Shoot Down the Stars

I swear cities breed insanity. Every single blaring car horn and every single screeching scream seems to bleed together into an overbearing noise that could kill any trace of sanity. Or any trace of brain cells required to do homework. I threw my pencil down on said accursed object and stormed off to pace the apartment, oh but I really can't afford to do that, I really have so much homework to finish and I promised Dad I would take care of dinner tonight and I need to message my friend and...
         No, I don't want to think about that. She's fine, she's fine, I really don't need to worry. I need to focus, homework, homework! I heard the familiar creak of my apartment door and heard the tired shuffle and tired sigh of my dad.
         “Hey dad! How was work?” I chirped in fake cheerfulness; I couldn't impose any sadness or worry on him, he already had far too much of it. He forgot to shave again.
         “Fine, just fine,” he answered with a small worn smile that disappeared faster than a lightning bolt. I miss his laugh. It had been a wild, uncontrollable laugh born of pure silliness that just beckoned you to join in. I hadn't heard it much since she entered the hospital. He set down his briefcase at the barely-defined border between the living room and the kitchen. After he shed his coat, he inquired about dinner.
         “Ah, sorry! I'll do it right now, so don't worry!” I yelled while tripping my way into the kitchen. I mumbled lame excuses about too much school work as I tried to drown out my annoying voice with the clanging of dinner pots. Why was everything so noisy?
         “Here, let me help you, Terra,” said my dad, ever the parent, lifting the stupid metal pot I was struggling with. Darn, I thought for once I could do something for him. He told me to go back to my school work; I had a lot to do, right? I grudgingly tottered back to my work, cursing my inability to do anything. I could never do anything for her either, not anything of meaning, anyway. Making stupid jokes is like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. Just makes it hurt more.
          Just as I slipped into the rhythm of doing homework, the phone blared an irritating ring that made me accidentally tear the paper with my pencil. My dad picked it up and I was about to resume my work until I heard him ask how she was. It's one of those calls. I fisted my hand in my shirt and started making hard, dark strokes with my pencil with my other hand.
         “She's not doing well? How so?” asked my dad, his voice a balance between concern and just plain exhaustion. My granite marks were getting impossibly dark as I drew the pencil violently back and forth. The paper started to tear.
         “What do you mean you want to try another treatment?”
         The tear expanded.
         “All right. Do what you must.”
         The paper was scarred with dark granite stains.
         “I see. Tell her to not give up.”
         The paper was in tatters.
         “I'm aware of the risk. But what else can we do? You don't think we should...”
         I was already out the door before I could hear the end of the sentence, yelling something about taking a walk. I ran down all of the stairs in one go and when I reached the street I didn't stop running. The pavement pummeled my feet each time they slapped down to take me farther, farther away from that call. People I ran past shot me angry looks and yelled obscenities at my disturbing of the sidewalk. The constant noise of car horns assaulted my ears. In this city of eternal noise, why is it I can only hear those words?
         Running aimlessly, I realized I couldn't keep up this pace, I needed somewhere to go. Somewhere without those terrible words beating on my brain. I remembered a park I used to go to as a kid, a laid-back hangout before schoolwork and hospital calls existed. Without anywhere else to go, I headed there with the pathetic hope that those days would return.
         After much running and far too many stitches in my side, I found myself standing at the rusted-gate entrance to the park that was obviously closed. Well, this was a brilliant plan.
         Though it was silly I still wanted to go into the park. Badly. It wouldn't change anything, I knew that, I knew but I still was driven by the notion that somehow I needed to get into this park. Maybe I just didn't want to go home and hear the rest of that conversation.
         Glancing around me, I saw no one and shakily placed my hands on the fence. I'm just sneaking into a park, why am I so nervous? I heaved myself over the scratching metal fence that left angry red marks on my legs and ungracefully plopped down on the other side. Walking from the entrance, I started to pace past the old playground with rotting wood and rusted swings. The city had never really taken care of the park well; it was probably too busy funding more paved streets to be filled with senseless racket. Still, I used to love the rickety swing set more than anything. I vividly remember swinging, no, flying, and laughing free and fast as my mom pushed me higher and higher.
         Mom.
         I raced past the playground towards the center of the park. Stupid me, thinking memories gone could bring me comfort. The past is the past, no matter how sweet. I had to move forward, move ahead.
