Under the Stars

“Ptolemy developed a geocentric model of the universe,” she said, “where this planet was the central point around which all other heavenly bodies revolved.”

“Also did a lot for modern geography and cartography, but no one ever mentions that,” I mumbled.

“And then Copernicus presented the heliocentric model—the truth—and was persecuted.”

“Actually, his book was published almost posthumously. The real controversy began when Galileo agreed with it and angered the Catholic church.”

“I’m trying to make a point,” she said flatly.

“Oh, sorry. Is that why you were over-simplifying?”

“Do you have to be such an ass all the time?”

“Well, not all the time. But it’s fun.”

“It’s obnoxious,” she muttered, and I could hear a new impediment to her voice, a cigarette she’d placed between her lips. A sharp flick, a deep inhale, and a smooth, quiet exhale, and a plume of smoke rolled off her tongue and billowed up into the night sky. It was easy to see her train of thought’s departure. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. Only thousands upon thousands of visible stars, pinpricks of light floating in a sea of inky black aether. (Plato.)

I shifted and turned on my side to face her, propping my chin in my hand. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. What was the point?”

She withdrew the cigarette and sighed out a little more smoke. “That people hold themselves in such an important position when really, nothing we do matters. And then they get offended when someone is honest with them and says, ‘no, that isn’t the way things are.’ Humans have such a problem with being wrong.”

“I don’t think it’s that clear-cut,” I told her. “I mean, who’s to say? Maybe our actions do matter in some tiny, non-cosmic way.”

“It’s a good reason for things not to bother you.”

“You wish things didn’t bother you.”

She moaned. “What am I supposed to do, Finn? He’s cheating on me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and started puffing on the cigarette.

That was Charlotte. We danced in circles of riddle-me-this until she felt either comfortable enough or too exposed and let out whatever was actually on her mind. Nine times out of ten, I already knew what it was. But she liked to talk that way. It could be fun. Sometimes I was even good at it. The advice stuff—that part I wasn’t so good at.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. I didn’t know what else I could say. I’d never been cheated on. “Dump him, I guess.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” I asked.

“It should be. But.”

“But it matters.”

She sighed. “I should hate him. Why am I not furious?”

“I don’t think you’re done being hurt yet,” I answered.

“Why can’t I be both?” She smothered her cigarette in the cool sand and then sighed again. “I don’t know. Why can’t people just do what they’re supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” I told her. “But hey. At least you found out about it, right? What if it’d gone on for weeks or months longer and you didn’t have a clue?”

“Then I’d be in basically the same position I’m in now. That doesn’t help.”

“I’m trying, Charlotte.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I sat up and felt sand fall away from my feet as the mound I’d buried them under collapsed. My skin prickled with goosebumps. Now that the sun had settled completely beneath the horizon, the night air was turning cooler. “We should head back soon.”

“I don’t want to go back,” she said. Using the sleeve of her sweater, she swiped absent-mindedly at the mascara smeared beneath her eyes. “I don’t want to live in that world, where all those mean people exist and take pleasure in hurting each other. I want to stay here with you and make a home in the sand.”

“You want to become a hermit crab?”

She thought for a moment and then nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

“Well, unfortunately, the laws of physics won’t allow it. But you can crash at my place tonight, if you want.”

She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure your parents won’t care?”

“Like I said, they’re out of town. How can they care if they don’t know?”

We drove the half hour from the beach back to my house, the moonlight enfolding us as we slipped along the highway, the edges of the road dotted with silver streetlights. I knew Charlotte was tired, but she stared ahead stubbornly, refusing to allow her eyes to close until she was locked away in the privacy of Matt’s bedroom. Last time I’d let her stay over (senior prom had been a complete debacle for her), my parents lost their minds when they saw her leaving Matt’s room. I could never get it through to them that he’d been gone for nine years. They’d rather keep his old room sealed up like a tomb and never speak his name again than admit it. It was like watching him die a second time. He wouldn’t have minded Charlotte borrowing his bed. He wouldn’t have minded me using his old computer desk to do homework late at night, or stashing a bottle in the same place he used to. He’d rather share his space with us than have us pretend he never existed. I liked to think I knew that much about my older brother.

But tonight, they weren’t home. We entered and turned the lights on without being interrogated. After the roaring ocean and the whirring car engine, the still silence of the house was welcome. Charlotte sat on the couch while I changed the sheets and found her an old t-shirt to sleep in. When I came back downstairs, she was propped up on the throw pillows and smoking another cigarette.

“How many times have I told you please don’t smoke in here?”

She grinned. “How many times have you told me please don’t smoke at all?”

“At least a hundred,” I muttered.

“And how many times have I listened?” she asked teasingly, but as she did, she extinguished the cigarette.

“Your room awaits, m’lady.”

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Ah…” I scratched the back of my neck. “Not really. It’s almost one o’clock. I’m pretty tired.”

“Okay.” She pulled herself into a sitting position slowly but wouldn’t leave the couch.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Do you think we could just sit and talk for a minute? I’m just not ready to…be alone yet.”

I understood. “Yeah, I guess.” I sat down with a sigh, my eyes feeling heavy. “Do you wanna talk about it, or something else?”

“I wish there was something I could say,” she said sadly. “But all I can think right now is…y’know, he did it. He did that. I can barely get past it.” Her tears finally betrayed her. “How could he do that to me?” she asked in a shaky whisper, her eyes full of water. “How could someone do that to a person?”

“I dunno.” I put my arm around her shoulders and felt her tuck her face into the crook of my neck, her short, breathy sobs and warm tears leaking down into my shirt. “It’s gonna be okay,” I assure her.

“How do you know?”

“Because it always is.” I think back to what she was saying at the beach and how I argued with it. “Because nothing matters, and everything matters, and there are mean people and there are nice people. People hurt each other. It’s just something they do. I can’t tell you why. But we’re resilient. People hurt us and people die, and we still go on with our lives. We heal. Nothing is permanent.”

“Nothing matters and everything matters,” she repeats, and then she pulls back and wipes her face with her sleeve. “Why does that make more sense than anything anyone has ever told me about life?”

I laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s like you said and nothing we do matters because we’re so small in comparison to the known universe. But it matters to us.” I carefully pulled a strand of hair from the sticky mess of tears on her face. “That guy was a jackass, Charlotte, but not everybody is. What he did to you matters. Your pain matters.”

She nodded slowly, and then a tiny smile came to her lips. “Thanks, Finn.”

“Sure.”

“I think you were right, too. I don’t think I’m done being hurt yet.”

“That’s okay, y’know. You’re allowed to take your time.”

“How are you so sweet?”

“I’m not. I’m just decent. You have Matt to thank for that.”

She smiled at me. “He was a pretty great big brother, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling to myself. “He was.”

“I wish I had an older brother to beat boys up for me.”

I laughed. “Have you told your dad what happened? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re right. Oh my God, remember when he met you for the first time?”

“I’m not the type of person to forget death threats,” I joked.

“I still don’t know how to explain to him that I love you, but I don’t love you.”

“I just tell my parents we’re best friends. They seem to get it.”

“Dad does not. He doesn’t believe men and women can be friends.”

“That must suck for him.”

She laughed. I was glad to see her smiling again. “I guess.” Then she yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and relief flooded through me. “Okay, I think I can go to bed now.”

“Good. I can’t stay up another minute.”

I followed her up the stairs and said goodnight before entering my room. As I settled down on my bed, I peered out the window at the stars one last time. Isn’t it interesting, I thought, how something can mean so much yet so little at the same time?