Wings

The next week is saturated with our conversations. After fourteen days with nearly no human contact, I somehow gained the ability to talk at 400 miles per hour. Wings and I tell eachother everything about ourselves and our lives.

Wings comes from a family with nine kids, although two of them have moved out, and a third is currently attending college. Wings plans to attend University of Michigan, like her oldest sister. Her mother has type two diabetes, and she works as a camerawoman for an indie film company. Wings’ father works for a construction firm. Since her parents are often at work, Wings’ oldest sister runs the household.

Wings herself avoids being at home more than a few hours a day, and joined marching band, track, and science olympiad to help pass time. She claims that she gets all ‘A’s, but by the way she turned her mouth as she said it makes me think she was kidding.

In return for this mountain of information, I tell her all about my life. It’s much shorter, and definitely less interesting.

My mother, as I’ve said, is a lawyer, and apparently, one of her billboards is across the street from Wings’ school. My dad owns a café downtown, but since he became manager, he hasn’t shown up more than twice a month. He’s more of a stay-at-home kind of guy, anyways. He’s always watching hockey or Mexican soap operas.

I’m not in any after school clubs, but I am in the school newspaper. Wings thought that sounded fun until I told her that we published once a week instead of semi-monthly like at her school.

After we exhausted the topic of our school and home lives, we moved on to a multitude of others. She told me about the stray cat she’d taken care of behind her parents’ back for a year. I told her about how I’d thought she’d looked like Nikaidou, to which she responded that she’d always thought of herself as more of a Yuno Gasai. Despite how easily we got along, there were a few topics we strayed from. She got flustered whenever I brought up my legs, and I did my best to avoid the topic of boys; I didn’t want to admit I’d never had a boyfriend. Luckily for me, Wings never brought it up. Unluckily for Wings, I constantly badgered her to tell me more about track. When I’d had my legs, I’d never enjoyed exercise, but now that I’ll never have the chance to run cross-country, I can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be faster than everyone else. After one particularly long session of roasting, Wings finally caved.

“When I run, it’s like… There’s something inside my chest that wasn’t there before. It fills this hole I didn’t realize was there. My heart races like I’ve had ten cans of Red Bull. The wind on my face is soothing, but it burns a bit, too. I feel like time could just stop, and I would stay happy forever. Of course, if I tried that, I’d probably trip and hurt myself worse than this time.” She laughs, raising her damaged wrist.

I don’t laugh. I’m too busy trying to imagine the feeling she was describing, but I’ve never felt it before. My reverie is interrupted by a knock at the door. I didn’t have the daily schedule memorized anymore, but I could tell it was too early for lunch; Wings’ lap still contained her half-eaten breakfast.

A voice enters the room, followed by a head draped with red hair, darker than Wings. “Katerina? Are you in here?” Her eyes perk up when she spots Wings.

Wings looks pained, the same way she does when she talks about her family, and I can tell this overly-cheerful woman is her mother.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you!” The woman practically tackles Wings, planting kisses on her head, all the while making exaggerated “mwah, mwah,” sounds. Wings looks at me desperately, willing me to pretend this isn’t happening. I grin back at her, shaking my head slightly. I wonder briefly if I should take out my phone and record this for later blackmail.

Wings’ mother finally finishes kissing her daughter’s hair, and begins talking at 723 syllables per minute.

“Oh, sweetheart, the kids are all dying to see you again, but don’t worry, we’re heading right home, I already filled out the paperwork, and we can leave now.Aren’t you glad you don’t have to spend any more time sitting in this smelly hospital?”

I stopgrinning. Wings is leaving? Who will I talk to? Before I can say or do anything, Wings’ mother has dragged her out the door. At the last second, Wings turns back and waves her cast at me, a strained smile on her face. I sit perfectly still as she blows me an exaggerated kiss.

The door closes.