Shake Down the Stars (4 page)

Another image flashes. It takes me a second to realize I've never seen this particular photo. I thought I'd seen every last picture of my daughter, but this one is entirely new. Her hair is in two thick plaits, and she's laughing as she tries to bite into a slice of pizza that's too big. It's a close-up shot, but I can see that she's wearing her new dinosaur T-shirt, the same T-shirt I bought for her while we were at the natural history museum one week before she died. “Where is that picture from?” I hear myself ask.

Curtis raises his hand as he begins to improvise on the word
heaven
. I stare up at the photo again, and this time I yell, “Who took that picture? Where did it come from?”

Mom clasps my hand, willing me to calm down. The Reverend leans over and whispers, “Your mother and I were babysitting. We took Hailey out for pizza. I took that picture.”

I look back toward the screen, but the picture is gone, replaced by a photo of the football player on the field.

I can feel a sweat coming on and my stomach dip and shrink. It's been four years, eight months, and I still don't know when I'll lose it. Sometimes I'll burst into tears while doing something as mundane as cleaning my apartment or picking up groceries. Even now I feel out-of-body with that picture, an image of my daughter I've never seen before, sending me into a tailspin.

My eyes well just as the football player tries to remedy the situation by raising my hand in a kind of “We Are the World” fashion and singing all the louder. “Love never ends even when some of us go to heaven.” Then he adds, “Our loved ones are in a better place!”

I hate him more than ever now, and before I know what I'm doing, I rise from the table and shove him as hard as I can. I hear a collective “Whoa”
from everyone in the room. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

When he tries to hug me, I push him again, but he's a wall of muscle and doesn't budge. “You are my sister,” he croons.
“I am your brother. I understand your loss. Take it to the cross.”

“Shut the fuck up! You're a fucking idiot! You don't know a damn thing about me!” I catch sight of Margot just as her mouth falls open in shock. Mom takes her hand, her own expression a mixture of horror and worry.

I rush away from the table, my eyes blurry with tears. I hear Mom calling after me, but I'm practically running now. An older woman dressed in a sequined gown stands up from her table and opens her arms. I push past her. I move past all of them, doing my best not to trip and fall. I keep my eyes glued to the back of the room, locked on one person who might be able to help.

Selwyn is already on his feet by the time I reach him. Before he can say anything, I look at him hopefully. “Get me out of here?”

He tosses aside his napkin. “You got it, baby.”

S
elwyn handles the car with an ease that signals he's sober enough to drive. When he reaches for the stereo, I touch his hand and softly shake my head no.

The clock illuminates the time: 10:06.

It isn't until we reach the bottom of the first hill and have the choice of right or left that he says anything. “Which way?”

I point left.

We continue in silence until we reach another stop. I point left again, and we follow a curvy road down one hill and up another. We drive on in silence until he says, “Listen, about earlier today. I know how I came across, and I want you to know that wasn't me.”

“Who was it, then?”

“I don't know. I had too much bourbon, but I really am a gentleman.”

“Fine.”

“I feel like I should explain, because I like you and don't want you to think I'm a nut.”

“What do you care if I like you or not? You don't even know me.”

“I feel like I do. Haven't you ever had a feeling about someone? I like you.”

“You must be really lonely,” I grumble.

After a pause I hear him say, “I have a feelin' you are, too.”

I turn and stare out the window. Whatever.

What I really want is a drink. At the same time, though, I'm not desperate enough to ask him to take me to a bar—that would feel too tacky, even for me. Still, some kind of cure-all sure would help right about now. I just want to shake the image of that picture.

I feel my eyes tear up, and I turn farther toward the window. The wind has picked up, and the trees along the road take on the shape of ten-foot-tall nebulae, elongated and eerie. I catch glimpses of San Francisco's skyline as the car begins to make an ascent up a steep hill.

It's not until we reach Bear Grove Lane that I realize where I've been leading Selwyn all along. Focused now, I sit up straight and start giving specific directions. Soon, we come to a parking lot at the end of a dirt road. The lot is empty and sits before a gravel pathway that looks as if it leads to nowhere.

Selwyn eases the car into a parking space and cuts the engine. “Where are we?”

“You'll see.” I climb out of the car; he follows suit, pausing before he closes the door. “Kilowatt, what's going on? Where are we?”

“It's a surprise. Trust me.”

He eyes me suspiciously, then goes to his trunk and takes out a flashlight and a blanket, followed by some kind of kit with the word
EMERGENCY
printed on the front.

“What the hell is all that?”

“Precautionary measures. Look around you. We're in the middle of nowhere. Who knows what'll happen. This kind of stuff comes in handy.”

“A
blanket
?” I say. “What do you think we're going to do, take a nap?”

“You ever heard of Donner Pass?”

