Vanessa sat in bed. They were keeping her another night, and her wife and daughter would not be there for about an hour.
You can fight it, she told herself. You want to heal. But it was just a thought, invisible, like the cool current whenever someone opens the lobby doors, disappearing as quickly as it comes. Slowly, her bed and the white tiles on the floor were fading and the hurried chatter of nurses becoming quiet, and she was transported to a wispy surface of pink.
At least it was quiet. This place seemed to take Vanessa in whenever she needed it. She stretched her legs and leaned back, letting the clouds cushion her body. Above, the blue abyss always sparkled with stars. Orion was there. He turned his face toward her like a beacon, or a siren.
“You have returned,” he said. “It has been some time.”
“Not long for you, right?”
“Not long for me, no. Yet I recall when I was flesh, and two days could last ages.”
Already, Vanessa was remembering the comfort of this place. How soft the clouds were. How Orion’s voice rang throughout the sky. She pushed it out of her mind.
“I need to stop coming here, you know.”
“How come?”
“I’m not like you yet. It’s not too late. And my family’s down there. I didn’t think I’d stay forever.”
“You must not make these decisions quickly. Think for some time.”
“Orion, if I think about it, I’ll stay. You know? Last time, that got me in the hospital.”
In the distance, the clouds were almost glowing. You could sink into them and choose not to breathe. Above, Orion tilted his face. “Do you believe this place caused that?”
Vanessa kept staring into the distance. “Not really. The doctors say so.”
“I see. Everyone says this place causes pain. Yet, I know of true pain. When I was a hunter, my bow brought devastation wherever it went.” He raised his bow to the side and drew the string. Vanessa imagined him as flesh. “I eventually realized that no joy I had known could exist without harm.”
“Shit. No wonder you’d come here.”
He let go. All that shot forth was a glimmer of light, and it quickly dissipated into nothing.
“Here, I was no longer a hunter. My bow was no more than light. Up here, I cannot hurt anything else.”
“There’s not much else around,” she acknowledged.
Orion lowered his bow.
Vanessa lay back and the clouds pressed against her ears. Each of those stars had felt as lost as Orion. Now they felt no pain, or anything at all. Vanessa realized it was difficult to imagine any other way.
“Maybe without this place, I’d really go crazy. Hell, I wouldn’t be alive.”
That night, something had stopped her. She had suddenly dropped the knife and picked up the phone.
“Yeah. If I didn’t have some sense of peace, I would have completely given up.” The other stars seemed to glance at her, but she could never really tell if they knew she was there.
When we got to Vanessa’s room, I stepped between Laney and the door. Neither of us had ever seen her in a hospital gown, and it was in these last few moments that I felt the need to soften the reveal. If Laney knew what I was doing she didn’t let on. She bent down to tie her converse, straightened her glasses, and when I opened the door she walked ahead of me.
“Hi Mom,” Laney said.
Vanessa looked distracted, almost unreal. When she heard Laney’s voice it realigned her attention, and she smiled.
“Hello. You look great today,” Vanessa said to Laney in the same easy voice as always.
“Thanks.” She sat in a chair and started to roll up the sleeves of my black hoodie. I was still standing by the door.
“Nessa,” I stammered.
“Hello, Jill, love.” Vanessa was sitting up more as I held up the dandelions I brought. I had once asked about her favorite flower, and she had answered those, since they never tried to leave on their own.
She looked at me wide-eyed as if we had both been there in the kitchen that night, and all that happened was a humorous misfortune we shared. I scrunched my eyebrows as if to tell her I was sorry.
Laney cut in. She was here for business.
“Mom. Why did you do it?”
I froze. Vanessa did not. She just looked our thirteen year-old in the eyes with sympathy, shaking her head. “I never thought I would. My mind just sank. It felt so safe I honestly had no idea I was imploding.”
“Imploding?”
“I think that’s a good way to describe it.”
I saw the horror on Laney’s face and jumped in. “What Mom is saying is that people here are helping to keep her safe. We’re all going to ensure nothing like this happens again.”
“Is that possible? How do you know this won’t happen again in a few weeks?”
“I mean, I think I’m in control,” Vanessa said, “but even I have no idea. It kind of sucks.” Despite the sadness in her voice, Vanessa’s loving eyes were fixed on Laney, as if telling her she was the most beautiful thing Vanessa had ever seen. I wanted to hold Vanessa’s face in my hands and transport all the love she needed directly into her. But I didn’t know how. All I did was come closer and take the other chair.
