Grounded Constellations

That’s the thing about this city— 

it blesses infinities down upon you.

This thought was one that even the clearest and fondest of eyes

might not even catch upon.

Just as how my Nana said, we live in such vigor but only dawdle with hopelessness,

until we no longer recognize if we actually dwell in the darkness or merely hide behind the blindfold that renders us blind.

Perhaps some of us may never know this, yet I used to demurely question how one would choose gloom when they’ve lived in materialistic heaven—

where angels swept you off your feet like the wind’s bestowment of a blessing,

if you believed in divine presences.

Los Angeles had my heart and soul, where dusty fragments, torrid sand, and excess glitter flourished into aggregates that formed galaxies on my hometown’s horizon.

While alluding to the piano ballad of the actress and jazz musician, the multitudes of people inhabiting La La Land would even question the idealized glamor that outlanders see through the celestial technicolor lens.

But then, the stars we see are just visions in the sky from what is actually infinite—

myriads within our fathomable reach.

The incomprehensibility of this perspective used to perplex me every moment Nana took me on walks under the night sky.

I spent the first five ages of my life bearing the lackluster sentience of being an orphan, yet Nana’s vivid arrival that one sunny morning made me first truly see;

possibly angels do coexist among us, as I myself was taken under one’s cozy wing.

The next of my eighteen years with Nana consisted of daily mixes of cocoa in the morning, determined budgeting ever since her employer closed down one horrid winter, and inspired attempts of excelling to continuously make her proud.

Despite the twisted trials and tribulations she went through, Nana continued to be an embodiment of fortitude with radiance.

She was no little ray of sunshine, for she was the sun. She lost her then well-paying job, then woke up early the next day to eagerly send out applications for work vacancies— accompanied by a younger me. Nana always ate meals with me and never missed out on humming melodies of songs blasted by the radio.

On a moment I felt like I screw up an interview, she sat by my side as I grieved over the possibility of losing my chance to my dream university. After I calmed down, she cooked up my favorite noodles and spent the rest of the night watching some cheesy romantic comedies huddled up next to me.

As I fell asleep eventually, I remembered her whispering to my ear,

“It will all be alright.”

Nana was a daystar that lit up the sky I walked within, still allowing shadows to emerge from my figure— constantly reminding me of my significant existence in an infinitesimal world.

Los Angeles was a big city, but I was her brilliant superstar. The love of her life. The star of the night.

She was mine too.

Even on the darkest downpours, she still shone with assurance that the dark clouds will soon clear out for a brighter day.

It will all be alright, and she was unerring.

She found an adequate job that wasn’t as demanding as her last, and I got wait-listed after my university interview and got accepted soon after.

Yet on this gloomy Saturday evening, I could not find any reason to believe of any divinity.

My black leather shoes sunk on the wet grass, caking my soles with the same dirt that Nana now peacefully slept within. The rain hasn’t stopped pouring, with the towering firmament gray and dull enough to resemble dusk.

It was only 10 in the morning as I stood in front of my mother’s grave,

still hoping this was all but some foolery, and Nana would eventually jump from behind one of the trees surrounding us and say it was all some trick or dare.

However, Nana was no prankster, and I visibly saw her in her casket as it was laid down to rest, in spite of the unending tears from my eyes that partially blurred my vision.

Perhaps the only trickery was me believing such a softhearted woman would even pull off some deception,

since she hated to see me weep.

Neither did I make a sound nor say a word for nearly an hour. My face was no longer tear-streaked, as I did not bother bringing an umbrella to the graveyard. I arrived early, with a Lily of the Valley bouquet that I knew Nana loved dearly, and it was when it started drizzling.

I rejected every single person, among the seven who cared enough to attend, who offered me cover from the rain. While her casket was blessed and lowered down, I was shaking as I painfully watched; I was no longer certain if I shook because of the icy wind or with my heavy mourning, yet its ambiguity felt more like a combination to my sensations.

Now, a tall figure stood behind me, holding a black umbrella that was enough to shelter us from the sky. Gratefully, she has not said a thing while I emptily stared at Nana’s gravestone.

I was merely sighing and shivering. My face was quite dry after being washed by the rain and blown by the wind, and my black dress still dripped wet on my shoes and socks.

“Leigh,” my company said.

In response, I slowly crossed my arms and turned my head to her. It’s been three years of knowing Anika, and other than Nana, she was the only one I thoroughly loved and trusted.

