A Held Breath Released

It was a strange night. A thunderstorm was playing in the valley, periodically lighting the sky with flashes of brilliant white and purple. A car trundled through the gushing rain and turmoil of blowing leaves, high beams cut to a thousand shards by spreading branches and swaying limbs. Fragments of light shining through sheets of rain driven horizontal by warm wind. The apprentice stood in the doorway, watching. A strange paradox of cold water and hot air on his face, the taste of ozone on his tongue. Light spilled around him and pooled in the fitful darkness outside. He was still at work, though no longer on the clock working now on his own machine instead of customers. Safe inside, away from the blustering wind that beat at the hangar walls and ruffled the flight line outside, where airplanes stirred on their moorings like strange roosting birds in the darkness. He turned his back on the night and surveyed his progress. The floor was littered with tools and the debris of productivity. Oily rags, acid brushes and tins of lubricating oil surrounded the focus of his interest: a tiny airplane. She was a scrappy looking thing, seven shades of yellow and showing the years of use on every surface. But though old, it was new to him. Bought in a fit of impassioned spending after great aunty Ida kicked the bucket last fall, leaving him $20,000 to "further his education". He supposed that she had a rather more academic use for these funds in mind, but he figures that he learns plenty enough in this hangar. So he'd spent the money and was still trying to convince a small part of himself that it hadn't been a mistake. He smiled tiredly. Closing the door and shutting out the wind, he started to tidy and clean. Bustling about with a smooth efficiency, nesting tools in their places, coiling air lines and mopping up a slick of spilled oil before hanging his overalls on the hook by the door and turning out the lights. Pausing on the door step, he looked back into the darkened space. Satisfied that he wasn't forgetting anything, he closed the door and stepped out into the rain. He headed towards town. The rain now a steady downpour, water splashing noisily over the windshield wipers as they cut their repetitive path across his dim view ahead, headlights struggling to penetrate the rain and shadow. His mind preoccupied, he drove to the bar by the river. It wasn't exactly his kind of place, but she worked there and that was worth the bustle and energy to sit at the bar and wait for her to knock off. When he arrived, the pub was still busy. He spotted her across the room as she was taking glassware from a table with a vaguely harassed air. Hair in a bun, little black notebook poking out of her back pocket. His eyes lingered on the small square of battered paper for a moment before she turned and caught his eye. She smiled when she saw him, a twinkling little grin and a raised eyebrow. "What're you staring at?" He grinned sheepishly in reply and crossed the room and to take a seat by the bar.He ordered a pint and turned to watch the room. Laughter and the bustle of tongues loosened comfortably by drink and flowing conversation. He sat, and he watched. Feeling the subtle shift in demeanour brought by a good rain. A held breath released, dissipating gradually as the low muffled roar of falling water filled in the corners of the room and smoothed the edges of each spoken word. He was pulled from his reverie sometime later by a hand on his back, "Ready to go?""Almost" he replied, before downing the rest of his drink, nodded to her with a grin and stood, gesturing for her to lead the way. Together they walked out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped and as they walked down the lamp lit street, trees who's tops were obscured in darkness would occasionally stir in some unseen breeze, sending a shower of sparkling drops cascading downward. The night was alive, moisture clinging to every stem, leaf and needle. Tiny jewels shivered golden from a snarl of power lines as they passed through a pool of orange street light. Unseen creatures made small rustlings in the grass as they crossed a patch of shadow and above them, thick clouds coiled restlessly in the darkness. Unseen, but felt. A great muffling blanket overhead.This morning the season changed. When he woke, he made coffee for them both and, after delivering one to her in bed he went outside to watch the morning. A day ago the sky was thick with forest fire smoke and the air was sullen and hot. This morning after last nights rain, the air was cool. Above, the mountains were capped in snow while wisps of thick cloud coiled through the valley, flowing out of the mountain draws and curling lazily about pine covered ridge lines. The larch trees, among the pines and firs that cloaked the ridges, rank upon rank, down to the rivers edge were turning yellow, and suddenly the water seemed dark and cold. His breath the barest hint of fog on the air, he smiled at the new day. A changing season is a beautiful thing. Returning to their tiny kitchen, he made breakfast, then packed a lunch before wandering into the darkened bedroom where the cup of coffee from earlier sat cold on the night stand beside her notebook. He paused for a long moment in the doorway, watching the blankets rise and fall slowly as she slept, before quietly closing the door and slipping out of the house.His boss was a real character. That's what people tended to say, at any rate. Loud, quickly angered and always ready to make people around him uncomfortable with obscene comments. The apprentice tended to think a more accurate term would be "intense". They got along well though, the apprentice worked hard and did his best to be personable while his boss loudly went about instructing him, berating him, and periodically firing him in roughly equal measure. When the apprentice opened the hangar door, his boss was already there. "you're late!" He called from the other end of the room. The apprentice checked his watch, he was 15 minutes early. "You've got until the end of the day to earn your job back!" The apprentice grinned, took his overalls from the hook by the door and pulled them on in time to catch a set of keys thrown at him from the other end of the room. "There's a sky wagon out front in for an oil change. Get her warming up, stat!". With that, the day swung into motion. A repetition of comfortable habit, laced through with the smell of hot oil, the drone of the shop radio and the cheery whistling of his boss. The wide doors were open, letting in the cool breeze and a spectacular view of the mountain range across the wide valley. Bathed in golden evening light and cloaked in new snow, they were striking in their clarity as they scraped a rapidly purpling sky. “Alright boss!” he yelled over the din of Pink Floyd and an impact driver, “I quit, I’m going flying!” The reply was muffled, coming from somewhere under the other wing. “alright you’re no use to me this distracted anyway. Go get some!” Towards the mountain range and climbing all the way. Huge and far out of reach, the top of mount fisher glowed in the evening light, drawing him to it, his straining ascent aided by fast rising air. Higher. The whole situation was now breathtaking, he felt utterly small, caught in a delicate balance of momentum. Higher he climbed -higher than these wings should be able to manage- into ever thinning Atmosphere. Perched on a pillow of rising air and now glowing in the same golden light as the peaks, far above the darkening valley floor. The mountain loomed. Below him now, shadow bound to its waist, huge spin-drifts of snow flung skyward from its craggy shoulders. The air which drove up the mountains side, clawing at the rock and flinging those enormous whips of snow upwards the air on which he rode. This air held him aloft, watching the raw elemental dance in detached awe. Seeing ice flung flamelike from this mountaintop, he laughed. He laughed in absurd wonder, he laughed euphoric and small, utterly tiny and completely singular in his mindfulness of where he was. He laughed and laughed and was completely alone in the purpling sky. As he turned for home, he said a quiet thank you to great aunty Ida, just in case she could hear him.