Galaxies Away

“Be careful out there, ok? I want my daughter to come back in one piece!” my mom had joked that day, wiping a tear from her face as she pulled me in for one last hug. I had breathed in the scent of her brown curls for what could be the last time.

My dad had just patted me on the back. He’d never been much of a talker.

Then I’d closed the door on 52 Ivory Lane (it had always been a simple address, but now I told myself to remember it as if my life depended on it.) I walked to the subway station, fighting off wave after wave of emotion. 

Dread seemed to wash over me most often. Because now, I had to say the hardest goodbye of all- the goodbye to my best friend. The one who had told me not to go, because this launch was supposed to be the riskiest one in recent history (but I had told her that I’d go anyway- and I’d make her proud. The first thing I’d send to Earth when I landed on Meladonis would be, “Aria, I made it.”)

When the doors hissed and the telltale hum of busy commuters had filled the air of the subway car, I knew I’d arrived at the station. On autopilot, I’d navigated my way through concrete columns and anxious businessmen, up stairs with chipped yellow paint on the edges, into hazy late afternoon light. 

That day was perfect for my cloudy mind, because the sun was covered in a thick layer of rolling blue storm clouds. It felt as if Earth wanted to tune in to my presence for a little while before I was gone- (could I be gone forever?) I had shaken those thoughts by the time I’d made it to Aria’s green door. 763. An odd number, but it fitted her, in a way.

Then I had knocked. And she’d opened the door, doing a poor job of hiding her tears, and instead of saying goodbye, I’d just hugged her for ten minutes before she insisted that I had to go. Because, she said, “otherwise, all this-” (she’d gestured at my jacket, covered in space-related pins) “would be plain weird, now wouldn’t it?”

And she’d given a dry chuckle and sent me on my way before I could say anything.

__

Today is Friday, January 8th. It’s the day of the launch except getting out of bed and getting ready feels like preparing for my own funeral. Lifting my arms to brush my hair (for the last time on Earth) feels too difficult, and instead, my body chooses to burst into tears. 

I decide to pull on my clothes instead (because looking beautiful in space will be a waste of time anyway), and the tears dry up as I finish tying the laces of my shoes. When I lift the brush to my head, it’s a little easier, and I make it through with only a few sniffles.

Then breakfast comes around, and that too, feels impossible.

__

By the time I reach the space center, I have cried eight times.

I want to text Aria and explain everything that’s going through my head, except I need to get used to not having her constant presence. Because on the ship, we’ll be given set hours in which we can contact people on Earth- and eventually, that entire connection will fall apart because we’ll get out of transmitting range, and all I will have left is myself and any other life that’s unfortunate enough to live in this timeline in this universe.

The world is muted around me as we prepare for the launch, and I am reminded by several space center employees and mission controllers that “this is not the test launch”, “this is the real thing”, and “you are going into space”, and “you may never come back”. 

When I am strapped in my seat and the intensity of the engines’ rumbling builds below me, I am reminded that this may be the last time I ever see Earth, except it is already too late because the ground is far behind me and there are no windows to see any of what is happening. 

When I get the little buzz in my earpiece that says “Launch successful! Great job,” the flutter of happiness in my stomach is replaced by guilt and trepidation, because I truly just left my family behind to be by myself in the great unknown that is space, and I will eventually be galaxies away from everyone I love, and the spaces between us will grow even though I don’t want them to. And (worst of all,) life will move on without me.

__

“The first night is always the hardest,” Jerrie had told me that night, “because everything hits you, all at once. You realize that you are in fact actively getting farther and farther away from everything you’ve ever known,”

I had been crying that night because it felt like things were already hitting me.

“How am I supposed to cope, Jerrie? How did you cope?”

“The short answer is- I didn’t,”

“Huh?”

“For a long, long time, I just functioned on autopilot because it was too much to process,”

“So.. what am-”

“However, I eventually did figure out some strategies. Granted, my mission wasn’t anywhere near as intense as yours. So the advice I’m about to give you isn’t guaranteed to work,”

“Whatever it is, I’ll take it,” I had insisted.

