“Right there,” he said even later, pointing up.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I see one.”
She squinted. “Where?”
“You don’t see it?” he said, using his hands to trace something across the night sky, which was fixed tight as a lid over the simmering city. “It’s right there.”
“That doesn’t help,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows.
“It’s—I think—it might be—” He paused dramatically. “Yup, it’s the Big Dipper.”
She gave him a dubious look.
“No, really,” he said, grabbing her hand and using it to draw shapes across the middle of all the uninterrupted black. “There’s the tail, and there’s the cup. It’s a cup, right?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a ladle,” she told him. “But you’re the science guy.”
“A cup, then,” he said, moving her hand to the left and making three dots. “And there’s Orion’s belt.”
“You’re crazy,” she said. “There’s nothing.”
“What happened to all that relentless optimism?” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be the positive one?”
“Right,” she said, looking up again. “Okay.”
He was studying her closely. “Anything?”
“I think, maybe… yup, I see one.”
“Where?”
She took his hand and guided it toward the highest part of the sky. “Right there,” she said. “It’s a big one. And it’s really bright.…”
When he spoke, there was laughter in his voice. “That’s the moon.”
“Is it?”
“It is,” he confirmed, and she smiled.
“Even better.”