Stars

It's cold tonight. My hands have gone numb and I know they will hurt when I warm them, but I shove them under my arms out of habit. My feet are freezing through my boots and extra socks. My breath would block my vision, but it's too dark to see anyway. Seeing isn't important. Waiting is. Just wait. Not much longer, just wait.

The stars are beautiful, when my breath doesn't cloud them. I tilt my head up and try and guess the outlines of the trees against the sky. I couldn't even see the snow on the branches. There was the cold and the stars and the empty spaces, and that was all. The moon is nowhere to be seen, sleeping on the job as it were. It wasn't there to light up the sky for me and for… wait. Just wait. Not much longer. Be patient, enjoy the stars. I know about stars. I know about the dwarfs and the giants. I know about the red stars and the white stars. I know about supernovas and black holes. I know about E= MC^2. I understand science. What I don't understand is…

Wait. Not much longer, just wait.

I turn away from the stars, from what I understand. Waiting for him, I smile. Stars in my eyes, for him. I wait, shuffle my feet, and wait. I wish I had my flashlight, then I could find a log to sit on. All I know now is that trees and snowdrifts surround me, neither of which I wish to sit on. I'm not about to get wet nor am I about to shimmy up a tree in the darkness. So I stand and I wait, I wait and I stand, and I freeze and I freeze and I wait.

Even without a watch, I know he's late. He's never this late, not so late that I consider leaving and trying again another time, waiting another night if I could. I can't stay out here much longer without freezing, but I can't find my way back in the dark either. There was no way I could find my way to our place without him. Where is he? Why must I wait still? I have been good, just as good as he has been to me, so why must I wait here? I worry. Nothing could have happened to him, it's impossible. He is immortal to me, untouchable. No blow could land on him, no enemy could wound him, and he could never fall, so why do I worry? Why is he late? Why, why, why…. I'll never understand, I think. I understand stars, I understand relativity, but I'll never understand him, and I guess that's all right. I don't mind, as long as he stays, as long as he comes. I wait. I listen. I close my eyes in the blackness and feel my breath freeze in my face. I clench my chattering jaw and hold my breath. I hear the sound of ice forming and snow dropping from trees, but not progressively towards me, no sounds of footfalls punching through the snow to me. I wouldn't hear them anyway, but I try.

All is still around me. A perfect winter's night, stated romantically. The only sounds were that of my breathing and the snow falling on snow. I feel peaceful, numbed, as if everything is all right, the world has calmed and folded its hands to sit and close its eyes.

That's when I feel him at my side. He doesn't touch me, but I feel him. I open my eyes and turn towards him. Even if I can't see his face, I smile through chattering teeth and blue lips. I feel silly doing it because he obviously can't see me, but I think he knows when I smile. He seems to like it. I stretch out my hand and he finds it. He pulls it gently, leading me through the woods, placing a hand on my back to steady me as I trip on rocks and snowdrifts. He strokes my hair as we walk, while still holding my hand and guiding me with a touch on my back. It's odd when I can't see him, to feel three of his hands, but I let him. It won't be long until we reach our place. I smile again and he ruffles my hair.

I looked up at him again and tried to see. The faintest ghosts of his face and shirt shine at me as he turned his face down; he touches my cheek. Four arms and counting. I see a light ahead, through the trees, struggling to be seen against the darkness. I never know how we get here, but we always do. Only he can lead me here. I've lived in the woods all my life but I've never seen our place except for when he's with me. Sometimes I think that we aren't in the woods anymore, not really. Sometimes I think that even the stars are different, that somewhere along the way he took me far away where the stars shine differently in my own side of the woods, but that would be silly. That would just be silly. Things didn't work like that, you couldn't walk into the woods you knew and come out in a place that wasn't yours. Then again, things don't work like him either, so I shouldn't be surprised. If I think about it too long, I might go mad. I don't think to hard about these things.

We strolled towards the light, still faint through the trees. My teeth chatter madly still. I can't ever remember being this cold, but at least I'm half numb. I can't even think about how bad I'm going to be hurting when I thaw.

I look up again, at the stars. They look different here, like the light is…twisted. That's the best word for it. It's like the light is twisted, like a Van Gogh painting. Childlike. He likes children, my protector through the woods, and sometimes he brings them to our place. He sits while I play with the children that are around. They love hugs.

I breathe onto my hands, but even my lungs have frozen now. He holds my hands in his. That's a bit better, but slightly more disconcerting. I was happier when I was concerted. But I'm always happy when I'm with him.

We're getting closer to the light, to our place. It's like finding Neverland, or Narnia. But it's strange, it's not the woods I know, the trees are darker than the sky when I'm home… why does it feel so far away? It's a couple minutes to get to the meeting place and a couple of minutes to our place. I try not to think about it so hard. I've been told that there are some things I'll never know, like how many stars are in the sky. I like stars. I tilt my head back to look at them. I think I know something about why some are big or little and why blue means that it's hotter than a red star, but I can't remember right now. I can't always remember things when I'm with him, but that's okay. I'm happy with him, and that's what matters, right?

