Star-Crossed

I put my earbuds in to listen to my go-to solitary Saturday night walk playlist. First up was 'Smashing Pumpkins.' I bobbed my head and sang along with Billy Corgan to 'Bullets with Butterfly Wings.' Then came 'Drive' by Incubus while I walked around the quad. Then it was 'The Ramones singing 'Sheena is a Punk Rocker,' and I shredded on the air guitar, fantasizing about being a lead guitarist in a punk rock band. I play the piano decently, but I often wish I had taken up the electric guitar instead.

As I came back around to the quad to start back for the dorm, I passed by the hill where Autumn and I were supposed to look at Jupiter through a telescope together last night. I came to a jolting halt when I saw a figure on the hilltop bent over beside what could not be mistaken for anything else except a telescope.

As I stared at this figure, Stevie Nicks was belting out the chorus to 'Edge of Seventeen' in my ears -♪Just like a white-winged dove sings a song, sounds like she's singing Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! ♪

The figure stood silhouetted against the light that eked from the nearby dorm room windows, the unmistaken hallmark shape of a floppy beanie atop the figure's head. It was Autumn on the hill. My heart began to pound to the rhythm of the guitar and the frantic drums.

I took my earbuds out and walked up the hill. She spotted me and waved.

"Hey, Joey!"

"Hey, Autumn. What are you up to? We didn't agree to meet tonight, did we?"

"No, but I felt so bad about ditching you last night. I thought I'd make it up to you by taking some shots tonight. I got some good ones already!"

"Oh, you really didn't have to do that."

She shrugged.

"It's alright. It's a brand-new telescope, so I'm super pumped about using it!"

I glanced at the telescope. It looked really fancy, with glowing buttons and all. She saw my amused expression and explained,

"It's a custom-made eight-inch Cassegrain reflector! It's computerized, too, so you can fix it on a celestial object, and it will track it through the Earth's rotation. The Astro club's got nothing like this baby."

She patted the top of the tube. Her eyes glinted with pride.

"It looks...expensive."

Autumn snickered. "It probably would be if you bought it from a manufacturer, but a friend built it with his own hands. He's an engineer. Gave it to me as a gift."

"A friend built you a whole telescope?"

"Well, he built it for himself, technically, but he's not able to get out to use it as much as he used to, so he gave it to me. Shipped it all the way from Australia too! Came just last month."

"That's amazing. Sounds like a cool friend to have."

"Yeah! Met him on an astronomy forum."

"Oh, so an internet stranger."

Autumn laughed. "No, a friend! He's sweet."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't prod further. She was obviously very excited about the telescope, and her excitement was endearing, so I didn't want to ruin the moment. Besides, as a dork with dorky hobbies and dorky internet friends myself, who am I to question her life choices and who she befriends?

Coyly, she asked, "you wanna see it?"

"See what?"

She giggled. "Jupiter, of course."

"Oh, um, yeah, sure."

"Then take a gander, my friend."

I walked over to the telescope. There was a digital camera attached to the end of the tube at the bottom end of it. She popped it off, then screwed on an eyepiece.

"It's all set up, so all you have to do is put your eye on that and be amazed."

"Ok."

I crouched down and lined up my eye to the eyepiece, and my eyes went wide, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Oh my God! It's Jupiter!"

Autumn laughed.

"Of course. What did you expect? Santa Claus?"

Somehow, seeing Jupiter through the telescope filled me with just as much excitement as I might have to see Santa Claus. I was half expecting to see just a blown-up version of the bright dot that Jupiter appeared to be to the naked eye, but what I saw in that eyepiece was a clearly recognizable real-life version of all those photos I've seen of the giant striated sand-colored marble with its trademark swirling great red spot.

I glanced wide-eyed at Autumn. She gave me a wide grin.

"Autumn, it's so beautiful!"

"Crazy, huh? Now take a look again and tell me what else you see."

I looked through the eyepiece again, and this time I noticed four smaller spheres spread out across a neat axis.

"Are those..."

"The Galilean moons? Yup!"

My jaw dropped.

"It's hard to tell which one's which just by looking at them now, but with the camera, I can set the exposure to capture just the right amount of light, and with some post-processing magic in lightroom, I can get their true colors to come out You can tell each moon by their colors. But you can also already sort of figure out which one is which. The farthest one you can see now is Ganymede. The closest one is Io, I'm pretty sure. Look, you can even see her shadow on Jupiter's face."

