Paper Wings...

Dylan lived with his mother on the fourth floor of a block of flats, on a poor housing estate in Balham. His mother never imagined she would end up there after his father died, six years ago.  Dylan had been celebrating his seventh birthday when his father collapsed and died.
For Dylan, that was the day his whole world turned black. No matter how hard his mother tried, she could not bring the light back for Dylan. He spent hours alone on the small balcony, his castle in the sky. People didn’t matter, they were small like ants. Insignificant beings that had to stick together just to be heard or to feel big.
His mother worried about him and this latest thing about a girl coming to his room late at night. Her neighbour and friend Cathy, said, ‘It’s something he’ll grow out of, Alice, like acne.’‘I don’t think so.’ She knew Cathy meant well. Alice had been married for twenty-two years to a man that meant more than life to her, and Cathy mentioned him now. ‘Maybe losing his father, then coming to live here, after that big house you told me about, had more of an effect on Dylan…’
Alice had this same thought many times. The classic response to the loss of a parent, but she didn’t believe it. Her own father had died when she was ten and no imaginary boy came to her room at night. There had been a great feeling of emptiness, his armchair, his place at the table. It took a while for Alice not to see him sitting there. Nowadays, it was hard for her to remember his voice, his face, and his large hands as he carried her to bed. She could no longer feel them; over the years, she had tried to remember his touch.
Her mother spoke about him for years, as if he were still there. ‘Your father would have loved this film… he loved snow, maybe we will have snow this year. He loved the seaside, do you remember, Alice?’
Despite her words, Alice felt as though her mother had pushed her father’s memory to the darkest corner of her mind, until one day he just fell out and she lost him somewhere along the way. She had learned the many different ways people dealt with loss.
Dylan’s father had been gone for three years. For some people a short time, for others, long enough for the boy to pull himself together. Let people think what they like; there was one thing Alice knew. Dylan should not be rushing to his room minutes after his plate looked empty enough not to be told to sit down and finish his tea. With the door locked, Alice knew she wouldn’t see him until morning. No amount of pleading would bring him out.
Alice tried bribery too. ‘We could go to the shops, find something you would like for your birthday. You’ll be a teenager soon, we should mark it by doing something special. Or we could go away for a week end…’
Nothing worked, there was no response, it was as if the dark room had taken him from her.She would often sit at the top of the stairs, listening to Dylan’s voice. Talking to the girl, using her name, Amber. Alice only ever heard one voice, Dylan’s’He had spoken to her once about this Amber. She was the same age as Dylan; her long hair was black, dark blue eyes, her fingers long and slender. She played the piano at her school assembly. Alice had asked what school, but he wouldn’t say or didn’t know.
All Alice knew, was that he seemed less lonely, less sad with this Amber.Before Amber, Dylan felt as though he lived in a dark tunnel. Reaching out he could touch nothing, hold nothing. How could he make his mother understand what he couldn’t understand himself?Amber held the promise of a life he felt he had shared with Amber in some other space or time. He spent every moment of his day thinking about her, his mind rushing through the hours, trying to call the night closer. He didn’t care about school, there were no friends to worry about.He had heard the teacher talking, ‘He’s a strange one, gives me the creeps.’The other teacher’s reply gave Dylan something to think about, and he played it over in his head. ‘There’s a darkness about him, makes me feel as though death walks beside him…’
Dylan had spent the last six months making paper wings, each feather cut and glued with love. Amber often sitting beside him, encouraging him, telling him they would be together again. Tonight he would be ready, he would fly to her. Had to be the right moment though, his mother had told him he was born at ten minutes past twelve at night, now it would be the time of his death. Many would mention the time, think it a coincidence.
But Dylan knew better, it would be life he was reaching for. He stood at the window. Four floors is a long way down. He felt no fear in his heart, the dark night called him on.
As he flew through the air, he felt her holding him and remembered their love and their life together.Three days later, Alice found a short message on his Facebook page…’I am with Amber, be happy mum, I love you… Dylan…
© 2015 Anita Dawes