Midnight Dreams And Visions

10 - A Wing Away

This is what our love has become. A thread between worlds that exists only in transferred numbers and hidden messages at this international money wire center by a bus terminus. It wasn't meant to be this way. Our tale wasn't supposed to have been frayed by rising walls.

It's difficult to reconcile who I am now. I've had to cast aside all aspects of who I am. No more soaring on the winds high above the city. Our kind are no longer welcome... barely tolerated. I have learned that it is best to keep my wings hidden and my head down.

I remember tales she used to tell me, stories transcribed from ancient texts of kith that were left behind when the gates between our worlds closed. When magic seeped from our skin and we forgot who we were.

The signal beeps. Ticket 145. I have a few more minutes to wait. I look at my transfer note. Digits written in my sloppy hand, dollars and cents earned over this desolate summer. It's my final payment. Well, the final, final payment. Two exceptions have really drawn this out.

I'm a little giddy, my mind slipping away, back to warm afternoons on the borderlands when it was easy to cross.

She loved to fly, more than any other. Together we would rise on those hot summer winds, tracing paths in currents hidden to those below. Her wings, cerulean hot and graceful, twisting and trailing. We'd go up and through the clouds, shaking and falling every which way.

The signal beeps again. 146. Two to go. Beside me a large man sits, the chit of paper tiny in his hands. He twists and turns it around. I who awaits the other end of his digital threads?

The wayfarers promised safe passage. I'm not sure how they'll bring her back to me, although I know it is dangerous. The original ways have been sealed, great walls of stone and light rise far above where wings can carry.

I spend my days toiling away in the back of a restaurant downtown. It's deathly hot inside, cramped and rushed. I boil and fry, sear and sizzle. I pass the hours chatting with new friends from places with names I can't pronounce.

On breaks I sit on the roof and smoke. I watch the city above and below. Movement everywhere. My wings ache, hidden from sight. I fear they'll stiffen up, grow brittle. Maybe I'll even forget they were ever there at all.

I'm a little worried.

She will need to send me a message. Let me know how and when and where I'll find her.

I'll have to come back to this place tomorrow, ask for a receipt. Either she'll write it, or the wayfarers will. It will be hidden in numbers, wrapped up in strings to keep prying eyes unawares. I feel in my pocket for the last note she sent back.

I shouldn't have brought it with me. I stare around the room, looking from face to face. A woman stares at me. She's dressed in nurse scrubs, a scowl etched into her face. Is she an agent? Is she on to me? If she makes a move, I'll swallow the paper... eat the evidence! I'm a fool for bringing it. I don't need to keep it. Those words are burned into my mind already.

I love you. I miss you. We'll be together soon

We never really spoke like that. I try to picture her saying the words.

The signal beeps again. The large man beside me shuffles forwards, shoulders slung low. The hours needed to raise decent monies are long. I'm sure his story isn't unlike mine, although I'd suspect those he's transferring funds to are simply a matter of miles away. Not separated by a shimmering wall of sky and sound.

It's unlikely I'll ever see my home again. I don't like thinking about it. Soaring across those great plains and sparkling rivers. Hearing the songs of the kith strum in the deep evenings. Perhaps I'll never return to that stream where we first kissed. When the babbling waters ran bright in the spring sunshine and she told me the world was a great blank book.

The signal beeps and I see the large man walk outside into the noise of the street. The nurse scowls at me as I step forward, walking slowly, making my footsteps as heavy as possible so as not to give myself away. I get to the counter and fumble in my pockets.

I pull out the wad of cash and coins and ignore the frustrated sigh of the agent.

"Destination?" she barks.

"Southern Provence." I whisper.

She looks over her glasses briefly before tightening her lips and writing something down.

"Amount?"

"Four hundred. US."

"That with the commission or not?"

"Without. I have the fee too."

She writes a few more things down then passes the note to me.

"Please write any special instructions in the space below. Keep it within the box or you'll void your transfer."

I nod and take the pen. I think of places far away. Imagine her arriving at the office to receive the funds. She'll come in the morning, when the clouds will be pink ribbons in the sky. I imagine her eyes, bright and clear, filled with hope.

I wiggle the pen and write the ruse carefully.

Money to pay for school fees.

"Finished?" asks the agent impatiently.

I nod and take the receipt, making my way to the exit as the signal beeps again.

I'll make my way to the valley tonight, to the place where the pines spill along the red rock edges and tumble into the spaces below. I will wait until the stars come out. I will leap and for a moment I will fly. I will be alone, but I hope, not for long.