Night Sky

Night Sky

By Jake Walters

Dedicated to Kathy

“Why is it always so hot?”

The wind whispers in my ear, blowing its hot breath through my hair. It’s the end of August. No wonder it’s so hot. It won’t get to be a tolerable temperature until November. But Holly and I still complain about the heat. It’s kind of the thing to do in Arizona. If you’re not complaining about the hot, you’d better be complaining about the cold. And since it’s never cold here, either complain about the heat, or keep it to yourself. Holly and I complain about that too. Well, not really complain so much as laugh about it.

“Why is it always so hot? I mean, it’s nighttime, for Christ’s sake!” she says.

Holly is my best friend.

Tonight is a windy night. There’s no particular reason we’ve decided to go out. I mean, why would a couple of kids go out on a nasty night such as this one? I’m not quite sure, to be perfectly honest. There’s also no particular reason we chose to come to the park. This park specifically. I guess we kind of just take things as they come. Although, this is the park we always come to, so there’s that.

I always get kind of nervous when we go out. I’m not sure why, because Holly and I always have such a good time. But I always dread running into trouble, given that we almost always only go out during the night, and we almost always go to shady places, like this park. I guess that’s pretty exciting though. It keeps us on our toes. Whether that’s good or bad, I couldn’t really tell you.

We’re sitting under the lamppost that illuminates the baseball field with a warm orange light. The grass is wet, and smells as though it’s been freshly cut. I hate that smell, but Holly relishes in it.

“Let’s climb this!” she says excitedly.

Holly and I are rarely up to any good. But, we never do anything illegal. Before I know it, she’s climbing up the fence behind home plate, the one that protects the audience from stray pitches. She’s struggling a bit, cursing under her breath. I laugh. I look out to the horizon, and notice how the sun is still trying to boast its brightness, like a child oftentimes refuses to sleep when night time comes. But, like a loving parent, the night sky gently tucks him in.

“Hey! I got it!” I hear her exclaim from above and behind me.

I look back and Holly has made it to the top of the fence.

“Come up here with me!” she says to me, gesturing me with her arm to join her. I do make a valiant effort to climb the fence, but fail miserably.

“I suck at this, Holly,” I laugh.

“I agree,” she says. “It’s so tall up here!”

Her short hair gets messed up from another gust of wind. She curses again, and attempts to get down.

“F**k! I’m stuck,” she laughs.

I laugh too. After a few seconds of plotting, she gives up and jumps to the ground. I hear a loud thud, and her knees fail her. She falls to the ground, half crying, half laughing. I help her up, and we walk some.

The sky is now completely dark, with stars struggling to be seen through the light pollution.

“I wish we could see the stars better,” I say. “I can imagine they are quite lovely.”

“Yeah. But, you know. We can’t,” she says, shrugging. That’s what I like about Holly. She doesn’t sugar coat things. She’s so real. I’m more of an optimist. I make things shiny and wrapped in blue ribbon, and sometimes that gets me into trouble. But Holly, she keeps me on Earth. And I’d like to think that I have kind of the same effect on Holly. I keep her positive, and she keeps me real.

There’s an obnoxiously loud animal in the backyard of a home across the street from the park. It’s yelling obscenities in its own language. Holly and I struggle to make out what it is, but we can’t really tell. It seems like every time we come to this park, we try to solve the mystery, but haven’t been able to yet. I think one day we will.

Just not today.

Before we know it, we’ve made an entire circle around the park, talking nonsense and cursing up a storm. Holly has finished nearly her entire 44 ounce Dr. Pepper, which amazes me because I can hardly drink the stuff at all.

She throws out her soda, and starts climbing a fence again. Only this time, it’s the fence of that little room where baseball players sit before they play. What do they call that? A dugout? Whatever it is, Holly is determined on getting to the roof of it. I laugh at her.

“Please be careful!” I yell, only half kidding.

She’s at the top.

“Come up here!” she yells! Then she slips and almost falls, and I almost have a heart attack. Not really thinking very much, I start climbing, and I reach the top with minimal effort.

Then we just sit there and talk, and laugh, and even cry a little bit. We have these kinds of talks often. I’m usually the one who cries, seeing as Holly is so emotionally solid. But we both always laugh at ridiculous things. I guess it’s because we’re young. That’s what my dad says.

She takes out a cigarette, despite my disapprovement, and smokes it solemnly. We sit in silence for a while. Her grandfather just died. I know that’s why she’s smoking more often lately. It’s been really eating her up. I’d never seen her cry until the day her grandfather died, and I came over to express my condolences. She just kind of broke in my arms. I knew I couldn’t fix her, so I just let all of her gears stop spinning. I figured, just like she always does, she wouldn’t need anyone’s help to fix herself.

I guess that’s the real reason we decided to go the park tonight. It was to get away from her mourning mother, and all of the family stresses and conflicts that come with the death of a loved one. We’re here tonight to escape. Well, she’s here to escape. I’m just here to help her.

“It’s funny you mention the stars,” she says. I look at her.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because… My grandpa is up there. He’s the newest member of that shiny company. He’s the newest ball of energy that emits impossibly fast-traveling light,” she points upwards with her cigarette. A couple ashes fall to the roof of the dugout.

“It all makes perfect sense to me, now,” she says, putting the cigarette out and tossing it to the ground below.

I look up with her.

Suddenly the stars aren’t so hard to see anymore. In fact, they are shining brighter than I can honestly say I’ve ever seen them shine. I look back at her, she’s still looking up at them. I see a tear escape her eye, and a smile spread across her lips.

And when we leave later that night, I know suddenly why we are so fond of the night. The night hides the dark, awful things. It makes them darker, so that we are blind to them. However, it also shows us the beautiful things of the world. Like the stars, and how the city is aglow with all of the streetlamps and moving cars.

It isn’t afraid to question you. It makes you unafraid to question yourself. It shows you the darkest parts of you, and therefore allows you to see the lightest, and most beautiful.

And, like with the sun, the night sky reminds us that all things must eventually come to a resting period. An end, even. No matter how much we argue it, there comes a time when our journeys, our battles, our lives must end. But just because they end, that doesn’t mean they are any less beautiful.

They simply become a new shade of beauty.

As we drive away from the park, I look over to my friend, my best friend, Holly. That’s when I know.

We are that darkness. We are that light. We are that beauty.

We are the night.

*

Reviews

[RomaJ]

"they simply become a new shade of beauty" a wonderful read. I, too enjoy the night. a time where I reflect at the stars and enjoy the breeze. every thing just seems beautiful at night.