"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you..."
The words of that old Coldplay song echoed in her mind as she stared into the indigo depths of night. ‘Yellow’ had been a firm favourite for a few years, although had now drifted off into the realm of a golden oldie on one of many playlists. She could never quite figure out the significance of everything being yellow in that song, but she liked the song all the same. Coldplay had released another song about stars more recently, she remembered, although the title of it, and the lyrics, escaped her as she gazed, unfocused, into the heavens.
Far above, the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon, bespangled with the glorious unknown of far away worlds. The Southern Cross blinked steadfastly above, almost directly above, in fact. She took solace in its familiarity, the heavenly symbol of this wide brown land. A comforting sight for any resident of this part of the southern hemisphere, unequivocally signifying home. “Dreams were won and lost under the Southern Cross,” Lee Kernaghan had sung, back in the 90’s when she had discovered country music. Three Chain Road had been one of her favourite albums, and still got some play time, occasionally. Her brothers had teased her about that constantly, telling her she was daggy and uncool. Country wasn't that different to mainstream pop though, if you broke it down to the mechanics. Her brothers just liked to tease. Still, the words had meaning. The Southern Cross, or Crux, if you wanted to use its proper astronomical name, was a beacon of permanence to anchor a changing, frightening world. And right now, it was very frightening. It felt so different, so lonely, and filled with unknowns. This was not how it was meant to be. Not at all.
Off to the north, the Big Dipper graced the ebony skies, although it was too low on the horizon to be seen from here for most of the year. Living here, they were just far enough north to find it. Its tail peeked above the distant mountains, barely enough to be recognisable unless you really knew where to look. She could never see the full Ursa Major constellation - that was not possible here. However, knowing where the Dipper was gave her a slight smugness, as not everybody could find it reliably in the southern hemisphere. It was seasonal, but always returned. The permanence of the heavens, returning year after year, was comforting. They had moved here for the night skies, away from the light and noise pollution of the city, seeking a slower pace to explore and ponder the universe. “Big Sky Country” it was called in the tourist brochures, and that was certainly true. Sunrise and sunset were incredible, and the views of the night sky were spectacular. Though now, it was irrelevant to her. Now, there was only the black depths of sadness no matter where she looked.
What did our ancestors see in these stars, she wondered. What dreams did they wish upon them? What did the stars even mean to them? They had meant so many different things to her through her life. As a child, they were exciting, magical, wondrous. A pathway for her wild, unadulterated imagination to launch into a myriad of mesmerising tales full of adventures with unicorns and fairies and spaceships and aliens. An obsidian path laced with fairy lanterns; the abandoned onyx speedway where unicorns had raced and left remnants of their dust to sparkle for eternity; the spangled passage where aliens drove their rockets at unbelievable speeds to explore the universe. Exciting worlds grew from those stars, full of wild adventure and vivid imagery to capture her attention.
As a teen, the stars became scientific, a symbol of knowledge. Telescopes and star charts dominated her world; her tenacious mind soaking in every tiny byte of information available from every database she could access. This newfound knowledge expanded her intellect like a dry sponge in a bucket of water. Childhood adventurous tales evolved into epic science fiction novels, piles of favourite authors littering what space was left from her studies. Dashing, fun spaceships became more technical, more science, but still fiction. Warp drive, FTL drives, crystal drives, dimension jumps; all the things she had read in fiction, but her ever-active mind knew, just knew, that one day these things would be within the realms of possibility. Nothing was impossible, it just needed the right science to discover it. If you could imagine it, you could build it – one day.
But now, the fascination is faded, the knowledge irrelevant. Now, the stars are merely companions. Constant, unwavering friends mitigating the deep, dark loneliness that permeated her soul. Silent partners alongside her shattered reality. The Coldplay song.... Yellow… that song meant something new now. The stars now shone for her as a tiny thread holding the heavy weight of life, bringing some semblance of order to the chaos within. A small smile flickered, though it blinked out as quickly as it appeared. Even the comfort of these familiar stars couldn't temper the bitter emotions that tormented every waking moment. No, she decided, these stars weren't shining for her. Not like they used to, anyway. These stars just were; no emotion, no meaning. Just balls of luminous plasma and gases existing in space. Nothing to bring joy and wonderment anymore. She fell back to the bare scientific truth to avoid any emotional attachment - to avoid the hurt.
