you would have to leave earth with me because of our interferences in your life. But I did. I couldn’t help it. I kept envisioning all the amazing things I could show you. And share with you.”
He looked at me and cupped my chin in his hands. This time I didn’t stop him when he leaned down to kiss me.
When we broke apart I didn’t know what to say. So I just smiled a small smile at him, and then lay down on the blanket, my head resting on his knee. We stayed like that as the dark brightened and the stars dimmed, and the crickets quieted, and the birds began to warble.
Chapter 14
The tracking device was lost when our brothers fell. We must move quickly to the last known locations of all watchers.
solamure hunt us.
Then speed is even more imperative.
Ronan seemed to know without my asking that I didn’t want to be home for breakfast. I didn’t want to see everybody, hugging and crying, asking if I wanted to talk.
Understanding the Stars Page 10