"Carmela, don't forget to….oh, hello Nita!" Mrs. Rodriguez greeted me, as I walked into the kitchen; Carmela already running up the stairs.
"Hi! Is Kit around?" I smiled back, my rare weeknight visit made possible by the miraculous completion of my homework.
"He went into the backyard. He said something about 'Winter's cold confines now being brushed aside by the sunny glow of springtime's warmth,' And how it would be 'a cruel and unusual punishment to coerce any poor man to remain indoors on such a night!'"Mrs. Rodriguez parroted, obviously well adjusted to her son's tendency for the melodramatic.
"Has he been reading As You Like It again?" I ask, not quite in the mood for another analysis of Jacques's "7 Ages of Man" speech.
"Even worse: Hamlet. Some days I just don't understand that boy. You'd think after 14 years I'd've learned better!" The smile on her face belayed her amusement at her son's peculiar habits.
"Only some days? It seems like most days I don't quite understand him. Oh well, it's part of his charm, right?" I grin back at Mrs. Rodriguez, whom I've never seen in a bad mood. That woman could slip and fall in the mud on a day when it's ten below zero, and still find something to laugh about.
"Sure, we'll call it that." I start to slip out to the back yard, and she calls after me, "Don't stay out too late, it is a school night!" I jog out into the crisp night, the moon overhead casting the scene in shades of black and white. A small form was laid out in the grass, hands tucked behind his head.
"Hey you! Watcha up to?" I greet, happy to see he wasn't busy either.
"Hey! I'm just looking at the stars. They're really pretty tonight," Kit calls back, patting the ground next to him, inviting me to sit with him. I drop down to the earth, sinking into the dirt like it was a second home.
"They're always pretty, when you can see them," I comment, always eager to talk about the heavens, "On day I'd like to go up into the mountains of Colorado or New Mexico for a couple weeks, miles away from anything, just to see all the stars. I mean, the view would be nothing like it is on the moon, but still, it would be gorgeous."
"It would be. One day we need to do something about all the light pollution we have near the city. Then we could see more of the stars," Kit observes, his brow creasing as he runs different solutions through his brain. Finally he relaxes, returning his attention to the freckled firmament above, his brainstorm apparently coming up with no solution practical enough to debate about. We sit silently, both engrossed in the caverns of our own minds. I name all the constellations I know, starting in English, then moving to the Speech and Tree-ish, and when I run out of names I started back at the beginning, this time reciting the myths behind each formation.
And, after a while, I sit in silence. The world itself seems to sense the gravity of the moment, and the usual buzzing of the universe quieted down. My mind goes blank, and I simply watch, without any judgments or assessments about the world around me. The crickets chirp, the wind rustles through the trees. Kit shifts, and his fingers whisper over the ground. The stars blanket the world in a soft light, casting gentle shadows all around. Yet, for all the darkness, the world remains peaceful. There is no sullen monster waiting to emerge from behind a hedge, no hidden demon lurking in a shadowed corner.
"It's so beautiful tonight," I whisper, feeling as though the entire world is listening.
"Yeah, it is," Kit murmurs back, unusually serious.
I roll over, the grass crunching beneath me. "What's up?" I inquire, realizing for once my mind is completely blocked off from his. Kits face, darker than usual in the stark lighting, continues to stare at the effervescent ceiling above us. Finally, after a silence that lasts for both hours and seconds, he speaks, his voice rough with emotion. "Hamlet once said, 'this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.'" Here he paused once more, this time for emphasis.
"How could anyone look up at the heavens, and find nothing worth admiring? I mean, Hamlet had a whole bunch of other stuff going on, but still. How can you look at all these stars, and not find yourself hopeful for the future. Even in a worst case scenario for this world, where we end up blowing ourselves up and the few survivors die in the midst of a nuclear winter, there would still be so much more life out there, light-years away from the destruction here. It puts everything in perspective, you know? Life….life is out there, just waiting to meet our people."
I swallow, the emotion behind his voice palpable, "What brought this up?" I questioned, knowing Kit had read Hamlet multiple times, and it had never before elicited this kind of response out of him.
The silence dragged on…and on… and on. Eventually, I knew he wasn't going to answer me. I get up and brush the dirt off my pants. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" I say, getting ready to walk away.
Instead, Kit has other plans. "Have you heard about that girl, Pheobe Prince? She's from South Hadly, she's been all over the news a couple weeks ago." I nod, unfortunately all too familiar with the case. I realize that as I stand in the dark shade of the trees above me, Kit can't see me, and I manage to force out an answer.
"Yeah, she was bullied to death, over some stupid high school drama." For the first time all night, Kit looks me in the eyes, his forehead lined with wrinkles as his brows snap together over a pursed mouth. With an absolute quality in his voice, he only says five words. Five short, simple words.
"That could have been us."
I look back into those chocolate eyes, the eyes of full grown man staring out of the body of a boy.
"Yeah, it could have been."
Kit pats the ground next to him in the universal symbol for "sit down and stay awhile". I sit, and we watch the stars, bright specks of light shining out of the darkness.
Death comes for everyone, eventually. For some, it comes after a long, slow battle with disease, mental illness, or addiction. For others, the last journey comes suddenly, without warning, for all that the victims think they will soon get home and pet their dog, kiss their wife goodnight. And still, others take their own lives.
Death has come for Kit and I many times, and we have defied It. How we did it is recorded and remembered, but often times the why can get lost in the bigger battles against the palpable evils of this universe and the corporeal forms of Him. Yet, when push comes to shove, life is beautiful, and we fight for it. Hamlet forgot that- we have not.
Here's to life.
A/N- Please, if your mind has entered a dark place, ask for help. You are not alone in your pain, and needing help does not make you weak. You only have one chance at this life- don't throw it away.
If you need help, please, call one of the numbers listed on one this website: / They are toll free, and serviced 24 hours a day.
Another Note: The quote from Hamlet is from a speech now as "What a Piece of Work is Man", found in Act 2 Scene 2. The full soliloquy is:
I have of late-but wherefore I know not-lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory. this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me.