As Far as the Stars. Virginia Macgregor
on instruction from Mom. To match the bridesmaid’s dress I’m meant to wear tomorrow.
Then I get out my phone and dial the number.
16.45 EST
I watch Christopher grab a sheet from an old in-flight magazine from his backpack and start folding. I don’t even know what he’s making but I can tell that he’s enjoying it, the feel of the skin of the paper as he rubs it between his fingers. He looks relaxed like he did when he was stroking Leda.
I snatch glances at him through the corner of my eye, hoping that he doesn’t realise that I’m staring. It takes my mind off things, looking at this weird English guy who’s got nothing to do with my life or what’s going on in Nashville or with Blake. How he’s sitting here, folding that bit of paper, as though it’s another ordinary day.
It’s weird that he’s this calm, because as bad as I’ve got it with Blake and the wedding and everything, Christopher has it way worse. Someone he knows was on the plane that’s crashed. God, I haven’t even asked him who he came to meet or why he was here. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself. And he’s the one who must be going through hell. And yet he’s sitting here, like he’s got some special information that no one else does. As if that floating piece of metal doesn’t mean the same to him as it does to the rest of us: that the crash was bad. Really bad. As in, it’s unlikely anyone survived.
Leda puts her muzzle on Christopher’s lap and keeps slobbering on him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
‘I didn’t ask you…’ I stutter.
‘Sorry?’
‘I never asked you, who you came to meet.’ My voice breaks a bit. ‘I mean, who you were collecting at the airport.’
‘Oh.’ He goes quiet for a bit. ‘Dad. I came to collect my dad.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He doesn’t answer. I guess it’s all too much to take in right now. That’s probably why he came out here, so he could get away from thinking about his dad being on that plane.
‘So, what brought you to DC?’ I ask.
‘I came to do research for a school project. The future of American politics.’ He puts quote marks round his words with his fingers. ‘Dad’s been working for the last week and he knew he was flying into DC so he thought it would make sense for me to come earlier – to do some work – and for him to join me afterwards.’
‘You came all the way to DC for a school project?’
‘Dad gets cheap flights. And he said it would make my project stand out – to do on-the-ground research.’
‘Wow, that’s commitment.’
‘Dad believes in doing things properly.’
‘Sounds like my mom.’
He makes another fold in his paper.
‘You really study American politics in the UK?’
He nods. ‘Dad made me take politics as an A-level. He wants me to understand.’
‘Understand what?’
He looks up at me and smiles. ‘Everything, basically. But the state of the world as it is now, I guess. And America’s kind of central to understanding that.’
‘Central to understanding how we’re fucking up the world, you mean?’
He laughs and his face relaxes for the first time.
‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘I guess we’re all a bit responsible for that.’
I think about the blazing rows Mom and Dad have about politics over dinner and how the one thing they agree on is that our current president is singlehandedly tearing down every good thing about our country. As far as I’m concerned, the mess the world’s in is another reason for going into space.
‘You enjoy that? Studying American politics?’ I ask.
He looks back into his hands. ‘Not really.’ Then he looks up again quickly. ‘I mean, no offence—’
I smile. ‘None taken.’
‘It’s not really my thing.’
‘But you’re doing it anyway?’
He looks back down. ‘Dad’s made a load of sacrifices – for my education. It’s the least I can do.’
‘Studying something you don’t enjoy seems like quite a big price to pay if you ask me.’
He stops folding and stares into his hands.
‘I mean, you should still get to study what you want to study,’ I add. ‘You only live once and all that.’
I think about how supportive Mom and Dad have been about my whole wanting to be an astronaut thing and how, even though they’re worried, they’re kind of supportive of Blake and his music, and how they’re letting Jude do her own thing too, even though they’re sad that she gave up her piano. I guess we’re lucky. Not all kids get parents like that.
‘It’s not so bad,’ Christopher says. ‘Dad gets me to see cool places. And once I’d done all the school stuff – tours of the White House, the museums – I got to go to the National Gallery of Art. I loved walking around the Sculpture Garden. Some of those artists are amazing.’
‘I go there too – all the time! To the gallery – and the Sculpture Garden. It’s one of my favourite places in DC.’
‘Really?’
I nod. ‘Who knows, we might have crossed paths.’
The corners of his mouth turn up.
I wonder whether I’d have noticed Christopher walking past me or sitting on the edge of the fountain in the Sculpture Garden. I mean, if we hadn’t been thrown together like this at the airport.
‘So, you’ve been walking around DC on your own for a whole week? Isn’t that kind of lonely?’
He starts folding again, making sharp, tight corners, pressing down with the side of the thumbnail to make the edges smooth.
‘I don’t mind,’ he says after a while. ‘I’ve got used to it. Dad works a lot and it’s kind of fun, getting to know a new city on your own.’
I like to be on my own too, when I’m discovering something for the first time: like identifying a star through my telescope, or researching a planet.
‘I suppose I get that,’ I say. ‘It makes you focus more – when you’re on your own, I mean.’
He nods.
‘What’s the boarding school like?’ I ask. ‘It must have been a bit of a shock, after home-schooling or away-schooling or whatever it is you did.’
‘It’s okay. Mostly. A bit male.’
‘A bit male?’
‘All boys.’
‘Wow.’
‘Which is why I’m nervous.’
‘About what?’
He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat.
‘Talking to you,’ he says.
‘Well, you’re doing a better job than most of the guys at my high school.’
The tops of his cheeks go an even deeper red.
‘There’s a lot of rugby too. I’m not so good at that.’
I look at his long, white fingers folding those bits of paper. No, I can’t imagine