Orbit

By Allison LaPoint

A celestial body in orbit of another—by definition—is in a constant state of freefall. Yet, they never touch, because there is just enough tangential inertia to keep them falling parallel to the surface of the other body. Always falling, but never connecting.  

You told me this as we sat on my roof, covered to our necks in wool. We gazed up at pinpricks of light, effervescent and shining through the dark ocean above us. I could barely see you in the dead of night; the new moon plunged the town into a pool of nothing. The world fell away around us, as it does when one is young and happy. It was us and the sky alone.   

Your planet is a swirling violet, I imagine. I see six rings, matching the ones you keep on your fingers. You and I were so far away from Earth and the rest of our galaxy. We were a binary planet system: you orbited around me, and I you.  

You reached your hand up high and made a cross in the air. Do you see that one? 

Yes.  

Cygnus, you said, your voice pensive. His best friend was thrown into the river by Zeus. Cygnus prayed to him, begging him to spare his friend, for he knew his friend would die if he didn’t save him. So, the god transformed Cygnus into a swan, and he dove into the river, pulling him out. The greatest sacrifice. The ultimate act of friendship.  

We were so young then, and your face was full of hope and wonder. 

Do you promise we’ll always be friends? You asked this with such fear, such anticipation of this future, this “always” that crushed all possible ulterior outcomes. The intensity of your gaze made me squirm, and the rough shingles of the roof scratched my bare shoulders. I said yes. What else could I do? 

I could feel it when our orbit broke, and you went soaring into the dark nothing of space. I didn’t realize at the time it meant that I would go as well and be lost and alone in the universe. We had been friends for so long, I had forgotten what it was like to not be a part of your orbit, or for you to be absent from mine.  

That night on the roof seems so far away now, and so do you. I find other beings and other ways of being. I become a part of something bigger, a system of planets like me, all orbiting around a commonality between us. Our star. 

I don’t know where you went, or where you are, but I hope you have a system too.

About the Author...

Allison LaPoint is a junior and aspiring artist. In her free time, she enjoys exploring various forms of creative expression, such as writing, visual art, theater, and music.

About the Artist...

Daysha Perez is an 11th grader at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. She is a visual arts major. Her main medium is acrylic paint on canvas and also experiments with mixed media often.