Astronaut.

The sun was just beginning to greet the day. Her golden beams stretched out in an attempt to touch the farthest reaches of the continent and warm them until they were tickled. The moon was departing the scene to shine down on the late-night sleepers in other lands. This was the time when the stars began to fall asleep. This was the time the morning glories yawned and lived again. This was the time that Noah chose to begin his new journey.

The first thing he decided was that he had to get Jupiter back. He wasn’t quite sure how he intended to do this, but it was going to happen, one way or another. He would rip the sorrow from her heart and set it aflame. He would dry every tear that had ever spilled from her beautiful eye and soiled the soft, blushing flesh of her cheek. He was determined to become the best for her that he could possibly be. If that wasn’t enough to win her back, then… he would just have to try harder. Failure was not an option; he could not live without her.

Sitting on the creaking chair of his uncle’s porch, Noah plotted. He schemed and he thought and he considered and he conspired. Jupiter was his life – he knew that now – and there was no way he was going to let that slip away.

The nagging question that had lingered in his head for the four years he was gone: why did he love Jupiter? He knew he loved her, he knew he needed her… but why? He remembered meeting her, speaking with her, learning more about her by the minute. Maybe it was because she listened when he spoke. Maybe it was that he shared secrets with her. Maybe he loved her because she was a part of him, a vital section of his heart, without which he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

He remembered the times when he had been forced out of her life, mostly when her husband had taken her places. He travelled quite a bit, and sometimes took it upon his fancy to let his little wife tag along. Noah despised him. Jupiter was a goddess, an idol, not some business man’s scarf to be worn when the weather suited its use. She was worth more than that.

He recalled the many times he had lain awake in another world, staring at the stars they all shared and thinking of her. Sometimes he had been playing with the beach band, The Leveled Hills, and thoughts of her would float before his eyes like an elusive ghost. Many times he would step forward on the small party stage and everything would go silent, and the wail of his guitar would scream out into the night all the sorrow and emptiness that filled him. After every show, people would greet him with warm hugs and whispers of luck. They could all feel his hurt, flagrant in the night air that tingled around them and sparked on their sun-bleached hair.

He also remembered when he had suddenly returned to thoughts of her, and he would be surprised it hadn’t been on the forefront.

Noah stood and straightened his shirt. It wasn’t too early to pay a visit to the one he loved. Without another thought, he bid his uncle farewell and started on his way.



One night, the sprinkling stars were telling tales to the moonlit waves that danced on the sand. California was beautiful and hot, and The Leveled Hills were showing off their new, instantly popular lead guitarist. Everyone tried not to remember that he was only a temporary hit, for soon he would have to disappear on his journey to himself. Garth, the sandy-haired drummer, was rock-hard stoned. The rest of the band was some sort of intoxicated or another. Noah had been experimenting with a strange combination that left the taste of peach seeds on his tongue. He smacked his mouth in an attempt to isolate the flavor, and hopefully be rid of it, but there was only the feeling that he would sooner taste the sun’s kisses than fix this dilemma in his throat.

Smiles were contagious on the summer wind. Laughter was the same. They were delightful viruses circulating throughout the rocking population of sun-lovers and soul-searchers. This was the Swing beach, preserved just for those who had the potential to be great.

The king of the beach stood. He was tall and mighty; he was a god. His eyes were like auburn flames shining through the night. His hair, as a babe, had been a soft brown; it was now electric sunshine. He raised his arm, high above the pack of beauty-starved creatures. They saw it in sound, in color, in spirit, while the rest of the world watched on in wonder as they flew. Those who ridiculed them envied their happiness. Noah wished Jupiter could see this.

The king waited until silence befell the throng of spirit singers. The air was on fire, electrified, tense and jittery and happy like all of their skin. The king was a lion standing over his pride; they were all eager under his rule.

He spoke.

“Tonight!”

A cheer roared across the crowds, like a sweeping wave of joy to hear his voice once more.

He smiled and nodded, waiting once more for silence. “Tonight, we are going to play until the stars rain down upon us!”

Another cry of pure delight burst from them all. No one dared touch their glowing instruments, for it was not time. Themoment had not come over them. The king had not signaled it.

