Only then would I be able to move on.
We got back to camp on dusk. Everyone had an hour or so before dinner, so I set my telescope up on the small porch in front of my tent. I could hear the low murmur of Marit and Kari talking. It wasn’t in English so I could tune them out easily. And Norah was soon punching out some Zs in her tent.
Paul’s tent was more of a luxury canvas cabin. It was still technically a non-permanent fixture, as I was certain permit restrictions insisted on in the national park, but it would take some more effort to remove his than the glamping tents. I could hear him moving around in his cabin, which I supposed was his home now. He lived out here, in the remote wilderness.
I didn’t know if I thought he was crazy or if I envied him.
I was leaning toward the latter.
I envied the hell out of him.
Not wanting to travel down that lonely road, I looked through the eyepiece of my telescope and set my sights on things far, far away.
My memories betrayed me with something Paul had said to me years ago.
You’re always focused on things so far out of reach, but you can’t see what’s right in front of you.
It was one of the last things he ever said to me. Before he left me. Before I pushed him away.
Those words haunted me still.
And maybe that was why I was here. To see what had been right in front of me.
To see what I’d lost.
Maybe part of me liked the pain . . .
“Whatcha looking at?” Paul’s soft voice was right beside me. I hadn’t heard him come over.
“Oh.” I sat back. “Uh, just the moon.”
“Just the moon,” he repeated. “Nothing out of this world.”
I almost smiled. “Was that a joke?”
He smirked, his eyes soft. “Can I see?”
I fixed the scope and gave him room so he could look. He was quiet for a second. “Jeez. You weren’t kidding. That’s like the actual fucking moon.”
I snorted at that. “It is.”
He was quiet for a second, his focus on the view in the telescope. “Why are you focused on that crater?”
“It’s the Mare Tranquillitatis,” I replied. “Or the Sea of Tranquillity.”
Paul looked at me then. “That’s a pretty name.”
“It is. That’s me, though. Still focused on things so far out of reach that I can’t see what’s right in front of me.”
Paul’s gaze flashed with recognition. With hurt.
“Yeah, look, Derek. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise. You were right.”
He turned to the view across the valley and sighed. “The same could be said about me. I was so focused on what was on the horizon, I didn’t look at what was passing me by.”
“But you’re happy now,” I asked, though it really wasn’t a question.
“I mean, sure.”
“With your storm guy?”
Paul’s head turned so fast I thought I heard his neck crack. “What?”
“Oh, Paul,” Marit said. “There you are. Can I ask you something? Do you mind? With the shower.” She imitated turning the tap on. “The . . . handle. Is no water.”
“Ah, yes,” Paul said. “The tap. I know what you’re going to ask.” He stepped off my deck and headed toward her tent. “There’s a valve . . . you have to be careful or there’ll be a water fountain out of your sink.”
They disappeared into her tent and I went back to looking at outer space. Past the moon, slowly zooming in on the unreachable stars. Things were so much easier up there. The emptiness, the vastness.
The silence.
Where things weren’t complicated.
Where the loneliness didn’t hurt.
Dinner was quiet. Well, they all talked but I stuck to myself, like I usually did, and afterwards, Norah asked me if I was going stargazing again, up to the ridgeline like I’d mentioned the day before.
“Sure,” I said. Then glanced to Paul. “If that’s okay?”
I kept forgetting this was his business and I was a guest here. I needed to ask if it was okay first.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t see why not.”
“You two should come,” Norah said to Marit and Kari. “The view through the telescope is amazing.”
Oh goodie. Another group activity.
I repressed a sigh. I didn’t mind them coming, I really didn’t. I appreciated their enthusiasm for astronomy. It was nice that they were excited about it instead of rolling their eyes or mocking me, like some people did back home.
It was just something I normally did by myself.
It was always just me and the stars, the way I liked it.
It was personal and private.
Unless it was just me and Paul. I wouldn’t have minded that.
But we were all going, apparently. And that was okay. I actually liked this group. There was no loudmouth, no raging extroverts that needed noise, or anyone who complained about every little thing.
I was grateful for that.
Sure, Norah liked to talk and tell her stories, but she wasn’t overbearing. And when she started on her ‘when I was trekking in Peru’ stories, I could easily tune her out.
Like now.
We’d climbed up the escarpment, Paul had brought some picnic blankets and snacks, so while they sat around chatting, I set my telescope up.
I pretended it took a little longer than it really did, selfishly taking in the night sky by myself while I had the chance. I zeroed in on Saturn again, given it was the perfect time of the year to see it from here. It was clear and bright and very beautiful.
“Kari? And Marit?” I gestured to the telescope. “Want to see something amazing?”
They came over, Marit looking first. She gasped and turned her wide eyes to me, then she looked back in the eyepiece. Then she let Kari have a turn, saying something to her in Norwegian, and Kari’s excitement matched her friend’s.
Then Norah had a turn, and Paul stood back, smiling. “Want to see?” I asked him.
His warm smile and soft eyes made my insides curl. “Maybe later.”
Oh.
Was that . . . was that an invitation?
I wasn’t sure.
“What is your favourite?” Marit asked. She waved her hand across the sky. “Of all the things.”
“The Orion Nebula,” I answered immediately.
I could feel Paul’s gaze on me, but I avoided his eye contact at all costs.
“Can you show us?” she asked, her eyes as wide as her smile.
“Sure. It might take me a little while to get the focus right.” I’d never looked at it from this exact spot before, after all. “Give me a few minutes?”
They went back to the picnic blankets, lit only by a few muted camping lanterns. The wind was picking up, a cool and welcome reprieve. And I put my eye back to the telescope and set my sights on the north-western sky.
“The Orion Nebula, huh?” Paul asked quietly. I hadn’t heard him come up beside me. He offered me a canister of water. I took it and had a sip. “The tattoo on your chest.”
My eyes met his in the dark.
He recognised that?
“How did you know what it was?”
“I didn’t. Not when I first saw it. But when you said it was your favourite.” He shrugged, looking out into the vast darkness below. “I knew it was something star related. The purples and pinks, with the geometrical lines.”