Meet Me in Outer Space

by Melinda Grace

  “I love the color,” Serena said, taking a step closer to me. “You know that.”

  It was a conversation we’d had over and over last year when I was choosing the fabric. I’d dragged Serena into the lab and made her look through boxes and boxes of fabrics. She wanted to see me in something closer to the original color, something in the green family, but once I saw this navy I was sold.

  I ran my fingers over the centerpiece, the belt, iridescent in whites, purples, blues. It was stiff, the backed Lycra smooth against my fingertips. The individual pieces affixed to gold cording.

  “I love this texture, too,” she said, taking another step toward me. She ran her fingers over the strap, starting at my shoulder and then down my shoulder blade, stopping at my side. “It looks like feathers, or snakeskin, or, I don’t know … a fancy purse.”

  I laughed, looking down at my bare toes as The Dress pooled around my feet. It was a bit long, made to be worn with high heels, but of all the fashion choices in all the world, high heels were my least favorite. I wiggled my toes before meeting Serena’s eyes in the mirror. I wasn’t supposed to be barefoot in the shop; it was a rule. Professor Sheelan didn’t want to hear anyone complaining about stepping on a stray straight pin or sharp button or, God help you, a four-inch safety pin.

  Serena touched my shoulder again, her fingertip gliding against the strap. “These look like wings, you know.” She smiled. “Like angel wings.”

  “I was hoping they would,” I said, delighted as I pulled my shoulder up and pressed my cheek into the right one. “I just can’t believe it’s finished.”

  “I can. You’ve worked your butt off on this,” Serena said as her phone chimed across the room. She moved toward her bag. “I know this semester was hard for you, and you spent a lot of time doubting yourself, but just look at yourself now. Look at what you made…”

  She trailed off as she checked her phone. Her thumbs tapped quickly before she looked back up at me.

  “The next time something is hard, the next time you find yourself thinking you are anything other than completely brilliant, remember this moment, right now.” She pointed at me, her cell in her hand. It chimed again. “Remember the way you feel having accomplished this. Forget the fact that you look like a friggin’ supermodel right now.” She laughed as she checked her phone. “Just remember that this is your calling.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a nod.

  Serena’s phone chimed again.

  “Something wrong?” I asked as I watched her check her phone for the third time. Her eyebrows knitted together.

  “Um,” she said, her eyes on the phone as her thumbs tapped. “It’s Hudson.” Her eyes slowly met mine in the mirror.

  “What about Hudson?” I asked, bristling slightly. I gathered the skirt with both hands and walked toward the dressing room. “I’m going to need you to unzip me.”

  “There’s no time,” she said, her eyes full of urgency. “We have to go.”

  Have to go? I repeated in my head.

  “What do you mean we have to go?” I dropped the skirt and moved toward her.

  “He needs us,” she said, holding the phone up, the screen lit, but I couldn’t read anything written. “We have to go.”

  “He needs us for what?” I said, feeling a panic rise inside me. “Is he okay? Oh my God…”

  “I think he’s okay, for now. But he needs us, like, now. Apparently, he’s been texting you, too.”

  I touched my sides, feeling for my phone in the pockets I’d hidden in the layers of silk and crepe. It was a personal touch, something, stylistically, I believed should be built into every dress. Men got to have pockets at all times; why couldn’t women?

  I pulled my phone out, and sure enough, I had eight missed texts.

  HUDSON: Meet me at Fay. Asap

  HUDSON: I need you.

  HUDSON: I mean, I need your help.

  HUDSON: Please, Edie. Pleeeaaasssseeee.

  HUDSON: S’il vous plaît

  HUDSON: Por favor

  HUDSON: Bitte

  HUDSON: Per favore

  I looked at Serena. I rolled my eyes with a sigh. There was no way this was an emergency. I knew Hudson well enough to know this was something else. Part of me wanted to play along because clearly he was planning something, him and Serena.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “What did he say to you?” she asked, keeping up the facade of urgency.

