Wishing on a Shooting Star

Wishing on a Shooting Star

I would rather be a meteor
every atom of me in magnificent glow
Then a sleepy and permanent planet.
- Jack London (1876-1916)


“You know what a shooting star is made of? It’s strange, but it’s got nothing to do with a star at all…kind of paradoxical, ain’t it? Calling it a shooting ‘star’ when it’s just a meteoroid falling into earth’s atmosphere and burning up…”

I sighed, turning on my back and staring at the vast, endless sky above me. Nathaniel meant well, but he could be an annoying pain sometimes. His textbook knowledge sounded good only in school, when you could stare at him in amazement and wonder how a teenager could know so much; but when he started sprouting bits of useless trivia everywhere, it just became insufferable.

“You aren’t even listening to me!” His annoyed voice broke through my thoughts. “How do you think you’re going to pass your midterms if you don’t study?! You know we’ve got a test on this next week, and you’re staring off into space, daydreaming about…”

I groaned. Once he got started, it was extremely difficult to shut him up. So I turned my head, forcing an “I’m-interested-as-hell” expression on my face, and quickly said, “No, no, I was listening. Honest. All that stuff about shooting stars and paradoxes, and burning…it’s very interesting, you know. Amazing.” I nodded my head, to emphasize the fact that I found it truly fascinating.

He stared at me, suspicious, but I had years of practice at this thing; he finally smiled, his eyes clearing, and I could practically see the wheels of his brain turning to churn out more chunks of information. His mouth opened, and I heaved a sigh of relief. I could go back to staring at the night sky now, while he tried to tutor me in the mysterious ways of the shooting stars.

We had been friends for a long time, but at times it seemed as though he didn’t know me at all. I loved learning, but I had a more practical mind. Learning about the stars and the planets didn’t seem like a very useful thing to me; it wouldn’t help me make a living in the real world. But for Nathaniel, it was his life. Honestly, I had only taken the class because he kept nagging me to, and I knew that as long as I had Nathaniel, I would never fail. His knowledge about such stuff was truly extensive; as was his strange desire to teach it to me. I learned more by listening to him, than from our teacher in school.

It was a moonless night, and the stars were clearly visible. It had been my idea to come out and “stargaze”, and Nathaniel was only too happy to oblige. The truth was, even if the whole “study while you put it in theory” story that I spun in the house was bullshit, I was glad to come outside, if only to lie down on the grass and relax. But of course, I had forgotten about Nathaniel.

“So the shooting star has two parents, like everybody else – Asteroids and Comets. I hope you know what asteroids are, but I can give you a quick overview to refresh your memory, if you like…” Nathaniel’s words suddenly penetrated through the fog in my mind, and I snapped awake, turning toward him so quickly that my neck hurt.

“Are you serious?” I snapped, before his twinkling eyes met mine. I huffed noisily, sitting up and crossing my arms. Maybe I had been wrong; maybe he did know me, after all.

“I know you weren’t listening to a word I said. Something must be wrong, for you’re usually very careful in pretending to be attentive; for you to be so distant today there must be something big troubling you. So go on, tell me. What’s wrong?” He sat up as well, and turned to face me, his expression now serious. I smiled slightly, recognizing the boy I had become friends with all those years ago.

“Today’s the day she died.” I muttered, looking at the grass on which we sat. It itched, but in our excitement to get out of the house, we had forgotten to get a blanket. I plucked a few strands, not saying anything else because I knew he would understand. His sudden gasp confirmed it, and his hands immediately found mine, warm and firm. I glanced up at him, all traces of laughter gone from his eyes now.

“Please don’t say anything. She’s gone, and talking about it will only make it harder to forget.” The words came from within me, but it felt as though someone else was speaking. His eyes softened, but I rushed on, sensing that he was going to speak, “No, don’t. I need to forget. It’s been five years, and I want to get on with my life. This is the one thing I need to do, and I have to do it on my own. Please,” My voice broke, and I could feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes, but I forced the words out, needing him to understand. I stared at him desperately, feeling his involuntary wince of pain when my hands clutched his tightly, my knuckles turning white with the force.

“Okay,” he finally replied, “but you could start by letting my hands go. I do have a midterm to write, you know.” I chuckled, feeling the tears slip out. Nathaniel had always been there, right from the beginning, and he knew that talking about her was not what I needed right now. “But you’re not going to get out of this so easily. We’ll talk about it later, when you’re not PMSing.” I gave a shaky laugh, used to his random comments by now, and silently thanked him.

Suddenly he pointed behind me, his eyes widening. “Look!” he shouted, in awe. I turned, curious, and a streak of white light caught my gaze. It was over as quickly as it began, but I could still see the radiant flash in my mind, piercing through the sky as though it was opening a portal to the universe. I blinked. How ironic was it, to see a shooting star at a time like this? Apparently Nathaniel shared my thoughts, for he whispered, “What lucky timing, huh?”

It seemed as though, like most of the wonderful things in life, a shooting star also appeared when you least expected it. Suddenly Nathaniel cried out, “Shit! We completely forgot about making a wish!”

I snorted, turning back to him in the darkness. “It doesn’t really come true, you know. It’s just a story, like a fairytale.”

He glanced at me, his eyes perceptive. “A fairytale, huh? So it has a good ending?”

I was surprised, but before I could answer, he continued, “Never mind. Let’s just make a wish now. Who knows? Maybe it’ll come true.” He closed his eyes, a frown appearing on his forehead as he thought about his wish. I glanced up at the sky, at the place where I had seen the shooting star appear. I felt curiously happy, like a dam had burst open and released all the hidden happiness which I kept buried inside me. Maybe today was the night of miracles, I thought. Then, before the feeling of optimism left me, my eyes also fluttered shut.

When at last I opened them, I found Nathaniel staring at me, a pensive look on his face. “What?” I asked, defensively. “It’s just a wish. You don’t have to believe in them to make them.”

He grinned, but didn’t say anything, and we both just sat there for a while, drinking the night sky in.

When we were about to head back inside, he finally broke the silence. “So, what did you wish for?”

I glanced at him, surprised, but he wasn’t looking at me. He stared straight ahead, but I knew he was waiting for my answer. “For a life,” I finally replied, being honest for once. I could sense his confusion, so I elaborated, “I want to start afresh, Nat. A shooting star stands for a new life, a change for the better. What better start than to wish on a shooting star?

“When I saw that light, I don’t know, it just felt so wonderful. It felt good. And I had this crazy thought, that maybe there was someone up there who was watching, who was listening to us. Even though I don’t believe in wishes, I couldn’t help myself.” I laughed, “I’ve always been someone who makes her own destiny, Nat, but today, I felt like leaving it up to the fates. I let go. And you know what? It didn’t feel so bad either.”

Nathaniel smiled, shaking his head at me, but not saying anything about my wish. “Come on, let’s go. Your mom must be getting worried.”

I remembered the last time I had been late at coming home from a friend’s party. My mother had been frantic, and I had gotten a long lecture that day. I shook my head ruefully, “No, we wouldn’t want her to get worried again.”

We both headed back, the night sky twinkling above us. Behind us, though we couldn’t see it, another shooting star appeared, as though someone up there was winking at us. But Nathaniel and I were gone, chattering loudly about the upcoming test, as Nathaniel started lecturing me again, “So, what do you know about the Halley’s Comet? It was discovered by Edmond Halley, in the eighteenth century, and appears every 75-76 years. Isn’t that cool? It’s the only…”