She sighed, exhaling through tight lips. The Milky Way seemed so bright tonight. Brighter than usual, as if it was somehow trying to intrude into her visual consciousness. Could she possibly reach up and touch it? Maybe put a star in her pocket to keep her lonely heart company? The moon too, seemed very large, very close tonight. A few slivers short of a full moon. Was it waxing or waning? Her younger self would have known exactly which phase it was in. She could easily look it up on her weather app, of course, but that information was irrelevant. The thought had only appeared in her mind as her consciousness sought distraction from her pain. One hand slowly reached out, desperate for the touch of…. Something. Anything. Surely her fingers, silhouetted in the golden light, just needed to stretch a little more to reach the moon’s unwavering glow. If only there was some way to bring it down from its eternal orbit. Her world sure needed some light right now. This inner darkness was all-consuming.
She dropped her hand back to earth, with an underwhelming, barely audible thud against the grass. It felt soft against her fingertips. Soft grass that they had planted together, one of the many tasks they had carefully planned and executed after buying the rundown house in a nice street. That was the way to do it, she had said, buy the worst house in the best street and make it your own. Do it up real nice and you can't lose. Tears formed at the memory, but she steadfastly held them back, turning her attention back to the sky above. The blanket of stars held more lights now, as the western sky darkened to match the east. An army of twinkling lights marching through the universe, constantly adding more soldiers to follow the darkness.
"Stars, in their multitude,
Scarce to be counted,
Filling the darkness,
With order and light...."
A different song trickled into her thoughts, a different style of music, equally as calming, definitely more haunting. The melody gentle but the words strong. An interesting juxtaposition if one took the time to interpret. Perhaps belting out the strong themes of Les Mis might distract enough to begin mending the fractured dreams. Or Phantom. Or Frozen. Or any other of the many musicals they had seen together. Or perhaps it would be just a temporary relief from the pain and fear. She sighed again. The latter seemed more likely. This hole was deep, it would take more than a song to drag her out of it. But the psychological analgesia at least lightened the load, albeit briefly. The stars did help bring order to her fragile mind, their unyielding permanence like a shield against the fragility of life around her. Order and light indeed.
Her fingers touched the hard edge of her phone, as always, tucked into her left pocket. Music was hidden within. Hundreds of melodies to focus her mind and distract it from the deep dark depths of doom. Ironically though, she couldn't focus enough to choose a playlist, and the energy to even open the music app evaporated into the wind. Her unwilling mind reduced her once-willing body to an exhausted, indifferent shell.
Headlights approached through the darkness. The thrum of a well-tuned diesel engine met her ears. A slight vibration passed from the earth to her feet, gradually increasing as the sound drew closer. Panic rose momentarily as her mind flashed back to that awful, awful night. Headlights approaching was all she could clearly remember. That and the sounds. The insistent squeal of tyres trying to gain purchase on a slippery road. Metal screeching, glass smashing, plastic cracking in the sudden inertia of the collision. The odd squish-thud of flesh colliding with something solid. And the scream, although to this day she did not know from whose lips it issued forth. The voice was unrecognisable in its fear and agony. Deep breathing brought her back to the present moment and quelled the panic, while grounding distracted her mind from the images. Even so, they would always be there in the background. Always reminding her, daring her to forget, teasing the edges of her consciousness like a predator slowly, patiently stalking its prey.
What was that exercise her annoying counsellor always made her do? Five steps. Five things…she needed to see five things to keep the anxiety away. Stars, moon, darkness. Always darkness, both physical and metaphorical. A lonely streetlight, eerie yellowish glow spoiling the pure night. What else? The bush beside her, shiny elongated leaves swaying gently in the slight breeze. Yes, that was five. Keep breathing, breathing, breathing. Slow it down. Stay in the present. What's next?
Four things to hear…the rustle of those same leaves, variable as the breeze that jostled them. A dog barking in the distance. Plenty of dogs around here. She wondered why her own dogs hadn't joined in the canine chorus. They usually did. Focus, she scolded herself. What else could she hear? The rumble of the diesel engine as it continued its journey into the night. That sound was best forgotten. Some sort of squawking, perhaps a bird? There were always birds here. Dozens of species. Parrots, pigeons, ducks, annoying mynah birds and the ubiquitous bin chickens. Always lots of those.
Three things to touch now but breathe first. Take another breath to focus again. Slowly, deliberately, hold it in for a moment then let it out gently. Let the attention drift to her extremities, feel the world around her. Soft grass remained under her hand, comforting yet triggering at the same time. A bindii poked past the edge of her sandal, spiking into her pinky toe. Yet she didn't move her foot to relieve it. Physical pain provided much-needed sensory feedback to remind her that she was alive. The gentle breeze brushed her face, cool in the night air. A slight shiver engulfed her body as the night chill descended. The tingle of goosebumps followed like a wave, head to toe. The cold, however, was barely noticed amongst the clamour of her inner turmoil.
