Astronaut.
my global position systems are vocally addressed
Lora Joan stared through the glossy surface of the bath water. Tiny air bubbles clung to the line of peach fuzz dividing her abdomen. She watched as, one by one, they wriggled upward to meet the air above the softly steaming water. She filled her lungs with a hot breath and held it, feeling her torso rise and break the surface. Then she exhaled and dropped like a slow-motion feather through space.
She was alone in the bathroom. Jupiter was most likely reading a magazine somewhere. Lora Joan let her eyes wander, drifting from the window she couldn’t (and probably never would) reach to the mirror above the sink, framed by a ghostly layer of steam.
She had woken up that morning feeling… queer. Her toes had been a little colder than the night before; her hair had felt strange as it brushed against her cheek. Fear had welled up inside her, filling her throat like ice water beginning to overflow. She had stared at the folds in her bed sheets, unsure what to make of their topography against the mounds that were her knees, or the long valley created by her parted legs. They were exceptionally long for a girl her age - Jupiter took this sudden growth spurt as a sign that Lora Joan was destined for greater things than her disease. Lora Joan was not so sure; she felt that it was a rather cruel joke that her body was playing on her. What purpose would these legs serve attached to a corpse?
Her eyes prickled with warm tears that rolled down her face and fell into the bath water. Almost immediately, a fresh wave of calm overtook her, just as it had when she lay alone in bed, afraid of the feeling of the skin on her body. It was perfectly alright to be upset - she was dying. But the time to feel that way had passed. Now the only emotion she knew was apathy.
She finished her bath in silence, climbing out of the tub with crystal droplets streaming down her thin body. She took hold of the single blue towel on the sink counter and patted her face dry. Her eyes lifted to stare into the mirror. Nothing remarkable returned her gaze. The few freckles littering her nose were faded with the recent lack of sunlight. Her lips were slack; when she tried to smile, the muscles twitched stiffly into the desired shape. She closed her eyes, frowning into the darkness, and sighed. Thoughts of sunshine and clover flitted across her inner vision. She imagined clouds drifting overhead, blue butterflies aspiring to be dragons, and young boys whose lips were painted brown with chocolate.
This time when she looked at herself in the mirror, a subtle smile glowed beneath her features.
“Jupiter,” she called gently.
A moment later, her sister’s tired face peered in. “Yes?”
“I want to have a friend come over… is that alright?”
Momentary surprise flashed in Jupiter’s eyes, then melted to give way to pleased satisfaction. “Of course. Put some clothes on and we’ll get right on that.”
Jupiter could feel the children’s presences reaching through the open window and into the back room. They were silent and still; she knew this beyond a doubt. Every few moments she heard a small sigh of air, and once or twice she thought somebody shifted slightly, yet still nothing an inch above a whisper. The breeze didn’t affect them, it seemed, as they filled the private space in the backyard where Jupiter had sent them. At first she had decided they needed privacy, and thought sitting in the shade on soft grass might kindle an imaginative instinct in them.
She was not entirely disappointed that they felt uncomfortable being alone together; they were about to be preteens, why would their minds be on anything other than companionship? And so she closed her eyes and listened to the wind picking up.
“I spy,” whispered a little voice, “something blue.”
Jupiter couldn’t tell who had said it. Before she mustered the courage to peek out at them, Lora Joan’s voice rose to the challenge. “The sky,” she said proudly.
“Good job.” She could almost feel the smile in his words. “Your turn.”
“I spy something… green.”
“The grass.”
“No.”
“The trees?”
“Nope.”
And so it went. Jupiter settled into her place beneath the windowsill. She leaned her head against the wall and felt the rumble of the trees in their yard shuddering in the wind. A deep breath filled her lungs with sweet air, and a smile instantly appeared on her lips; that smell meant rain. She tilted her neck to look up at the sky and saw a darkened layer of clouds, but blue sky was still clearly visible. “Eek!” The sound of a girl’s scream filled the air.
Jupiter lurched over the windowsill, desperately staring at the children, but stopped when she saw that Jason was laughing and shooing a grasshopper from Lora Joan’s lap. Her shriek had dissolved into giggles. Jupiter moved back inside, tensely listening in case one of them had seen her in that second.
“I spy something scared,” Jason stated.
Immediately, Lora Joan returned with a scoff. “I spy someone mean!” she giggled, and then drifted into silence.