“What does Donner Pass have to do with anything? Trust me, Selwyn; nothing's going to happen. And if it does, I promise I will not eat you.”

He remains dubious but returns the blanket and emergency kit. “I'm keeping this, though,” he says, raising the flashlight.

“Fine.” I feel the cold air on my bare arms and hug myself.

“You're going to freeze in that dress. If you don't want the blanket, at least take my jacket.” He gives me his jacket, and I thank him. Due to his height, it hits right at my hips, and except for the length of the too-short sleeves, it fits perfectly.

We start down the gravel road with me doing my best in my heels not to topple over. It's perfectly quiet except for the sounds of our shoes. The light from the flashlight creates skeletal shadows.

“You know what this reminds me of?” he says. “One of those horror movies. With the teenagers. I feel like any minute somebody's going to jump out from behind a tree wearing a hockey mask, and he's going to strangle us and leave us out here for dead.”

I stop, midwalk. It's not so dark that he can't see the irritated glare I give him.

“What?” He shrugs. “I'm just sayin'.” We continue walking. He's quiet a beat, then says, “Why do you think hockey masks are so freaky?”

“Just—,” I start. “Just be quiet, all right?”

We walk until we reach a chain-link fence. To the right, a sign reads
LEHMAN LABORATORIES: WHERE SPACE AND SCIENCE MEET
.

“I get it,” he says slowly. “This is some kind of
X-Files
madness. You're a secret agent fighting off aliens, and you want me to join the agency.”

“Selwyn, if I worked for any agency at all, trust me, I would not ask you to join.”

He chuckles. “Sure thing, Agent Scully.”

I shake my head and walk up to the fence. Usually it's open and visitors walk right in, but now there's a lock at the entrance. “It's locked,” I say, giving the lock a worthless tug. “I don't believe it.”

“I do. Look.” He points to the signs on the left:
NO TRESPASSING! DANGER: KEEP OUT!
I rebut by pointing to the small sign just to the right:
SPACE LAB: OPEN TO THE PUBLIC TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS. EVENING VIEWINGS SIX–MIDNIGHT
.

“Kilowatt, today's Saturday.”

“Crap. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Well. Can't say we didn't try. Let's get out of here.”

“Don't you want to know what I was going to show you?” I point down the pathway that starts on the other side of the fence. In the distance, the top of a large dome peeks through the trees. “See there. That's where they keep the Betacam telescope. It's housed in the building past the science lab. The building with the dome. I was going to show it to you.”

“A telescope, huh? What do you know.” Not impressed in the least, he turns to leave.

“Wait a second. Have you ever looked at the stars through a telescope?”

“Can't say that I have.”

I shake my head in a pitiful manner that says he's just proven my point. “I really want you to see this.”

“It's closed.”

I think for a second. “There are two standard telescopes set up around the entrance to the Betacam. We could use those. It won't be the same, but it's a start.”

“Great. But the gate's locked, and the sign says ‘No Trespassing.'”

“Yeah, but we didn't drive all the way out here only to turn back. And besides, no one's around.” Without any warning, I take off my shoes, toss them over the fence, and start climbing.

“Kilowatt! What the hell are you doing, baby? You can't do that. It's illegal! You're trespassing!”

I stop climbing long enough to look back at the empty parking lot and quiet road. “Do you think anyone's gonna care?”

I continue my climb. I'm feeling good now. I'm a modern-day Spider-Woman. I'm queen of the world.

Selwyn calls up. “Where I come from, fences mean keep out. That sign right there says ‘Keep Out.' So I'm thinking if a person wants to
avoid jail
, she should get back down here and
keep out
.”

“Don't be a wimp,” I say, glancing down. “This is fun.”

“Wimp, huh?” he mutters. “Wimp?”

“Yeah.
Wimp
. Scare-dee-cat. Chicken!”

He makes a point of grumbling loudly before sticking the flashlight in his back pocket. “Call me a wimp . . .” He spits in each hand and rubs them together like a gymnast ready to take on the parallel bars. He's surprisingly lithe, and in no time at all catches up with me. “I climbed a few of these back in the day,” he says, seeing how surprised I am by his agility. “I won't go into detail, but let's just say I had to make a few getaways back in my youth.” I watch as he hoists himself up and over and starts making his way down, leaving me, meanwhile, stuck at the top. I can't figure out how to get my leg up and over without tearing my dress, falling, or both.

“Don't think too much,” he advises, his feet already safely planted on the ground.

“Easy for you to say.”

I hoist up my dress and lift one leg over the top, wondering briefly if I've given Selwyn a show. Not exactly sure how to go about my next move, I remain frozen with my left leg on one side of the fence and my right on the other.

“Take your time!” Selwyn teases. “We have all night.”

