The North Star Chronicles

Andy The stars called to me. For as long as I could remember, though I couldn't remember much, the stars brought me peace and comfort even in the most difficult of times. This night was no exception, except now I was able to see them without the barriers that sheltered me for the last ten years of my life. As I stood on the doorstep of The Proctor Psychiatric Facility, I breathed deep and took a single step forward into the moonlight. Behind me a comforting voice spoke. "You know kid, I'm gonna miss you something fierce." Ronda, who was the only motherly figure I could remember, stood with her arms crossed, embracing herself in the brisk night air. Other than the encroaching gray hairs sprayed amongst her fine tight curls, and the faint wrinkles placed so gently on the corners of her mouth, she hadn't changed in the eight years that I'd lived here. With only a moments hesitation, I stepped back, out of the soft light of the moon, and embraced her. "I'll miss you too." I took in her scent, Marlboros and cinnamon chewing gum, doing my best to imprint the scent into my memory. Her coffee colored hands brushed my hair from my face as she broke the embrace, resting a gentle hand on my cheek. "Remember your breathing exercises. And don't skip your morning meditations." I nodded, rolling my lips between my teeth in an attempt to bite back the tears. "I'll be okay." "I know" she replied, her own voice hoarse with restraint. "You better get going before you miss your bus. If you need anything, you call that number I put in your bag and help will come. You be good, baby." I adjusted the strap of my backpack on my shoulder, and turned to step out once more into the moonlight that covered everything that was unknown to me. *** Leaving Ronda on the stoop of Proctors was the most difficult thing I'd ever done. In all of my years at the facility, every debilitating migraine and episode, I'd never faced anything as difficult as leaving that woman behind in the shadows of that looming stone building. She'd turned to walk inside as I made my way past the front gates for the last time, though I couldn't remember the first. Dr. Proctor himself had worked for years on trying to help me recover any of my memories at all before the age of ten with very little luck. I could remember my name, Andy, and could locate the north star without even looking, but every other secret my past held was still tucked away out of reach. Every time that it felt like we were close, like I could almost see the fuzzy outlines of a memory, an episode wreaked havoc, my memories still shrouded by whatever strange form of amnesia Proctor had diagnosed me with. Past the gate, my anxiety increased. I checked my watch, my heart rate creeping up but not unmanageable. I took a steadied breath and took a left, walking until I reached the intersection, and then a right that led straight to the bus stop as I was instructed. I sat there, basking in the crisp fall air, the stars shimmering in radiant hues. Though it was silly, I felt like if I concentrated hard enough I'd be able to see the star dust and gases that formed each one. After several minutes, the bus screeched to a halt in front of me. I stowed away my rolling luggage beneath the bus, and hiked my backpack onto my shoulders once more before handing the driver my ticket and slipping quietly into my seat. My breath measured, my heart beating loudly in my ears as the reality of it all began to sink in. Being twenty, I was past the age that I was legally able to leave Proctors of my own accord. Proctor's was essentially an orphanage for disgruntled and mentally distressed youth. I was given a free pass for the last two years, as my anxiety and episodes were running rampant and without intervention, I had no control. But now, with no guardians to require I stay longer and no medical reason for me to continue with the program, I was finally free. Proctor's was the only family I'd known, and though staying in the confines of my comfortable cage seemed appealing most of the time, the part of me that drew me to the stars dragged me away from that comfort and catapulted me into the unknown. I was one of four passengers on the midnight bus. The woman seated closest to the open doors shrugged deep inside herself, tucking away her frail frame beneath her knitted red shawl and matching knit hat. She had a soft, tired expression, no doubt a full days work making her weary in these late evening hours. Two seats behind me to the left sat a huddled couple, giggling and breathless as they sat, seemingly glued to one another. Red Hat Woman was a regular I was certain, while the couple that was stealing midnight kisses were most likely unbeknownst to anyone that knew them. I laid my head against the window, the pale skin on my temple making contact with the cool condensation on the window pane. The warmth of the bus collided against the cool of the glass, sending streaks of magnified starlight trickling down the glass. I closed my eyes, letting the night sky wash away my anxieties as the bus lurched into motion.