A Disconnected Quartet

It was 1995 at music camp when they watched the stars.

The four departed from the campgrounds to avoid the nightly fire pit conversations. With everyone talking simultaneously in a cacophonous haze of laughter and a pervasive scent of marshmallow, the fireside chats were not a pleasant experience for the quieter campers. Worse, they were to be split up by instrument for the event, so Brandy, averse to the idea of not spending one final night with her friends, decided that they would go to the train yard. Matt and Willow agreed readily, and even Dan Lee, despite his misgivings about breaking the rules, agreed to take them there. He knew the route better than anyone.

Brandy might not have known where their destination was, but that didn’t stop her from leading them along, cheerfully singing Ace of Base’s “The Sign.” She was always confident like that, and for one so young, her voice was astounding. They adored that about her, and the infectious tune kept their nighttime trek through the dense woods from turning into something unnerving.

When they arrived at the train yard, the youths, sans Brandy, who was immediately distracted by a stray cat, gravitated toward spots of relative comfort. The train yard was the perfect place to rest – quiet and out of the way. Rusted, forgotten cars and small buildings dotted the area, giving them an overwhelming number of options to recline. Dan Lee would spend the night in a hollow train car, rarely looking at the stars, since he mostly would be preoccupied stealing glances at Brandy and the kitten as he nervously fingered the notes on an invisible fiddle.

The stars shone that night like far-off lighthouses. Willow could feel her heart beat faster in rhythm with the chirping of cicadas. A foil to Brandy, Willow might’ve been a wallflower, but on the piano, she was a maestro, winning the “Camp Champ” award for best overall performance that same day. Tearing her vision from the sky, she found Matthew recumbent along the train tracks. Willow lay adjacent to him, and he would try to impress her by pointing out constellations, even though he knew nothing about the subject. Willow didn’t mind and would pretend along with him that he was correct, even when he would mistake an errant firefly for a star.

Matthew pretended to point out Sagittarius, under the impression that it made him sound intelligent. He held the same level of respect for any word with more than three syllables. Besides, everyone already knew about the popular ones like Orion. The more obscure something is, he thought, the smarter you sound bringing it up in conversation. A shooting star raced across the sky, and each one made a wish, though only Brandy’s desire to take the kitten home with her would come true.

The night ticked on; hours went by faster. Willow had been inching steadily closer to Matthew as the temperature dropped. Their conversation had shifted from constellations to what they’d do after they went back home, how they’d stay in touch. Dan Lee was the difficult element in this situation, since his parents forbade any online communication, and they didn’t allow him to have any friends they didn’t approve of previously. Dan Lee didn’t like talking about his parents, but he did divulge that much. Really though, Matthew couldn’t focus on Willow. He had his own problems to deal with – worry that he’d be alone again come the next day and fear that he’d never get to say how he felt about Brandy. Those anxieties paralyzed him, and ultimately, he wouldn’t find the courage to act on his youthful emotion until it was too late.

“It’s weird being here,” Dan Lee said after a few intense rounds of Would You Rather? “This place was full of life, but now, it’s just us. Then we’ll leave, and it’ll be empty again.”

Brandy stopped playing with the kitten, whom she had christened Duchessa Dottyrump.

“I understand,” Willow said, rubbing her arms for warmth. “I like it here, but I feel sort of sad, too.”

There was a pregnant silence before Dan Lee spoke again.

“I’m sorry, but I probably won’t be seeing any of you after tomorrow.”

He spoke with his characteristic bluntness, but after spending so many weeks with him, Matthew could tell that his outward coldness masked the truth – that it was hard for him to say that, to say goodbye.

“It doesn’t have to be the end when we leave,” Matthew said. “We can promise to be friends forever, or something else like that.”

He didn’t see any harm in it, but Dan Lee balked at the idea. “Come on, Matt. What are you, six? Not trying to come off as spiteful, but damn, could you be any more naively optimistic? Things end. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“So, does that mean you’ll forget about us?”

It was Brandy, and in an uncommon instance, she wasn’t smiling.

“Eventually… I don’t know,” Dan Lee replied.

“And you think we’ll stop being friends. Is that it?”

Dan Lee didn’t say anything, averting his gaze to the muddy earth.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Brandy said, “but I don’t think that’ll happen. I’ll be thinking of you long after camp ends, probably until I die! Or maybe just until I get dementia. Whichever comes first!”

Matthew glimpsed at Willow, who was staring on in confusion.

“But B,” she said, sounding a little choked up and barely keeping her composure, “we won’t see each other again. He’s just being realistic, since none of us live close to one another.”

“You think that too?” Brandy said. “Matt, are you the only one on my side, here?”

Matthew thought about it, remembering how these three would always play with him, even though his drumming skills were average at best. More than anything, these were good people.

“I don’t…” Matthew said, “I don’t want this to end, and us leaving doesn’t have to mean we’re through. Friendship is more than just how much we see each other.”

Matthew felt like a vacuous idealist saying it, but Brandy was absolutely beaming.

“Yep! Couldn’t agree more!” she said. “If nothing else, you guys will be in my heart, so even if you guys try to forget me, I won’t let my best friends go that easily!” She pointed up. “Because no matter how far apart we are, we all live under the same stars.”

Willow and Dan Lee seemed unconvinced, but they smiled all the same.

For another hour, they talked about nothing, even though it felt like everything. They might’ve stayed there all night, but the distant sound of thunderclaps served as a warning call to leave. Hopefully, no one noticed their absence.

Brandy would pass away less than a year after they separated.

