The Green Star

There were too many people in the room.  She had been oblivious, inside a magazine article for about fifteen minutes, and now the room was packed.

“Not packed”, her husband would insist if she tried to convey her feelings.  He would demand she view the room, and life, from his perspective.  She would find no safety in love and empathy.  There was none to be given.  She felt the panic rising in her chest.  She knew it would soon travel into her throat and she would want to scream.

There was a door on the opposite side of the room.  The chairs and couches had been pulled to the walls, and she was buried in the folds of one of the many uncomfortable lounge chairs.  Someone had bumped against her, not bothering to apologise for the personal invasion.  It had brought her mind back to the room, and all the people who now crowded its space.

She would have to wrestle her way out of the straightjacket chair, walk determinedly through the people and out of the door.  Then there would be a corridor where there might be more people, and then the elevator might be another endurance test.  But she had no choice.  Whatever dignity and sanity was still available to her was waiting on the roof. 

The roof would give privacy and peace.  It was her secret garden.  There were plants and fountains and comfortable chairs.  The grounds surrounding the building were compact and shadowed, but the roof held sunlight and starlight.  It had been her sanctuary ever since her husband had joined The Company. 

She knew her husband would be upset with her for leaving the party.  She also knew he would humiliate her if she sought solace in his company.  She had learnt to look after herself when these attacks occurred. 

She pushed her way out of the fashionably uncomfortable chair and almost collided with an effervescent, bright, young thing, who was just thrilled with all the sales she’d made that day.  The bright young thing wasted a random smile on the vaguely remembered woman and went back to fascinating her fascinating work mates.   

"The door.  Keep focusing on the door."  She could make it.  Her heart was racing.  She wanted to scream.  But she could make it.

The door has been reached.  "Let the person through.  Look at the ground.  Make no eye contact.  Don’t let anyone know how frightened you are."

"Now focus on the elevator.  Just keep walking.  Oh no, someone touched me. ... A friend. ... No, no, friend of my husband.  Say something quick.  Don’t be weird.  Oh please don’t let him say anything."

She looked past the gentle man’s shoulder, looking and sounding a little sick.  “I just need some fresh air.  Be right back.  See you soon.”  And she was walking again.  She had to reach the elevator. 

She made it!  Her first sense of relief flooded out of the empty lift.  No one else was in the elevator.  She allowed herself to shed a few tears.

But too soon.  The doors opened onto the roof and an intoxicated couple greeted her. 

"I hate me!  Hate me!  Stupid!  Stupid!  How humiliating!  How horrible!  Oh please don’t let them see I’ve been crying.  Please don’t let them hear my thoughts." 

The couple didn’t appear to notice much of anything except how happy they were, and how much fun it was to be together.  They took their place in the empty lift as though it was a royal coach taking them to the royal ball. 

She was left in minimal light.  Once again she commanded herself to focus.  Her favourite seat was only a short distance away.  She could make it.  The reward would be big.  She would be safe.

She was safe.  She had made it!  She comfied herself into her favourite lounge chair and let her panic fly away into the star filled skies.  

It was just as wonderful as she thought it would be.  There was no one else here.  She had the roof and the endless sky to herself.  And she liked her own company best of all.  She didn’t have to pretend when she was alone with herself.  She could be eternally young and innocent and fascinated by all the things her husband and his friends thought inconsequential.

She listened to the small waterfall and the fountains.  She wandered into her own imagination and walked through ancient forests of thought.  She returned to her present moment with the need for the toilet.  Thank goodness, the roof provided for all natural requirements. 

In the brightly lit bathroom, she noticed herself in the mirror.  She’d been aware of the distant female matching her movements, but suddenly she really looked at herself.  She’d always loved the look of herself.  But she hated seeing herself so unhappy.  She started crying, and became fascinated by the shine the tears put on her eyes.  Her husband would not have approved.  Her crying made him feel uncomfortable.  It just showed how selfish she was. 

But she didn’t feel selfish.  She felt lonely. 