“Laney, Mom isn’t going to come home without a clear, written plan for how things will change. Then we’ll have resources to call whenever we need them.”
“So you guys are just not scared?”
“We trust the doctors,” I told her.
“We’re a little scared, but it’s because I love you so much.” Vanessa added. Vanessa smiled as if to tell me to stop worrying, she had that one. Then Laney stood up and gave her a long hug, her eyes squinted shut.
“I know,” Vanessa said.
My rangering job usually lasted until after sunset, and sometimes Vanessa and Laney walked to the park to meet me. I bought them a washable blanket, for all the times I found them lying in the dirt, but I think Vanessa liked letting the earth cushion her body.
One night I found them side by side on a mound of grass.
“It’s a terrible night for stargazing. You can’t see any constellations,” Laney said, tucking her hands behind her head.
Vanessa turned her head and smiled. “Oh, I see constellations.”
“What? That’s impossible.”
“You see that one? Clear as day.”
“No I don’t.”
“Three stars in a row?”
“Oh. It's Orion.”
Vanessa smiled. Then she saw me approaching and waved. “Yep. He carries a bow and arrows, like a badass.”
“What’s even up there to shoot at?” Laney asked.
Vanessa paused to think, lying on her side and mindlessly brushing her fingers through some grass. “Maybe he doesn’t shoot them. That’s even more badass.”
Laney looked at her Mom as if to assure her that her daughter wasn’t amused.
“My sister used to say that the sky was where Orion finally found his peace. Got away from all those wars.”
I came up beside Laney and joined them. I should have mentioned then that this moment felt pretty peaceful, but I didn’t. Laney smiled at me, then fixed her eyes on a distant star and took a deep breath.
“Mom. What happened to your sister?”
Vanessa let her laughter fade.
“You never talk about it.”
“Yeah. I don’t avoid it. It’s just a little dark for most conversations.”
They looked each other in the eyes for a moment.
“Tell me,” Laney said.
She considered for a moment before speaking. “We were standing on a road at night, and a car came.”
“Oh my god, she got hit by a car?”
“Well, she jumped out of the way. Our childhood backyard was a giant steep hill, with a road at the top, and to get up there we had to climb for a few minutes, using the trees not to slip. But she fell backward and hit her head.”
Laney looked at me, and I nodded. It was true. Deep pain was something Vanessa understood, but was never afraid to confront. She even seemed to reason with it sometimes.
“I remember her asking me that night if I thought we could see the stars better up there, and I said no, they would still be thousands of miles away, or something stupid like that.”
“Ha. That sounds like you,” Laney said, and I smiled.
“But then the sky was as empty as we’d ever seen it. Twice as many stars as tonight.”
Vanessa wrapped her arm around Laney. I turned on my side and watched them both, still smiling.
The atmosphere above the pink clouds was deep blue, and as inviting as it was distant.
“Why are you so intent on staying down below?” Orion asked. “I see how each time you start to leave the sky you become distressed.”
Vanessa was unsure for a moment. How was it possible to long so much for something she didn’t think she wanted? If it were an illness, why was it so inviting, or addictive?
She cleared her mind of emotion to answer the question. “I know how hard it is to lose someone. So I need to be there for my family.”
“And do what?”
“Okay, rude. Stay with Laney while Jill’s on duty. See what she does in the next school play. Keep her from having to tell her friends how one of her mothers died.”
Orion nodded, the beam of light on Vanessa moving slowly up and down. She liked how easy it was for him to understand. She liked that he wasn’t a person, so he could listen without trying to change her mind.
“I know all those things,” she continued, “but I’m not sure I actually care like I should. I mean, of course I want my daughter to be okay, and I know at the very least that I owe it to them to go back. But, maybe it’s hard to, you know, actually believe those things matter. That they really need me as much as I say.” Then she added “Maybe that’s selfish.”
Orion nodded again. “I understand.”
Vanessa realized she was tired. She looked down at the soft pink and wondered if one night’s sleep in these clouds would be enough to satisfy her. She knew from the past that one night only begged for more. Yet, she was already kneeling, then sitting in them. For now, she would lie down.