After a minute, a soft vibration of distant thunder rippled through the floor, pressing in on the air. Their talk picked up after it had fallen quiet again. The trees sang alongside the children’s voices, rising and falling with their laughter and chatter. Jupiter felt her tension slowly leaking from her muscles, no doubt soaking into the floor beneath her, or perhaps into the wall.
“I spy something white.”
The wind had softened, lingering in the leaves but barely shivering. Jupiter listened closely for Lora Joan’s guess. “The light” was not the one she had been expecting.
Silence covered everything like snow. There was something interrupting it, something that faded in after the wind; it was Jason, softly crying.
Jupiter grabbed hold of the windowsill, nails pressing into the soft wood. She was scared to look outside after the cruel joke that had been played on her the first time. Hearing Lora Joan scream had been terrifying enough to make her skin bleach itself white with fear, but the silence that enveloped her now was more than a thousand times worse. Time seemed to have swallowed her whole as she struggled to bend over the windowsill. When she finally saw, the first thing that stabbed her heart was the slackness of Lora Joan’s neck. Her head rested against the wall, glossy hair matted against her skull.
She stood so quickly that the window collided with the back of her skull. Her eyes struggled to focus on the white that bloomed in front of her, and her hands clutched at the wall. She had to get outside. All pain melted off of her then, and she took bounding steps toward her sister. It seemed like she would walk for a lifetime before she even made an inch of progress; then, suddenly, she was on her knees at Lora Joan’s side.
Jason’s shadow lay across her shoulder, trembling as he cried for her. Jupiter’s lungs went on strike as she reached out to touch Lora Joan’s cold wrist. The sun was shining on her pale little face. Both eyes were open and glimmering in the light, though inside they were solid black, an abyss where the sunshine was consumed. Her skin looked like stone that had been left out in the rain, then locked in a windowless room.
Pulling her small body forward, Jupiter fished for words buried too deep in her throat to reach. Her spine was so relaxed; she felt like a boneless puppet in her arms.
If it had been hard to speak before, now she was helpless to the rupture in her throat. She screamed with all the breath in her lungs, and still exhaled even as her chest imploded. All the blood in her body seemed to rise and fill her head, beating hot and wild behind her eyes. Her hands clenched on Lora Joan’s tiny shoulders, squeezing as if she expected the pressure to bring her back to life, to start her blood again. Breathing in tasted like swallowing knives, ripping through her chest and burning in her stomach, devouring her from the inside until she could only yell, scream, cry, and just hold Lora Joan tighter.
She was alone in the bathroom. Jupiter was most likely reading a magazine somewhere. Lora Joan let her eyes wander, drifting from the window she couldn’t (and probably never would) reach to the mirror above the sink, framed by a ghostly layer of steam.
She had woken up that morning feeling… queer. Her toes had been a little colder than the night before; her hair had felt strange as it brushed against her cheek. Fear had welled up inside her, filling her throat like ice water beginning to overflow. She had stared at the folds in her bed sheets, unsure what to make of their topography against the mounds that were her knees, or the long valley created by her parted legs. They were exceptionally long for a girl her age - Jupiter took this sudden growth spurt as a sign that Lora Joan was destined for greater things than her disease. Lora Joan was not so sure; she felt that it was a rather cruel joke that her body was playing on her. What purpose would these legs serve attached to a corpse?
Her eyes prickled with warm tears that rolled down her face and fell into the bath water. Almost immediately, a fresh wave of calm overtook her, just as it had when she lay alone in bed, afraid of the feeling of the skin on her body. It was perfectly alright to be upset - she was dying. But the time to feel that way had passed. Now the only emotion she knew was apathy.
She finished her bath in silence, climbing out of the tub with crystal droplets streaming down her thin body. She took hold of the single blue towel on the sink counter and patted her face dry. Her eyes lifted to stare into the mirror. Nothing remarkable returned her gaze. The few freckles littering her nose were faded with the recent lack of sunlight. Her lips were slack; when she tried to smile, the muscles twitched stiffly into the desired shape. She closed her eyes, frowning into the darkness, and sighed. Thoughts of sunshine and clover flitted across her inner vision. She imagined clouds drifting overhead, blue butterflies aspiring to be dragons, and young boys whose lips were painted brown with chocolate.
This time when she looked at herself in the mirror, a subtle smile glowed beneath her features.
“Jupiter,” she called gently.
A moment later, her sister’s tired face peered in. “Yes?”
“I want to have a friend come over… is that alright?”
Momentary surprise flashed in Jupiter’s eyes, then melted to give way to pleased satisfaction. “Of course. Put some clothes on and we’ll get right on that.”