Back into the night air, and the sanctuary of her home under the skies.  She knew she had to sort her thoughts, and her life.  She couldn’t keep dreading each day.  Her back was already bowing with the consistent disapproval.   It was obvious her husband didn’t like her.  He loved her, but he didn’t like her.  She realised she reciprocated.  She didn’t like him either.  He was arrogant and patronising, and everything she should have avoided.  The problem was she loved him with a passion that overwhelmed her.

She let out a small scream when the voice interrupted her.

“I’ve seen you up here before.”

The voice took on the body of a young girl, dressed in pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, tentatively edging her way towards the pretty woman in the long dress.

“I’m Mabel.  My dad owns this building.  We live on the floor below this one.  We’ve got a balcony, but I like it up here.  It’s not as lonely.”

The adult knew what the child meant.  Up here there was nothing above you.  There was nothing to stop your mind flying away.  But the adult thought the child must have parents, worrying where their child was, and so the adult sensibly said, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?  I’m sure your Mum would be very upset to find you gone from your bed.”

“My mum’s at the party with my dad.  They won’t even think about me until breakfast.  Anyway, they know this is where I go if I’m not in my room.”

Adult and child decided her explanation was sufficient.  They both relaxed away from being responsible for one another, and reached out in friendship instead.

“Do you know the name of any of the stars?”  The little girl sat down on the lounge chair with the pretty lady. 

The pretty lady looked at the beautiful worlds above her, shaking her head.  “They have boring names.  I tried to remember them once, but they didn’t match the stars I saw.  I’ve read stories about why certain stars are where they are.  I’ve made up some stories too.  It makes the stars feel friendlier somehow.”

The little girl snuggled into the lounge chair with her new-found soul mate, “Will you tell me the stories?  The ones you’ve made up first.  That star over there?  The green one?  Can you see it?  Near that big, bright one?  Do you know its story?”

She did know its story.  It had been her favourite star for as far back as she could remember. 

“It was once a blue star.  Long, long ago.  It had exploded into being, so full and happy with itself that it couldn’t help being as bright as it could be.  It thought about all the wonderful planets it could create, all molten and fire and bubbling seas.  It imagined the skies it would build.  All scarlets and turquoise.  It spent endless time foreseeing all it could do.  But eventually it wanted to create more than worlds.  It wanted to create friends.

“There are many stars in the sky, but they’re a little like humans.  They don’t want to talk to one another, so they think they’re all alone.

“But this star turned green with thought, and began to notice there were stars everywhere.  Our Green Star shone its light so loud it thought it would burst.  But no one answered.  Our star wandered through endless space and time, and found no one who cared to communicate.  Our friend was lost.

“So our star stopped searching and tried to find itself instead.  It reached in, and out, simultaneously.  It stopped trying to be heard.  It really listened instead.

“It found the other stars were preoccupied making friends of their own.  Literally!  Other stars had gone beyond imagining molten seas and fire-lit skies.  Many stars had created tiny little life forms, on planets they spun around themselves.  Endless possibilities were within every life form.  They each had different stories, and every story varied with every thought. 

“Our star-friend liked what she saw.  She watched all the endless possibilities.   She saw world after world.  She even saw us on Earth.  She liked some of the things she saw.” 

The pretty lady stopped in sudden recognition, and looked a shy loving at the little girl nestled under her arm, “She would like us.”

The little girl nodded her head in agreement, and snuggled a little more into her storyteller.

The lady returned her gaze to the green star.  “It took its memories of the best of everything, and started to imagine its own worlds.  But now those worlds were green.  They were filled with trees and grasses, and fruits and wondrous flowers.  There were vibrant seas and glorious waterfalls.  The skies were alive with the colours of the best of days and nights.

“It peopled its worlds with creatures great and small.  Every animal, every bird, every insect, loves living in its worlds.  And there are fairies and gentle giants, and unicorns and everything magical and good.  And you know the best thing of all?” 

The lady waited for the child to shake her head. 

“The Green Star is still open to making friends ... with everyone from everywhere.  She lets me visit any of her worlds whenever I dream.  She says I can live with her when I leave this star’s world.”

The child asked, “Does that mean when you die?  Are you going to go?  Can I go with you now?”

