The A to Z of You and Me

W

Wings

I’M UP ABOVE the valley.

I’m here. I can sense it here all around me.

I can feel the sun’s warmth, my blood basking beneath the surface.

And it’s you.

You, look, you’re holding up your palms and crossing your hands now, pressing your thumbs together to make a bird. A fluttering bird.

I take my right hand, press it to your left, thumb to thumb.

A bird. A fluttering bird.

Hold our hands against the sky.

Fluttering, fluttering in the blue.

Two songbirds, fluttering on the eddies, energized by the fruit from the tree, out in the gasping yawn of valley air. That’s when we’ll be together, mingling in the wind.

You’re smiling and widening your eyes.

Your eyes.

‘Oh, it’s so good to see you,’ I’m saying. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

Let me look at you, let me drink you in.

‘You look so well and so happy. Are you happy?’

‘Really happy.’

‘Oh, I’m so pleased. This is amazing. You look amazing. I’ve missed you so much.’

‘Miss you too.’

‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

‘I know.’

‘You were so straight and clear and good and honest with me. I’m so sorry.’

‘I know.’

‘I can’t even ask for your forgiveness. You must never give me it.’

‘Nothing matters.’

I can’t tell you what a relief it is. After all these years. You’re exactly, exactly as I remember you, only clearer. Crystal clear. Your eyes glisten brightly for me.

‘Will you give me your hand?’

‘Here.’

I can feel it! I can feel the soft skin. I can feel you stroking my knuckles with your thumb.

‘Hereing me.’

‘Oh yes, yes. I am hereing you.’

‘Knowing my words.’

‘They sound just the same, exactly the same as they used to.’

‘Same sound, no sound.’

‘Can you hear me now? Do you know my words at the same time as I think them?’

‘I know.’

‘Forgive me.’

‘Come.’

‘Where are you going? You’re not going, are you? Please don’t go.’

‘I won’t leave you. Here for you. Don’t worry.’

Washed-out quality of your voice.

Signature squiggles of birdsong.

The flutter of wings.

Ohhh.

Still here.

Awake for ever.

This breathing, this breathing.

Like through a drinking straw.

Sleep won’t come.

Lying across the pain.

Pain like a branch through my back.

Sharp twisted tree branch.

Tinkle trolley.

‘Hallo, lovey, it’s only me. It’s only Sheila.’

Tinkle tinkle.

There it goes. Hm.

Tinkle tinkle.

The people don’t speak to me now. Not Jef, not Jackie. Only Sheila.

Good good.

Speak stirs the chemicals, busy head.

Keeps me awake.

No more.

Good.

They’re good people.

Good people.

Angels.

Night now.

Shhh.

Shhh shhhh shhhut up.

‘Morning, lovey.’

Tinkle, tinkle.

Here comes trolley.

Drink, I can’t drink.

Good, go.

I like it when nothing happens.

What was I, what was I supposed to be—?

I?

‘Hallo, lovey. It’s only me. It’s Sheila.’

Sheila.

‘I’m just going to take your blanket, OK? Let me unhook it from your fingers here, so we can sort your bedding out, OK?’

Mm?

‘I’m just going to put it by your bedside, all right? It won’t be far away.’

No. I–

No — no, that’s not right.

I don’t feel right.

Cold.

Cold now.