Astronaut.

The sand was cool and golden beneath his bare feet. The symphony of magic continued around him, as potent as a woman’s perfume. He smelled the air with a smile as he walked, his senses open to the majesty of the ocean. The nightly lashing of the waves had died down softly, so that the sound of music rose and drowned out the wind.

Noah’s soul poured into every second. The wires beneath his fingers were needles of bone echoing death’s sweet tune. They were solidified tears being torn from their sorrow. Each pounding note silenced the pain in his heart. Who was he? Where should he go?

Finally, the gods of music sent him a sign.

A small wave rushed over his feet, bathing them to the ankles in soft, dancing sand. He slipped in the sinking sand and fell to his knees, nearly dropping his precious guitar into the water. Both his arms encircled it protectively, holding it above the splash as the water came and burst against his legs. His eyes snapped open, and the color exploded.

A single woman sang out into the morning light; it was a scream of passion. Before him, the dancers twirled in coal-black silhouettes and flying hair. The women wore skirts of red and orange, like the sun that watched their dance. The king dove and rolled, leaping to his feet and gracefully twirling on the tips of his toes. Noah knew it was the king even though he could not see his face. There was an aura around him that was unmistakable. There was also one around the woman who took his hand.

The instruments hushed. This was Special. Noah watched in amazement, thrown down on his knees before these gods, holding his music near and dear. The king took his queen and danced slowly with her, stretching from her fingertips to point at the stars that had all but disappeared. The dancers around them twirled slowly and let their skirts bloom like wine-stained roses.

Noah’s bronze eyes followed the queen. Her hair was long, her legs even longer. Her skirt was a deep shade of rouge. The king lifted her up by her waist. She was a crane above him, arms outstretched and legs bent just so that her strange angle looked beautiful. She must have weighed no more than a swan’s feather.

A bird cried out. Then he set her on her feet and she was dancing on her own in the circle of her brethren. The music swelled as she moved, the violins raising their voices with the drums’ beating. Noah remained paralyzed, though his kaleidoscope eyes followedher.

She leaped into the air, her legs spreading like a ballerina’s. Her hand lifted the strings of everyone’s marionette spirits, and the music roared. As she hit her peak,(in slow motion can you see her oh how she flies)

a small flock of birds fluttered behind her and scattered to where her fingers pointed. Her hair was like windy grass behind her, reaching past her waist like a falling river. The sun flashed and cast an orange glow on the dark waters behind her. Its rays stretched around her and blinded him. Jupiter shone in his mind. She was a dancer, too.

When he could see once more, the dancing had stopped, and his cheeks were wet. The queen came up to him, blocking the bright light with her curvy body. She bent at the waist, hands on her knees as she stared into his face. The sun peered over her shoulder in a golden burst.

‘Hello,’ it said.



“Mm,” she sighed with a smile. “That was a beautiful story.” She ran her fingers through the broken stems of her ivy. Mama had planted that when Jupiter had turned five. The seeds had been in a little purple flowering pot with a note that said “You are the planet in my universe.”

A small wave of regret flowed through her. How could she let Noah cut this down? This was her heart, her memory of Mama. It was as if she had told him to burn all of her photo albums, stowed away in the attic. She looked down on him with a faint disdain. Her attempts to keep the tiny scowl from her apple-red lips were halfhearted. He was destroying more of her. But that was okay, because he didn’t know it. He had never known what he was doing to her. With an inner smile, Jupiter realized that she would show him. She couldn’t forgive him yet; he hadn’t suffered enough. Secretly, she wanted to hate him. He had torn her apart, shouldn’t he have to pay?

Wandering in her thoughts, she slipped a hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around the small silver case nestled inside. The sun sparkled on the initials, ‘JAD’ engraved on the front as she opened it and tugged out a long, thin cigarette. She closed the holder in her palm and put it back in her pocket, where it was almost always. From her other hip she pulled out a Zippo lighter. With her lips holding the tube and her hand cupping the tip, she lit the cigarette. Her finger circled around and pushed the cap down, and then she dropped it in her pocket. Her green eyes watched Noah as he knelt before her, so concentrated on his work that he hadn’t seen her actions. With her two first fingers she held the cigarette and inhaled deeply. She dropped it beside her hip and blew out a steady stream of smoke.

Noah’s head lifted and his eyes landed on hers. Horror appeared in his expression like a flash of lightning. He leapt instantly to his feet and snatched the smoking cylinder from her lips as she raised it for another puff. Ignoring her startled reaction, he threw it on the ground and smashed it under the heel of his boot. Then he lifted his head. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

She blinked several times, unbelieving of his gall. “Um, excuse me?” There was a strange fury in his eyes, as well as a quiet whisper of fear. How strange.

“You can’t smoke. How long have you been doing that? You have to stop, right now.” He looked around for something, then pointed at her pocket. “Are they in there? Is that where you got it? Give them to me.” He held out his palm, completely serious, and seemed to be attempting to stare her down.

Jupiter could do nothing but burst out laughing. “You… have got to be kidding me!” After a moment she put her hands on her hips. “What is your problem, Noah? You scared me!” As she frowned deeply at him, she pulled out and lit another cigarette. When she had seen his hand flying through the air, she had, for a moment, believed he meant to strike her. She had no reason for this fear; it was a completely irrational thought.

His reply was bewildered. “I don’t want you to smoke anymore.” He looked her up and down, as if he saw how silly he was acting.

“What are you talking about? Why not?”

He seemed to deflate a little under her scrutiny. “I… I don’t want you to.”

Both her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, and I’m supposed to do everything you want, right? Why don’t I chop off my hair and let you sleep with other women? Hey, I should even take you back after you leave me. You want that, don’t you? Tell me if that’s what you want.”

He flinched when she spoke. “It’s not like that. I just get a really bad feeling about them. I wish you wouldn’t.” He looked balefully at the cigarette resting in her fingers. For a moment, Jupiter fantasized that he was jealous of it.

With a little shake of her head, she stepped away from him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t control me. I won’t let you.”

“But… I really feel it’s best if you don’t.”

Appalled, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Best? Since when have you known what’s best? Best for yourself? Best for me? Noah, you wouldn’t know what’s best if it bit you in the behind.” She took another hit from the cigarette and blew the smoke in his direction. “I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, she turned and strutted back to the house, leaving Noah standing in the sun-drenched grass. She couldn’t believe him! Asking her to stop smoking was like asking her to take down the American flag Mama always hung beside the front door of the house. He just couldn’t do it. And who was he to claim he knew what was best for her? He left her alone for years, and then expected her to accept him as soon as he returned.

Boiling inside, she locked the front door and trudged up the stairs. She turned away from her bedroom and went straight down the hall to the attic stairs. When she reached the top she found a long, white candle to light. She ruffled through the boxes, searching for the one in particular that held what she looked for. A small one in the corner sat lifelessly, as it had for quite a few months. She hadn’t opened it since she had stopped wanting Noah. What she found inside, under a small storm of sprinkling dust, was a pair of small journals. She pulled out the one with the red ribbon tucked between the pages. The candle flame flickered around her as she sat back, pulled up the attic door, and flipped through the journal to find the first empty page. Her scribbled handwriting was elegant and sloppy, and her words stank of emotion.

She had decided that she could no longer keep it in. She hadn’t wanted to write about Noah’s return in a negative way because she was sure things would fix themselves immediately. Now she saw that in order to correct the mistakes made by both of them, she had to take it step by step.

The first was to write about it in the little journals she saved just for him.