She wore a wet coat that was as dark as her shirt dress, with rain boots that had scratches and smudges over years of trekking. Her face only looked sympathetic, yet her eyes looked quite heavy after crying. I didn’t know how mine looked like, but it was no use to even find out.

“I know,” I replied. “We have to leave.”

She sighed.

“I was actually gonna say that you need to get changed. You might get sick.”

“All my clothes are at home.”

Anika rested her hand on my shoulder and insisted,

“I have spare clothes in my car. I’d be glad for you to borrow them.”

The two of us spent another thirty minutes before I gave in to change and temporarily leave the grave. I planned on staying next to Nana until sunset, yet the sky showed no signs of stopping.

Maybe it has been crying along to my mother’s passing, yet why would it be grieving if she would be entering its very own heavens?

I sat on the back of Anika’s car, changing into a midnight blue sweater and her spare running shorts. I weakly squeezed the excess water from my clothes before we hit the road, and Anika drove off into the pouring rain.

She walked me to my doorstep, yet it only rained slightly down where we, or now I, lived.

Anika took me into an embrace as we stepped on dry ground. I felt both of our hearts beat together at the same time, and while it was comforting, the feeling made me feel somber.

As we both broke from the hug, I faced our unlocked door and breathed heavily.

It was the moment I felt like Nana was really gone.

I turned the knob, leaving my muddy shoes on the rug, and stepped my way inside our dark home.

Our dandelion yellow walls now looked like dark ochre that encased our furniture like an old box.

I could not even brush my hands against anything I saw, as everything reminded me of Nana.

No, it will not be alright. How can I be alright?

I bolted toward the door, still barefoot, when I found Anika reading an envelope on her hand.

“Leigh, have you been checking your emails?”

I scoffed.

“Why would I?”

She put down our bag of dinner on the patio before handing me the letter.

Carefully, my shaky hand took it and recognized the logo printed on its corner.

Oh no.

I briskly tore off the edge of the envelope, scurrying to find out its contents instead of making the suspense longer. There was no longer energy within me to handle suspense, mystery, or any emotion that made me wonder.

I’d rather have the sky burn on me or pour every drop till I washed away with the flood— only directness felt tolerable.

As I read the message, Anika asked,

“What is it?”

My eyes could not believe what I just read, yet I didn’t know how to react. I knew that I was supposed to feel happiness, yet smiling felt difficult.

“It’s my last reminder. I have my final callbacks for that one movie I auditioned for. It’s tomorrow, in case I’m still interested, they said.”

“Oh, Leigh-”

I grunted.

“Please, Anika. I no longer want to go. Why would I even go now? Or tomorrow? It’s the worst timing in the world.”

“But it’s your dream! And also Nana-”

I screamed.

“Don’t put Nana into this!”

Anika looked down at the ground and apologized.

“I’m sorry. I know. You need to heal.”

She kissed me on the cheek and reminded.

“Here’s your food. Please rest. I have to go home to my dad. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I’m sorry, Anika.”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s alright.”

The day felt like the longest one I’ve had in my entire being. The dryness of the air encapsulated me despite being covered by a blanket, and I spent my entire day locked in fetal position on my bed. I touched my food yet had no appetite to finish it, so I kept it in my refrigerator for future use.

By 6 PM, I decided to walk out of my room to drink a glass of water. I carefully dragged myself on the ground, hoping to make my tread feel less heavy.

As I sipped on a quarter of the glass, my eyes caught on the violet tint of the sky shining over the horizon.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed my keys and left my house for a drive.

“The stars we see are just visions in the sky from what is actually infinite.”

This line was one I pondered into ever since Nana said it to me. I vividly remember took me for a drive and walked distances along Griffith Park under the night sky. She would show me the horizon and how it glittered like a nebula that was within my reach.

Tonight, I could still see the same wondrous sight— the same clouds of lights and tiny illuminations from afar that spread like dust. The night sky was a gradient I’ve never seen before; its colors glowed with the darkness of midnight and the radiance of a vibrant violet.

The firmament was as clear as day, in contrast to the morning that felt like it rained despair.

I absolutely hated how beautiful the night was.

I couldn’t bear myself to glance again to the sky that presented itself almost like it stood beside me. I crossed my arms with the attempt to feel warmer, and I was angry at the concept that I was surrounded by beauty when I wanted to despise it.

It was not fair that Nana could not even see such grandiloquence, when it was her above all people who deserved to experience such splendor. There was a heavy feeling in my heart that on the very instance I had my opportunity for what I have been working for ever since I knew about the spotlight, Nana was not there to witness it.

Nana did not even get to know I got accepted to a major callback when she helped me all her life for me to get into one.