  I listed my head and put my hands on my hips. “This is obviously some ploy the two of you are in on,” I said, waving one hand in her direction before placing it back on my hip.

  “Edie, I don’t think this is some ploy,” Serena said, holding her phone up again, the screen lit, but again I couldn’t read anything on it. “Can you just get your shoes on, please?”

  I sighed as I turned from her. “I’m going to change.”

  “Edie—”

  I turned back toward her, the tone of her voice catching me in the stomach. Maybe this was serious. I searched her eyes, examined her body language, looked at the grip her hand had on the cell phone.

  “You’re serious?” I asked.

  She nodded, motioning toward my shoes, which sat by the door.

  “It’s freezing out. I’m going to freeze to death if I go out like this,” I said as I moved toward the door, my dress fisted in each hand. I slipped into my yellow Keds, cringing at the look of this dress with those shoes.

  “Here,” Serena said, tossing me my cranberry peacoat.

  “You can’t be serious,” I said, holding it in one hand while the other held the skirt off the floor.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said back, knowing full well that my issue was with the clashing colors.

  I heaved a great sigh as I pulled the coat on, flipping up the collar to protect from the wind I knew would immediately freeze both of us.

  We scurried across campus to the science building, a building that we both prayed had the heat on full blast.

  Serena in sweatpants tucked into sheepskin boots in the traditional tan color everyone had and me in a dress better suited for a gala than for a hike across campus in the wind and rain. We looked ridiculous.

  “Why Fay Hall?” I asked as we stepped into the building.

  “How am I supposed to know?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair, trying to get out the knots the wind had caused.

  I did the same as I looked around the building. I hadn’t been in there since first semester freshman year when I took the obligatory science class for nonscience majors.

  I unbuttoned my coat and fished my phone out of my dress pocket.

  ME: D’accord. We’re here.

  I looked up at Serena to see her staring at me. She took a step toward me as my phone buzzed in my hand.

  HUDSON: 4th floor. Room 414.

  “Fourth floor,” I said, my eyes on the phone and then up to her. She was standing right in front of me.

  “Let me just…” She brushed a few stray pieces of hair behind my ear, tilting her head as she looked me over.

  I took a step back. “What are you doing?” I asked, moving toward the bank of elevators.

  “Can I just…” She reached out to smooth down my hair on the left side. “Okay, there. And give me that.” She tugged at my coat.

  “Give you my coat? Why?” I asked as I shrugged it off anyway.

  She smiled, sighing with her hand out, palm up.

  I handed her the coat. “This is a setup. What have the two of you concocted?”

  “Just go,” she said, her smile consuming her face as she called for the elevator.

  The elevator dinged open as I spoke. “I hate you a little right now.”

  “Let me know if you feel the same in a few hours,” she said, stepping back as the elevator doors closed.

  33

  And the Stars Look Very Different Today

  Hudson stood in the hallway, his back pressed to the wall and his face toward the ceiling, waiting.
I paused to take him in before stepping out of the elevator, my breath catching in my throat. He was in a suit. Why was he in a suit?

  “Hey,” I said. I felt my stomach flip as his head snapped in my direction.

  “Hey.” He smiled his megawatt smile as he pushed off the wall to face me. I felt my entire body flush as he took me in. He was in a black tuxedo. A full-on bow tie and cummerbund tuxedo, both accessories in navy blue.

  “Room four-fourteen?” I asked, motioning to the open doorway to his right.

  “Unofficially,” he said. His words coming out breathy as he watched me. I could feel his eyes as they skimmed my body. Took in my bare shoulders, my exposed back … potentially the top of my butt crack. “Come on, you made it just in time.”

  “Hudson,” I said as I moved past him and toward the open doorway, my dress gathered in each hand to keep it from dragging. “Why am I here?”

  He searched my face. His eyes not leaving mine. “Can you just come with me?” His hands were in his pockets, and he twisted his wrist to see his watch. “Just trust me, okay?”

