Galaxies and Oceans

by N.R. Walker

He was watchful, cautious, and I knew he had a story to tell, but I didn’t want to push him. Stories were better told over time, anyway, when allowed to unfold only when they were ready to be written.

Trust the waters, Patrick. The ocean was mapped out from the stars.

“Has he told you anything?” I shook my head, having already said more than I’d wanted to. “No. Not a word. But sometimes you have to listen to the silences. When things aren’t said. That’s where the truth is.”

“The boot of your car is gonna stink like chicken shit,” he said, distracting me from my sullen thoughts. “Nah, this isn’t too bad. You should smell it in summer.” He scrunched his nose up. “Today was bad enough.” Then he laughed. “Frank’s gonna love it.”

I didn’t purposely do this so I could cop an eyeful while he was distracted. But something inside me, something I’d thought asleep forever, had woken up. Something wonderful and terrifying. Something I wasn’t ready for.

You’re allowed to be happy, Patrick.

His reply was quiet and made my heart bloom. “You. I’m only here because of you.”

“Can you hear that?” I asked quietly, looking to Patrick before searching the stars again with the telescope. “How the ocean and the wind speak to the lighthouse. It’s like a quiet symphony; an ode to the stars,” I said, almost as a joke.

“When you look at the stars, what do you see?” “Impossible possibilities,” I answered in a whisper. “Movement and stillness, incomprehensible vastness. Infinity.”

“Come on. You can cut my hair first. Then I’ll do yours.” He baulked. “You want me to cut your hair?” “Yeah, it’s not that hard. I do my own all the time. Worst-case scenario is that we both look hideous together.”

He gave me a teary laugh. “I do love you. That has been my one, constant truth.” I kissed him. “That’s all I need to know.”

“May the stars forever guide us, and may this lighthouse bring us home.”