A Flicker of Perpetual Stars

Unnusakkut (Good Afternoon)

She lay dully on the rocks, picking at a strand of her own hair. Who was Yuka? What was his story? She plucked the hair methodically, filled with a desire to know more of the boy, to know him at his heart. Why did he not come? He had seemed so excited to meet her, and to befriend her. 

She sat up. She could find him, surely. She could find him, Yuka, the boy of stars. Then another thought emerged, penetrating the mist of her speculating mind.

Did he even want to be found?

She sighed angrily at this thought, angry with herself for even thinking it, then angry because she thought that, unfortunately, it might just be true. 

She stuck her hand into the pocket with the pearl and pulled it out. She rolled it across her mittened palm, watching the iridescent object as it glimmered in the sun.

Sudden, angry tears pricked her eyes and she felt unable to look at it any longer. She held the silver item out in front of her, letting it slip from her fingers.

The pearl bounced off of a small stone, and landed with a plunk in the snow. She could see the small tunnel where the pearl had dropped. She turned, fully intending to walk away.

But the very next moment, she had knelt to the ground and pulled off her mitten. She dug into the snow until she had the small, silvery pearl settled back into the palm of her hand. She brought it to her lips. I'm sorry, she whispered over and over again. I'm sorry.

She would not give up on Yuka, the kind boy with his eyes full of stars. She would not now, not ever. So for the next few days she came to the fjord and waited for him through the daylight, as patiently as her nature would allow. She wasn't always patient. But she would remember his kindness to her, and banish her unruly thoughts. Instead, she sat quietly by the edge of the water. Wishing. Hoping.

After seven days, her hope was realized. As soon as she approached the fjord, to wait out another day, she saw his figure, standing solitary among the rocks and snow. It had been only a week, but to Atiqtalik, it had felt like an eternity. 

Her face lit up, and she opened her lips to call to him. But her mouth fell closed, her expression quickly changing as he stood to meet her, and she viewed him with a closer eye.

The warm wind sifted through his hair. When she looked into his eyes she saw not the twinkling of stars that she expected, and hoped, to see, but two deep, dark pools. Intently, she looked into his face with a growing concern, trying to decipher his expression. Something was wrong.

This was not the same bright and thoughtful boy she had met, who had given her a gift just because. This was not the boy filled with the spark of life, who had made her smile so full. 

This was a boy consumed with pain. 

He looked up, and as soon as their eyes met, he burst into tears.

She ran to his side. She was tentative, at first, to touch him. But he was upset, clearly so, and despite her fears, her first instinct was to hold and protect.

She followed her instinct and wrapped her arms around his quaking body. She held him, and he sank into her embrace. She held him as he cried, as he mourned for a reason unknown to her. But she knew the comfort another soul could kindle in a person, no matter the cause of the grief. So she held him close. When his knees gave way, she sank to the ground with him.

In her heart, she knew that this was how she could help him, to think of him like he had thought of her. But even more, she wanted to simply be there; to care for him as the deepest, truest friend. She felt, deep in her soul, that this was someone she could grow to love and to cherish.