I lean my head against his hands while I listen for more kids. I like to play with them, but I think a like it more when they aren't there. I can't remember why. I can't remember much when I'm with him, but I'm happy. That's good, right? Happy is good. He makes me happy, so that means he is good.

Starlight, star bright, you're my lucky star tonight.

We're closer now. My nose should be dripping but I can't feel my face. I want to hurry up. I can't wait to get warm. I look back up at his face and grin, tugging on his arm. I don't talk to him much because he doesn't have any ears, but when I do, it's like he hears me. I jump up and down a bit. I want to race, let's race! He looks back down at me and shakes his head. I can see him a bit better now, him and his pretty white shirt. He holds my shoulders firmly as I trip over something hidden in the snow. I look back up at him. If he had a mouth, he'd be saying, 'And that's the reason why not.'

Sometimes I think he doesn't have to hear with his ears. I think he's a whatchacallit – mind reader, or something. Yeah. He hears my thoughts, I guess.

He knows I'm annoyed at him. He pats my head with another hand. That makes seven, including the two he's using to hold my hands close to my chest. We're real close now.

I'm excited and more bouncy. When do we get there? He strokes my hair again, trying to calm me. I do, I always do for him, but I stay bouncy. Gotta get warm. The hand on my shoulder rubs my arm quickly, up and down, getting my blood pumping. I can see the door now. I tug out of his hands and yell for a race. He wasn't expecting that. I'm laughing and ducking. He's trying to grab me, but that's cheating! My feet are punching through the snow, but I'm small and fast. I'm laughing and running to the door calling for him to race me, race me! My arms are cartwheeling for balance. I look back towards him, which you should never do in a race, but he's busy whacking branches out of the way. He's too tall.

I guess that's why the door handle is so high. It's silly, but I feel smaller when I'm with him, like I'm shrinking the closer we get to our place. It's impossible, but it's like magic. He's like magic, but right now, he's like angry magic. I'm grinning at him and panting when he gets through the trees and bends down to my height. I can see most of him now, but not very well. He grabs me by the shoulders and brings his face very close to mine. It's blank, like drawing paper, but the eyebrows he should've had would be angry. He shakes my shoulders tightly and smacks me upside the head. I've never seen him this mad. I didn't mean it!

My eyes water. I'm scared when he's mad, it's almost like he doesn't like me. It's almost like I'm not special to him anymore. I'm sorry, I cry, I'm real sorry; I just wanted to race, don't be mad! I sniffle and feel my tears go frozen on my face. He lets go of my shoulders, but I grab him, hugging and crying like a baby, but I'm can't stop and I'm just so sorry! My face is in his shirt, it's almost as cold as the snow, but I cling on anyway. Slowly, he wraps an arm around me and picks me up. I shiver, but he's still mine and I'm just so sorry. I hope he's not really mad. I hope I'm not ruining his suit. He takes me inside and shuts the door.

He sets me on a chair in the middle of the room and disappears. It's warm in here and my hands start to hurt, but at least they're getting warm. I stick them under my arms again and swing my legs under my chair, looking around. It's a spooky place, but there's light where I am, and I know he's not far away. Something scuffs in the dark, but I can't see it. I tell myself that it's him and not a monster. He's finding my mask, I guess. That's okay, so I wait. I kind of wish there were kids for me to play with, but they're not here. That's okay too; I like having his attention to myself. It makes me feel special that he has only me tonight. I smile and swing my legs playfully, my boots melt puddles onto the floor, but he doesn't mind about stuff like that, the same way he doesn't care about cobwebs or drapes or the way his door is cracked and has the circle with the X through it. Didn't he like the circle? Maybe he X'd it because it was lopsided.

He's back. I can only see him because of the white of his shirt and his pale face. Didn't he ever go out into the sun? I guess not. I don't see him during the day, mostly. We always came to our place at night. He holds up another piece of white and I see my mask in his hand. I'm swinging my legs and grinning, but I don't jump up. I want to be good now. His other arms are gone, and he almost looks like he's normal, but he's special. I know it, and it's our secret, isn't it?  I take my hands from under my arms and set them on my knees. My hands hurt and my nose is running, but he doesn't care that my face is red and gross. He takes out a hankie and gives it to me to wipe my nose. I do, and I fold the square of white on my knee, where I place my hands to be proper and good. He knows I'm trying for him. He ruffles my hair again and holds up the mask. This is when it gets fun! He slips it on over my face and ties it in back for me.

I feel different when I have the mask, like I'm like him. I like him. I like to be like him, and then I feel liked. My head feels dizzy thinking about it, but I feel stronger with the mask. He offers me his hand and I take it. He leads me into the dark corners of our place and then I'm happy. I'm happy to be with him and that is all. I take his hand and then like the stars, strange and pretty and perfect.

Stars-