“Keep in contact with people while you can,” he had said, “Oh- and try to make your room feel like home,”

__

So instead of melting from the sheer weight and intensity of my emotions (because crying will do me no good at this point), I get up and make my way through the entire ship in search of my room. I eventually find it, slamming open the door to find a boring and blank room, lacking both color and anything to make it seem lived in.

At least it has potential?

Sounds like something Aria would’ve said, had she been here.

__

The rest of the day is a blur- and soon, communication hours arrive. I can’t tell if I’m excited or nervous.

Who do I call? 

__

I settle on Aria because time stops for nobody.

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

She doesn’t pick up the first time I try to video call her.

__

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

Ping-

“HEY!!”

“Whoa, hey Aria!”

“So, how is everything?”

“Well, it’s been uh... Eventful, to say the least,”

“Hm..?”

She has the special smirk on her face that I know from all those years ago, and something tells me we’re in for a long night. I just give her a hum in response as we both make cups of tea (it’s a silly little routine we made months ago when my anxiety was off the hook and she had accidentally ordered far too much tea online.)

And soon (just as I’d predicted) the whole night is wasted. Well, it’s not wasted- rather, we simply talk and talk until neither of us can keep our eyes open, and I’ve nearly forgotten my own name from how sleepy I am. The video has started lagging.

“Well, it was nice to see you, Aria. I have to do even more tomorrow so I think I should probably log off before somebody has my head in the morning,”

“Boo! You’re no fun,”

“Bye, Aria,”

“Bye,”

Ping.

The video is over and my room goes dark.

A wave of pure exhaustion crashes over me and I barely manage to crawl into bed before I fall into a thick and dreamless sleep.

__

It’s been a few weeks on the ship.

I’ve gotten used to being alone, for the most part.

Communications have slowly but steadily turned from video to audio.

At least there are still communications.

Aria and I both avoid talking about what’s circling around both of our minds- what will happen when we lose communication for the first time in nine years?

I have also stopped talking to my parents- it was their choice, not mine.

So, Aria is really the only tie to Earth that I have left. 

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

I call Aria a little earlier than usual today. I don’t know what prompts me to do it, but I call her anyway because I think I miss her voice, or something stupid like that.

She does not pick up.

__

I try calling an hour later.

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

She still does not pick up.

The ringtone bounces around my brain as I keep trying to call her for a third, then fourth, then fifth time.

Aria just doesn’t pick up.

That night, I slip in and out of a sticky and hot sleep that is riddled with strange memories, twisted by heat and loneliness.

__

Aria hasn’t answered my calls in two days.

Today is the third day of me trying to reach her.

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

She picks up this time.

“What do you want, damn it?”

“Um, hello? Aria?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to my best friend of nine years?”

“Well, this is she,”

“Well, hey Aria. How have you been?”

“Sorry. I’m stressed out of my mind today, hah!”

I choose my next words carefully.

“Yikes!” I begin, “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Obviously,”

And thus begins the longest night of my life. In which Aria doesn’t stop talking for over two hours (she explains that everything suddenly piled up at the law firm, and while it was “kinda her fault, the work is too much for any sane individual.”)

That’s why she didn’t pick up for two days. 

Part of me feels upset, because she didn’t tell me anything until now. Another part, however, feels relieved because there was a perfectly reasonable explanation to her actions. I tune back in to the conversation (though it can hardly be considered one, since my mouth hasn’t moved in quite a while) before I can think too much.

She ends her epic rant (which really could’ve been a book with the sheer amount of creative description and insult used), with “life is just so hard without you here,” and that sends her to tears. Except, we can’t see each other, so I just have to assume.

__

A few days after Aria’s call, mission control tells me that Earth communications are going to be shut off shortly, somewhere within the next few days, so I should get my final calls in, and then maybe I can get a few emails in, if I’m really lucky.

Ping ping.

Ping ping.

Aria picks up with an expectant breath.

“Hello?” she says.

I don’t know where to begin.

