Nine Lives

Stargazing

“What’s that one up there, Dad?”

“That one is called Leo.”

The two of them lay back in the grass, pointing at the constellations up above. Resting on the crest of a hill, they could see the dim lights of houses off in the distance. A perfect night to stargaze, with no moon in the sky on this cloudless night. The only sounds came from the perpetual chirping of the crickets and the hoot of an owl. The sky above was like a dome filled with countless pinholes of light. An occasional falling star streaked across the sky.

“Does it have a story?” The young boy looked up with eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, does it ever have a story, but it’s kind of scary.” The man raised his eyebrows.

“I’m a big boy now, Dad. You can tell me.”

The man turned to him with a serious look on his face. “Well, I suppose seven is old enough, but you have to promise me something if I tell you, Michael.”

Michael rolled over on the grass so he was kneeling beside his dad. He wanted to be close while his dad told the story. It wasn’t that he was scared, of course—though he didn’t like that one croaking sound that came from the group of bushes to his right. He just loved it when his dad told him stories about the stars, but he couldn’t remember one ever being scary. He pressed his face close to his dad and whispered, “What do you want me to promise, Dad?”

“Don’t tell your mother.”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Michael forgot all about being scared for the moment. It was something only a father and son would understand. It was their time to bond, and Michael understood, nodding his head up and down with excitement. This was their little secret.

“I promise, Dad!”

They leaned back on the grass, and Michael rolled close to his dad. It was comforting when his dad reached around and grabbed him, tugging him close while he told the story. He tucked his head into his side, hearing the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. His dad pointed up to the stars, connecting them with his finger.

“You see the shape of the lion?”

“Uh-huh.”

“A long time ago, a man named Hercules was sent to twelve trials. Each one of these tests of strength were dreaded and thought impossible by mortal men. The first of these trials was to slay the Nemean lion.”

Michael listened in awe, looking up at the constellation Leo. His dad was always good at telling stories, but he had never told one like this before. He took his time while the two of them lay there in the grass. His dad explained what Hercules probably looked like—all muscles, of course—and Michael imagined the strongest of men standing on top of a mountain.

The lion stood high on that mountain, looking over the small village down below. Michael could imagine the wind blowing through its mane and how magnificent it must have looked. He was the king of the mountain, afraid of no one. The pelt of the great lion was impenetrable, but Hercules did not know this and, like a fool, tried to kill it with his bow and arrows. This made the lion very angry, and Michael found himself pressing his body into his dad even harder.

“Did the lion eat Hercules, Dad?”

“Well, not yet, but if you’re scared, I can stop.” His dad was good at teasing him.

“No, Dad, I’m not scared!” Michael may have been a little scared, feeling his body tugging at his dad harder, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

His dad smiled and continued with the story, keeping his eyes on the stars above. He told of the lion running into a cave, which had two entrances for the lion to escape. The people in the village assumed Hercules would run away after being unable to penetrate the lion’s pelt, but instead he ran after him and into the cave. The story became more intense, and Michael’s eyes were wide with fascination as he listened to his dad’s voice. He explained that Hercules closed off one of the entrances, so the only way out was through him. A fight to the death between the two was evident, hearing sounds of growls that shook the entire mountain. Then there was silence, and the people of the village were certain it was the last they would ever see of Hercules.

“So it ate Hercules?”

“Not exactly.”

Michael could not hear any sounds other than the voice of his dad. The crickets had stopped their chirping, and the owl was no longer hooting. Even that croaking sound that was giving him the creeps was silent, and Michael couldn’t help but think maybe they too were listening to this story of the lion. His own mouth was wide open as he waited to hear what was to become of Hercules.

His dad explained how Hercules killed the lion with his bare hands. The struggle lasted a long time, but Hercules was eventually victorious, clubbing the animal. The hide was to be returned as evidence that the lion was killed, but when he tried to skin it, Hercules found it could not be penetrated. The only thing that could penetrate the pelt was the lion’s own claws, which Hercules used to skin the lion.

“Wow! That was a good story, Dad.” Michael looked up with a smile.

“We best be heading off now before your mom starts to worry about you.” His dad rubbed his head and smiled.

They gathered their things, taking one last look at the stars up above. Michael helped his dad fold up the tripod that held a small telescope angled down to the ground. He felt good being with his dad and was sad to see the time end, but his eyes were getting tired.

His dad gave him a little piece of advice. “Remember to dream, Michael. Follow your dreams and never be afraid to enter that cave alone.”

They hopped in the car, and his dad started the engine. Michael loved the way the car rumbled. He felt his body shake in the soft seat. They pulled out onto the highway and Michael held his hand out the window, feeling the wind glide up and down. The rest of the ride home he dreamed of the story his dad told him and wondered if he really would ever have to enter a cave by himself. The windows were down, and he felt the cool rush of air blowing through his hair. He imagined himself high upon a mountain, ready to fight the Nemean lion. His dad stepped on the gas and the needle moved up past a hundred. Michael rolled his eyes from his dad to the speedometer with a strong sense of curiosity.

“Were going fast, Dad!”

The two of them laughed, and his dad said with a smile, “Don’t tell your mother!”

Dreams

“Cat? What cat?”

Michael Merlino scrutinized his dreams of distant places pinned to the wall. He reached out with one hand to touch what was so far away, never to be realized. If only the cord on the phone was longer, maybe his other hand could touch the picture of his wife and son standing beneath the star-lit sky. Dreams are just that, a journey of hope barely out of reach that keeps us striving to reach our destiny.

The voice on the other end of the phone had the sound of urgency, which made it hard to concentrate on anything. Rolling his chair closer to the picture of some distant galaxies just out of reach from his outstretched hand, he looked up and tried to smile at the tacks shaped in a smiley face. The desk was a mess, with files piled high and a computer to the side.

“Under the deck. You need to get home now,” a woman said on the other end of the phone.

“But why can’t you—”

“You know why, Michael. Hurry home.” The phone went dead.

Michael was an ambitious young man at twenty-eight years of age, dressed to perfection. The clock flashing on the digital display told that it was six ten in the evening. Standing, he could barely see over the tops of the cubicles. He pulled on a suit coat and grabbed the leather briefcase filled with work he would finish up at home.