A slight scent of eucalyptus followed the breeze…what else? What else? Two smells were required. Two smells and one taste to complete this grounding exercise. Was that rain in the air? It was a cloudless night, but the unmistakable scent of petrichor was drifting into her senses. Perhaps someone had a sprinkler on nearby. That might explain it. She didn't get to the taste before her attention was drawn back to the stars. If she had, it probably would have been the taste of blood from that dreadful night.
A shooting star burned across the sky, then disappeared just as quickly. Or was it a spaceship? The starship Enterprise of Star Trek fame, or perhaps one of Anne McCaffrey's brain ships. The Ship Who Sang would enjoy music with her, no doubt. And she would love being out among the stars on an advanced spaceship powered by an actual human brain. Imagine the freedom of that. Two minds in perfect synch, sharing the glorious cosmos together, escaping the aching restraint of a normal existence. Helva knew her pain. Helva would understand her grief. They would make a good pair. Another slight smile appeared as her favourite stories joined the music in her mind. It felt good to smile. She hadn't smiled in a long time. Another song filtered through, an appropriate song, she thought, for the current dark place in which she dwelled.
“Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light
'Cause it's time for you to shine
Brighter than a shooting star
So shine no matter where you are tonight.”
Could she truly shine with this heaviness in her heart pervading every waking moment? Every beat of her heart weighed down with the pain of her loss. Her grief sat like a monstrous being squeezing the life from her chest, crushing her spirit into a mere sliver of what it was back when the two halves were one. Two hearts, two bodies, two minds, but only one soul. One shared, glorious soul. If only she could turn back time…but time machines were still the stuff of fiction. Maybe one day they would exist, but not today. She had read about those through her teen years, imagined what life would be like if you could go back and view history for yourself. What an amazing adventure that would be. So many questions could be answered.
"Why don't we rewrite the stars,
Changing the world to be ours?"
Huh. Where did that spring from? That song seemed to mock her now. A song about forbidden love and invisible boundaries. So many people told her it couldn't be love. It wasn't allowed to be love. Marriage was between a man and a woman. Even in these apparently enlightened times, these attitudes still existed. But it was love. There was no other explanation. They rewrote the stars for them. Until it all came crashing down. One reckless person, driven by the need to keep going beyond their own physical limits. Pushed by capitalism and greed to just keep driving to collect that paycheque. One person took it all away. Maybe it wasn't allowed after all. Maybe the world was right. This pain wasn't allowed because they were “unnatural” being together.
“I don't care, go on and tear me apart
I don't care if you do, ooh-ooh, ooh
'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars
I think I saw you.”
Now she remembered that other Coldplay song. ‘A Sky Full of Stars.’ The resonance of those lyrics hit her like a water balloon; a sudden impact followed by a trickling release. She didn't care if she was torn apart. She didn't care about anything anymore. If only she could sleep. But sleeping causes tragedy. There had been no sleeping since it happened. Someone falling asleep had caused this mess, this pain. She couldn’t risk sleep now, despite her sheer exhaustion. She pondered briefly how odd the human mind was when it was deeply traumatised. Is this loneliness what Frankenstein’s monster had felt? Craving that which the rest of the world seemed to have so easily, yet others, outsiders, did not? His anguish had destroyed him, made him into the monster. Would she turn into a monster too? Torn apart by grief and despair until she was no longer recognisable? Would she end up alone, with her only friends the stars watching silently from above?
“You are the sentinels,
Silent and sure,
Keeping watch in the night....”
Always. Stars would always be there, watching, waiting, knowing. Ready to be whatever they were needed to be. They certainly took on many identities considering that they were inanimate objects. She paused her thoughts for a moment, closed her eyes, and let the melody take over.
Her face was wet. She looked up again in surprise. Not a cloud in the sky. She touched a tentative fingertip to her cheek and felt the moisture.
And then, there was a voice. Initially, she didn’t recognise where it came from, unaware of the movement of her own lips, the air forced out past her vocal cords as her flawless voice lifted to the stars. Gentle echoes carried on the breeze, calling the magic of the stars down from their heavenly existence to ease her misery. The song, the words, didn’t matter in that moment. It was the voice…the voice which carried all the sorrow of all those desperately lonely months out of her soul and into the night. The voice, which learned in that moment that it could sing again…alone.
“My darlin’…I miss you…my darlin’…who knew…”
And then she knew which voice had screamed.
