When he checked the mirror it was worse than he’d thought. An enormous America-shaped bruise had consumed the left side of his ribcage all the way down to his kidney. The tree had cut him along his side, despite the padded top. Little scabs had formed in inch-long lines. His left ankle was sprained from where he hit the ground, and he could hardly walk.
He drew himself a bath and lit a cinnamon-scented candle. Once submerged in the weightlessness of the tub his injuries didn’t feel so bad. He imagined the soothing properties of the hot water working on his muscles, the untangling of frayed sinew networks.
Jumping off the wall had been a stupid idea. It was the suit’s fault, and the false sense of invincibility it gave him. When he pulled on the simple black mask everything else – his life, his job, his bills, responsibilities, stresses, fears, the effect of a crushing loneliness – fell away. To don the mask, to be removed just for a few hours from normal life to the safe places he had found between the pages of his books and comics, was to experience true freedom. In a way he was more himself when dressed as the Phantasm than he was as Sam Holloway. But everyone wears a mask, he told himself, to a greater or lesser extent.
When he left for the pub that night the cold hurt his bones. He loaded his stuff into the boot of the car and looked up at the sky. It was a crescent moon with crisp stars. He liked this time of year; the changing of the seasons from summer to autumn. The coming of the dark nights put in his head the promise of cosy evenings hunkering down in his living room with a large mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and squirty cream, and a scary book – perhaps his beautiful leather-bound edition of H. P. Lovecraft’s horror stories.
When he got to the pub his friends were near the back, in the little snug between the toilets and the back door. The kit for the evening – sleeping bags, folding chairs, backpacks, aluminium flasks plus, of course, all the astronomy gear – was strewn about the floor. Sitting at another table, the long wide one next to the fireplace, were the rest of the expedition. They were older than Sam and his friends, ranging in age from mid-thirties to mid-fifties. Graham, with his big beard and bottle-green fleece, was leaning over, saying something conspiratorial to the enraptured group about the adventure on which they were about to embark.
Tango was dressed in full orienteering get-up: salopettes, sturdy boots, a skin-tight latex top. His coat hung over the back of the chair.
‘What time are we leaving?’ said Sam.
Blotchy finished his lasagne and said, ‘After the drinks are gone. The meteors won’t enter the atmosphere until later.’
As he made this statement, Tango’s gaze slipped away from Sam to something moving behind him. He felt a tug at his arm. Turning, Sam’s eyes fell on the girl with red hair, and his heart leapt.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ said Sam, suddenly conscious of the beady eyes of his friends. ‘Hi.’
She was wrapped in a thick winter coat with her book sticking out of the pocket. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Sam. He tried to focus his attention on his racing heart, trying by pure concentration to slow its rhythm. ‘Yeah, good. It’s cold out though.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Freezing.’
Be zen. He took a breath. She nodded at the heap of bags under and around the table.
‘Are you going camping?’
‘We’re going up to the mountains,’ he said, turning from his friends to face her, glad they were too socially awkward to make fun of him.
‘Why?’
At this point Sam wished he wasn’t quite so tremendously nerdy. It would have been so much easier if he and his friends were going somewhere normal.
‘It’s stupid, really.’
He wished he could be one of those people who found social interaction easy. At university, before he’d dropped out, he’d been more confident. He felt his friends eavesdropping so he took a step back from the table.
‘What’s your name?’ he said.
‘Sarah. I’m Sarah.’
‘I’m Sam.’
‘Hi, Sam.’
‘I’m really sorry but . . . do we know each other?’
‘I met you the other night? At the bar?’
‘Right, right. Yeah. I mean from before.’
‘You think I’m weird. Sorry, I’m not being forward, it’s just I only just moved here, you know, and I don’t really know anyone. I recognised you from the bakery that day, then you played that song, and I thought – it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Nobody goes to pubs any more trying to meet people. It’s sad, really.’
‘It’s not sad at all.’
In the low gleam of the firelight her hair looked more amber than red.
‘You don’t mind me talking to you, do you?’
‘No!’ he blurted, losing control of his voice modulation for a second. ‘No,’ he said again. And then, in a moment of openness, ‘It’s great.’
He wanted to offer her a drink but faltered. What was the correct protocol for this sort of thing? He didn’t even know any more.
‘So,’ she said.
He tried to smile, but his face malfunctioned and he felt his features slip into something more like a grimace. Would he look back on this moment years from now and think, that was the day I took the initiative? The night before their wedding, would Sam think back on this tiny speck of history as the defining moment of his life?
‘Why are you going to the mountains?’
He thought for a moment about how to answer that question.
‘Well.’ He looked at her. She was so pretty. ‘Did you know Earth is passing through the debris of Halley’s Comet at the moment?’
‘No.’
‘We go through it every year in October. And May, actually. We pass through that patch of space.’ He shrugged.
‘So is that a telescope?’ she said, nodding to the pack thrown over his shoulder.
‘Yeah. I mean, it’s not very powerful or anything.’ Oh God, I’m grimacing again, he thought. ‘We’re going to the mountains where it’s nice and dark. Hopefully we’ll get to see some meteors.’
‘So do you like astronomy and space and things, then?’
‘I guess so. Yes. I do like it,’ he said, trying to gauge her reaction.
He smiled, and realised something. He was having a conversation, and it was OK. Admittedly, he felt retarded but overall, it was OK.
‘I like that stuff too,’ she said. ‘I’m not an expert or anything but, you know, it’s really interesting. I work in the science library at the university.’
‘Really?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Wow. I’d love to do something like that.’
‘That’s why I moved here.’
A silence fell in. He didn’t want this to end.
‘So you’re looking for shooting stars,’ Sarah said.
‘We are.’
She fixed him with a look of such solidity he thought he might turn to stone. Something slipped inside him. She tilted her head to one side and said, ‘Can I come?’