She follows me outside of the house, her hair is loosely pulled back and her dress floats in the light breeze. I watch her as she kicks aside an empty bottle with her barefoot, and steps ever so lightly over a piece of discarded furniture.
“Don’t go.” She says.
Instead I make my way over to the trampoline and she follows, pulling herself up. Lying with out backs on the trampoline we stare up at the night sky.
“The stars are like diamonds.” She says.
I tell her that they may look like diamonds here, but in the country they look like stars. In the country you can see the swirls of the milky way, you can see the entire sky littered with stars, you can actually imagine flying through the galaxies.
“You’ll have to take me one day” She says.
I ask her if she means to the country, or if she means through the galaxies.
“Both I suppose.” She says.
I lay my arms out and she scoots up to lay her head on me, still staring up at the stars. I explain to her the names of the different constellations as best as I can remember them. She listens intently. Her left arm is draped over my body so I decide to hold her with my free arm.
“I like the music” I say.
She tells me that she’s pleased. She tells me she can increase my musical knowledge. She talks about the music, about the musicians. The words blur in my mind.
“You’re beautiful.” I say.
She keeps talking about the music, almost not even hearing me. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for.
She tells me she’s scared of getting old.
“It’s not so bad.” I say.
“Do you believe in magic?” She asks.
I tell her that I suppose not.
“Do you believe in God?” She asks.
I tell her that I’m not quite sure.
She looks up at me. Our coffee’s sit on the table, untouched, her hand rests gently in mine.
I ask her if she’d like to spend the rest of her life with me.
“I think I would.” She says.
We get married one day, outside under the great big shinning sun. That night we lie under the stars.
“The stars look better in the country, don’t they?” I ask.
She tells me that they do. She tells me that I still have to take her through the galaxies. I tell her there’s plenty of time for that.
Her stomach begins to grow, until it is almost as round as a bowling ball. She takes my hand and places it on her belly.
“I felt it.” I say.
I hold her hand as she pushes, and the beads of sweat roll down her forehead. I hold her hand as the doctors hold our son. I hold her hand as we hear no cries coming from his mouth.
She sits in the corner of the nursery with her back turned to me, looking up at the stars.
“I wonder what is up there.” She says.
I tell her that I’m an old man now, too old to build a rocket ship to fly through the galaxies.
She tells me that she’s not sure if she loves me anymore.
“I’m surprised you loved me in the first play.” I say.
I leave the room and she follows me, kicking a stray toy out of the way with her bare foot. She follows me into the bedroom where I lay down on the bed. She scoots up to rest her head on my arm.
I open my eyes to find that I’m still lying on the trampoline, with her nestled up to me.
She is old enough to be an adult, but seems young enough to be a child. I tell her that I should be going.
“Don’t go.” She says.
I tell her that I’ll never be able to fly her through the galaxies. I tell her that if we fall in love then one day she’ll stop loving me. I tell her that I’ll be an old man before she has a chance to become a woman.
“I thought as much.” She says.
She climbs off the trampoline, her dress floats lightly as her bare feet touch the grass. She leans up towards me, her heals lifting from the ground. Lightly her lips touch mine, and just for a moment she kisses me.
“Tonight I’ll love you forever.” She says.
I ask her what that means. She doesn’t reply. She walks back inside the house with her dress floating in the breeze.