Jupiter could feel the children’s presences reaching through the open window and into the back room. They were silent and still; she knew this beyond a doubt. Every few moments she heard a small sigh of air, and once or twice she thought somebody shifted slightly, yet still nothing an inch above a whisper. The breeze didn’t affect them, it seemed, as they filled the private space in the backyard where Jupiter had sent them. At first she had decided they needed privacy, and thought sitting in the shade on soft grass might kindle an imaginative instinct in them.
She was not entirely disappointed that they felt uncomfortable being alone together; they were about to be preteens, why would their minds be on anything other than companionship? And so she closed her eyes and listened to the wind picking up.
“I spy,” whispered a little voice, “something blue.”
Jupiter couldn’t tell who had said it. Before she mustered the courage to peek out at them, Lora Joan’s voice rose to the challenge. “The sky,” she said proudly.
“Good job.” She could almost feel the smile in his words. “Your turn.”
“I spy something… green.”
“The grass.”
“No.”
“The trees?”
“Nope.”
And so it went. Jupiter settled into her place beneath the windowsill. She leaned her head against the wall and felt the rumble of the trees in their yard shuddering in the wind. A deep breath filled her lungs with sweet air, and a smile instantly appeared on her lips; that smell meant rain. She tilted her neck to look up at the sky and saw a darkened layer of clouds, but blue sky was still clearly visible. “Eek!” The sound of a girl’s scream filled the air.
Jupiter lurched over the windowsill, desperately staring at the children, but stopped when she saw that Jason was laughing and shooing a grasshopper from Lora Joan’s lap. Her shriek had dissolved into giggles. Jupiter moved back inside, tensely listening in case one of them had seen her in that second.
“I spy something scared,” Jason stated.
Immediately, Lora Joan returned with a scoff. “I spy someone mean!” she giggled, and then drifted into silence.
After a minute, a soft vibration of distant thunder rippled through the floor, pressing in on the air. Their talk picked up after it had fallen quiet again. The trees sang alongside the children’s voices, rising and falling with their laughter and chatter. Jupiter felt her tension slowly leaking from her muscles, no doubt soaking into the floor beneath her, or perhaps into the wall.
“I spy something white.”
The wind had softened, lingering in the leaves but barely shivering. Jupiter listened closely for Lora Joan’s guess. “The light” was not the one she had been expecting.
Silence covered everything like snow. There was something interrupting it, something that faded in after the wind; it was Jason, softly crying.
Jupiter grabbed hold of the windowsill, nails pressing into the soft wood. She was scared to look outside after the cruel joke that had been played on her the first time. Hearing Lora Joan scream had been terrifying enough to make her skin bleach itself white with fear, but the silence that enveloped her now was more than a thousand times worse. Time seemed to have swallowed her whole as she struggled to bend over the windowsill. When she finally saw, the first thing that stabbed her heart was the slackness of Lora Joan’s neck. Her head rested against the wall, glossy hair matted against her skull.
She stood so quickly that the window collided with the back of her skull. Her eyes struggled to focus on the white that bloomed in front of her, and her hands clutched at the wall. She had to get outside. All pain melted off of her then, and she took bounding steps toward her sister. It seemed like she would walk for a lifetime before she even made an inch of progress; then, suddenly, she was on her knees at Lora Joan’s side.
Jason’s shadow lay across her shoulder, trembling as he cried for her. Jupiter’s lungs went on strike as she reached out to touch Lora Joan’s cold wrist. The sun was shining on her pale little face. Both eyes were open and glimmering in the light, though inside they were solid black, an abyss where the sunshine was consumed. Her skin looked like stone that had been left out in the rain, then locked in a windowless room.
Pulling her small body forward, Jupiter fished for words buried too deep in her throat to reach. Her spine was so relaxed; she felt like a boneless puppet in her arms.
If it had been hard to speak before, now she was helpless to the rupture in her throat. She screamed with all the breath in her lungs, and still exhaled even as her chest imploded. All the blood in her body seemed to rise and fill her head, beating hot and wild behind her eyes. Her hands clenched on Lora Joan’s tiny shoulders, squeezing as if she expected the pressure to bring her back to life, to start her blood again. Breathing in tasted like swallowing knives, ripping through her chest and burning in her stomach, devouring her from the inside until she could only yell, scream, cry, and just hold Lora Joan tighter.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry folks; a lot has been going on. I'm feeling a lot of FML right now. Ha. Tell me how your summer's going.