Two Corners of the Universe

02// stars and letters

“I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person.”

-Oscar Wilde

Sophie

Thursday, December 27th

11:22 PM

I’ve missed dinner again, but I could hardly care less, and I don’t think anyone else cares all that much either. I brush back a strand of wavy, dark brown hair as I lean forward and press my eye to the telescope, pulling the sleeves of my sweater as my other hand reaches up and adjusts the focus. The observatory is empty but for the janitor who is finishing with the bathrooms. We have a silent agreement that I ignore him if he ignores me, and I’m not surprised he doesn’t wish to speak to me. It’s not often people do.

Dissatisfied with the lack of clear skies and the bustling winds outside, I lean back again, groaning and staring restlessly up towards the ceiling. I know that I had to finish writing the letter for my pen pal in the orphanage, but I’m having trouble coming up with things to say. There’s a tiny part of me that’s worried that even the pen pal will forget about me, but I push the thought aside. Surely someone in Chicago wouldn’t have reason to ignore me.

Sighing, I spin in my chair, half wondering if I should continue writing the letter or keep wasting time in the observatory.

They’re mailing the letters tomorrow, I remind myself. It’s already pretty late, I should really finish now.

Who really cares anyway? I doubt anyone’s going to miss the letter.

I’m about to gather my stuff to leave the observatory and just go to bed, when a half sheet of paper falls out and spins unevenly to the floor. It's the description of the young boy I’m supposed to write to, about his story and his struggle. About why he’s in the orphanage.

Theo is a nine-year old boy who loves to eat peaches and build different types of paper airplanes. He wants to be a pilot one day, and be the ‘bestest, most safest’ flier out there. He’s been in the orphanage since he was five because his parents died in a plane crash. The picture at the side shows a boy with sandy colored hair and bright green eyes. His eyes are sparkling as he laughs and holds up a paper airplane.

“Dammit.” I mutter under my breath, sitting down again. I can’t do that to him. He’ll be crushed if he really is waiting for a letter and then realizing that whoever was supposed to do it didn’t take the time to do it for him. That they didn’t care about him. I just can’t do that. No one deserves to feel like that.

Taking the pen, I scrawl a few lines, telling Theo about myself and asking him a few questions. My handwritings messy, but I’m hoping Theo won’t mind and will be able to read it. Or at least someone can help him read it.

“There we go,” I say, slipping the letter into the envelope. The room comfortably quiet, dark but for sprinkles of light from the stars that peek through the clouds into framed glass ceiling. The structure of the observatory is different, but it allows for the beauty and glory of those massive balls of fire to clearly shine through into the building.

I hear the open and close of the door, signaling that even the janitor is gone, and now I am truly alone. For the past few nights, I’ve been wondering whether the janitor and I would ever actually acknowledge each other, but I know he won’t, and I tell myself I’m okay with that. He’s just the janitor anyway. I doubt his job description says anything about talking with other people. 

My professor, one of the few people I’ve had an actual conversation with in a long time, owns the observatory and trusts me enough to close the building on my own time. I’ve spent nights here, but I don’t plan to today. 

The thick clouds from earlier have diminished into slivers of thin strips, allowing the view of the stars to be much clearer. I have mixed feelings about stars. The light they give is absolutely breathtaking and magical, and they add that extra spark that makes the darkness special. Even when its clouded, they’ll be there. Even after a storm, they’ll be there. 

But then again, maybe they’re not. This may sound geeky, I know, but I work in an Observatory, so I should know. Since stars are so far away, the light they produce takes a long time to reach the human eye. For example, Betelgeuse, pronounced “beetlejuice,” one of the brightest stars in the sky, is so far away that the light we see is actually the light of Betelgeuse from 600 years ago. So in a sense, even stars lie to us, pretending to be there, when in truth they could have exploded 300 years ago and therefore aren’t actually there. Its like we’re watching a memory and pretending that its real, when in reality it disappeared a long time ago. 

But really, that’s too much thinking. Seriously, at least they’re easier to deal with than people. Sometimes I can’t deal with their junk. With stars, usually I just allow myself to get lost in the beauty of their glow. 

“Theo better reply to me,” I mumble, checking my watch, which now read 12:07. “It’d be depressing if he didn’t. And a waste of my time.” 

I gather my stuff and sling my bag over my shoulder. One of my hands is loosely holding onto the letter, while my other hand is swinging the observatory key, occasionally smacking my leg. The buildings suddenly turns dark and shadowy as I switch off the lobby light and make my way out, locking the door behind me.

Sophie

Monday, December 31st

9:49 AM

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Please, Sophie, I know it’s surprising and a bit a let down, but please try to feel happy for Theo at least—”

“No!” I nearly scream, grabbing my bag. “Of course, of all the kids, only mine won’t be able to write back. Sure, it’s wonderful he’s getting adopted, lucky him, but then again, I’ll no longer be needed as that pen pal who’ll help their little buddy, will I?”

Phil, the coordinator, looks down and doesn’t say anything, but his eyes tell me everything. Of course Theo doesn’t need me. When does somebody ever?

“I should have wasted my time writing that stupid letter.” I say, as I storm out of the office. I hear Phil calling out to me, but I keep walking, my hand gripping the strap of my bag as I passed other students who were waiting to get their reply from their pen pal. Some of them are squealing about how cute their kid is, about how thoughtful or creative they were in their replies. I just keep walking, walking, walking, to I’m not sure where, to just somewhere away from another place that doesn’t need me.

I finally stop when I reach the campus center and set my bag against the block at the edge of the fountain. Tiny sprinkles of water fly out towards me, carried by the wind, coloring the tan material of my bag with darker spots.

There are so many people around me; people eating breakfast, people walking to class, people hanging out with friends, people with people and more people. Everyone is interacting with each other, and I just sit in the middle of it, breathing heavily from anger and recent physical exertion. No one seems to notice me, or try to talk to me. No one notices when I tear apart the piece of paper containing information on Theo. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. There are so many people around me, but I’m still as alone as I was in the observatory the night I wrote the letter.

I sit by the fountain until nearly noon; the people around me move as blurs as I think and try to convince myself things are fine and normal. Nobody stops to talk in the two hour expanse of time, and I don’t give any recognition to those around me. 

Its better this way. To have people stay away, for Theo to not need a pen pal, for me to alone. People can’t affect who I am as much, they can’t control what I do or how I feel. 

But it’s all lies. Because in a way it makes me feel more controlled, more unlike myself, as I wait for someone to approach me. 

And after a while, being alone just feels empty. Lonely.

Helloo. I don't like this. It was hard to write, so if it was crappy, sorry ><.

Don't forget to be aware of the dates when reading! It would probably help and make more sense.

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