Twenty years later, Matthew’s wish to marry Brandy would be sorrowfully unfulfilled.

After a succession of failed startups and dead family members, Matthew was forced to live on the streets. It was far from ideal, but Matthew was adaptable, if nothing else. At least he was quick to locate a group of vagabonds to live with in a nearby park, about six of them. Working as a group made things easier.

His pal Eli informed him that he’d scored some nice bread. Chalk it up to people being more generous during the holiday season. For such a monumental boon, they needed to celebrate that night.

“Yo, man!” Eli said. “Don’t forget to bring the beats!”

“Affirmative, comrade,” Matthew replied. It was his sworn duty to provide percussion for such events. Before he could leave, though, Eli pulled him close to whisper something in his ear.

“Let’s try getting Riley to smile tonight, too.”

Twenty years later, Dan Lee’s wish to find the same joy in life Brandy did would be predictably unrealized.

Dan Lee would get a job as a programmer at BetaTech. He would work long hours, make next to no meaningful relationships, and acquire no respect during his time there. There should be more to say about his job, but really, there’s not much else worth mentioning. BetaTech was a place that stole away its workers’ lives.

Sometimes, Dan Lee would have one of those nights where he’d look back. He’d be in bed, thinking about a past and the happiness that isn’t really around anymore. He’d think about all the people that were once important, but he hadn’t seen in years. Those pure connections once shared, just gone. But it’s nights like those where memories would flash before his eyes, as if he was a dying man reflecting on his choices. It’s like a beautiful, painful, more potent form of nostalgia.

One day, though, Dan Lee changed his schedule, going to the nearest Best Buy to get a telescope. Dan Lee was excited about that night.

Matthew approached Riley, the newest member of the group and a runaway. She wasn’t one to talk much, choosing to sit outside of their nightly circle where they’d swap stories from the past. Matthew normally would respect her wish for solitude out of politeness, but it’d been almost a week since she’d arrived. He figured it was about time to get to know her better.

“You ever see Fat Albert?” Matthew asked her.

She stared at him, not sure what to say.

“I used to watch it on VHS back when I was a kid. I probably watched that and the four episodes of Dragon Ball we had so many times I wore the damn tape out. So, did you ever watch it?”

“No?” Riley said, still clearly bemused.

“Oh, well the kids on the show used to hang out and play music together. We do sort of the same thing here for special occasions, and since I played the drums way back when, I’m the designated percussionist. Anyways, I’m asking if you’d help me find something I could use for drumsticks. Wanna help?”

Riley didn’t want to, but probably because she felt indebted to them, she agreed.

“Great! Let’s hurry, though. We’ve got an hour or two before dinner will be ready.”

Twenty year later, Willow’s wish for Matthew to love her the same way he loved Brandy regretfully would be in vain.

On the way to the Davenport estate, Willow ran through the music in her head.

Before any of them knew of Brandy’s death, Willow sent a letter to Matthew, one detailing her feelings for him, one that he replied to with an apology. Even back at camp, she was aware that she couldn’t match Brandy. Willow both loved and loathed her best friend.

Willow would face further travails after a car crash, losing both her parents and her eyesight from the trauma. From there, she would sequester herself from society, from all the friends who turned their back on her, and hide away, working on the only thing that could make her feel alive – the piano.

Despite her handicap, Willow found success as a concert pianist, garnering the reputation of a reclusive genius. One night, she was invited to play for the Davenport heiress’ eighteenth birthday party, a true honor.

En route, her caretaker Buchanan asked her how she played so well. She replied that it was all about visualization, reaching a flow state. He then asked her exactly what she visualized. She didn’t reply right away, instead offering a coquettish grin.

“I’ll tell you if this goes well.”

As soon as Dan Lee passed the threshold of his home, carrying the heavy telescope, Hugh and Catrina went for his legs, clinging to them tightly and slowing his steps. They told him they’d been waiting forever for him to get back and that everything was set up in the backyard. The two were excited about seeing the stars.

He might never have found the same kind of joy Brandy had, but he found something else to be happy about, something he wouldn’t trade for the world. Dan Lee found happiness in his own way. However, one thought crossed his mind.

“You two bring this to your mom,” he said, handing them the telescope. “I have to get something out.”

“Hey, Matty-boy!” Eli said through his drunkenly slurred speech. “Start me off for ‘In the Air Tonight.’ I’m feeling good!”

“Aye aye,” Matthew said. Though he only had four empty plastic containers, he was determined to try his best. Riley had impressed him earlier by scavenging some drumsticks that were tossed out by a music store. Still, she sat apart from everyone, lying on her bed and trying to get some rest.

“I have something better in mind,” Matthew said, “but I’d prefer a female voice accompaniment.” He looked over at Riley. “Wanna join?”

It was a good night.

Riley gave a splendid performance of, “The Sign,” receiving a standing ovation from the crowd of haggard men and women. For a second, Matthew thought she looked kind of happy. They went on to sing more rounds, taking turns, and in the time between sets, Matthew would stare deep into the stars. Closing his eyes, he could hear their music.

Dan Lee, in the backyard with his family and a coterie of fireflies, would play his fiddle. His kids seemed to enjoy looking at the stars. Their laughter reminded him of another magical night under the stars.

As festivities died down at the estate, Buchanan carefully guided Willow to the piano bench. She played, “Arpa Eolia,” for them flawlessly, and the following day, the papers would run an article praising her performance. Throughout the piece, she could see the stars light up through the interminable darkness that plagued her. She could hear a violin, some percussion, and above all else, the heavenly voice of an old friend.

That night, they were together again under the stars.