“Hey Moon,” Stella said to me.

She was laying on her back staring at the night sky. It was cold out again, but she didn’t seem to mind as she lay on the hard ground in nothing but her thin black gown. The ends of her dress danced playfully around her crossed legs in the breeze.

Looking at her was lovely sometimes, when she wasn’t yelling at me. She seemed calm enough this night.

“Stella,” I managed, my voice was still broken from the night before.

“Do you remember that song? The one about the moon not falling down, from when we were kids? The one from that band mom used to listen to.” She asked as I sat down next to her. She tilted her head towards me. Her eyes looked blood-red, but somehow still the pretty gray color they always were.

“Yeah, I always sung it to you before bed.” I said, reaching to move her bangs back from getting in those pretty, sad eyes. “She wasn’t your mom though.”

“Oh, shut it. She was a better mom than my actual one. She wasn’t your mom either.” Stella shot, though she didn’t say anything about me touching her face. “Well, I heard the song the other day. It doesn’t make any sense does it?”

I thought about the song for a second, then started singing to her even though my voice was raspy. Stella’s favorite lines:

And then she said she can’t believe

Genius only comes along

In storms of fabled foreign tongues

Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs

Northern downpour sends its love

Hey moon, please forget to fall down

Hey moon, don’t you go down

“That’s it, Northern Downpour.” She closed her eyes and shifted toward me.

“Do you think mom remembers that band?” She asked, leaning her head on my leg. I ran my fingers through her hair and looked up at the sky like she had been doing before.

“No, probably not.” I said. Mom didn’t remember anything anymore, not even our names.

“We should play it for her the next time we go.” She said.

“I could sing it to her if you learn it on the piano. She might like that better.” I said. Mom didn’t remember our names, but boy did she love when Stella played for her.

“Moon, what are we going to do?” I knew she wasn’t asking about the next time we saw mom. I looked down at her, her eyes were still closed.

“I don’t know, maybe we could sell everything and move.”

“I would like that.” She opened her eyes and looked past me, into the night. “If we were the real moon and stars, we could be far from this place.”

I sang to her again,

I know the world’s a broken bone

But melt your headaches, call it home

“How did you get gifted with such a pretty voice when you are such a terrible person?” She asked, sitting up. “Even now it sounds nice.”

“I don’t know.” I said. She was crying again. “I am sorry for earlier by the way.”

“Yeah, well I am sorry too.”

-Jess Gatsby


Here is the song:


and this was the only image credit I could find for the moon picture: