Aurora

Stars glittered across the moonless sky. Millions of brilliant points of light, more than Yusuke had had ever seen before. He marvelled at them, despite often having gazed at the night sky before, mesmerized by them. It had always been a dream, one that he had come to share with its original dreamer, to be in that place and see the stars in their seemingly infinite multitude.

Glancing at the lighted face of his watch, he sighed out a puff of whitish steam. Forty-five seconds. There was only forty-five seconds left.

He leaned back in the rocking chair, staring into the Yukon sky. It was different to what he knew back home, the stars were different to the maps he used teaching his courses. The students learned the locations and movements of stars that were completely different in this place.

Yusuke pulled his heavy blanket tighter, fighting a shiver as a wind kicked the tops off snow drifts visible from his cabin porch. The place had not been overly expensive, finally being there he thought it was cheaper than it had any right to be. But regret pulled his feelings down, reminding him of how much time had been wasted. How many times he could have already been in that place, how many memories he could have made.

The cold lashed his exposed cheeks and he pulled the ear flaps of his thick sheep’s skin ushanka tighter. It was important that he hold out, stay where he was. He owed a debt that needed to be paid.

Against his leg, he could feel the metal of what he had growing colder despite the blanket and hot water bottle. It was slowly leeching heat from him; it felt like something was drawing out whatever was left of his soul.

Just as advertised, lights began glowing in the northern sky. It had not happened exactly when he had wanted it to, but with only forty seconds left, it was close enough. He stared at the aurora, imagining he could see the spirits of animals in it the way one of his son’s story books had shown. It was beautiful, fulfilling all his most desperate wishes for it; but those wishes only fueled his regret.

It was beautiful, watching the explosion of colours across the horizon in glittering curtains. He wished he had paid more attention when the Indigenous elders had told him about the aurora’s cultural significance. In the moment, all he could remember was the plot of the Northern Lights by Philip Pullman. But he did not think about it as being a portal to another universe, instead he thought that maybe it was related to the spirit world.

Yusuke glanced down at his watch again. Thirty seconds left. Time was stretching, pulling its seconds farther and farther apart. He knew, of course, that physics meant things were different this close to the pole; but that did not mean it was enough to be noticed by anything except electron microscopes or something else completely beyond his knowledge.

She would have known. It had always been a dream of hers to see the Northern Lights, watch the ride of the Valkyries, see the dance of the spirits. It had never mattered to her what people called them, or what traditions were followed when they were talked about. It was always the aurora itself that had enchanted her.

Once she had wanted to visit Finland, or Iceland, or Sweden to see the lights. Northern Russia had also been a consideration, though she eventually decided that she did not want to risk any interactions with that government. Finally the choice had come down to Alaska or Canada. And now he was sitting on a chair, looking out at a landscape that was more alive than he ever thought to find it, watching the spirits dance. Or the Valkyries ride. It was truly magnificent. Truly breath-taking.

A tear froze on his cheek as it fell, the wind still cutting into his exposed skin and trying to worm its way through the blankets, sweaters, and woolen under clothes. He let go of the thick Hudson’s Bay blanket around his shoulders with one hand and grabbed the steadily cooling metal beside him, feeling the cold leach through his thick glove and burrow into his bones.

Wind was a blessing, it turned out. Though he cursed it in the moment, he knew that it would serve him a valuable function in – he checked his watch again – fifteen seconds.

Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Each one felt like it carried a cluster of frozen needles into his lungs, but it was clean, freeing, glorious. That cold, a deeper and more dangerous cold than he had ever felt in his life, reminded him that he was alive. Reminded him that, even though he had missed one chance, he had made a different one.

“It’s not,” he started, but the words fought the frozen air needed to speak them to a stand still. Trying again, he coughed first then said, “it’s not what we planned. I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

Letting the cold in, he opened his warm cocoon and stood from the chair. The wind howled in sudden delight at his being so exposed, tearing into his all too thin arctic gear. When he had rented the stuff, the local had all but laughed at him, already bundled to the ears. But then heard his accent and changed to a kindly smile.

Japan, at least the bit that Yusuke hailed from, never really got cold. What they called winter, these Canadian Northerners called spring, or maybe even summer. It was a sobering thought. The young woman had offered some friendly advice on surviving the cold when he went out to watch the aurora and wished him luck.

Calling on that luck now, he twisted the top off her urn. A light dust rose from the top, drawn out by the force of the winds that tried to freeze him to his bones, as though her spirit were trying to join the colourful dance overhead.

Ten seconds left. His slow count was accurate, besides, if he lost himself in what he was doing, then his watch would let him know.

He tried to find the words. Tried to find the right thing to say. No one had told him that this would be the hardest part. So long as he had kept her ashes, then he would still have some small piece of her, right? But this step, giving her to the place she had wanted to see for so long, it was finally letting her go. Finally giving her up to eternity.

It was cruel to keep her, he thought, watching the gentle drifts of ash dance out of the urn.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, mental count nearing zero. “Please, Maiko-chan, forgive me for never finding the time before now. I hope you’ll like it here.”

In the instant his watch buzzed against his wrist, he expertly threw the ash out in a broad arc before him. It blended with the snow kicked up by the wind that carried the only thing on Earth left of her away from where he stood, his final farewell caught in his throat.

The New Year - the first anniversary of losing her – ticked into its first minute as he stared into the darkness after her ashes. Fresh tears froze to his cheeks before he turned on his heel and pushing back into the welcome warmth of the cabin.

She was free now.

Fifteen seconds after the dawning of the New Year, he finished crying himself to sleep. And dreamed of one final dance, Maiko in his arms as the aurora blazed around them.