Tears came streaming down my face as I thought deeply.

I knew that my innocent self often wondered how people chose to hide in gloom when they have the power to see those that coexist with them. Los Angeles itself was its own wonder— Tinseltown being what I believed to be a materialistic heaven for anyone who loved things or had faith in what they could not directly perceive.

I guess no one would choose to live in the dark. Those who seem sightless might have not had the chance to open themselves up.

The thought of that reality was such a tragedy.

As I spotted a nearby bench, I walked up to it as I felt myself panting from my walk. Instead of sitting, the bench looked inviting enough for me to lie down on it, so I did.

The sky was indeed such a clear view. Little glowing dots were visible enough to be identified, which made me remember Nana once more. She taught me a few constellations, and right now, I could see Orion’s belt and Gemini.

My realization of Nana being everywhere I went hit me quite hard,

I knew I needed to mourn,

as I did.

But there could be the smallest chance that the distant sights on the sky speak to me right now.

On this very night.

“Hello, miss Leigh Berkeley! We are so glad to see you today.”

“Oh yes, we were worried you wouldn’t reply.”

As I shook both of their hands firmly, I inquired regarding their statements.

“You were?”

The director wiped off a fingerprint from her glasses and grinned enthusiastically.

“Of course! You are perfectly what we have been looking for. Although, you look a little weak. Do you need a glass of water? Who did you go here with? Are you tired from your journey?”

I was able to let out a laugh. She asked too many questions, but I was patient enough to answer them all.

“I went here with my friend. Her name’s Anika. And I’ve been going through rough patches and all that, but I’m gonna be alright.”

I paused before continuing.

“I know I will be.”

The casting director next to her nodded and initiated the next step.

“Okay, Leigh. We called you here to do one last thing. We need you to do tell us something. A story. A monologue. Anything, really.”

“Oh!” I replied. “I believe there’s no monologue or full story from the script excerpt you sent.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s not something from the script. We want to get to know you better and somehow build aspects of the character around who you are.”

The director affirmed this and spoke.

“You can think of any line. Any quote that has struck you lately. Tell us anything about it.”

I exhaled, tightening my grip on my skirt. My hands hadn’t been strong yet, but I tried my best to act out the most energy I could.

Besides, this profession has made me quite a natural at pretending.

“We’ll only listen until you’re done.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Leigh.”

I breathed heavily and reminded myself once more.

I will be alright.

Eighteen years ago, my mother adopted me.

She’s Nadia, but I called her Nana.

She was the love of my life. The sunshine on my rainiest days. The light and love of my life.

She made me believe in miracles. In beauty.

In everything.

But a few days ago, she was hit by a drunken driver.

She was buried, just yesterday.

In fact, before I got here, I visited her to tell her about how I got a callback here.

Without her, I know I wouldn’t have made it here. She made anything of myself possible.

And I find it an injustice that she was not here to at least hear that it’s happened.

When she was still alive, Nana took me on strolls at Griffith park and told me stories about LA.

However, she often told me about the sky. She often pointed to it, no matter the time of the day, and taught me everything she knew. Constellations. The weather. Navigation. History. One could say that she’s a walking astronomy book.

But one thing she told me is this:

the stars we see are just visions in the sky from what is actually infinite.

Scientifically, she told me how the light from the stars traveled toward us from a far distance. Light years, that’s how we call it. But I know there’s a meaning behind it.

She told me how stars are everywhere. On the sky. On the ground. Anywhere you’d want to see it.

I used to interpret that they were the pink stars down at Hollywood where famous people’s names are printed down. Or perhaps the ones you’d find up at the conservatory.

I believed that for a really long time.

But last night, when I saw how everything reminded me of my Nana. How I still mourn at the thought of her. How everything just felt so unfair.

It somehow opened me to what it could really mean.

You know, this dream has always felt so distant to me. I never thought this would happen.

But here I am now.

I felt that I was so distant from my mother since she’s now gone.

And while it might sound odd,

the stars in the sky, that I do not resemble at all,

felt like home.

Those little visions of light in the sky from fiery celestial bodies far far away reminded me of her.

I felt like I’m a star. One here on the ground below an infinity.

But I’m like Polaris. I shine brightly and find my way through, and it’s because of her.

She even went beyond by blessing me with the sky,

because her love spans a vast distance—

farther than all the stars we perceive.

I know she was a star too.

Perhaps, we were a constellation. Grounded constellations on earth.

We were stars,

we found each other,

and we became the most beautiful thing.