Sun. May 8: Firsts / Jaymes Young – Dark Star

If I told you where I've been

Would you still call me baby?

And if I told you everything

Would you call me crazy?

When the power went out Karen usually did what any logical person in her neighborhood would do. She battened down the hatches, made sure her gun was loaded and minded her own business until the grid was back up. Hell's Kitchen echoed with a symphony of sirens on nights like this, the blackout making scumbags a little more reckless, the shattering of glass not an uncommon sound. Tonight was different though. The darkness was accompanied by a strange sense of quiet, something that she could only attribute to the unseasonal chill of frost in the air.

The quiet drew her out of her fortified apartment, fingers trailing along the wall in the darkness as she followed the beam of her flashlight to the stairwell. She'd never been to the roof before. There was no pleasant view to draw her there, just rows upon rows of nearly crumbling buildings squished together in a depressing display of overpopulation. But something told her that tonight it would be worth it, that the darkness enveloping the city would hide the pain and suffering she saw every time she walked down the street.

She pushed open the rooftop door, the chill of the metal seeping through her blouse, a light breeze whooshing into the stairwell. It was dark, just as she'd suspected, but the telltale glow of the rest of the city over the horizon wasn't there either. It looked as though all of New York City was victim to a breakdown in the power infrastructure. A little thrill of fear shot through her, and she flicked off the flashlight lest anyone should notice her.

Her eyes adjusted, the bright white beams of the moon suddenly the only source of light, and she saw him, leaning against the low brick edge of the roof. He was staring at her, the glowing cherry of a cigarette moving slowly from his lips back down to rest at his side. "Nice night."

She smiled, setting the flashlight down and walking toward him. He snuffed out the cigarette, tucking the half smoked remainder into his pocket. He knew she didn't like the tendrils of smoke curling around her hair, seeping into the strands as they talked. Sitting down beside him, she looked up into the sky without thinking. A surprised little gasp escaped her. "Frank. Look."

There were stars, millions of them, swirling around in the night sky like glitter tossed into the sea. It had been so long since she'd seen them like this, the glowing street lamps and lit up skyscrapers blotting them out. They brought back memories from her childhood, nights spent star gazing with her brother. The last time she'd gazed up at the glowing night sky had been the night her brother had died. The constant ache in her chest, the one she lived with every day of her life, suddenly sharpened into an undeniable pang of sadness. "I forgot they looked like this. It makes you feel so small, like nothing you do really matters."

"You sound relieved." He looked at her quizzically,, dark eyes probing.

Karen tucked her trembling hands under her arms. Perhaps it was time to tell him. After all, she knew every little detail of his past, voluntarily given and otherwise. It didn't seem fair that he should remain in the dark, so to speak. "The last time I saw the stars… was right after…"

She felt his hand, brushing gently against her back. "I know."

"You know? How?" Her mouth fell open, regret etched on her face.

"I have my ways."

The tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She couldn't move to wipe them away. Instead she looked back up at the night sky. "He was lying dead in the road, badly beaten, his face a barely recognizable bloody pulp. And the two men responsible were just standing there in my high beams, looking stunned that I'd showed up." She had to stop, afraid to utter the next part, afraid of what Frank would think. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky gust. "They ran, and I saw red, slamming on the accelerator and not stopping until they were under the truck's wheels." She was crying for real, little soft hiccups catching in her throat with each pause.

The hand at her back stopped it's soft circles and for a split second Karen felt fear zip through her. She knew he would withdraw, leave her sobbing on the roof. She was a murderer after all, her rage that night pushing her past mere self-defense. She had become judge, jury and executioner in the space of five minutes, to three men she wasn't even sure were guilty. She hadn't even known who they were. But Frank doesn't move away. Instead, his hand moves up to her shoulders, pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay."

She closed her eyes, turning into him. The night air is freezing, but his arms were warm and she so desperately needed a place to lay her head. She continued talking, words muffled against his shirt. "I walked for hours in the woods, and the moon was barely a crescent in the dark sky. The stars were the only thing I had to guide my way. I next day I packed my bags and left. This is the first time I've told anyone."

He trailed the fingers of his free hand along her neck, tracing the line of her jaw until he came to her chin. Tipping her face up, he looked down into her eyes. Her breath shortened, anticipating a kiss, waiting breathlessly for the motion of his hand guiding her face to his. Instead he nudged her gaze upwards again. "They're the same stars, Karen. They're still beautiful."