"Autumn, I'm speechless. This is breathtaking."

"Yeah... too bad there's so much light pollution, though. There's a lot more stuff out there than we can see here. I could show you the Magellanic Clouds, Pleiades, and my favorite, the Andromeda Galaxy. If I had my own car, I'd get away from the light pollution. I'd spend every weekend out in the desert just looking up at the night sky. I love it."

I smiled at her. I smiled at the pleasing thought of spending time in the desert with no man-made lights, the only illumination coming from the stars, planets, and galaxies.

"I have my car here, so maybe we can go sometimes," I said.

"Aw, that would be perfect!" she said.

I blushed, thinking about spending time with Autumn stargazing. I thought of that day at lunch when she mentioned going out to Joshua Tree to see the comet. With my eyes pasted back onto the eyepiece, I said.

"Maybe we can go out to see the comet at Joshua Tree."

"You'd really want to?"

"I mean, I still don't want to make it our project, but yeah, I think it might be a cool thing to do."

"Cool." She breathed excitedly.

"So, what is it about Andromeda that makes it your favorite?"

"What makes the Andromeda galaxy my favorite? Hmm, well it's just amazing to see how big it is in the sky, which is to say how close it is to ours. I mean relative to other galaxies, of course. Did you know that Andromeda and the Milky Way are going to collide?"

"Oh really? That sounds dangerous."

"I mean, it won't happen for another four or five billion years from now, and when it does happen, it won't really bethat catastrophic. Star collisions will be a rare event. But some stars will form binary systems, which is a cool thought, isn't it? Two stars from a completely different galaxy coming together to form a couple. How cute is that?"

"Very cute," I agreed.

Autumn snickered in that adorable Muttley way.

"Oh! Have you ever seen Mars through a telescope? That's another one I can show you."

I shook my head.

"Let me show you! It should be just above the horizon now."

She hopped over to stand beside me at the telescope. Her nearness immediately filled me with warmth, like a slow dip into a hot bath on a frigid day. And the scent of her perfume, which came strongly off her neck, like lemon drops, made my heart swell. I did everything I could to suppress a sigh of satisfaction on account of her sudden proximity.

She grabbed the telescope's remote and began to steer it away from Andromeda with the same furrowed concentration as before. But, without warning, she winced and dropped the remote. A shock of fright spidered through me as she doubled over and began to heave. She heaved so harshly I was afraid a lung was about to pop out of her mouth.

Alarmed, I crouched beside her and put an arm around her.

"Autumn! Are you alright?"

When she finished heaving, she took out a handkerchief to wipe her mouth, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little nauseous. Sorry about that."

She shuddered, put away her handkerchief, then began to steer the telescope again like nothing had happened, though her eyes still flickered with weakness, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

"Autumn. Why don't we take a break? You don't look good. How about some water?"

I had a Nalgene water bottle with me. I unscrewed the cap and handed it to her. She shot me a weak smile and took a long sip from it, then replied,

"I'm fine. It's nothing. Really."

"Um. Ok," I replied uncertainly. "Still, let's take a break. Let me know if I need to take you to the medical center."

She nodded. "Sure. But really, I'm fine."

She went to the top of the hill and plopped down on the grass. I plopped down beside her and handed her the Nalgene again. She took a sip.

"Thanks, Joey," she said.

"No worries," I replied.

And we sat there and gazed out on the campus in silence together. The breeze rustled the Eucalyptus leaves, and the crickets sang peacefully. It was a moment I would have thoroughly cherished if I didn't have a pit in my stomach from seeing Autumn's sudden bout of nausea.

On Monday, Autumn wasn't in class.

The lecture that day was about galaxies, and the professor talked about Andromeda. He mentioned Andromeda being on a collision course with the Milky Way. I smiled, thinking of what Autumn said about stars from different galaxies forming couples. I couldn't really pay attention to most of the rest of the lecture. My mind was buzzing with worry about why Autumn was missing. I shot her a text but received no reply.

When the class was over, I headed straight for her dorm room to see if she was at least only playing hooky, though after what I witnessed Saturday night, I suspected something might be wrong with her.