The secret of this event was exciting beyond belief. No one knew it was happening; no one would know in twenty years. Only the people here knew that it was happening. By morning there would be no trace but for the fading sandy footsteps. Noah loved this. He could explore the beautiful world around him without leaving his mark on tomorrow. He only wanted to be remembered by Jupiter.

An old man sat beside him. He looked like a wrinkled piece of brown paper. His eyes were coals buried in the folds of his skin, and his hair was long and white. When he spoke to Noah, his voice sounded like a fierce mountain wind. Feathers hung in his hair and he smelled strongly of marijuana.

“This place is a treasure,” he whispered in his ear, so that only he might hear. “These young people don’t know the power of their spirits, but it is strong in them. The moon shines on their hearts.”

Noah was entranced by the beauty on his tongue. “Yeah,” he said groggily, staring out at the twinkling lights of candles and smiling faces. Any moment now, they would all begin to play. It was the greatest privilege to start the wild rumpus; only the best music-maker could attempt it. No one wanted to be the one to ruin it, and so the beginning was far from sight. The old man told him that in the past years he had come here, the real show wouldn’t dare to begin until the sun teased the horizon.

Noah wanted Jupiter to know about this.



The front door of their – no, it was only hers now – house was a strange rust color. It didn’t match the shutters on the windows, which were a kind of a forest green. Noah frowned and looked over the house as he approached it. Not much about it was very appealing to the outside eye. He loved what he saw because he had lived there for almost a year, and the woman he loved was inside. He also feared it because a child had died within its silent walls.

This house was like a book on the library’s topmost shelf. No one could reach it to see all of the history inside. It was just out of range, barely within sight just to tease the thirsty reader.

Noah sighed and stepped up on the porch. He had done this before many times. For some reason, this was the most terrifying one. There was an empty – yet heavy as hell – feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. His spine and scalp felt like they had been subjected to ice-water torture. He was so afraid of what the future held. He needed Jupiter, he needed her, more than a desert needed the rain. He could only hope that she would – could – forgive him. Or at the very least, tolerate him. He could live with a woman in his life who didn’t love him. He just had to have her there, at all costs. He was prepared to jump from the highest clouds to be by her side. Nothing could stop him from being there.

He stood silently before the door, wary to knock, scared to intrude, unsure if he was at risk; could he actually forsake whatever chance he had at gaining her forgiveness? At the last possible second, when he was sure that there was no way in hell he would muster the courage to confront her, the moment just previous his complete giving in, the door opened and he was met with the most beautiful pair of sea-blue eyes he had ever seen. His heart melted, as did a fraction of his inner fear. Her gaze was tired, yet there was something deep within it that piqued his curiosity. She seemed happy. The sleepiness was just that, a lack of slumber. She didn’t look like her heart was hurting as much. That was a good sign.

“Oh, um... Hi,” he said, forcing a tiny smile to form on his lips. It felt fake, but it was necessary. He couldn’t turn away now; after all he was standing on her porch. She didn’t look particularly pleased to see him… maybe he shouldn’t have come. Yes, that was it, he would leave now. He took a step back, unsure of where to go or what to do. She had disarmed him by walking in – or out – on him. Well… he couldn’t leave. No, he couldn’t. He could only move forward.

Her silence was tense. He waited for her to tell him to leave, order him off her property, call the sheriff, anything. She just waited. He couldn’t find the words to say; they stuck in his throat like cotton. She watched him levelly, her devilishly gorgeous eyes boring right into him, piercing his soul again and again. She seemed to be calculating every flicker of his eye, every twitch in his lip. She was observing him. He squirmed under her scrutiny.

“I, uh… I wanted to come by and see if you needed help with anything. Maybe… painting the door? Or maybe doing some dishes… I don’t care, I’ll be your slave. I’ll even clean out the attic like you always wanted.” He immediately retracted, thinking he had said too much. She wouldn’t want to be reminded of the past, what had he been thinking? He should have concentrated on the present and the future.

Jupiter surprised him by smiling. “Yes,” she said in her angel’s voice. “I would like that.”