To the Stars

By Cullin F. Morgan

(Year 2151)

Carl stood up from the booth and politely shook John’s hand.

“Yeah, I’ll reach out! It was nice meeting you, too!”

John slipped quietly out of the diner. 

“I’m not calling him,” said Carl under his breath, sitting back down at his table. He took a copy of Anna Karenina from his bag and began to read, letting his eyes slide across the page, trying desperately to concentrate on Anna’s plight but thinking only of the time he had just lost.

I shouldn’t say lost, that’s not very kind. Kind or not, Carl couldn’t think of any other way to sum up his date. John had been nice enough. He liked working on cars, he liked board games, he’d seen every episode of that old TV show, Survivor. He was…interesting. Or, actually, he hadn’t been interesting at all, and that was the problem. 

Like I’m so interesting myself, Carl thought, reprimanding himself for his pretension. Maybe that was the reason why he attracted men who seemed to have no zest, no spunk, because he himself was zestless, spunkless. The only thing Carl could talk ad nauseam about was books, and despite his best efforts, it was hard to find someone who could do the same. And not just books, but old, old books; stories. He longed to move past the questions of “Where’d you grow up? What’s your favorite music? How many siblings do you have?” and talk about things that were inspired— the metaphysical parts of life. But in a town as small as Mendocino, he was running out of candidates. 

Carl gave up his efforts to read and stared at his half-empty coffee mug before hearing the chime of the diner door as someone walked in. He half-expected John to come back with new “interesting” factoids to share about his life, but it was someone entirely new, and Carl couldn’t look away from him. 

The stranger was tall and blonde with broad shoulders. He wore a white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He had weather-blue eyes, the color of a storm over an ocean. Carl couldn’t help thinking of that Tom Petty lyric “she had eyes so blue they looked like weather.”  The newcomer walked confidently to the bar and ordered a coffee, no cream. Carl tried not to notice him, tried looking away, but remarkably, the stranger had noticed Carl. 

“Anna Karenina? That’s a tough one, isn’t it?”

“You’ve read it?” Carl looked surprised. Not many people had. 

“Long time ago. In college. I went through a Russian lit phase.”

“That’s much more niche than my 19^th Century Brit lit phase.” He paused, fumbling for what to say next. “So, what part was your favorite?”

“Well, I know the whole book is supposed to be about Anna, but Levin and Kitty were the only two characters I cared about.”

“Same! I find myself dreading Anna’s plot and rushing to get to the next part about Levin.”

“I’m Leo by the way.” Leo stood up to shake Carl’s hand. He had one of those firm handshakes that would have meant business in any other context. 

“I’m Carl.” And then because he didn’t know what to talk about next, “Do you want to sit?”

“I’d like that. I was just about to order something to eat.”

“I could eat,” responded Carl. 

Several pancakes later, the two men were enthralled in conversation. 

“I really would have thought that you were an English major,” Carl said.

“Nope! I’m a science guy, I just like a good story. But you, you’re English?”

“Yes, a 21^st Century lit major more specifically. And now I’m a freelance writer. But what do you do?”

“Ah, it’s complicated.”

“Why, are you a spy or something?”

Leo laughed. “Not exactly, I…I’m an astronaut.” 

The conversation had been flowing since the moment Leo sat down, but now Carl didn’t know what to say. Leo looked almost embarrassed. 

“Wow, that’s, that’s…big.”

Leo looked away, blushing, and ran a hand through his hair. “I guess, yeah it is kind of big. It took a lot of hard work and training to get here. A lot of sacrifices for sure. I work with the Mars Union.”

“The Mars Union? That’s—” Carl felt stupid suddenly. He considered himself a connoisseur of the English language, but now all the words were running away from him. “I just read something about the Mars Union. Aren’t they planning their first manned expedition?”

“Yes, it’s very exciting, isn’t it? Tomorrow is the mission launch, here in Mendocino. Seven people will touch foot on Mars and begin the expansion of life in space.”

“Wow.” Carl thought about this for a minute. “Wait, so does that mean, you’re—”

“One of the seven? It does.”

“Ah, so that means you leave tomorrow morning?” Carl tried not to sound disappointed, but it was hard to mask.

