to the moon & to saturn | cate blanchett

chapter 1

Cool summer evening air blew across the faces of Elle and her best friend Dylan as they entered the upscale restaurant for a celebratory end of the semester dinner.

The restaurant was within walking distance of their college apartment, which they stayed at over the summer as well, but they had never been there before. It was greatly out of their price range for frequent visits.

Elle noticed the monochromatic architectural aesthetic of the restaurant first; the atmosphere felt calm and welcoming. The diners appeared to be generally quiet and reserved; the noise levels were soft enough to hear the instrumental music that played through the speakers.

"Reservation under Miller," said Dylan, then whispered to Elle, "We don't fit in here."

Elle looked down at her black jeans and baseball style long sleeve shirt (which was generally as dressed up as she cared to get) and nodded, keeping close to Dylan's side. The host escorted them to their table, followed by the waiter with menus, a fresh pitcher of water, and two glasses.

"Alright, let's start," said Dylan as soon as they sat down and the waiter left the table.

At every restaurant the two visited, they played a game in which they pretended to be the other diners, guessing and mimicking their conversations. It wasn't Elle's favorite game, but she went along with it because it helped spark inspiration for Dylan, who was an English major seeking out a grand idea for a best selling novel.

"Yes, George. The kids are doing fine. I never see them on account of work, but Sarah does tell such wondrous stories of them," said Dylan, adopting a lower tone to match the demeanor of a middle aged white gentleman in a suit.

What Elle hated most about this game was her own part—she didn't believe she was creative enough to come up with witty stories and ideas like her best friend could.

"Why, Harold, that is excellent to hear, most excellent indeed. Work is treating you well, then?" said Elle in a terrible English accent, grimacing afterwards.

"Very well, indeed, George! Very well!" said Dylan in the same ridiculous accent, laughing. "Let's move on to the soccer moms over there."

"The kids' new soccer coach is so hot. I'm seriously considering leaving Chad," mocked Elle in a higher pitched voice that was opposite of her normal register.

"Susan, how scandalous of you!" exclaimed Dylan. "What would the book club say!"

The waiter interrupted their game for a moment, stopping by the table to collect drink orders.

Dylan glanced at Elle for her approval, then ordered a strawberry daiquiri. She proudly displayed her ID to the waiter, which showed she was newly 21.

"I'm good with just the water, thank you," said Elle. Even though she was older than Dylan (she'd be 22 at the end of August), she avoided alcohol most of the time.

The game resumed once the waiter went off to get the drink for Dylan.

"You pick a table this time," said Dylan.

Elle scanned the restaurant for new victims. She saw a group of high school aged girls crowded in a booth across the restaurant, a huge family gathering at a large table by the entrance, and a lot of men in business attire. No one particularly stood out to her, until her eyes fell upon a slightly older blonde woman, sitting alone in a booth diagonal to her table. The woman was wearing a black blazer and matching slacks.

"She's absolutely gorgeous," breathed Elle.

Dylan looked across the restaurant in the direction of Elle's gaze.

The woman was touching up her makeup in a compact mirror, so she didn't notice the obvious stares from the two girls.

"You say that about a lot of women," teased Dylan, flashing Elle a smile. "And close your mouth, you're practically drooling."

Elle laughed—she did tend to crush on an undesirably large number of women—but at this moment, none of those other women occupied any space in her mind.

Elle remained unable to keep her eyes off the blonde stranger. Her facial structure was so unique and utterly divine.

She wanted to devour the woman.

Or more accurately, she wanted the woman to devour her.

"Can I order her for dinner?" joked Elle.

Dylan choked and spit her water onto the table at Elle's remark.

"We should not be allowed in public together," she said, wiping up the water with her napkin.

The waiter came back to the table to collect meal orders, unfortunately blocking Elle's view of the blonde.

After another glance at the menu, Elle discovered (much to her dismay) that the attractive blonde woman was not an option, so she ordered fettuccine alfredo, sighing quite dramatically at the inconvenience.

Halfway through the meal, Dylan dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter and said, "Oh shit."

"What?!"

Elle looked up from her meal.

"Don't look," Dylan pleaded. But Elle already turned in her seat, now in perfect sight of the blonde woman greeting a man into her booth with a kiss.

Flushed, Elle turned back to Dylan.

"Well, it's not like I had a real chance with her anyway. She's way out of my league, and now we know that she's already in a relationship."

Elle shoved pasta in her mouth and then chugged water to calm the fire on her cheeks.

"First of all, slow down. You're going to choke, and if you're dead, you seriously don't stand a chance with her. Second, do you see a wedding ring on her finger? If there's no ring, anything is fair game."

"That's not—"

"Just don't count yourself out yet, that's all I'm saying."

But Elle already accepted defeat. She could barely attract women her own age; she definitely couldn't pull a woman who was most likely straight and definitely out of her league.

"I'm not going to go after her, Dyl. Really, it's okay," said Elle reassuringly—more so to herself than to her best friend.

Dylan was not the type to forfeit or accept defeat. When given a mission, Dylan followed through with it.

The waiter came to collect the empty plates and Dylan dove headfirst into a plan that she somehow formulated in the past few minutes.

"Here's what you're going to do. I know a job doesn't exactly fit into your summer plan, but how do you feel about waitressing?"

As an accounting major, Elle chose to do internships for the past two summers at different firms in the city so that she could have this summer—the summer before her senior year of college—entirely free before entering the workforce for the next 40 years.

"You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting, right?"

Dylan ignored her. "So, you get a job here, pray that this woman comes back and that you're assigned to wait on her, sweep her off her feet with your charming personality, and bam—she's yours!"

"Dylan..."

Elle sat silently, stunned as Dylan flagged down the waiter, asked if the restaurant was hiring, and snagged a job application.

She didn't do any work; Dylan filled out the entire application for her and gave it back to the waiter, who happily accepted, explaining that the restaurant was extremely understaffed for the season.

"See, you're a shoo-in! You'll be in her bed in no time," Dylan winked at Elle.

Elle stared at Dylan in disbelief.

"I can't believe you," muttered Elle. She shook her head in disapproval, although she was secretly grateful.

"I can't wait to tell this story at your wedding," said Dylan dreamily.