         “What if I can't find how to move forward?” I desperately ask to no one.
         “Then just move. Eventually you'll get to forward.” spoke a detached voice that sounded near me. Crap, it must be a kidnapper or a thug or something! Why did I ever think it was a good idea to go to the park after dark? I spun wildly around, trying to target my doom so I could sprint the opposite direction.
         “Oh, did I surprise you?” inquired the unfocused voice. I swiveled toward it to find it belonged to a boy sprawled on the night-darkened grass, looking up at the sky. “Sorry, but you did ask a question?”
         I backpedaled away, shooting back that I hadn't asked him. I suppose he didn't seem like a kidnapper or thug, but I should really just leave. He could just be an accomplice. Busied with these thoughts, I almost missed him question just who I was asking.
         “No one,” I retorted. Why was I even talking to him? In the middle of a park at night, I really wasn't in the position to just chat casually with strangers. I’m being an idiot.
         “Someone who sounds that hopeless and lost isn't asking no one. They want an answer,” he said, eyes still stuck on the sky. I pathetically muttered that even if I wanted an answer, I didn't want it from a total stranger.
         “Zeke,” he said. I could only make an unintelligible sound of confusion. “That's my name. Yours?”
         “Terra,” I replied automatically. Arg, did I just give my name to a total stranger? Nice going, Terra.
         “Now we're not strangers,” he stated, a hint of a smile flashing on his face. I couldn't stop a slight grin myself. No, snap out of it, he could just be trying to lower your guard for when his thug buddies kidnap you.
         Still, I found my resolve to bolt away from potential danger waning with each moment. It seems like all my conversations lately had to be clipped short for schoolwork or the like and I didn't want this one to end like those. It was the oddest yet most pleasant conversation.
         I also couldn't help but enjoy the unfamiliarity of cool grass gently fingering my ankles, so unlike the solid, rough concrete. The refreshing breeze tugged softly at my hair and acted like a soothing balm on my nerves. For once, the outdoor air wasn't a festering swirl of pollution to be avoided. The air moved slowly, almost lazily, and I could feel my breathing slow with it, into a semblance of calm I hadn't felt in a while. Even the maddening noise of the city seemed muted and distant, so that I barely even noticed it. The high, harmonious night calls of birds echoed much louder than the far-off car horns.
         My attention focused back on the boy still lying comfortably in the field, who had yet to say anything more. He seemed like the type to speak sparingly but wisely, unlike the rambunctious, trouble-seeking boys of my school. I wanted to talk more. Nervously fiddling with my hands, I asked him what he was doing at the park so late.
         “Stargazing,” he answered simply. I was about to point out it was nearly impossible to really stargaze in the city when I glanced up and stumbled back, sputtering from the sight above me. The normally gloomy black sky was alight with thousands, no, millions of gleaming stars that seemed to sing and wink at me. It was as if someone had taken to splatter painting black paper with luminous white paint and stretched it across the sky. It was as many stars as you see in a planetarium showing, except no planetarium could ever capture the pure brilliance of this. Not taking my eyes off the sky, I blindly plopped down in the grass and the only words I could utter were:
         “Wow...”
         I heard a chuckle beside me, but I couldn't remove my eyes from the stars.
         “Isn't it great?” he exclaimed, his detached voice from before overflowing with warm wonder. “I come out here every night just to see this light show in the sky.”
         “I had no idea you could even see them in the city,” I said, still admiring the star-studded sky.  Still stuck between disbelief and wonder, I asked how it was even possible. He explained that since this park was so large, if you stood right near the center away from all the city lights it was dark enough to see this spectacle in the sky.
         “And to think, it was here all along and I never bother to just look up,” I lamented, wishing I had discovered this long ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars in real life, only in pictures and planetariums.
         “Maybe up is your forward, then,” he suggested. The sky, my way forward? I told him that while this sight was amazing, it certainly wouldn't help me in any of my problems. If anything, it was just taking away time that should be spend on homework or studying or planning my future.
         “Won't help? What do you think it's doing now?” he said with a slight laugh, like he couldn't believe this silly girl didn't understand. “Your problems reach far beyond homework.”
          I retorted that of course my problems reach far beyond homework, I had those standardized tests I needed to study for, and that speech I needed to write for that contest, and that project my friend wanted help with.
