A P A S T R O N

The point of greatest separation of two stars, such as in a binary star system.

T O  T H E 
M O O N & B A C K

I'M DRIVING RORY home and the silence between us is agonizing. She won't speak and neither will I. Not a single word since we left the event half an hour ago. I can't tell if she's mad or sad or if she doesn't care at all. I can't read her and I'm not sure I want to.

"Are you mad?" I finally dare to speak.

I hear her scoff, peering out at the night sky seen through her window. "No."

This isn't like her. She's honest. She's playing me at my own game. I too did something not like me—well, as far as she knows—and so, she is too. I thought we knew each other well, but I'm now realizing there is still an entire part of me she isn't familiar with. The Atlas whom betrays his family. The Atlas whom hurts his familiar and lies to them. The Atlas whom keeps his father up all night searching for him. The Atlas whom made his mother cry countless times and has recited the words I hate you many more than I love you.

She sees the good in me. And I haven't yet to be in a situation where I do something shitty and have her experience it. She doesn't know I have done bad things—to others and especially to myself. That's why she's angry. Because she thinks that I'm good. She doesn't want to admit that I ditched her to snort lines in the fucking bathroom and left her waiting alone. But I did. And I think it's eating me alive.

"Fuck that." I snap. "Are you mad at me?" I repeat.

We are almost nearing the bridge when sighs. "You said—you promised that you would keep your addiction and our relationship separate." her words cut through me like a knife. "That was only a week ago. Atlas, are we setting ourselves up for disaster?" as she's speaking, she's not looking at me. She keeps her eyes trained forward, and as do I.

I don't know. Are we?

"No." I say quickly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "It was just—I wasn't thinking, okay?"

Rory laughs. "Yeah, right." her tone is clipped and blunt. "And was you not thinking in relation to the fact that you got high at your mother's fashion show or because you missed the entire thing and left me—your date, in case you forgot, to sit alone."

"I fucked up, I know." is all I manage to say. I don't know what to do in this situation—what to say, because I did fuck up.

In my peripheral vision, I can see her shaking her head. "Look, I know my place. You don't need me to fix you and I don't think I could even if I wanted to, but there is a way where you can do your shit without bringing the people down around you." she says like she's familiar with it. "You don't know what your mother could be going through, or your sister, or, God, even me." she sounds more hurt than angry. "And the point is, I don't want you to know if something is wrong with me because I don't want you to get hurt. It's called self-destruction because it only involves you. When you involve other people, it becomes destruction. Of yourself, of others. It's—"

"I know!" I say through gritted teeth, pressing my foot down on the accelerator, shaking my head as it begins to downpour. "Fuck, Rory. I know."

She goes silent, gulping loudly and I curse, indicating left, before pulling up onto the side of the road, shifting into park. My car idles, the engine rumbling and I turn the radio off, turning to stare at her.

"You know I'm a fucking addict Rory. You know this. So why are you so upset?" I question, not daring to touch her as she remains still and deadly silent.

Slowly, she turns to look at me, and I almost which she never had. She looks disappointed. And that mere expression takes me back to the moment I shared before with my mother. "Because," she inhales a sharp intake of air. "I guess I thought I knew you. I mean, I know that Venus is your favourite planet, and you like fucking forehead kisses, and you used to play soccer and you love cars, but never did I know that Atlas, my Atlas, was capable of being so selfish."

I turn away, sitting back in my seat. I click my tongue, shaking my head as I stare up at the ceiling of my car. In the matter of one singular night, my mother has managed to give up on me, finally, and just to make it even fucking better, I'm having my first fight with Rory.

I have always wanted nothing more than for my mother to leave me the fuck alone to do what I want, so why is it now that she has, I don't want that anymore? It hurts. It really fucking hurts, even more than every word that Rory just spoke.

"So that's the problem, then? I'm selfish?" my tone is low and unstable.

In the corner of my eye, I see her nod. "Look, I get it. You have shit to do. It's an addiction, I understand. But you left everyone worrying about you. I thought nothing of it until I overheard Alula suggesting to your mother that you could have fucking overdosed again and I started panicking because I felt liable. I left you in that bathroom alone, I—"

"Rory, no." I cut her off, turning to the side. She's crying. "You are not liable for my actions. Ever."

Sighing, she shakes her head, then sniffles. "Take me home." she says in a whisper. When I don't move and instead continue to stare at the side of her face, she repeats herself, more sternly this time. "Take me home. Please."

I nod, shifting back into drive, before moving back onto the road. We don't talk for the remainder of the drive. It's quiet to the extent that my ears ring and it's excruciating. 

The window wipers swipe back and forth, wiping the rain away, only for it to appear again. I take each corner slower due to the rain. I drive slower, so she isn't scared. I can see how tense she is because of the rain and the dress she's wearing and the tension between us. It's all getting to her.

Just like it's all getting to me.

I arrive down the street from her house. I park and twist my keys in the ignition, silencing my car before I turn to her again. I feel my throat tighten, my heart race and what little amount of warmth there is left in my body drain from the inside out as I prepare for what I'm going to say.

"I—" fuck. "Rory. . .I'll try. Okay? For you, I'll try."

I'm lying.

She turns to me and she looks confused. "You'll try what?"

"I'll try quit."

Another lie.

Her forehead creases, her eyes lingering on my face for far too long. "Atlas," she says my name like the word itself is made of glass. "That isn't what this is about. I'm not trying to get you to change for me. You don't have to do that. I was just upset—just, tonight has been stressful. I feel sick and I'm hungry and I'm cold and I'm so tired. But none of that is your fault. I'm upset with you, yes. But I could never be mad at you, okay?"

She's holding my face in her hands now and she's close and even though I never intended on even trying to quit, I wouldn't take back a single lie told because she's normal again. She's looking me in the eye again.

I nod but I don't say anything.

"Do you think that I'm a bad person?" I ask in a whisper.

She doesn't waste a single second before shaking her head. "No." Thank fuck. I sigh. "Just. . .Atlas, I want you to be sober, but that isn't my decision, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured to do something that you don't want yourself. Just know, when you make the decision, I'll be so fucking proud of you. And you might not see it, but so many other people will be too."

Again I nod. I can't help but notice how she said when you make the decision, not if you make the decision. I both hate and love that she can put so much faith in me and her words.

How do I tell her that I will never make that decision? How do I break it to her that I won't be around soon? 

Momentarily, she glares out the window, just as an old car pulls into her driveway, only just visible through the rain. Instantly, she's alert and I realize whom the car belongs to. Her mother. She's back.

"I have to go." she says suddenly, opening the door. For once, she doesn't kiss me goodbye, in fact, when she turns to look at me, she can't even look me in the eye. "And, Atlas?" I wait. "I can tell when you're lying."

And then she leaves and steps into the pouring rain. Like two stars separated by apastron of negative space. I have never felt so far from her.

And I'm left feeling like shit. . .again.

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

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