“Let's see
you
do this in a dress,” I retort.

I try to find footing but have trouble with my left leg, specifically, how to convince it to move.

“You're thinking too much, Kilowatt! You're gonna lose your nerve.”

“You're talking too much, Selwyn. Shut up!”

I count to three and kick my leg over, but my dress catches and I lose my balance. I dangle for a second, too afraid to move, but then I hear the inevitable rip and down I go. I scream and try to grab at the fence in hopes of easing my fall, but I'm moving too fast. The only thing stopping me from landing on my ass entirely is that I fall against Selwyn, sending him stumbling backward until he hits the ground along with me.

I land on top of him, sideways with my arm across his face. We both lie there momentarily, quiet and in shock.

Eventually I hear him say, “She just had to see a telescope.”

I slowly lift my head. “Sorry,” I say, thoroughly embarrassed. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine. I'm
great
.”

I roll off him, and we manage to stand. Selwyn brushes the dirt off his shirt while I check for signs of external bleeding, hemorrhaging, or at the very least a scratch.

“Are
you
okay?” he asks.

“I think so.” I look down at my dress and see a rip, five or six inches long, running down the side of the seam. “Shit. Look at this.”

I show him the tear, and he clicks his tongue. “We should just go back. All of this is a bad sign.”

“No, let's keep going. It'll be worth it. You haven't seen anything until you've looked at the stars through a good telescope. Telescopes are incredible. They're building a five-million-dollar telescope in Chile right now that will allow us to see back in time, farther than man has ever seen.”

“Huh?”

I find my shoes and start putting them on. “Light! Light takes a long time to travel, and the telescope they're making will have the ability to uncover up to a million galaxies seen as they were ten billion years ago. We'll be looking back at galaxies in the past.”

“Galaxies in the past, huh? What do you say? Okay, let's leave.”

I roll my eyes. “But I want you to see Saturn. Come on, please? You'll like it; and besides, we're already on the other side of that fucking fence, and I'll be damned if I'm climbing back over again.”

He shakes his head with a sigh. “Saturn,” he says, taking his flashlight from his back pocket. “Time travel. Great. Lead the way, Spock.”

We follow the path past the science building to the space center. It takes three flights of stairs to reach the platform where the telescopes are set up. By the time we reach the third, we're both out of breath.

“This had better be good,” Selwyn says, climbing the last step. Winded, he bends over and waits to catch his breath.

The two telescopes are housed in front of the main building. They're slightly more powerful than a basic Dobsonian-mounted Newtonian reflector and perfect for a first-time stargazer.

I lead Selwyn to the middle telescope and adjust the viewfinder. I then take a moment to find Saturn with its golden rings. I see we're in luck, too, because its satellite Titan is just rounding the corner.

“Okay,” I say. “Take a look.”

Selwyn hunches down and stares through the viewfinder.

The first time I saw Saturn was with Mr. Hoffman in his backyard. I'd read about planets in school, seen mock-ups in movies, but to see a planet up close, right there in front of my own eyes, thousands and thousands of miles away but seemingly close enough that I could reach out and touch it, well, it was just like Mr. Hoffman told me it would be . . .
mind-blowing.
I felt infinitely small and insignificant; yet I also knew our own planet was floating around in all that great expanse, and I was part of its movement, part of a galaxy, and hence part of that infinite vastness and expanse, and that made my ten-year-old self feel magnificent. From then on, I became fascinated with the night sky. Mr. Hoffman called me a natural-born stargazer.

All too soon I hear a low “Kilowatt.”
Selwyn is quiet again until another murmur. “My God . . . Kilowatt.”

“Yeah.” I grin. “I know.”

“It's beautiful. . . . I never . . . Oh my gosh.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“God, look at those rings. This is incredible.”

“If you were to stretch Saturn's rings out, the distance would reach as far as Earth to the moon.”

“Get outta here.”

The stargazer in me grows more excited. “I have to show you Mars next. And you have to see the crevices on the moon. I swear you'll feel like you're standing right in front of it.”

He turns and smiles up at me. “This is really somethin', Kilowatt.”

I return his smile. “Let me show you Mars.”

I'm about to reach for the telescope when I hear, “Freeze or I'll shoot!” I jump—we both do—but then I think,
Freeze?
Do people still say that?

Selwyn and I make a synchronized turn, hands raised, legs crossed at the ankles like backup singers performing a 1960s groove.

A cop stands in front of the steps, gun pointed our way. “Okay, you two. Hands in the air. Nice and high. That's the ticket.”

I raise my hands even higher. I can tell the cop means business, but there's also something only mildly intimidating about a cop who talks as if he were part of a crime noir drama. Plus, I notice that what I thought was a gun is a Taser.

“Yeah, that's it. Steady now. Nice and slow.”