         “Bah, none of those are needed. All you need is the calm of nature in you,” he replied. The calm of nature? Is he kidding me? I rolled on my side to observe him, still looking at the sky with his inky black hair seemingly blending into the grass. What a hopeless dreamer.
         “And this ‘calm of nature’ just solves all your problems, does it?” I questioned sarcastically. I turned my head away from him and his ridiculous ideas.
         “Yep,” he answered without hesitation. My eyes flickered over to his face to look for any trace of sarcasm or mockery, but he looked serene. So looking at the stars magically poofs away all your problems? Like I’d believe that. Even now, my sense of responsibility poked at my mind, whispering how much time I was wasting. I abruptly stood up and brushed clinging grass blades from my clothes.
         “I have to go,” I declared. “I have homework to do.” It’s not like I wanted to do anything but continue staring at the sky, but I’m obligated to do my work. I didn’t have time for dreaming. I began to walk to the entrance where I snuck in.
         “Did you enjoy the stars?” he softly asked. I paused, daring to turn around only to see him still with his eyes watching the sky. I wanted to pour out that they were the most wondrous, most incredible, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen but then he would probably spout some nonsense about how it solved my problems. Instead, I simply said yes. I resisted the urge to glance at his expression, he probably didn’t even hear, and instead headed for the park entrance. I trudged slowly, not wanting to leave this park of dreams and be thrust back into brutal reality.
         The walk home on the hectic sidewalks was slow, so different from my frantic sprinting earlier. The sound of the silent stars and the quiet breath of nature blocked out the city noise. Thoughts flittered around my head, bright, bubbling ones packed with starry skies and dark, creeping ones about what awaited me at home. Muddled thoughts arose as well, concerning the star-obsessed boy named Zeke. I was still skeptical about what he said; I still can't believe that stargazing could do anything but waste time. The stars were amazing, but didn’t I still have every problem I did before? Surely shoving my issues aside and staring dreamily at the sky will only make everything worse. There was another thing that was bothering me, something about him. I noticed during our whole conversation, I never once saw him take his eyes off the sky.


         I can't believe myself, I still have homework to do! Yet here I am, once again clumsily climbing that stupid metal fence to get into the park. My dad didn't even come home yet; he's probably at the hospital and forgot to call me. Again. So I found myself drawn to the park and left without even thinking.
         I was most definitely, most assuredly not here looking for Zeke. I had just wanted to see the stars again. The sky splattered with brilliant blazing dots of white fire, that sight had invaded my thoughts and practically demanded that I go to see it again. As I strolled toward the center of the park, I could already feel the irritating ear-assaults of the city fade in favor of deep owl hoots and the calming sound of crickets. Though even these pleasantries couldn't stop me from deliberately avoiding the haunting structure of the playground. I don't know if avoiding counted as cowardice or intelligence or what. I didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.
         Reaching roughly the middle of the park, I tried to act surprised about seeing Zeke relaxing in the field, but I was just kidding myself. Head resting comfortably on the cushion of grass, still looking straight at the sky, he looked exactly as he had the other night, almost as if he hadn't moved since then. I entertained the thought that maybe he hadn't, maybe he was some hobo that just watched the sky all day. But even hobos need to eat and use the bathroom.
         “Hello again,” he greeted in a voice that sounded stuck in a permanent dream. He still didn't spare me a glance. “Come to see the stars again?”
         “Yes,” I answered begrudgingly, not wishing to admit I had been captivated by the starry sky. I really didn't have time for this. Finals were coming up with the summer coming and I had more work than ever. And I still haven't figured out what I'm gonna say on my next hospital visit. Or how I'm even going to bring myself to visit.
         “Don't sound so upset. It's not a crime to appreciate nature's beauty,” he commented. With a sigh of resignation, I let a small smile appear on my face as I took a seat in the lush, night-chilled grass. I laid back on nature's carpet, letting my eyes focus on the pinpoints of light among the dark sky. It hadn't lost a speck of appeal.
         After minutes of just searching the infinite sky, I heard Zeke quietly ask if I wanted to know his favorite star. I asked how he could even tell them apart. A warm smile slipped onto his face as he proudly told how he had memorized many constellations and individual stars. He says that you just have to know which constellation a star is in to find it.
