Astronaut.

She sat with her head bowed over the treasure of her past, oblivious to the world around her but for this piece of her life. She flipped quietly through the pages, her fingers gently handling the paper, and she beamed. In the early days, she had been so in love with Noah. Over time, however… the person she had fallen for was gone, changed. He was something else now, someone alien. She didn’t understand him anymore.

Sighing to herself, Jupiter looked.

Below her, Noah was searching for redemption. He had found the hidden key (which oddly hadn’t moved from its place beneath a loose board on the porch) and come in a little while after she had stormed off, sensitive to her anger but eager to fix things. He fidgeted through the kitchen, toying with cups that had been there for as long as he remembered. One or two of them had thin cracks in their porcelain. Every few minutes he lifted his head, thinking that one sound or another was Jupiter coming to talk to him. He didn’t think she would forget about him.

Finally he could bear it no longer. He felt useless, sitting down here when she was somewhere in the house. He had to find her.

The search began in the living room and reached all the way to Lora Joan’s empty room, and Jupiter was nowhere to be found. He turned and started to walk back toward the room that he used to share with her. Gazing on the empty bed, he heard a noise behind him. He turned and laid his eyes on the attic ladder, pulled down and resting at the end of the hall. How he couldn’t have seen it, he had no idea. Quickly, he started to walk toward it, but slowed just before he stepped onto the first rung. He had to be patient. Maybe she didn’t want to be interrupted in whatever she was doing up there. Careful and slow, he climbed to the top and peered into the darkness.

He saw her kneeling beside a small candle, her head bent over something in her lap. He bit his lip and watched the candlelight flicker on her skin. What was she doing? Was she looking at pictures? He lifted his head slightly in an attempt to see, but only succeeded in making the stairs creak. Instantly, he ducked, clinging to the ladder in the hopes that she wouldn’t choose to investigate the strange noise. After a minute of nothing, he peeked again. She seemed undisturbed.

Noah wondered why she had been so upset. He had witnessed a horrible nightmare involving cigarettes – it only made sense that they were bad! He didn’t understand how she couldn’t respect his wants. At least she could not smoke in his presence.

He sighed a bit and looked to her face. Her hand moved in her lap; she had turned the page in a sort of book. Why was she reading? Curiosity growing, he stepped a little higher on the ladder. It stayed mercifully silent under his weight. Breathing shortly, he slowly climbed all the way into the attic. She continued to read, peaceful in her candlelight, unaware of anything.

Something creaked, this time much louder than the ladder. Jupiter’s head lifted and turned to him. Their eyes met, and he knew he had made a mistake.

“What the hell are you doing!” she barked, jumping to her feet and staring down at him. The book – he could see now that it was a journal – was clutched to her chest by a protective arm. “This is private. How did you get in?” She gasped. “Did you break a window? Oh Noah, tell me you didn’t.”

He frowned and crossed both arms over his chest, not moving. “You never got rid of the hidden spare,” he said, looking up at her and then away. “Um… what were you doing?”

She scoffed. “As if I would tell you. Go away.”

“Jupiter, please.” He lifted his eyes pleadingly to hers. She was like a sea goddess, and he the lowly sun. She could put him out in a second.

Her oceanic eyes narrowed at him. “Fine. You can stay. But go sit over there.” She waved her hand haphazardly in the direction of the tiny attic window, as if it were a deserted corner in her mansion of memories and that was where he belonged.

Happy with this, he moved. He sat silently in the dust, watching her as she resumed her position, only facing him. She wanted to be able to see him if he was in the room. He felt a stab of hurt in his heart: she didn’t trust him anymore.

Jupiter continued reading through her journals. She scanned each and every page, tasting the emotions she had felt for the first time in years. It was sweet and raw, unlike her current bitter state. She couldn’t wait to be happy again.

Suddenly, she didn’t recognize the handwriting. She blinked a few times in confusion, turning back a page and reading.

Noah has been good to us.

That was the last entry she recognized. She smoothed out the next page, marveling at the large, messy letters.



Dear Joopie,

Noah came to my house! He loves me and I love him. He gived me a pretty leaf today from the garden outside because I can’t go out. I miss the outside. Is it still pretty? I wanna see again.

PS, thanks for teaching me even because I am sick. I love you, sissy.



Jupiter wiped at the tears gathering in her eyes. She glanced up at Noah to see him watching her. She put on a flustered air and started fussing with the pages, tossing them about like they might be on fire but she wasn’t quite sure yet if they were. He chuckled a little and began crawling closer to her.

“Jupiter?” he asked softly, now only a few feet between them.

She sniffled and opened the book to Lora Joan’s previously-unseen journal entry. She must have wanted to be like her big sister. Jupiter sobbed quietly and squeezed the journal in her hands. Noah crept nearer. She shoved the book in his direction, not looking at him, and waited until he took it gently in his hands. He respectfully stayed on the designated page, leaning closer to read in the dull light. After a moment, he looked up at her.

“Oh, Jupiter.” He sighed and set the book aside, moving beside her and touching her arm. “She only wants you to be happy.”

Jupiter looked at him with watery eyes. “I know that. You think I don’t know my sister?” She dropped her head, letting her vision become crystallized. She whispered softly, “She was my baby.”

Noah pulled her into his arms and held her close. It was okay, he wanted her to know. He was here now, and he would fix everything. “Shh, now,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “Here. I have a story for you.” He pulled Jupiter up by her chin, rubbing his thumb over her remaining tears. “Smile for me, baby.” Her lips pulled into a pitiful little smirk. He frowned at her and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “Do you want to hear my story?”

The thick film of water in her eyes all but disappeared when she blinked her big, black eyelashes. “Who’s it about?”

He smiled and tapped the journal. “Your baby, of course.”