It’s not every day you get to turn funny fever-dream-filled conversations into little joyrides down to the waterside. I’m not even sure what came over me in the moments leading up to the absurd exchanges of lame wit and nonsensical trains of thought. Methinks I was trying really hard to avoid a low that had been brewing beneath the surface. But perhaps, we could just agree that it boiled down to the fact that I was in a silly, goofy mood?
I chased after the highs of my good golden hour drive, seeking that similar experience of singing at the top of my lungs with all the windows down. But sunsets aren’t the same as star-filled skies. My image of a high-energy solo drive was replaced with something more low-key and a little less lonely. And the night I anticipated was far different from what I had imagined.
What would’ve been a short stay at a place close to my heart had become hours of shared music, singing, and strange musings, both profound and superficial. And at some point, we reclined our seats to watch the stars. The surrounding apartments and streetlights meant it wasn’t the best place to go stargazing. Too much light surrounded us. But it was okay because the sky still opened up for us to see extraordinary things.
As I stared blankly at everything before me, I saw it. Lasting no longer than a mere second, a light streaked across the sky between the two stars I’d laid my eyes on. Of course, a certain someone’s attention was captivated by a small screen. Excitedly, I asked if he had seen it. The sight, confirmed to be non-existent in his eyes, was immediately shot down by a nonchalant claim that it was most likely a satellite.
I pouted. I’d like to think it was a shooting star. Could a satellite have been that quick? That bright? Well, even if it wasn’t, I can dream. And as we continued to vibe to our chosen melodies, he declared he would continue watching the sky until he had seen the very thing he missed before. What a claim!
I still have stars in my eyes looking up into the void, making pictures with the wispy clouds that scarcely covered the night sky. We had made an activity out of our idle waiting, and it was peaceful. I thought there was no way we could’ve been fortunate enough to see two shooting stars in the very same sky on the very same night. But if you know me, you know I am a lucky one.
Not even an hour later, we were graced with one even brighter than the last. What I had previously seen seemed like nothing in comparison to this one. The light left a glowing impression with its brilliant orange hue, streaking across the sky for a slightly longer period of time. It was a sight he could not deny. Something so fleeting, yet so beautiful. And I could only stare in awe.
Our momentary excitement was diffused by more dialogue, seemingly not important enough for me to remember, but fondly thought about as I write this. And soon after 1AM, he decided he wanted to take a walk by the water. We put our late-night listening session on pause and left the car. I struggled with the chill in the air, only having one layer of warmth against my skin. But in the dark, I marched on through the grassy area, pressing my phone against my back for warmth.
We made it to the well-lit walkway, and my boots began to coldly click against the pavement. I made great efforts to dampen the sound as my footsteps led to a small bout of self-consciousness despite no one being around. But I still enjoyed watching the ripples on the river’s surface ebb and flow ever so slightly, as well as the lights across the water that illuminated the skyline. And he walked further and further ahead as I made my steps slower but quieter. Maybe I would’ve run after him and pestered him to walk slower if it were earlier in the night, but I was happy at my own pace.
With an outstretched hand, I smiled and thought to myself, you’re going to go far.
Eventually, I had caught up, and he had cut the tension with some lame remark about cigarettes and suiting “the aesthetic”. I could only laugh. It just seemed very fitting for the scene that played out. He leant against the wooden railing that stood between us and the river, gathering his thoughts and playing out memories in his head. I shivered a little, doing my best to hide my discomfort through carefully paced breaths and thoughtful gazes out into the distance. Maybe I fooled him, maybe he was playing dumb… who knows?
In our 2am thoughts on that stage about the memories tied to people and places, and how to cope with loss, I have no idea whether we ended up in a better emotional state. We were two bodies in the same space, overlooking the water, but minds in different holes with their own traumas to resolve. Minds both cloudy and clear. And as we stood there shoulder-to-shoulder, in and out of introspective conversation, I fondly remembered another time. I made half of the memories here with the one standing right beside me. Someone very dear to me.
But the other half I made with you. Try as I might to deny it, they were all good memories. And that’s the truth. I don’t want to lie anymore. I already know it would be easier to hate you after everything you put me through. The wounds I carry are a reminder of that—a very good reason to stop loving you. But, ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t. And I know my love for you has been my undoing.
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