“Why did you snap at me the other days?” I blurt (isn’t this the kind of thing that happens in books and not to real people? So why, why did I just say that to my best friend? Since when was I the person who couldn't control the things they said?)

“What do you mean? I told you, I was stressed out of my mind,”

“Sorry, yeah. Dunno why I said that. It’s just weird because you usually wouldn’t do something like tha-”

She interrupts with a sigh before asking in a strange, unidentifiable tone:

“Everything ok?”

For the second time, I can’t seem to control my mouth.

“Communications are gonna be cut off soon and I don’t know what to do so I’m kind of freaking out-”

Aria cuts me off again before I can go much further.

“They’re cutting off communication? Since when?”

“They only told me today,”

“So, what… I’m not going to be able to talk to you again? For the next… I don’t even know how long?”

I still can’t identify her tone. It bothers me.

“Year,” I reply.

“Year until you land. Then a few months of communication, but then another year of nothing. Then a few months of communication and you’ll be back,”

“That sounds about right,”

Then Aria says the words I’ve been dreading. The same ones that have been floating around my brain for weeks, searching, yearning for an answer. The words I hoped to never have to hear.

“Is it even worth it, then?”

The most I can produce is a squawk of shock. I can’t form a sentence before she starts talking again.

“I mean, you’re going to be gone for so long. Aren’t you going to, like-” her voice wavers as she says the next part, “forget me, or something? We’re not going to see each other again for a while. And who knows, space travel is a risky thing! We might not even see each other at all, ever again!” 

“Aria, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying, these last nine years have been nice, but I don’t think we’re gonna make it through the next ones,”

“Wh-”

She hangs up.

What?

__

Aria doesn’t pick up the next ten times I call her.

Mission control tells me that I need to send any final communications by tonight.

__

I open a new email on my laptop, and the cursor sits, blinking, on the screen. 

It taunts me.

__

To: Aria (ariannahezzr@chosl.org)

Cc:

Bcc:

Subject: hi

Dear Aria,

I am going to miss you. I don’t even know why I’m sending this email, but they’re cutting off all communication in an hour and I just really wanted you to know that. I don’t know how things are going to be when or if I get back. But please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?

I’ll make you proud.

__

I hit the send button.

A few minutes later, the email bounces back, explaining that it “could not send because the recipient has blocked your email address”.

Already?

Maybe I’ll try her backup email.

__

To: Aria (ariira@mymail.cob)

Cc:

Bcc:

Subject: hi?

Dear Aria,

I’m gonna miss you. I don’t even know why I’m sending this email, but they’re cutting off all communication in an hour and I just really wanted you to know that. I don’t know how things are going to be when or if I get back. But please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?

I’ll make you proud. And this sounds absolutely ridiculous- but I love you.

Bye now.

__

This time, the email doesn’t bounce back. It simply sends with a satisfying whoosh before I close my laptop lid and drown my room in darkness. The email feels ridiculous, but it’s better than leaving words unspoken, right?

This darkness is not a comforting blanket. It is claustrophobic and lonely. It swallows me as it devours my entire room, covering every surface and morphing the shadows into large webs that would probably trap me if I dared to speak.

I need to escape.

Moving through the darkness feels like swimming in molasses, and my shoulders feel impossibly heavy as I struggle towards the door, only to fall into a helpless pile just a few inches short of the knob.

For the first time since leaving the space center, I begin to cry. Helpless, horrible sobs that make my body shake so much I think I might vomit.

Because now I am truly alone- since hope has abandoned me, too.

I remain by the door for a while. I don’t bother to check the time.

__

The silence after crying is oppressive. 

Space is too quiet, and the heat of distant stars against my space suit doesn’t lessen the tight feeling in my chest. The quiet rumbling of the ship does nothing against the pervading stillness. Inside the ship feels the same, too. Everything is quiet because I am alone, and I am still alone, despite needing someone, anyone, to be there.

__

Everything has fallen apart and yet the ship still moves through space, undisturbed, towards its destination.

You have already become a stranger, and yet I am still moving away from you.

Is it even possible to get farther?