Story in the Sky

Avery
A fiction story

My grandma was old — well, all grandmas are relatively old — but mine was nearly in her ninth decade of life. Calloused fingertips, cheeks stamped with sunspots acquired from her days under the blazing sun, and sagging eyelids covered in blotches...  But I never let her appearance hinder my appreciation for her imagination – every time she spoke, it was with such profundity and raw experience that I never missed her story-telling. 

Mom and dad worked late, so grandma was the only one who took care of us after we came home from school. A few nights, when I didn’t have too much homework or when swim was cancelled, she’d let us travel with her to Philadelphia, Vancouver, New York, Japan. Not literally – we didn’t have the money. 

Sitting in a heap of blankets with Tommy and Aaliyah, amid Elmo stuffed animals and plastic ponies, nothing else mattered but what she chose to enlighten us with for that particular night. Tonight was Alaska. 

"The stream was running rapidly. Wildlife occasionally peeked out of the miniature forest; once I caught a glimpse of an amber-eyed creature. I felt firm with an attempted dominance, but in vain; I ran back to Eliza before the animal could even think about chasing me. 

She had been preoccupied with her own affair, fervently gathering stones and miniature pebbles as decoration for her new room. I took my own way and headed home. 

Eliza was only fourteen, but I respected and loved her as she was my mother, you girls know. She considered our move to Alaska an excellent opportunity to get in tune with herself. The large crowds and concrete sidewalks of Vancouver did not suit her because she felt separated from her true self. She was a non-conformist, and she despised gossipers and extravagant shoppers. However, my deferential thoughts for Eliza did not extend to Keneti – we bickered unremittingly. He had a knack for understanding how to agitate me, and I to him. He was twelve, but only days away from thirteen, which he used as a prerogative to treat me cruelly. His hair was such an astounding shade of orange; I fled from that mop of fire whenever I saw it trying to sneak up on me. 

And Harry, he was seven, far from mature, and in constant need of Eliza’s care. Now, this stemmed from the fact that my mother, your great-grandmother, spent her hours unpacking and organizing our new house. She prepared our meals, but immediately went back to making North Ewing Way a welcoming home. I can’t remember the number. And papa worked at the fish market, and arrived back no earlier than nine, when Harry was asleep, Eliza and I were playing with our dolls, and Keneti was finally calm. 

After discovering that Eliza was not to be bothered, I gently stepped over the rocks that coated the dirt ground. Barefoot, each rock left an imprint of tar on my already grimy feet. I then glided over the slippery, dewy grass, and took it as an opportunity to remove the dirt. A minute later, I found myself home.

'Mama!'

She could never hear me. I figured it would be best not to interrupt her focused mindset – or maybe she had heard me and figured I’d leave if she didn’t acknowledge my presence. I took several more steps and reached our dull green door, which was soon to be painted yellow, upon Eliza’s request. I placed my hand upon the cold brass doorknob and entered. 

All around me were boxes. With great alacrity, I hastened up the linty white carpeted stairs in hopes of finding my dolls unpacked by mother in my room.

'Wad-bag!' cried Keneti. 'Is that you I hear?'

I retreated from the hall into my room and under the bed. For what seemed like hours, he stupidly made his way around the upper floor, ignorant of my constant coughing. I had a cold, but he was no bright child. Mother and papa tolerated him only for his well-proportioned figure and ironically angelic face. 

Upon hearing him give up and exit the house through the back door, I emerged from my cramped position and continued my task. My dolls were indeed, unpacked! One by one, I placed each on my bed with a passionate smile. I was rather simple and didn't yearn for attention like a foolish, mollycoddled child. 

I can’t put a time frame on how long I remained in my room, but I remember it was long. It was pleasant being undisturbed by my siblings or Scout, the Border Collie, who matched the personality of Keneti – brainless and obnoxious. Eliza and I had gotten jealous, and, after finding one before moving to Skagway, secretly kept a tiny kitten in our closet, which we took out to play around sunset, when mother was preparing dinner and nobody roamed the front yard. With papa’s limited income, mother would not allow another mouth to feed. Thankfully, Alice only needed a plate of milk and a meager amount of tuna, which my mother always wound up having leftovers of. 

Just then, Eliza entered my room. 

'I see you’re enjoying yourself,' she chuckled. 

I turned.

'Are you done with gathering? Let’s do something.'

'I can’t, I’m sorry dearie. John asked to meet by the river so we could go fishing.'

Disregarding my dolls, I stormed out of the room with a sour face and cherry-red cheeks and grabbed a box labeled BOOKS in the hallway. I pulled out THE GALAXY. It was a book that Eliza and I had been working on for several months. Well, back home in Vancouver. Now, if John didn’t think it was a good idea, neither did she.  

I speed walked over to the garden, clutching the book angrily, the frigid air combatting the heat of my face. It was sequestered and hidden away from our home, but I liked the seclusion of it. I wore an ugly set of trousers that Grandma Faye had sent me. Mother called them unique, I called them trashy. But until our boxes were unpacked, it was either this or an even more atrocious outfit that resembled a potato sack. 

My finger tracing over the front cover, which was embellished with shining images of stars and planets, my excitement escalated, and I immediately began to sprint across the dewy grass, slowing down by the rocks, and speeding up again when reaching the water.

Ursa Major is a constellation located in the northern sky…

The book was my solace. I studied every constellation as if my life depended on it. When the power was out and rain dribbled in our house through cracks in the stucco, I read the short, one hundred page book again and again, my only source of light being the dim sun peering in through the hazy clouds of June. 

'Maria, what have you been doing!' Eliza’s brusque voice made me jump. Several hours had passed.

I closed the book, revealing the title to her without saying a word. I had quite the temper. 

'Oh. Well, it’s nearly dark. And guess what?'

I said nothing.

'It’s the 31st!'

The 31st? Already? Whenever someone told me it was the 31st, all traces of bitterness and vexation flowed out of my body, and I became refreshed with joy: 'Nobody told me!'

Elated, I grabbed Eliza’s hand and we reached the clearing of shaggy grass in front of our house. There, for the first time in a month, everyone was sitting together. Mama, papa, Keneti, and Scout, and Harry. I could see Alice bouncing around by the river from a distance. They said it was almost time for stargazing. Under the stars, I was home – as if someone had torn out the pages of my book and plastered them on the sky, forever keeping my family together under its twinkling, indigo body."

That was the last story grandma told us. 

Today is the 31st of June, three years after she finally said goodbye to the world and left us only with the remnants of her stories. Aaliyah and I came up with the idea to follow her family’s tradition. The tradition that, even when she felt alone and uncared for, grandma’s family gathered to enjoy every month. 

I don’t call my mom “mama” or my dad “papa”; I could never consider residing in Alaska; I liked my siblings and none of them annoyed me (for the most part). But after hearing about her numerous adventures into space and embarkations to the stars, I feel just like her when I’m under the stars. 

On our small patch of grass, we situate a picnic blanket that barely fits us all and endure the bites of mosquitoes as the sun falls. 

It’s all worth it, though, when the the sky is painted with a moon and stars that illuminate my face. 

“Look,” I tell my family. “It’s the Ursa Major.”

Two years ago in July, I visited Alaska (Juneau, Skagway, Ketchikan) and Canada for the first time; the experience was surreal and I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the nature. This story has no particular significance, other than the fact that it exudes the Alaskan vibe, if that makes sense, and it helps me reminisce the memories that I experienced there and miss dearly.