  I dropped my dress to pull out my phone. I still had an hour until grades would be posted. “Yeah.” I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Après toi.” He smiled, ushering me in.

  After you. I hesitated as I translated in my head, watching his face before moving. His eyes were just as I remembered. Blue and gray and beautiful, and looking into them now was the answer to a question I didn’t think I could ask.

  I stepped through the doorway.

  The room was dark, with a panel of lights glowing in a rainbow of colors. Brightly lit squares and circles. Buttons, sliders, and knobs. A control panel. The room hummed with a mechanical buzz. The air circulation system whooshed. There was indistinguishable clicking and ticking. Vibration to my left. A whisper of soft music to my right.

  “Edie, you remember Tom?” Hudson said, acknowledging the guy sitting at the control panel. He was one of the guys Hudson had been walking with that day we met on the way to my dorm. “He’ll be our captain for this evening’s flight.”

  Captain for this evening’s flight? Did I hear him correctly?

  “What?” I asked. I didn’t have the energy to guess, and knowing Hudson, he would just laugh and tell me it didn’t matter.

  “This is ground control to Major Tom,” Tom said. “Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.”

  Take your protein pills. What? Where had I heard that before?

  “Commencing countdown, engines on,” Hudson said, patting his friend on the shoulder before turning to me.

  I looked between the two, neither seeming to notice my confusion.

  Hudson’s hand hovered at the small of my back, urging me toward a door on the opposite side of the room. I could feel the heat from his palm on my exposed skin. I wavered, the darkness of the room ahead sending my senses into high alert.

  “If you don’t go in, we’ll miss our flight,” he whispered so close to my ear I could feel his breath. My body responded with goose bumps down both arms.

  “Flight?” I asked, stepping into the room. I rubbed my ear against my shoulder, trying to wipe away the shivers his warm breath left on my skin. “What—”

  The second room opened into a circular space with a domed ceiling. I knew exactly what he meant now. He had said captain. He had meant flight. We were in the planetarium, and we were about to go into outer space.

  The room suddenly felt vast and confining at the same time. I couldn’t believe he’d brought me here. This was more than anything I had expected. This was so much more. My face was turned to the deep blue expanse above, my mouth hanging open in awe. I was like a little kid, and it felt great.

  “Come on,” Hudson whispered, reaching for my hand. “The best spot is this way.”

  I turned my eyes to him, pulling my hand away as his fingertips brushed against my palm.

  He moved toward the middle of the room, and I followed. We shuffled between rows, passing dozens of empty chairs. This was our flight. We were the only passengers tonight.

  Hudson sat, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket before crossing his arms and tucking his hands into his sides.

  I looked down at him before sitting. I looked at his calm face and bright eyes and kissable lips and didn’t know what to say. I’d had a plan.

  Go to Paris. Stay in Paris. Don’t fall in love. Don’t leave with any regrets.

  This was not part of the plan.

  “It’s a bumpy ride. You should probably sit,” he said. He reached for my hand again, but I tucked it into my side, crossing my arms as I sat.

  “Tom is giving us the whole show,” he said, his eyes now on the domed ceiling. I couldn’t help but look at him. I’d met him in outer space. We were going into space.

  My heart swelled, and I couldn’t stop it.

  “Hudson, I…”

  What little light that had filled the room when we entered was suddenly gone. We were plunged into darkness.

  He shushed me. “No talking.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Outer space is soundproof, you know. I couldn’t hear you if I wanted to.”

  “Does that rule go for you, too?” I asked, knowing he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut. I smoothed my dress against my legs, wondering how it looked while I was seated. I pressed my hand to my stomach, the belt, feeling for any folding or creasing. It was smooth under my touch.

  I felt him turn in his seat toward me. I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me, but I knew he was looking right at me. Seeing me, like he always had. I pressed my hand to my stomach for a different reason now.

