Orbiting Jupiter

by Gary D. Schmidt

You can tell all you need to know about someone from the way cows are around him.

That was how Joseph heard for the first time that Madeleine, whom he loved, was gone.

‘I’m Jupiter’s father,’ said Joseph. ‘I will always be Jupiter’s father.’

I guess that night at the pond, while my father and mother and I got colder and colder listening to Joseph, I guess that night unfroze him.

‘Maybe angels aren’t always meant to stop bad things.’ ‘So what good are they?’ ‘To be with us when bad things happen.’

Christmas is the season for miracles, you know. Sometimes they come big and loud, I guess – but I’ve never seen one of those. I think probably most miracles are a lot smaller, and sort of still, and so quiet, you could miss them. I didn’t miss this one. When my father put his hand on Joseph’s back, Joseph didn’t even flinch.

We didn’t talk about his father coming, but it was like that feeling you have in dreams, when something is on its way and there’s nothing you can do about it except to hope you wake up before it comes.

Sometimes it’s like that. You know something good is coming, and even though it’s not even close yet, still, just knowing it’s coming is enough to make you snort and nicker. Sort of.

My parents would help Joseph see Jupiter. And someday, Joseph would go to college.

The sound of the wind was awful, like it was crying and lost and scared and not sure what to do except to wail. Which is sort of what I thought Joseph would be like right now, out in the middle of it – except he would never in a million years wail.

And I wondered if Joseph knew that what he wanted, he couldn’t have. Madeleine. Jupiter. I wonder if he knew it couldn’t be. Maybe he didn’t want to know it couldn’t be.

‘Yes, he can love her,’ she said. ‘He can do that. But he can’t love her just for himself. He has to love her for her, too. That means he has to learn to let her live the life that can come to her with a new home.’

He got in the car and leaned forwards. ‘Look at this,’ he said, and showed me Jupiter.

‘I don’t know what we ever did without you, Joseph.’

‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ And that’s when I started crying. Crying like a kindergarten kid in front of everyone. Crying because Joseph wasn’t just my friend. I had his back. And he had mine. That’s what greater love is.

‘Jupiter,’ I whispered back. ‘Jupiter. I promise I’ll always know where you are.’