“Yes. Today is my last day on Earth.” It was hard to tell, but it almost sounded like Leo was disappointed by this fact as well. “Tomorrow I set out on a four-year journey.”

“Four years? That’s a long time.”

“Nine months to get there, thirty to settle, begin colonizing, grow food, make conditions suitable, that sort of thing, and then nine months back.”

“What about your family? Your friends? Your…uh…partner?”

“I said goodbye to family and friends last week before I came to Mendocino for the launch, and as for partners, well, space travel doesn’t leave a lot of room for romance.” Leo blushed slightly.

“I can’t imagine it would.” There was that note of disappointment again. “Well, how are you choosing to spend your last day on Earth?”

“They gave us a rest day before we head out. One last day. I woke up this morning with zero plans. I wanted the day to surprise me.”

“I see. Has it?”

“Delightfully so.” Leo smiled at Carl, holding his eye contact. The two sat in silence for a moment wondering if they should proceed. If it was true that Leo was leaving tomorrow, Carl wondered if he should just let him be, let him have the day to himself. Somehow the thought of leaving now felt selfish to him. It was like being a kid again: you’d meet another kid at the beach and have a whole day developing a friendship only to go home and never see or hear from them again. It hurt. If he said goodbye to Leo now, wouldn’t it be to spare his own feelings? 

“What will you miss most?” asked Carl.

“Swimming,” said Leo without taking a moment to think about it. “I’m a big swimmer and, if there’s one thing we know about Mars, there’s not a lot of water up there.” 

“Well, what are we doing here, then? Let’s go swimming!” Carl said, surprising himself and Leo.

“Oh…uhm, okay!”

***

Before it was the location of the Mars Union headquarters and launchpad, Mendocino was just a small town off the coast of California, known for its stunning cliffsides. Which is exactly where Carl directed Leo to take them in his Mars Union-assigned Jeep.  

“I guess I could’ve taken you to the beach,” said Carl as they rolled up to the jagged edge, “but something tells me you’re more of the adventurous type.” 

Leo hopped out of the Jeep and sauntered over to the cliff’s edge. “You were right,” he said, beaming. “We didn’t bring swimsuits.”

“Oh, right.” Carl hesitated, but before he could think of a solution, Leo had taken off his shirt and stripped down to his underwear. Carl followed suit and the two men looked out over the water which crashed against the rocks a hundred feet below. Leo took Carl’s hand, causing him to sweat all over, suddenly ready to be wrapped in the water’s embrace. 

Leo looked at Carl. “Ready?”

“I know this was my idea, but I’ve actually never done this before.”

“First time for everything then. One…two,” he gripped Carl’s hand tighter, “three!”

Together, they jumped and, in moments, were met with the water’s surface. Submerged, Carl let himself float, watching Leo sink in a cavalcade of shiny bubbles before rising back to the top like an intricate ballet. 

They bobbed their heads above the water and then, looking at each other, began to laugh. They swam to the nearest rock, climbing up onto its cragged surface, and lay comfortably in the sun. 

“Four years,” Carl reflected.

“Four years,” said Leo. 

“Sounds so lonely.”

“Oh, there’ll be others with me.”

“Right, but you’re about to have an experience that not many people will. When you come back, you’ll be changed. You’ll have seen things that others can’t fathom, can’t relate to. Your friends and family won’t know what it’s like to step foot on another planet. Most everyone you meet won’t understand the gravity of that.”

“Hm, I guess I never thought of it that way.” Leo propped himself up onto his elbow and looked out at the water. He looked lonely already. Carl felt bad that he said anything.

“I think…” Leo squinted, trying to find the right words. “I think that’s maybe true for a lot of human experience, don’t you? You can meet somebody, fall in love, or have this deep connection, and then if they leave, if the connection is broken somehow, then you’re left with an experience that only you can understand. Every memory, every story, is only yours now. And that’s a lonely feeling too.”

Carl sat up, now clutching his knees, knowing that what was said was true. “I once was in a relationship with this guy for three years. He was my first love, my first everything, and we ended up moving in together. Anyway, I think about this time when he and I got drunk at a wedding. Big fancy wedding on this golf course, right? We went walking late at night along the gravel paths, watching the stars and talking about the future, holding hands and spilling our drinks. I felt giddy, I knew I loved him. And now…now I don’t even know where he is. Love, especially lost love, becomes a heavy thing to hold. A lonely thing.”