  “I’m willing to try,” he said. A light tinkle of piano started a beat before the lights in the ceiling began to move and shift. “Are you?”

  He wasn’t talking about keeping his mouth shut, I knew that. He was talking about us, and that was a question I couldn’t answer.

  “The universe was born over thirteen and a half billion years ago.…” A deep, smooth male voice spoke softly as the stars moved in an explosion above our heads. “In the beginning, the universe was just energy—”

  “Can I put my arm around you?” he asked.

  I looked at him and his eyes were on me.

  “Yes,” I said, slouching in the seat. “You can put your arm around me.”

  He leaned forward as the lights above shifted, pulling off his jacket and laying it on the chair next to him. He slid his arm behind me, his fingers leaving a blazing trail as they skimmed against my bare back. He cupped my shoulder, pulling me in, and I let him.

  We watched the show in silence. His arm around me and my head slowly moving toward his shoulder. I wanted so badly to rest my cheek against his chest, explore outer space with him.

  “Come here,” he whispered. When I looked up he was already looking at me. I moved closer and he pulled me in. I rested my cheek against his chest, and we watched the universe evolve around us.

  The ceiling exploded in colors: blues, greens, and reds. The voice-over calling them protons, neutrons, and electrons. The colors swirled and moved until they were joined, forming bright purple atoms.

  The atoms whizzed above our heads. The ceiling was crowded with them, bouncing and colliding until there was no more room for them to move.

  “Regarde les étoiles, comme elles scintillent pour toi et pour tout ce que tu faishe,” he whispered. His lips were moving against my head. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  I yawned, my eyes heavy. It was the first time in days I felt relaxed. “I won’t.”

  “Menteuse,” he whispered.

  “Liar,” I said, translating. I smiled against his chest.

  “Do you know what happens when you fall asleep in outer space?” he asked as the voice-over talked about stars being born, shining brightly for millions of years and then exploding. The ceiling lit with reds and oranges, then bright white light. The room fell into complete darkness once again.

  “No, what?” I asked, feeling his smile against my head.


  “You float away.” He raised his free arm and wiggled his fingers lazily, floating off into the twinkling stars above us.

  I tilted my head to look up at his face. Into his eyes. “Maybe I want to float away.”

  The lights on the ceiling were cycling through sunrise and sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. The colors, as they lit his face, were incredible. Oranges and pinks turned into yellows and then blues. Then back to oranges and reds, bright blues, pinks and purples, and finally ending on the dark, dark blue night.

  “Can I come with you?” he asked.

  I looked into his eyes. At his lips. Could he come with me? Or I with him?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. My alarm. It was already midnight. It was already time to face my fate.

  I sat up and pulled my phone out at the same time. I could feel Hudson watching me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I clicked the class link.

  Seventy-six.

  I passed. I passed. Oh my God. I passed.

  “I passed,” I breathed, pressing my phone to my chest as the night sky lit Hudson’s face once again.

  “I could have told you that,” he said.

  “What? You made me sit here for an hour, knowing all along I had passed?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I figured if you wanted to know you would have asked.…” He smiled and shrugged, and I was once again torn between punching him and kissing him.

  “I might kill you,” I started, but stopped as the ceiling moved again. The lights transforming and shifting into something I recognized. The place we’d been headed all along. The place I knew we would end up.

  I pointed to the ceiling. “We’re here.”

  Hudson looked up. “Where are we?” His words so faint that had I not been looking at him I would have missed them.

  “The entirety of the Milky Way,” I said, looking up at the swirl of our galaxy with him. “We made it.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But where are we?”

  Not the physical where are we, the emotional where are we.

  I watched his face. Questioning all that had happened, good and bad. I questioned the future and the right now.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but our galaxy is on an inevitable collision course with the next closest galaxy, Andromeda…,” the voice-over stated playfully. “This collision, set to take place within four billion years, will change everything. It will merge the two galaxies into something brand new, something larger, something scientists can’t even begin to predict, and nothing will ever be the same.…”