The East Star

Every night he would look out at the sky, in search of the East star. It gave him comfort knowing that there could be a possibility that she would be watching the same star, at the same time. They hadn’t talked in years. In fact, they hadn’t talked since he had dropped her off that night, but he could still remember how that night felt as clearly as if he were rewatching the memory on CD over and over again. Why they hadn’t spoken in years was his fault, he knew that, and although he didn’t regret it, he could still feel her weight in his arms. He looked up at the East star again, and watched it twinkle, did she see that too? He shook this thought out of his head and scanned the sky again. She had called him every day for a week after that night on the docks. He never answered, he just watched her number run across the screen, waiting until the green answer button disappeared so he could go back to whatever he was doing before. He could never work up the guts to decline it, the vibration in his hand made her feel closer like she was right next to him again. He used to listen to the voicemails, clinging onto her words, letting the weight of them press into his head before swallowing them into his gut and deleting them so he couldn’t be tempted to replay them over and over like a used album. 

The East star flashed again, catching his eye and he had to force all of his concentration into not noticing it. Oh and the stars, oh, oh and the stars, Well, they just blink for us he hummed along trying to concentrate on his work, catching the last note in his throat, he blinked away her face and shut the book. It was no use. 

“I like to lay in the sun and feel the warmth on my arms and chest. I like the way the sun feels, like bathing in certainty and consistency.” She didn’t look at him when she had said this. She laid with her back on the cool metal of the boat docks, continuing to watch the stars above. He had always told her that she thought too much and didn’t say enough. Sometimes he could tell she was chewing on her words, trying to fit them together like a jigsaw before she would spit them out perfectly fitted together. This was one of those times. “But now I like the feel of the breeze, how it pushes and pulls you without breaking. How it swirls around you, never quite letting you go.” She smiled as she said this, playing with his fingers in her hands “That’s what you’re like.” Reciting these words in his head now made his heart beat a different way, almost as if it suddenly wanted to match hers from that night. 

“I don’t understand” He laughed “explain.” She turned and he met her eyes.

“I mean that I feel like I’ve known you forever. I feel like my soul knows yours more than my mind does.” She waited for his answer but his head felt hollow. After the long pause, he finally said the only thing he could think of.

“You’re my best friend.” The air froze and this is where his memory stopped. He could never fit the pieces together after this. This still memory, which once filled his chest, now left him feeling cool and heavy, unexplainable. 

oh well, sometimes it just don't add up. The song played again in the back of his mind and he had to turn on the fan to drown it out. That song was always playing, when there was nothing but silence it was sometimes all he could hear. She had played it for him, waiting for his expression, on the car ride home. At the time he just shrugged his shoulders, nodding, but since then he had played this song over again, trying not to forget the way she made him feel. 

He was always guessing how she felt. He could almost envision her furrowed eyebrows, chewing on her lip as she waited for his call back. He never called back. He wanted to, but there was nothing he wanted to say, nothing that wouldn’t taint that night and confuse his memory of her. He could call, and listen to the silence between them, but it was too late. He tried to imagine the way her eyes would light up if he did call back all these years later. If she would count the rings before finally answering the last one. No-- he had switched numbers. The stars, Well, they don't make no fuss He turned on his computer, drumming his fingers on the keyboard, not typing anything. The last time she called he didn’t listen to the voicemail. He couldn’t even remember the way her voice sounded anymore. If it was high and sweet, or low and sincere. It sat on his phone until he finally had to change his number. 18 seconds long. 18 seconds lost in the abyss of the night sky, 18 unknown seconds. 

A shooting star flew past the East star. Shooting? Falling? They didn’t know the difference. 

“It’s supposed to be on the end of the little dipper.” He had objected, pointing at really nothing in the sky. “Can’t you see it?” She squinted, moving her head to follow his finger. They laid out near the water, in search of the North star.

“No. I can’t. But look-- there.” She shifted his arm to the right. “That star seems to be the brightest, no?” He closed one eye, trying to focus on the canvas above. “Shouldn’t the north star be the brightest one in the sky?” He laughed again. He was always laughing when he was around her, not at her, but because her presence made him feel so light. 

“It should be, but it doesn’t look like it is. I think you’re right, that one is the brightest. We’ll name that one the East star.”

“The East star.” She mulled it over in her head. “It’s like our own compass back to each other.” 

At first, he had to squint to see which one she was talking about, but now he could pick it out in seconds. Less than 18 seconds. He knew why he wouldn’t call her back. This was something she had asked in one of her voicemails. “What are you so afraid of?” His need for her walked the thin line between temptation and desperation, something he didn't think she deserved. Something only time could heal.

 At first, being away from her made him feel like he couldn’t fill his lungs up all the way. Like he couldn’t catch a breath, but this lessened over time, just like his memories of her did. Even though he stopped being able to fill in the gaps, he never stopped flinching when he heard her name. Her name. He found himself typing it into the search bar of his email, scanning over all of the drafts he never had the guts to actually send. He rubbed his fingers together, finally forcing them all into the trash, knowing he would probably recover all of them in the morning. Sometimes he would reuse them, reuse that night. He caught himself trying to relive the moments they had together with other girls, but it never felt the same, it never felt as easy. Even his girlfriend now never understood his fascination with the night sky, how could he explain it to her? He went to close his laptop when he noticed an extra email buried in the search. Sent 2 years ago, unopened.

“I’m sorry for reaching out like this, but I hope that we’ll follow the East star back to each other eventually. Maybe in the next life. -L” He shut his computer looking out the window at the starry canvas one last time before letting her song fill his head. Oh and the stars, oh, oh and the stars. Well, they just blink for us.