𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣'𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙣

𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆

Saturn
• • •

As horrific as it felt to admit, Calvin's disappearances were becoming normal. The solemn feeling that followed me like a ghost at all times. The constant reminders of his vacancy. The words on the pages of The Stars Weap With Us. It was all becoming too familiar, and too regular. I wasn't sure how much longer I could be strong for him. I supposed I didn't have another choice.

My Sun was only hiding, he hadn't burnt out.

Distractions had become my new best friend during these periods of lonesomeness. My new classes for the second semester were one. I had forgotten about my enrollment in an introduction to Creative Writing course, which had come as a welcomed surprise. The Prof was much friendlier than what I was used to the previous semester, which was also a welcomed surprise.

"Pair up and share your confessional poems," Professor Merriwhether requested one afternoon, four days after Calvin's departure.

I turned to Alice, another distraction. She shared a warm smile with me. I mustered one back.

"What did you write about?" I asked softly.

"I wrote about my confessions to my older sister," Alice responded. She read me her poem. In a twisted, lighthearted way, it reminded me of Jupiter. My stomach twisted into knots. To be fair to Alice, her poem was about arguing with her sister about sharing clothes, while my sibling altercation surrounded the tragic death of my mother.

"Saturn, are you good?" Alice asked, touching my hand gently. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the physical contact. I wasn't used to being touched, without Calvin.

I managed a quick nod. "I don't think I need to share mine, yours is much better..." I trailed off, failing to find an excuse to rescue me from this predicament. You see, my confessional poem was about Calvin. Of course, it was about Calvin. But that didn't mean I wasn't ashamed of it.

"Come on, Saturn, please?" Alice pleaded, "you're such a creative person. Your poetry must be fantastic."

My poetry was my only skill in literature that was the opposite of fantastic.

"O-okay," I stammered, giving in. My chest felt as though it might concave at the thought of reading my feelings for Calvin aloud. With a shaky breath, I began;

"You were only one
star in my universe,
but you were the brightest.
You were the only Sun
in my orbit,
but you were
more than enough light."

Sure, the poetry may have been weak, but the meaning was there. Calvin had shown me the difference between existing and living. He was my brightest celestial being, my Sun.

"Wow, Saturn," Alice murmured, "how incredible."

"It isn't incredible," I shook my head, "it's moderate at best."

"You, moderate?" Alice mused, "never." I chuckled lightly. Alice made me feel almost okay. "It's about him, isn't it?" She asked.

I nodded. "He is the only thing on my mind. I couldn't help it."

Alice frowned. "I know you're missing him again," she said with sympathy. I was always missing him, even when I was in his arms. Anticipation of his next disappearance was enough to fool me into missing him.

"It's a beautiful poem," Alice continued, breaking the silent moment between us, "you should share it with him when he comes home. I think he would enjoy it very much."

I nodded. He really would. If only I could send him letters while he was gone, but I had no idea of an address. Perhaps the bus driver could give it to him, as he was the one to deliver the first letter from Calvin. And maybe, just maybe, he would tell me where Calvin had gone as well.

Later on, I was leaving the bus to get off at the bookshop when I remembered my theory. "Excuse me, sir," I said, catching the bus driver's attention.

"Yes, Miss Saturn?" the man replied.

I took a deep breath. "By any chance can you tell me where you took Calvin McKnight this past Monday? I have something I'd like to mail to him, you see..." The bus driver's head shaking caused me to halt.

"I'm afraid I've been asked not to disclose that by Mr. McKnight," he said. My heart sank, but I hadn't yet lost hope. The driver appeared to be sympathetic to me, so I persisted.

"Oh, of course," I replied, "is there any way you could deliver my message to him? I understand you have a route to his destination once every few days."

"Indeed, I depart for one just after you get off here," The driver said, "and unfortunately, I believe it would be discouraged for me to make a delivery to Mr. McKnight for you. I've been very firmly requested to stick to my route in the past."

"That's alright," I nodded, his words haunting me, "have a nice day."

"You as well, Miss Saturn."

I hurried off the bus and into the shop. Perhaps I had been right to believe that Calvin was in danger. The way he spoke made it sound as though he were forbidden to even seek Calvin out.

As I got to work sorting through the latest shipment of books, I couldn't help but continue to ponder. Thinking about Calvin's whereabouts made me consider one major factor I'd never recognized before. If the driver had a route there, it must have either been very close to Kenton, or it could have been a major city or destination. Why else would a university bus driver make trips there? If it was so far, then I would think Calvin would have to travel by train.

One thing I did know was that Calvin and I's connection was strong, and I had always been skilled when it came to feeling people's energy. Calvin didn't feel close. He didn't make it seem like he was close in his letters, or in our discussions. Perhaps next time, I could catch the bus before it departed on its route. But for some reason, I knew that would be no use. Even if I discovered what city Calvin was in, I still had no way of knowing where to find him. I wasn't sure he even wanted to be found.

My shift that afternoon was alone. Calvin trusted me more than the others, but I would have to ask him to stop scheduling me alone while he was away. It wasn't good for me to be alone with my thoughts, with my daydreams, with my theories.

When I left the bus for the second time that day, the driver held out an envelope to me. My pulse surged. A sign of him was enough to give me hope.

My Calvin was alive.