Writings

Life on Io

You spend all your existence growing up with your siblings. Then you grow up without them.

The speed at which the universe tore itself apart was unbearable. Lou could hardly hold her own matter together. The atoms, the stardust, the lightwaves—everything she had ever known—ripped through the great blackness, spinning out and out and out. It would never end.

She clutched at her brother’s hazy edges to keep from flying apart. A blinding comet seared past them in a scorching close call. Jack tried to lean down and wrap their wispy forms together, but the external force kept Lou clawing to survive.

“Be good,” Jack said. They held each other tight and ignored the squawking airport parking lot duty guy. Still, Lou wondered how miserable it must be to separate families every day.

“I’ll try,” she said.

MOVE IT! NO PARKING HERE. YOU CAN’T PARK HERE. YOU, GREEN HONDA.

As she dragged her well-loved Snoopy luggage set to the terminal, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw Jack cry like that.

Lou was going to burst at the seams from the pain of holding on. While the stars passed by, the roaring chaos all but split her head open. They needed a plan.

Then, like a miracle, a faraway swirl of color spun gently alone. An oasis anchored by some huge, scarlet mass. Lou pulled at Jack. Her delicate fingers fought the current to point at the body in the distance.

A meteor was gaining on them too, headed directly at her target. She loosened her grasp, ready to hop onto the icy rock. Dangling off of Jack, she was even less stable than before.

She thought she saw him shake his head.

Certain he would follow anyway, she let go.

“Ginger ale, please,” Lou said. She’d been mentally rehearsing her order since ten minutes ago, when the flight attendant popped up with his notepad five rows ahead.

She slid her pink Target headphones back on. Neil Young brought her to a humid summer night in the sticks. Her mom and uncle sang by a damp campfire, while she and Jack cajoled their cousins into playing Harry Potter with twig wands. To all, getting eaten alive by chiggers felt worth it when there were s’mores on the fire.

Geometric pastures scattered into parched canyons as the world spun beneath her. She knit in the light of the tiny window and sniffled.

The meteor smacked Lou in the back and rushed her and Jack away from the centrifugal madness. Energy coursed through her. The stars slowed around them, entangling the universe in secure spirals and webs. Newborn nebulae formed velvety clouds throughout space. As the swirly moon grew closer, it too became more beautiful every second. The vivid oranges looked like thick, hot canyons, while the periwinkle ripples wrapped the rest of the body in stunning snow.

Lou landed in a gentle drop-off while the meteor melted into the warmth of the surface. She was brought right to this place. Meant to be here.

Only when she looked around, she was missing somebody.

After searching the cosmos, the craters, and the caves, Lou found a little blanket of golden lava and tucked herself in. She pretended Jack held her, as he had done for all existence in their cozy star.

Lou hoped the west coasters couldn’t peg her as a hick. Their suspiciously flawless faces picked pricey-looking suitcases off the carousel. She felt aware of her acne scars and genetically small-to-medium sized lips. The silver expanse of baggage claim turned her stomach worse than the flight.

Her Uber guy seemed nice. She controlled her accent as they chatted. Stucco apartments and bungalows passed under an overcast sky. Everything looked different here. She didn’t know why.

She thanked the driver and hauled the Snoopies up to her month-to-month studio. She punched in the code she’d requested—Jack’s birthday backwards—and there it was, just like the Zillow pictures.

She grabbed the ladybug blanket from her big suitcase and curled into bed five feet from the kitchen. The cat hair she hadn’t washed irritated her face, but she held the fleece up to her chin and sunk into sleep.