“Yeah, well I’m letting you now.” She gets cranky when she’s tired.
We both get out of the car to switch sides but stop when we meet each other at the hood.
“Do you see where we are?” I ask.
Camryn looks around on both sides of the desolate highway. She shrugs. “Ummm, the middle of nowhere?”
I laugh lightly under my breath and then point to the field. Then I point up at the stars. “Last time didn’t count, remember?”
Her eyes light up, but then I sense she’s conflicted. It doesn’t take me long to figure out why.
“It’s a flat, clear field. And there are no cows as far as I can tell,” I say.
I know that absolutely nothing I just said makes her feel any better about the possibility of snakes, but I was going for subtle and stupid, hoping she’d overlook it.
“What about snakes?” she asks, not overlooking it.
“Don’t let your fear of snakes ruin a perfectly good opportunity to finally get to sleep underneath the stars.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
I break out the big guns and just beg. “Please? Preeeety please?” I wonder if my attempt at puppy-dog eyes is as effective on her as hers always are on me. My first instinct was to throw her ass over my shoulder and carry her out there, but I’m curious about the effectiveness of my begging technique, just the same.
She mulls it over for a minute and finally caves to my charm. “All right,” she says a little exasperatedly.
I grab the blanket from the trunk, and we walk together through the ditch and over the low fence and then through the enormous field until we find a good spot several yards out. It feels like déjà vu. I lay the blanket on the dried grass and do a quick snake-check of the surrounding area just to make her feel better. We lay down next to each other on our backs, legs straight out and flat against the blanket, our ankles crossed below. And we look up at the dark and endless expanse of sky filled with stars. Camryn points out various constellations and planets, explaining each one to me in detail, and I’m impressed by how much she knows and how she can tell them apart from one another.
“I never imagined you’d be so…” I struggle to find the way to word it.
“So knowledgeable?” I can sense her smiling briefly next to me.
“Well, I… I didn’t mean that I think you’re—”
“A brainless, superficial girl who doesn’t know that the Milky Way is something bigger than a candy bar or that the big bang theory isn’t just a television show?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I say, just to play her at her own game. “No, but really, where’d all this come from? I guess I just never took you for the scientific type.”
“I wanted to be an astrophysicist. Decided that when I was twelve, I think.”
I’m completely shocked by her admission, but I continue to stare up at the stars with her, my smile growing.
“Well, really I wanted to be that plus a theoretical physicist and an astronaut and I wanted to work for NASA, but I was a little delusional back then. Obviously.”
“Camryn,” I say, still so surprised that I barely know what to say. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “It just never came up. Didn’t you ever dream of being something other than what you are?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. “But baby, why didn’t you pursue it?” I lift away from the blanket and sit upright. This calls for my full attention.
She looks at me like I’m overreacting. “Probably for the same reason you didn’t pursue whatever it was that you wanted to be.” She draws her knees upward and rests her hands over her stomach, her fingers interlocked. “What did you want to be?”
I don’t want to talk about me right now, but I guess I better answer her, since she’s brought it up twice.
I bring my knees up, too, and prop my forearms on top them. “Well, aside from the clichéd rock-star dream everybody has, I wanted to be an architect.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod.
“Is that what you were studying in college before you dropped out?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say and laugh lightly at the absurdity of my answer. “I was in college for accounting and business.”