I wished I had said more during our visit. I wished I had talked to Laney more before we came. I wished we knew the answers.
The hallway was empty. Laney walked with her arms crossed.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Fine. She didn’t really explain much.”
“But you told her you loved her plenty. That’s what matters.”
“I guess.”
That wasn’t a good response. I had to do better. Up ahead the lights were off in the hospital cafeteria, since it was after hours, but I asked Laney to sit down.
“It’s hard to explain what happened,” I said. “We all have parts of our brain that try to help us. A feeling, or a thought, a place, an idea. Something like that, and it either works or makes mistakes. Right?”
Laney pulled the hoodie’s sleeves down over her hands, then nodded. Her eyes were fixed on the corner of the table.
“Sometimes you get in the shower and the water’s cold, so you turn it a little warmer. And then sometimes you turn it too far and it burns you. You were just trying to help yourself out, but made a mistake.”
Laney looked up. “Are you seriously comparing Mom to a shower?” She dropped her eyes again.
I sighed. “Sorry.” We sat there for a moment, and then she sighed too. Her voice became quieter, and it almost sounded like Vanessa.
“You don’t know why she did it, do you? Neither does Mom.”
I shook my head. “No.”
Laney nodded, then sighed again. “Neither do I.”
“At least the hospital knows much more than we do.”
“I know that.”
“Sorry.”
I waited to see if Laney had more to say.
“So,” she looked up again, “sometimes our brains make mistakes.”
“Yeah.”
“Today I told Molly I didn’t want to do lights with her on the play. I think I was just scared I would be bad at it. Molly’s good at everything, so, yeah. Sometimes the safe choice isn’t what you actually want.”
“That’s a very wise thing to say.”
She shrugged.
“Laney, do you think doing lights would make you happy?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
“Sometimes something like that brings you peace, and it makes you more confident.”
“Yeah.” She looked up again. “Do you think Mom has that thing?”
“That’s exactly what I was wondering. I hope so.”
In the car, Laney found “Westwood Middle Presents: Peter and the Starcatcher!” under the seat and began mindlessly inspecting the lettering.
Last year, Laney was in her first play. On opening night, Vanessa drove the two of us to school. It was when we first realized she was struggling. Vanessa missed a turn, apologized and said she was distracted, and turned around. Her eyes seemed glazed over, and she was hardly speaking. After a couple minutes she started to drift off the road.
“Nessa” I said softly. She swerved. Then she apologized again. We kept driving for a few minutes.
“Did you know my sister was twelve? When the accident happened.”
“I think so. Have you been thinking about that?”
“It was dark out.”
Eventually I took over driving, but she wouldn’t say any more.
We didn’t get there early enough to help with chairs, so we just took our seats. Molly’s parents waved to Vanessa, but she just smiled and stayed sitting.
Then the show began. Vanessa smiled fragilely, watching Laney enter with the rest of the ensemble. When Laney said her line Vanessa sat up straighter. Her smile came into focus. I didn’t see her blink.
She ran to Laney when it was all over.
“That was amazing!” Vanessa high fived Laney through the program in her hand.
After that, Vanessa did not stop talking the whole way home.
Vanessa looked at the pink against the blue sky for the last time. When she saw Orion she did not hesitate. “I’m going home with my family today. And I think I’m leaving here for good.”
Vanessa stood up, so the clouds were only surrounding her feet. Orion seemed sorry for her. “Do not feel you must leave before you are ready.”
“I just can’t become like you.”
“Why?”
She craned her head back to see him. “Why? Because I really do have to be there for my family. Laney is turning thirteen soon. She can’t be worried about me.”
“She is beginning to understand why you came here.”
“I know. I don’t think I want that for her.”
“But you have found peace here.”
“I know, but–” Vanessa sighed. She looked over the expanse, and decided to walk around. She did that sometimes, even though the scene never changed. The clouds still felt soft with every step. Orion spoke again.
“There is so much pain below. You do not think you will stay down there forever, do you?”
She did not answer.
“I understand. I tried for hundreds of years before I decided to stay here for good. Every time I went I felt the pain, and the only way to end it was to return to the sky.”
Vanessa slowed down. “Where else is my peace?” The horizon was miles away, and the stars were just as distant. She knew where she needed to be. Vanessa closed her eyes, not daring to look up at Orion first, and made her decision.