         “Look over there, at that large triangle,” he said, pointing and connecting three of the brighter stars in the sky. “That's the summer triangle. And see that point of the triangle? That star is called Altair. It means flying one.”
         “How appropriate for you,” I commented dryly. “Since you already fly with your eyes.” I started picking at the grass, wondering if I was being a little too harsh. Though he didn't seem to take offense. He just whispered how everyone wants to fly, and he had found his way.
         “They also need to live on the ground, you know,” I countered, a frown smearing my face as I shifted on my side to face him. This seemed to break his dream-induced mask a little, his mouth working its way into a frown.
         “I don't like the Earth. Especially this city. It's a noisy, grimy sinkhole filled with crime and overworked nerves. It snaps nerves and snaps people until they become unrecognizable. Until they become monsters,” he stated with a pain-stained voice that was quaking slightly. He puffed out a sigh as he ran his hand over his face, closing his eyes as if to drive off visions of something he'd rather not see. So even the dreamer has problems. Maybe ones so bad all he can do is soak up starlight every night in hopes of forgetting them.
         Time whizzed by as we sat beneath the open sky. Long, calm silences were punctuated with bits of odd conversation that flowed out our mouths and into our eardrums like comets swimming through the stars. His sentences came in unexpected spurts of dreamy dwelling. When my sense of responsibility shouted at me, I ignored it for as long as possible. I didn't even count the hours before I heaved myself off the field of dreams and mumbled a goodbye as I left him there to drown his problems in dreams. I knew I'd be back.


         I tried whistling when I walked home the next day, until I remembered I couldn't whistle, so I settled for humming. I had stayed late at school to help a friend and the night was starting to engulf the day. I entered my apartment with a humming voice and my bag happily swinging as I came home to ruin.
         My dad, my pillar, sat with his head stooped in despair with his aching sobs causing tremors. Papers were scattered like fallen dead leaves and I swear I saw broken glass. He stared up at me with sorrow-struck eyes that held red trails of sleeplessness.
         “Your mom....she's....dea...”
         I ran out the door before I could hear what I knew. I ran out into the street, not caring where as long as I got far, far away. I ran, wondering how fast I had to go before I could escape the tears and that feeling of absolute despair. She couldn't, she wouldn't, and oh God when was the last time I visited her? Everything on the street came at me as a blur. I lost my backpack somewhere along the way, filled with homework, my stupid, useless homework that I didn't care about.
         When I stopped and gasped for breath, I found my wet eyes staring at the familiar image of the park entrance. I hurled myself over the fence, welcoming the harsh scrapes, that weak distraction. My burning legs nearly gave out as I propelled them forward to the center of the park. I collapsed at a patchy field, heaving out breaths and trying to steady them. I gripped the grass, wanting to tear it out of the ground.
         My breathing started to even out, the opposite of how I felt. I slowly stood and glanced up at the sky, outraged to find its stars still shining with all their elegance and radiance. How can they still shine now? The sky should be black, as black as this corrupted city that stole lives.
         “I want to shoot down the stars,” I whispered, holding back all my anger, guilt, sadness.
         “Why would you want to destroy such beauty?” asked a voice that I knew without looking was Zeke. I spun around to see him in his usual position and it sent my anger alight.
         “I don't want to feel happy or peaceful!' I said with my voice rising to a shout. I saw him slip his arms from under his head and push himself up off the ground. He then turned to face me, looking directly into my eyes, not the sky. All detached dreaminess seemed to have disappeared.
         “Then cry and scream and rant until you're very soul is absolutely exhausted and then look up at the sky,” he said with a quiet intensity, still looking straight at me. Something about those words broke me down, and I started telling him all the words I could fit in my mouth. I told him how my mom had been in the hospital and I couldn't do a thing I was so useless and I hadn't even visited that much, using schoolwork as an excuse, because I couldn't face her and I was so horrible, I had barely even cried the whole time she was there because I refused to believe that she could die. And now she was dead. I cried, letting out agonizing wails and letting my tears flow free, making up for all those days I didn't cry. And somewhere between the spilling of my soul and the spilling of my tears I saw the boundless star-blessed sky and felt injected with the Earth's momentous peace that fought in harmony with my sorrow.