I knocked on her door. It swung open, and another girl I didn't recognize stood before me.

"Hi?"

"Hi, I'm looking for Autumn."

She raised her eyebrow like she was confused. Like she had never heard of the name before.

"Autumn doesn't live here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have misread the directory."

The girl smiled. "No, you read it correctly. This is her room. I'm her roommate. Well, supposed to be. She hasn't been living here."

"Oh... really?"

"Are you a friend of Autumn's?"

"Uh-huh," I replied. "Sort of. We're working on a project for a class together."

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

In a hushed and gentle voice, as if we were chatting at a wake, she said,

"Autumn has cancer. She's living with her mom while she's going through chemotherapy."

I breathed in and held it and clutched my chest as if to clutch onto my heart before it fell to the ground and shattered into pieces. Too late. My heart just exploded.

"I'm sorry," the girl said. "If she's not in class, she might be at the clinic. Westwood Pediatric Orthopedics Center."

"Thanks," I said and left without saying anything more. I was in shock. A lump formed in my throat. It all made sense now. The bout of nausea. The floppy beanie which she wore not only as a fashion statement but to cover her hair loss from chemo. Her skipping out on our meeting on Friday night, which I felt so much self-pity for, and now felt foolish for what I did. I felt like an idiot for not seeing it. Then I felt angry. Not only at myself but also at Autumn for not telling me about any of this. For pretending like she was just a normal college student. Don't I deserve a heads-up?

I ran back to my dorm room and lay in my bed in a daze, thinking about Autumn. Seeing her smiling face so vividly in my mind. So cheerful and her eyes bright as when she talked about Andromeda and Jupiter and the Galilean moons. I felt sick to my stomach. I thought of lying there all day to devolve into a heaping pile of depression. But then I thought about what Autumn must be going through now, and my head pounded with frustration, not knowing anything more about what was going on with her. What sort of cancer did she have? How bad was it? Why on earth was she in classes when she had cancer!?

I was frustrated at myself for not knowing any of this information and frustrated at Autumn for not telling me. I stared at my phone at the lonely line of text I sent her asking her if she was planning on coming to class that morning. I stared at it as if staring hard enough would will a response from her. Then it occurred to me. Couldn't I just drop by to visit her at the clinic? They allow visitors, don't they? She'd be happy to see me, wouldn't she?

I did a quick google search for Westwood Pediatric Orthopedics Center and saw that it was just a half-hour walk from campus. Deciding that the worst that could happen is that they turn me away at the front desk and having a real itch to see how Autumn was doing, I went.

I put in my earbuds as I made my way there. I picked a song at random. Don Mclean started singing his song, 'Empty Chairs.' A song I like to listen to because my dad played it a lot on the stereo when I was younger. It was way too sad a song to be listening to now, so I switched to something brighter. A song from a playlist of Studio Ghibli music that never failed to cheer me up when I was feeling down -- the theme song from 'Kiki's Delivery Service'.

I was fortunate to have gone through life without cancer having any real impact. My grandpa died of lung cancer when I was too young to remember him. My grandmother died of breast cancer before I was born. I could not come even close to understanding the sort of life-changing anguish that must come from finding out you or someone you love has cancer. How terrible Autumn must feel to have to go through such an ordeal. And how terrible her family must feel. I dearly hoped it was something treatable.

I stood in front of the clinic doors for what felt like an eternity before I could muster the courage to enter the building. There was a sort of sterility about the building that was oddly serene, like some minimalist's idea of the gates to Heaven or something. The words 'Westwood Pediatric Orthopedic Center' were written above automatic doors in glinting bronze sans-serif font. The building's glassy façade gleamed in the bright sunlight.

I walked through the doors. The lobby was quiet, bright, and lofty. Vanilla-colored and vanilla-scented. TV played an episode of one of those HGTV realty shows silently. A numbingly good-looking couple with wide smiles touring their dream house. But the house just might be above their budget. Will they go for it?

There were a lot of children and teenagers of all ages around, which makes sense as I was in a pediatric clinic. Some sitting in the waiting area, others wandering around the lobby, in the company of nurses and doctors and their parents. It was heart-wrenching to see that many of them were bald, meaning they were going through chemotherapy to treat whatever cancer they had. What an ordeal to have to go through. Especially so young.

