Sarah Gerard - Binary Star

This change in velocity causes a member to gather energy and escape as a runaway.

Its matter points back to its former association. We can trace its origin.

It’s been less than a month. John calls me fifteen minutes before his flight is supposed to leave Chicago to tell me he’s not on the plane. I’m sitting on the hood of my car in the Walgreens parking lot, reading a Star Magazine. My trunk is full of combustibles, wire cutters, black clothing, bleach.

Dog is dead, he says.

No.

She chewed through my Ativan. I don’t know how she found it.

John, I’m so sorry. Jesus, fuck. At least you know she didn’t suffer.

I thought I left it in the cabinet. She puked all over the bed.

I’m so sorry.

I listen to him cry for a long time. Two girls cross the parking lot carrying bottles of Coke and bags of Skittles. They climb into a red Jaguar and the radio comes on at full volume with the engine, shaking the air.

John’s still crying.

Where is she now?

She’s here. I just found her.

Just now?

Just now, he says.

Like, how long ago?

Ten minutes.

Burn.

I don’t get it. You were supposed to be at the airport hours ago. Were you sleeping before then?

He doesn’t answer. I feel angry. I listen to him cry. I try to feel pity but I can’t.

You’re an animal. I’m an animal.

I can’t do this, I say.

Yes, you can. Show me you’re with me. He blows his nose.

You lied.

About what?

Loving me.

Dog is dead.

You killed her.

Excuse me?

Murderer.

That’s not fair.

Burn. We’re through.

What do you mean?

Fuck you.

Are you breaking up with me?

This is over.

Can’t this wait?

I don’t love you.

My dog is dead. I doubt your commitment.

You should. I’m alone and I like it.

You’re crazy.

You deserve what you’ve done.

You don’t know me.

Who are you? I can’t be with a dog killer. She needed you and you killed her.

You deserve to be alone. You’re fucked.

Don’t call me anymore. I don’t know you.

I can’t believe this.

This will blow up in your face.

It already has.

Hi, Mom.

Can I talk to you for a minute?

I got my grades. They’re not as good as last semester’s.

I’ve been going through some personal things.

I’ve ascended.

I don’t have an appetite. Sleep. Or friends.

I’m very lonely.

I’m stuck in this terrible cycle.

It seems everyone has disappeared. They don’t answer. I stay up all night on the Internet.

I’m confused.

I’m endlessly scrolling, scrolling.

I can’t leave the house. I’m insane.

I read books on animal liberation. I feel they’re about me. I feel it’s me, Mom. I haven’t been okay. I need you. Help me. Please help.

I want you to be proud.

There’s something else.

We broke up.

John lies. He only cares about himself.

I’ve been used.

Not by him. In general.

Mom, listen. I want to say I love you.

Do you believe me?

Please believe me.

I’m cold.

I’m lost.

I’m afraid.

And angry.

Desperate.

All the time. I’ve come unbound. I’m fading away.

I don’t know what’s going to happen.

I’m burning out.

You make time for what you think is important. Didn’t you say that?

We’ve forgotten what’s important. We have no sense of balance. No value.

I know what I have to do, Mom.

I’m making sense for the first time. Trust me.

Anything can happen but I know it’s related to light.

I really do.

I’m going to make you proud.

And I love you.

I’m suffering.

I’m done.

I’m done suffering.

But about the tree house?

I’m alone, I act alone. Anonymous.

I’ve had nothing to eat for three days. I shake. I drink coffee. I feel that my body is crystallizing. I feel it beginning at the center. A stellar wind flows from my atmosphere, shedding matter in ionized gas. I’m charged. I leave trails of myself behind me. My path is neutral. My movement is relative.

It was named after the Beatles song, “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.”

It is only a lattice.

A lattice wraps around his back porch, painted white, a swingset, a family, barbecues on the patio, mornings at the table.

Morning is continuous.

I crouch in the bushes. I crawl between the bushes and the wall, in black, unseen, related to darkness. Is it empty?

Vacant?

I’m gas.

He has it coming.

I crawl beneath the porch, beneath the back, leave paper trails behind me.

I doubt his commitment.

I pace the halls of the school. I got here early. My mentor will see me. I’m very indifferent. Extremely. And I smell like gasoline.

I can be your daughter with purpose. I’m purpose. Nonviolent. Who was injured?

The house should be vacant. The task is inevitable. I’m sharp and fill space. I light the paper with other lit paper and throw it into shadows.

The dean of the college is coming.

Were you asked not to stay? Do you agree?

Do I?

I agree we’re sentient beings. I agree we’re not the terrorists.

Huntingdon Life Sciences Vivisector Victim of Arson.

I’m confused.

Talk in circles on the phone. Write this down.

We saw each other’s bodies. I stood in the corner of the yard and he stood in the center. He named me.

What are you doing here?

Fading.

Cruelty of Laboratory Practices Exposed.

What are you doing? I have a family.

I told you to get them out. You’ve failed.

Eco-Terrorist.

Fat and indifferent.

I told you to leave hours ago. You didn’t listen. Now there’s fear.

Stand for our brothers and sisters. In arms.

Fill and empty.

Now you’re afraid, aren’t you? Now you’re backed into a corner. Now you bite the hand.

Crystallization begins in the center.

What are you saying?

Hidden Cameras.

Director Steps Down. Raging Fire. Targets Loose.

Jagged and dense.

I’m clear.

Luminous.

Still afraid.

I’ve had two cups of coffee and a Red Bull, two grapes and two cups of green tea. Two Adderall crushed in water.

Eaten time.

On fire.

Saved his family.

Get out before your house is in flames.

I called from the Walgreens parking lot, from the pay phone on the corner.

Runaway Arsonist.

Possible Witness.

I moved the scale to the hallway: 85. I have Zantrex-3, gum and ice. I have fingers. Numb. Sweat in circles.

Licking upward.

I acted alone in the dark dressed in black, invisible like always.

Warning to All Involved.

He came outside as I finished and watched from the shadows.

He saw I was small, female.

Recessing like us all.

Adelphi’s counseling center can help.

I’m not teaching.

Stomach burns and rises in the chest. Head is heavy.

I’m expanding.

I ran away into darkness, looking back at his house lit up from beneath.

Still expanding.

The floor is cool. I sweat and breathe.

All that is left is a remnant.

I roll.

I’m old.

I rise.

Burn out.

On fire.

I walk down the hall to the bathroom. I’m nothing but an echo. I’m alone.

When can I stop? Were there children?

Victim’s Family Says They’re Well After Trauma.

Police Hunt for Arsonist.

We, Students for the Liberation of Animals.

We, Student Animals.

I’m a cunt.

Liberation by any means.

Stand up for your sisters and brothers.

Stand Up.

How are my thighs?

If he didn’t leave, it’s his fault, not mine.