They awoke late in the morning. Evan was first. He sat up from his spot on the floor with a dry mouth and particles floating in his vision. Almost immediately after, John awoke, or, at least, his eyes opened, as his body continued to lie atop the bed.
"What time is it?" asked the boy.
Evan checked his watch. "A quarter til twelve."
John propped himself up. "What do we do now?"
Evan yawned and shook his head. "I don't know. I need to take down my exhibit today. Then tomorrow my bus leaves, and I'll be headed back to New York."
"It only lasted a day? Your show, I mean."
"Well, yeah, but I've already got what I came for."
"Last night--was that really it? Was that what why we came here?" John asked, though clearly not with disappointment.
"I believe so. Did you find what you were looking for?"
It took the boy a moment to answer. He pondered the question carefully. "Yes. I think I did."
"So what do you want to do now? Still thinking about finding your mom?"
"No, I don't need to anymore. Besides, I don't know where I'd even look. I think I'd like to go home now."
Evan spun himself around on the cheap carpet, turning to face him. "What will you tell your aunt and uncle?"
"The truth, I guess, or at least as much of it as they'll believe. There's no sense in convincing them that I'm a total nutcase," said John. "I just wish we didn't have to go our separate ways. I kind of liked having a brother, even if only for a day."
"I really do have a little brother. Did I tell you that?"
John shook his head.
"He's the only reason I was able to pass as your family. Thank God I actually remembered his Social Security Number for all that paperwork. The point is: I know what a brother feels like--that relationship, and if it's any consolation, you feel like a little brother to me."
"Thanks," said the boy. "I really needed that."
"I'll tell you what--first, we'll head down to the bookstore and pick up a copy of that Murakami you need to finish. Then give your aunt and uncle a call. Tell them that you're coming home. I'll head down to the bus station and see if I can't book you a ticket on the same one I'm taking, at least for part of the way. I'd let you keep the telescope, but, well, I know you already have one at home."
"Thanks," said John. "Can I come see you sometime? When you're in New York?"
"You better."
"I think I'll buy a convertible some day--black, with plenty of space. We can have lunch and do all the things brothers do. What do you say?"
"Sounds like a plan. Just promise me one thing."
"Name it."
"Keep writing. Do what you love. The words will come to you if you let them."
John smiled. Deep down, he knew that he no longer needed any reassurance. He knew there was something dwelling within him--something that had come from the heart of a star and had seen things no one else had ever seen before. It was faint, but pulsating--a blue and white spark.
"I know," said the boy.
"What time is it?" asked the boy.
Evan checked his watch. "A quarter til twelve."
John propped himself up. "What do we do now?"
Evan yawned and shook his head. "I don't know. I need to take down my exhibit today. Then tomorrow my bus leaves, and I'll be headed back to New York."
"It only lasted a day? Your show, I mean."
"Well, yeah, but I've already got what I came for."
"Last night--was that really it? Was that what why we came here?" John asked, though clearly not with disappointment.
"I believe so. Did you find what you were looking for?"
It took the boy a moment to answer. He pondered the question carefully. "Yes. I think I did."
"So what do you want to do now? Still thinking about finding your mom?"
"No, I don't need to anymore. Besides, I don't know where I'd even look. I think I'd like to go home now."
Evan spun himself around on the cheap carpet, turning to face him. "What will you tell your aunt and uncle?"
"The truth, I guess, or at least as much of it as they'll believe. There's no sense in convincing them that I'm a total nutcase," said John. "I just wish we didn't have to go our separate ways. I kind of liked having a brother, even if only for a day."
"I really do have a little brother. Did I tell you that?"
John shook his head.
"He's the only reason I was able to pass as your family. Thank God I actually remembered his Social Security Number for all that paperwork. The point is: I know what a brother feels like--that relationship, and if it's any consolation, you feel like a little brother to me."
"Thanks," said the boy. "I really needed that."
"I'll tell you what--first, we'll head down to the bookstore and pick up a copy of that Murakami you need to finish. Then give your aunt and uncle a call. Tell them that you're coming home. I'll head down to the bus station and see if I can't book you a ticket on the same one I'm taking, at least for part of the way. I'd let you keep the telescope, but, well, I know you already have one at home."
"Thanks," said John. "Can I come see you sometime? When you're in New York?"
"You better."
"I think I'll buy a convertible some day--black, with plenty of space. We can have lunch and do all the things brothers do. What do you say?"
"Sounds like a plan. Just promise me one thing."
"Name it."
"Keep writing. Do what you love. The words will come to you if you let them."
John smiled. Deep down, he knew that he no longer needed any reassurance. He knew there was something dwelling within him--something that had come from the heart of a star and had seen things no one else had ever seen before. It was faint, but pulsating--a blue and white spark.
"I know," said the boy.
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