Europa

Mother

I sketched out the constellations in my notebooks and knew the name of every star

and when mom was home

and wasn’t busy

we’d lay on the driveway and look at the sky at night until the 

light pollution wrapped it up and hid it away.

She got me a telescope for my birthday.

The popcorn of the ceiling has some of the constellations in it I’ve counted fifty-seven so far and when the phone rang I didn’t answer it

When I got claustrophobic mom would sit down with me and tell me about a place that was nothing but 

space

and then she would go there

leaving me behind

on earth

here

so I followed her. It took years and years and years and years

she wanted me to go

and I made it. To that place that’s all silence and light and the whisper of machinery and there’s only a few feet of metal and cloth and plastic between you and nothing

and it was wonderful

when she said she was proud of me the words sounded like a language I didn’t know because I’d never heard them before but I knew they made me happy until she left again

left me here on earth with Columba and Grus and Aquila and Ursa Minor in paint and plaster over my bed and nothing to do but think and think and think

when I go to the store i hear a baby crying

even though

i don’t know why

I can understand that she’s saying mother turn your face to me for I am afraid

I am afraid of the dark and the bright and the open and the big and the loud and mother help me

mother

the world is so much it’s too much mother help me

and then she stops crying and I don’t know why either but she’s realised she’s alone

then I wipe my eyes and buy my milk and go home to see if I can find Cassiopeia

Paint

Mark calls and calls and calls and calls and finally I answer and he tells me they’re going to europa.

The ocean moon Europa, not someplace in Italy.

the one covered in water and ice and scars that are orange and brown and white and red depending on how you look and it’s beautiful 

and he wants me to come

i tell him no i’m fine with my popcorn ceiling thanks but he says just listen

and he says come because you want to come

and I say no

and he says come because you need to come

and I say I don’t

but he says come because you need to come

okay

my body wouldn’t have been heavier on Jupiter but I go and I keep going because mother was proud of me 

and I want more than 

plaster stars

when I’m surrounded by metal and the pretend nothing I try to escape and I wonder if this was a good idea but Mark asks if I need to stop and I say no

No

I need the hush and the stars and the vast again

and the silence

So I swallow and wrap myself in claustrophobia and come out on the other side a little more

whole

mother’s name wasn’t Mars but it might as well have been

and the god of war is a lot to live up to

the stars burn holes in the sky as they hadn’t since I was a child

on my back on the cement

my name isn’t Europa but Jupiter made a constellation for her and it was next to my ceiling fan until I picked it off

I had to vacuum up the dust

Away

Talking is better than counting plaster constellations and I realise that touching the stars will be worth it 

even if they scorch my fingers

again

my scars burn

but this time the weight isn’t mine

and the heat won’t last long in the cold and when my hair floats up in front of my face I know I did it mom I did it again

all the radios and machines and hisses and crewmates do is make the silence echo

but

the stars 

are holes 

in a velvet 

sheet 

and blinding 

and I’ve never felt so alive not in all my life not ever except that it’s too quiet here where’s the sound and where’s the music where

the journey takes years

we knew it would

nothing much to come back to anyway

all around me is the nothing and I breathe it in like I’ve never taken a breath before because I didn’t realise how much gravity was crushing me until I escaped it and real stars are better than paint any day

and the journey takes 

years

The constellations are different from here not so different I can’t recognise them but they’re changing and shifting

there’s taurus, mom says, can you see it

yeah, mom, I can see it. 

and when we gather around the windows to watch the rusted planet pass within reach, I swear I could brush my fingers over it and turn them red if

there wasn’t glass between 

us