Astronaut.

The drums started it.

They were deep in the horizon, like a soft thunder coming their way. Noah lifted his head in alarm, afraid an earthquake was coming, but the old man – whose name, he had learned, was Smiling Moon – took hold of his arm and gave him a reassuring nod. “It’s just the drums,” he murmured, gazing out into the early sun beach. As the sound of beating instruments rolled in on them through the sandy hills, Noah felt the tension grow. More and more people knew it was starting, and more and more joined. There was a young girl beside him with wild golden curls who suddenly began slamming her open palms down on a pair of exquisite bongos that sat nestled between her legs. The people around her jumped slightly and then smiled, whispering about what instrument would join next.

The king raised his arms in a mighty gesture. Everyone froze except the drummers. They continued to send their vibrating song, striking each chord of every person’s being, thrumming in their souls and calling to their hearts. The king smiled down upon his subjects; his face was as wide as the moon. The king signaled the next wave of drums; his hand was a paw. The king swung his hips and thrust casually into the air; his aura was that of a peacock, all rainbows and eyes and beauty. Noah watched in wonder as the king’s lemonade hair flew away from his face. Then he danced.

He leapt with the grace of an exotic creature, his arms wide like phoenix wings. Someone caught him and they twirled, buried in each other’s smiles and then spinning in sync. Their skin was on fire, and little wings sprouted from their sun-burned backs. Noah’s eyes watered as he saw them rise and fly through the air together. They were angels on the cool dawn sand.

His head spun on his shoulders. The world around him was a whorl of colors and sounds, the beating of the drums and the sound of dancers calling out to the departing moon. A woman ran, half-naked, past Noah and Smiling Moon. The old Indian watched her as she streaked by, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. After a moment they looked at each other, dazed and happy, and burst into giggles together. Smiling Moon’s were more like deep, throaty chuckles. He sounded like a can of nails being shaken vigorously.

As he watched, the native’s eyes grew. The shine popped out and floated away like a underwater bubble, and the large black of his pupils became the air. Noah rolled on his back and stared up at the stars. They were spinning rapidly and screaming down to them. Every little beam was as sharp as a needle, rotating faster than Noah could see. In their sparkling jealousy, the stars called down, “New suns be born this night!” Everyone there heard the stars, and a huge, gay cry rose into the night. The king crowed to the moon. Themoment had come. A pair of violins screamed out and soared through the air. A child slid by on the sound waves as they travelled. The sun was coming; they needed beauty!

Suddenly, there was sound everywhere. Not a patch of air went without music, and the dancers filled the sunrise. Noah had taken up his guitar, and he now strummed his fingers lazily and barely heard that he was out of tune. The Indian had taken out a small flute-like thing, and was buried in its sweet tune. Since he was fine on his own, Noah stood and looked up at the stars. They smiled and waved, then continued spitting and cursing at each other. Noah giggled and started walking through the forest of writhing, dancing, music-filled faces. The light of their smiles rose high on the wind and carried their shine for miles. Noah could see them, like spider webs of light on the sky. He bowed his head for a minute, watching his hand as he played, testing some of the strings and then continuing as he went. When he was satisfied with the smooth sound his guitar sang, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The music flowed through him and sprang from his fingertips, plucking the strings in a beautiful harmony that all turned to hear. Smiling in his heart, Noah walked. He knew they were all watching. They always watched when he played.

Nervous, he slipped and hit a wrong note. There was a gasp around him, mingled in with the soft sound of instruments playing outside this little bubble of Noah’s guitar. He stopped in his place, ran his fingers experimentally over the wires, and decided it was good. As he continued moving, taking slow steps and swaying with the music, he played. He heard a woman call from the left, but he did not open his eyes. There were enough suns this morning; he need not add two more. But in his mind, the image of a beautiful woman grew. Her hair was long and dark, and her lips smelled faintly of berries. Her eyes were the planets and the seas.

His music grew.



Jupiter yawned and watched Noah through the kitchen window. It was eighty percent covered with the vines that grew outside, but she could still catch a glimpse or two of his handsome face. He didn’t know she was watching, silent and invisible behind the shining glass. He kept cutting away, the tiny scissors held in his strong hand snipping at the stems of each ivy leaf. She tapped her chin when she saw the determined set in his jaw. From that look, she knew that he was thinking about something intensely. She wondered if it might be her in his head.

