volant

Summer here was always sticky sweet. Like morning dew on flowers, we sat on the rotting wood porch sipping tea. Us sitting here reminded me of a sickly, small town cinema shot. I had just come back yesterday, flying in through Dayton before I rented a car and drove down to Madison. It was different being here, away from the glimmer of streetlights and advertisements, but I needed to be here. I heard the wicker chair creak as Tara turned to ask me, “You think he’d like the stars tonight?”

The first time I remember him flying, we were both twelve. His dad, or what we call a pathetic excuse for a man, left his mother earlier that year for a younger woman in a county over. He knew Tim’s mom was pregnant, but what did he care. A couple months later, Tim’s mom lost the baby. Course this was after months of complete disregard for Tim. He could have not existed for all she cared. So when Tim jumped off the roof of the schoolhouse, we knew he was angry. Not so much that he wanted to kill himself, but so he could feel something other than his hate. I couldn’t blame him, it was under the most unfortunate circumstances.

Tara propped her feet up on the porch fence. I watched the splintering paint crumpled under the weight of her heel as she reclined. “I think he would. He’d be right here telling us how he’d rope us the moon.”

“Yeah, he always dreamt in stars didn’t he?” I admired how Tara could keep her composure. She had after all taken care of Tim after his mom went crazy. She was just too good of a person to let him waste away.

Tara was a wonderful family friend of my parents. She never married, but then again, she never wanted to. I remember when I had just entered high school and she took me out shopping to buy some new dresses. It took some convincing, but my parents agreed. She used to baby-sit me in middle school, so she had a way with them. My parents are actually very supportive. They decided to leave Madison after I left for college. They wanted to be closer to me and knew that I would eventually find some big city, so we had no reason to come here anymore. But here I was, sitting on Tara’s porch, reminiscing because we had nothing better to do.

When Tim was 17, he decided, since he was going to be his own man pretty soon now, he’d be an astronaut. Actually, he had decided that a long time ago, but now he was going to learn to fly a plane. He already registered and was driving to Dayton taking lessons. It had cost him six months worth of wages, but it was worth it. He told me when you were in space, it felt like being in the lake, floating. I laughed at him saying, I’d rather be in the lake because at least I knew I could come back home quickly.

I never thought Tim was crazy, just strangely ambitious. We all have dreams. I still thought that the second time he tried to fly off a roof. He had these ridiculous wings made of wire hangers and plastic tarp. We all thought he was messing around, but when he looked at the sky and the sun haloed his head, I just knew. That boy is going to fly.

Sometimes, when I'm alone in the city, I look at the rooftops of old cathedrals and giant skyscrapers, and imagine what it would be like to be that high. What would the wind feel like up there? Stronger, breezier? What would the world look like at my feet? Insignificant? What would Tim think of these faded gray, brick church with Gothic angels on pedestals.

I remember that last night in Madison, I was leaving for college. The summer air was sticky sweet like tonight. Tim had finished his pilot lessons by now. I remember him promising me that he’d take me out on a flight when I came back from school. By then his arm would be healed. Tim wasn’t going anywhere because his grades were pitiful, and what little I could help him with, he managed only to get a C. I told him that he could take classes at the community college, but he told me not in living hell. Apparently, astronauts don’t learn to fly in college.

We spent that last night sitting on Tara’s porch. He told me that one day, when he made something of himself, he’d come find me, in his own private jet, and propose with the biggest diamond he can find. I told him, we’ll see.

Tomorrow will be the last day I see Tim. I'm told that they made him up well enough that you can't tell he has any broken bones. This last time he jumped, I'd like to think he knew what he was doing, even if gravity decided otherwise. But as he is lowered into his earthy grave, I know six feet can’t keep him from the sky.

I wish I had come back to Madison, to Tim. Then I would tell him there's so much more out there than hiding behind clouds. That it's okay to cry, to fear, to be angry. I just let it pass because I it was easier being distant.

Tara smiles and whispers, "Aww, honey, he knows. You were good for him. He knows." I muster up half a smile and lean into her shoulder. At least I know now in heaven, he will truly be flying.