Behind the reception desk, an elderly woman with curly hair and glasses attached to a drooping thin gold-chained leash spotted me and smiled.

"Good morning. Are you here to visit a patient?"

I nodded shyly.

"May I ask who you are here for?"

"Um... Autumn."

"Autumn Campbell. Sure. She's in one of the infusion rooms now. If you don't mind, I just need some ID."

I gave her my student badge and a quick smile. She glanced at the name on the badge as she held it raised to check to make sure I looked like the girl in the photograph. Then she opened a binder and rifled through the pages. She rifled back and forth between two pages, then shut her binder and glanced up at me with a skeptical look.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, you're not on the list. Are you family? A friend?"

"Oh, a friend."

"I see. Well, I'm sure she would be happy to know you dropped by for a visit, but I'm afraid that since you're not on the visitor's list, we can't let you see her."

A woman who had been standing at a vending machine nearby, who had obviously overheard the conversation, came over and said, "Joey, hi!"

She gave me a tight hug. "I'm so glad you could make it."

I was stunned. I had never seen this woman before, so all I could do was stand there and take her hug. I glanced wide-eyed at the receptionist, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow seeing my reaction.

The woman turned to the receptionist and said, "it's fine, Heather, she's with me."

Heather smiled at the woman, let out a long sigh, and said, "alright. Your call."

"Thank you," the woman said, then turned back to me and motioned with her head for me to tag along and said, "come on, let's go see Autumn."

I gave the receptionist a sheepish grin as I fell in behind the woman I did not know.

As we walked down the long hallway and far from the reception, I whispered,

"Thanks. Um, sorry, I don't think I know your name."

The woman smiled at me. "I'm Maureen. I'm Autumn's mother."

"Ok. That makes sense."

I could see it now. The freckles. The maple brown eyes.

"How did you know my name?" I asked.

Short of her being some sort of psychic, I was genuinely confused about that.

"Autumn told me she made a new friend in her astronomy class. I guessed it was you."

At the end of the hall, we arrived at a door with a sign above it indicating that it was one of the infusion rooms. On the face of the door hung a marker board, and on the board was neatly handwritten with black marker:"When the night is dark, look to the stars."

Someone who clearly knew Autumn likely left that message there for her as a word of encouragement. It was a sweet gesture but one that twisted my gut into several knots.

Maureen put her hand on the door handle.

"Ready to see her?" she asked before opening the door. Her solemn gentleness with her tone gave this occasion a ceremonial levity. One that I wasn't prepared for. It all felt so surreal. I had only met Autumn three weeks ago. And in that short time, we had barely hung out. I was filled with so much doubt that I even belonged here. I felt like a fish out of water. But knowing that Autumn had told her mom about me, at least enough that her mom knew my name, and the kind, familiar way her mom looked at me now, with a smile that crinkled the edges of her eyes, I decided, yes, I was ready to see Autumn, and furthermore, I wanted to see her.

I nodded.

Maureen opened the door.

"Autumn," she sang. "You have a visitor."

I crept in shyly and came out from behind Maureen, my hands clasped tightly to my front.

Autumn was sunk into a big plush patinaed leather armchair sunk with a book splayed open on her lap. She had on a medical isolation gown. To her right was a hanger on which hung a pouch filled with a ruby-red liquid connected to a box full of buttons. An IV drip tube made its way to a port at the top of Autumn's chest.

She flinched when she saw me. Fear like a deer in the headlights sort of fear came to her eyes, and her hand jolted instinctively for her beanie, which was sitting on the arm of her chair. She went to slip it on, but she quickly realized that the jig was up. I had already seen her bald head.

"Joey!" she breathed, exasperated. I waved and smiled shyly.

"Hi, Autumn."

Autumn shot her mom a quick glare, then gave me an embarrassed look.

"Well, sheriff, you caught me," she said.

"I sure did, didn't I?"

Maureen grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and placed it in front of Autumn.

"Take a seat, Joey. I'm going back to the waiting room for a snack," Maureen said. "Want something from the vending machine?"

I shook my head as I quietly sat.

"Be back soon," she said and left.

The door had one of those hydraulic track arms, so it came to a slow shut. When it finally did, Autumn asked,