“Maybe it’s worth it just to have the experience. I’ve never even dated anyone. You make all these sacrifices for a different kind of experience, but in the end you’re still lonely.” They looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other person meant and felt. Then, looking away sheepishly, Leo said, “Anyway, I’m betting I can beat you back to the car, book nerd.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

They dove back in the water, swam furiously to the beach, and then scrambled up the rocky incline, and because he lost, Carl had to drive.

“Where are we going?” asked Carl, concerned with the lack of planning.

“Anywhere! Surprise me!” Leo shouted as they drove away, half his body out the roof, his arms spread open, the wind pushing back his blonde hair. 

***

Not far from the launchpad was a long pier that stretched out into the sea, with shops and food trucks and bars and a big Ferris wheel. Carl didn’t know where to take somebody who only had so many hours left on Earth, he only knew that he wanted the day to go on forever. They walked the pier from store to store, perusing at leisure, as if they had weeks—months—to waste together. All the while, they talked about their pasts, their presents, their futures, and largely, books.

“Alright, Mr. Science Guy, what’s the biggest book you’ve ever read?”

“That would actually be more Tolstoy: War and Peace.

“You’ve read War and Peace?” Said Carl, aghast.

“Don’t look so surprised!”

“No, no. It’s just, nobody has read that one.”

“To tell you the truth, I liked Anna better,” Leo said before turning into another shop.

They each took a different aisle, glancing up occasionally between the racks to spot each other. It seemed like days had passed since they met. Carl had almost forgotten his date with John this morning. But now that he reflected on it, maybe he had been too harsh on John. It wasn’t that he was uninteresting, he just wasn’t for Carl. But things were different with Leo, he didn’t have to try at their conversations. They seemed to understand one another, even when the talk was mundane or ordinary, it seemed laced with a sort of comfort.

In the back of the shop Carl spotted little figurines made of rubber. There was an octopus, a panda, a dog. Then there were some more touristy ones related to the Mars Union: a rocket ship, the Mars Union logo, and a little tiny astronaut. Carl picked up the astronaut and rubbed his thumb gently over it. Would he remember today in four years? Would Leo?

When they were hungry, they got dinner at a bistro by the beach as the sun went down.

They were each two drinks in now, with a third on the way. “Want to run out on the beach?”

“But our drinks?”

“We’ll take them with us, c’mon!” Leo stood up, a drink in one hand, Carl’s hand in the other. They ran this way, hand in hand, along the beach. Above them, the stars had started to shine, and below them, the crabs were scuttling at beat-nick paces to outrun the two men.

When they had found a good spot not too far from the waves, they made a place for themselves in the sand.

“I can’t believe you spent your last day on Earth with me,” said Carl. “I feel…honored. You could’ve spent it with anyone.” 

“Can I tell you, Carl? You ended up being the best person I could’ve spent it with. I wanted the day to surprise me, and you were surprising.” 

Carl sat his drink in the sand and wrestled for something in his pocket. “I got you this,” he said, handing over the little rubber astronaut. “Something you can take with you if you want, to remember me. To make this memory less lonely, I guess.”

Leo took the small figurine in his hand. “Carl, this is so…thank you! I’ll keep it in my pocket the whole trip. Leo looked up and smiled at Carl and the two held each other’s gaze. “You see that big bright star?” Leo said, looking away. “That one’s Mars. I didn’t get you anything but if you want to remember me, you can look to the stars and know I’m that one right there.”

And then, maybe because they had both been drinking, or maybe because Mars was so big and bright tonight, Leo leaned in and kissed Carl. 

“I wish we had ten more days, ten more years even,” said Carl. 

“I wish…I wish,” Leo stammered.

“I know.”

The two men laid their heads back in the sand and stared into deep, empty space. Tomorrow, Leo would leave, and there was nothing else to be said about it. For now, they held hands, buried in the sand, held down by gravity like a weighted blanket. Tomorrow that blanket would be taken away, and Leo would float up into the sky like a lost balloon, float all the way to the stars.

Cullin F. Morgan is a short-story writer who focuses on the meeting place between the unusual and the mundane. He lives in Nevada where he is working on his first short story collection.