Show Me the Stars

Hydra

Hydra: The Water Snake

* * *

That night, Peter took me outside to see the stars again. Just like the first time, he took my body up from the confinement of the wheelchair and onto the fence. I was more balanced that time, and I did not rely on Peter as much, but I still kept him close. He sat there with his eyes affixed upon the marvels above as he asked me all about my lunch and meeting Anthony.

"It was interesting although there is a lot about him that I have yet to know," I told him. "I think there's a lot that he's holding back."

"Well in his defense, that was the first time he had ever met you."

I laughed. "That's true. I'm still not sure if a friendship between he and I will be possible."

"Well," he replied as he slid his fingers between mine. "If that friendship doesn't work out, you always have me."

"Relax," I said. "There isn't much I know about you either."

"In time," he replied. "In time."

We spent the rest of that night with our eyes gazed upon the wonders light years away from us. He pointed out numerous constellations to me including one named Hydra.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"Hydra is the water snake or serpent. I like to imagine that she swims around the vast oceans of the sea and gathers the secrets of those around her. That way whenever she feels threatened, she can attack while knowing all of their weak points."

As I listened to him describe his interpretation of Hydra, my excitement over the constellation started to fade. The warmth of the night and Peter's arm faded away, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to return inside and go to bed. When I told Peter that I wanted to go back, he looked puzzled and hurt.

"Why?" he asked. "I thought we were having fun."

"We are," I told him. "I'm just not feeling well."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He dropped his shoulders and begrudgingly picked me up from the fence and into my wheelchair. The trek back to my room was both tense and awkward. Neither one of us wanted to speak, but we both knew that we had to eventually. I wanted to explain it to him. I truly and wholeheartedly did. But I was afraid that by telling him, he would no longer see me the way he had been seeing me.

We entered my room, and he lifted me out of the wheelchair. Instead of putting me on the bed, he placed me on the windowsill, opposite of where he usually sat. He then said in his usual spot, and instead of looking outside, he looked at me. His knees were up and his arms were crossed.

"Tell me," he said. "I know you didn't want us to leave just because of a headache."

"I'm not feeling well, Peter," I said. "Can you please return me to my bed?"

"Are you sure there is nothing you want to talk about?"

I looked to my left and watched the leaves sway in the breeze. Their shadows made them appear more menacing than a simple stretch of trees. The branches seemed to be reaching out to me and trying to grab me. The walls started to fade away, and the branches were getting closer until Peter tapped my leg.

"Edith?" he said as he looked out to where my eyes were staring. "There's nothing out there."

"Right," I whispered.