Shaking her tempting thoughts away, she continued to do the dishes. The large soap bubbles crawled up her arms nearly to her elbows, threatening to get on her hips and then down her legs. She sighed at the hassle and started drying. Once all from the day before had been put away, she leaned over the sink to watch Noah some more. His jaw was just a tiny bit more pronounced than she remembered. There were a few white hairs growing by his temples. She felt something cold strike her heart. He had gotten older.

The woman turned away before she started hyperventilating. “It’s okay, Jupiter,” she muttered as she grabbed a rag to wipe down the low table. “Just… take it easy.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her wrist over her forehead. A light feeling was building up behind her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder to watch Noah for a few seconds more, then left the kitchen and went to her bedroom to rest her eyes. She looked over at the darkened window, thought of how the vines had grown with her misery, and closed her eyes.

A light scratching at the window brought her back. Her green eyes burst open and she looked around quickly, fearing some strange creature had somehow gotten up into her room. She squinted into the light that surrounded her. Frowning and holding up a hand as a shield, she peered through the slanted shadows her fingers cast. There, at the window, was the sun. And bathed in its warm glow was Noah. She blushed and rolled out of bed. She felt antsy in there, like he had been watching her. She remembered the times when she would wake up in the middle of the night to find his eyes on her, just observing her slumber. It frightened her that someone could be that interested in her sleep patterns.

She trotted barefoot into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of iced tea. As her lips pinched the edge of the brown glass, she thought of Noah outside her window. She sipped a little of her drink, then started up the stairs again. The room was bright, more so than she remembered before rushing out, and the air was alive. She lifted her eyes to the window, and raised her eyebrows in astonishment.

The vines were like dark veins across the glass… and not a single leaf was in sight. When she had told him, “Use these scissors to cut off about… half of these ivy leaves here,” and motioned at the vine-covered wall, she hadn’t thought he would actually do it. She had been sure he knew she was full of it. What reason could she have for removing the leaves, and not the vines themselves?

She watched him silently, sipping her tea and listening to the faint sound of snipping. It was like a serenade from a disturbing dream. She watched the sun sparkle on his golden skin. There was a warm breeze out there; she could see it playing with his shaggy locks. A smile danced on the corner of her mouth, enticing it to become a dreamy smirk.

A single, shining droplet of sweat streaked from the groove of his temple to his jaw. It magnified the sun as it fell, and Jupiter’s eye caught the light. She nearly dropped her glass. Of course, he was hot; she had to bring him tea! She quickly pulled together a cup full of ice cubes and cool, sweet tea. He didn’t like lemon… she left that aside.

Her hand opened the front door and let in the rare, hot spring. A gust of sweet air rushed her, throwing some of her hair back from her shoulders. She strode across the porch, down the steps and along the side of the house. The grass was tall and lush green; it was gentle on her naked feet. Above her, lazy clouds drifted by on azure skies, elegantly flashing their dark underbellies through the high sun’s clear light. A strip of shadow coated this side of the house, but would soon melt away as the eye of flame showed its face. In the near distance, a songbird called to its lover. Jupiter came to a silent stop behind the ladder Noah stood on and watched him work for a minute before he noticed her standing there. His hand moved quickly, his wrist flicking to send the sharp scissors chopping a leaf away and letting it float down to the ground.

Noah turned his head and looked down at her with a thoughtless smile. “Hi,” was all he said, and then began trimming again.

She let him work for a little while longer, but finally she said, “Come down, I brought out some tea for you.”

His face appeared over his shoulder once more. “Yeah?” He shooed her away with his hand, dropped the scissors in the grass, and started to climb down the steps. Jupiter saw the dried mud caked in the grooves on the soles of his boots. It looked like a desert right before the flood. Once he reached the bottom of the rickety ladder, she held out his perspiring glass. When his arm extended to take it, the image of birds sprang from his arm. They were so beautiful that for a moment she forgot that they were tattoos.

“Where did those come from?” she inquired, pointing at his arm as soon as he had stopped drinking. Before he answered, she caught sight of a pair of letters scrawled onto the knuckles of his middle and ring finger: ‘LH’. What did that stand for? Was it another woman? Her name was something like Lauren Hughes, or maybe Linda Hamilton…

Noah smiled and traced the wings of one of them with his fingertip; a blue hummingbird. “These are from when I was in a band.”

Instantly, a rose of pride bloomed in her heart. Of course he was in a band, he played the guitar beautifully. She remembered when he had played for Lora Joan. “What band was it?”

“The Leveled Hills,” he sighed, smiling up at her. “Let me tell you why I got the tattoos.”