The woman and child silently consumed the possibilities together.  Eventually the lady answered, “You already go there, don’t you?  You have beautiful places you visit in yourself?”

The little girl was confused, “Isn’t that just me?  My mother’s always complaining about my imagination.  She says I live in a make-believe world.”

The lady looked troubled.  “My mother says exactly the same thing. ... So does my husband.”

The child sat bolt upright and clambered onto the lap of her kindred spirit.  “Are we crazy?  I don’t mind being crazy if it means I become like you.  I don’t want to be like my Mummy.  She doesn’t like me to touch her.  She says I’m dirty, and I’ll mess her up.  You don’t think I’m dirty, do you?”

“No.  I think you’re the cleanest, most beautiful human I’ve ever met.”

“Mummy says nobody could love me ‘cause I’m not normal.  And I’m selfish.  And I’m ugly.  But you don’t think I’m ugly?”

The woman held the little girl’s face in both her hands, ensuring she established deep eye contact.  She then clearly and precisely stated, “I think you are the prettiest little girl in the whole world.”

The child became convinced by the woman’s intensity, and started to sob.  The lady held her close and let the little girl weep herself out of all available tears.  Somewhere inside the crying the nurturing woman began rocking and humming a lullaby, allowing the little girl to relax completely into the safety of her friend’s understanding. 

Eventually a runny nose reminded the little girl of practical issues.  She pulled tissues from her dressing gown pockets and wiped her face clean, before snuggling again and asking, “Do we belong to the Green Star’s planets?  Were we born into the wrong world?”

The adult gave the questions the serious consideration they deserved.  “I don’t think so.  I think there are lots of people like us.  I think we just need to find each other.  Maybe our sun is a mixed-up star, who put all of her ingredients into the same baking dish ... rather than sorting them into different dishes, and worlds. ... But just because we’re mixed in with the wrong people doesn’t mean we’re in the wrong world.

“I feel like I belong, here with you ... looking up at our Green Star.  And I’ve sat on mountaintops, and by seashores, and with good, fun friends, and I’ve felt very much like I belong here.  Don’t you?”

The child was nodding, “I feel like I belong here with you.  I feel like the garden up here is happier every time I visit it, like we belong together.  That’s what you mean isn’t it?  Being with places and people who like being with you?”

The adult hadn’t realised that was what she meant to say, but it sounded a very sensible interpretation.  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

The small face accepted the logic and felt better for it.  “So we have to keep on finding the right places and the right people.  Is that why we’re alive?  So we can find each other?”

It was a big question.  The answer seemed obvious, yet the adult had been avoiding that answer all her life.  The people she loved the most, loved her the least.  She had buried herself in people and places that disliked and disapproved of her.  She had buried herself so completely she barely ever saw happiness, or loving looks, or green-star-kin.

The woman released a large, grief-stricken sigh.  The little girl looked anxiously at her mentor’s concerned expression and asked, “Is it real hard?  Do we always have to be lonely?”

Suddenly the adult was convinced by the stupidity of her life to reply with a strong, “No!  We don’t have to be lonely.  We don’t have to try and make the wrong people love us.  We don’t have to stay in places that feel bad for us.”

The child knew all forms of anger, and she didn’t want her friend to be angry.  She held her lady’s hand and patted it saying, “It’s alright.  You’re in the right place now.  And you’re with me.  I’m a right person, aren’t I?” 

The lady nodded and the child continued.  “And we’ve both got the Green Star.”

The woman suddenly felt more content than she could ever remember being with another human being.  It was a feeling worth savouring.  She had a friend.  A young friend, but that didn't matter.  Friends come in all shapes and sizes.  The Green Star had taught her that.

Reviews (applause received)   

Fred Myers    United Kingdom
"What delightful and heart warming story.  I've read all B. A. Llewellyn's work on this website, and every piece is wonderfully uplifting, with a warmth that shows great insight and awareness.  Thank goodness the lady and the little girl found a new friend in each other - I liked that a lot."

Lonely2     Australia
"I feel that woman must be my sister.  I know just how she feels.  I'm lonly too.  Please write more about her.  Does she leave her husband?  What happens next?"

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