Free as a Bird

Of course she’s learned to fly. I’d have expected nothing less. Not from the woman who’d clasp my face between her hands and say: “Don’t tell me the sky’s the limit when there are footprints on the moon. You’ve got to believe in yourself Cale. I know I do.”

And I’d laugh and thank my lucky stars she was mine. The only woman to make my weary heart soar and now she’s even further out of reach.

“Cale?”

My eyes snap open and I peep through my lashes. She lounges in the chair, arms draped over the side, wicked green eyes sparkling. A slow, lazy smile dances across her face. Her auburn hair might be flecked with gray, but she’s as beautiful today as she ever was.

“You were miles away.”

“No, I’m right here,” I say. “Where I’ll always be.”

She nods and reaches across the table, her hand brushing against mine: “So how is everything?”

I snatch my hand back and collapse in the chair. What a ridiculous question. She knows damn well what my life is like. How the days bleed into one, forcing me to accept that tomorrow will be just the same as today. Everything?

“Same old, same old,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“You are eating, aren’t you?” she asks, pinching my cheek. “I’m worried. You look thin. Is that cough still bothering you? Did you talk to the doctor?”

I bat her hand away and drop my gaze. I don’t want her to see the tears pricking my eyes. I can’t afford to show any sign of weakness. Not even to her.

“So, flying?”

“Oh Cale, I love it,” she chuckles. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the hang of it. My instructor said flying a helicopter is like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time.”

She throws her head back and roars, her husky laugh exposing her weakness for Gauloises. Back when we’d first met, she’d place a cigarette between her lips and a dozen men would spring to their feet, vying to be the one to light it for her.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember the last time I saw her so happy. Were we ever this happy? Our lives couldn’t be more different. We’re literally worlds apart.

“I love swooping through the sky, bursting through clouds. I feel as free as a bird.”

Free.

“So, what’s next? Are you going to take up flying professionally?”

“Just the one job. That’s all.”

She startles when the alarm wails, picking up her coat, and looping her bag across her shoulder. As she leaves the room, she calls out: “Look up at the sky Cale and think of me.”

I shuffle along the corridor into the yard. My heart heavy. I didn’t even tell her I loved her. The sun dips below the horizon, the sky blazing orange. I hear it first. The thumping of rotator blades, the helicopter swooping left and right, a rope ladder trailing behind.

“Cale, hurry.”

I sprint along the prison walls, the guards yelling, sirens screeching. I jump for the ladder hauling myself up. Her hand clasps mine and I feel the energy crackle between us. She was like a shot of espresso, a spark bringing me back to life.

The prison shrinks into the distance, and I whisper in my wife's ear: “You’re the best my darling. I love you to the moon and back.”

NOTE:

Okay doke, so this is inspired by a story I read in the news. A mob boss – don’t remember his name - was sent to jail for armed robbery (and other things, he was a bad lad). Rather than pining at home, his wife Nadine (I certainly remember her name) took lessons and learned to fly a helicopter. She flew the chopper above the prison and busted her husband out of the slammer. They were on the run for several weeks before they were caught (unfortunately). Nadine is definitely a shot of espresso, the ultimate ride or die. I think everyone deserves a Nadine in their life and from this day forward if people can’t commit to learning how to fly and breaking me out of jail, then I’m not interested! Thanks for reading and to L.C. Schäfer for setting this challenge.