The Damning Wish

The early summer sunshine fills our studio flat, brightening the white walls and caressing my arm with its gentle warmth through the velux windows as we sit at the table. Crumpet purrs, sunbathing on the wooden floor and pawing the air behind her favourite person. I remember when he picked her up from the street as a skinny black kitten a couple years ago, despite our landlady’s “no pets” policy. She’d let us keep her, he said. Now, I have to share him with the cat, but it is all I’d ever ask for.

The air is sweet with the mouthwatering aroma of coffee and the scent of freshly made waffles on our plates, served with maple syrup and ripe strawberries, from the plant we sowed the seeds of some time ago and nurtured into growing delicious treats on the windowsill. I watch with a smile as he lifts one to his lips and closes his eyes, savouring the flavour. The sunshine sits on the top of his eyelashes, plaiting gold into his hair and glowing on his shoulders, kissing his collarbones. 

Who knew, I would one day be jealous of the sunlight.

I let out a small sigh of delight, thinking of how I’ll claim those strawberry sweet, soft lips after breakfast again, and then every morning and night until the end of days. My chest swells with love and adoration and when he meets my eyes with that loving smile of his, my heart is about to burst. I’m going to ask him. My smile widens, as I think of us making that promise of forever, and I’m just about to pop the question when his voice, always warm and soft like velvet, fills the room.

‘Noah, I have to go home.’ 

I don’t want to understand it at first. This has been our home for almost the entire five years we’ve been together, and as far as I know he has no parents, no family home to return to. Not even a family name, and when I asked in our early months, he would just say something like home was with God in heaven, to which I wouldn’t say anything. I don’t believe in such things as… heaven…

My heart drops from the sunshine into the dark depths of the ocean.

‘No!’ I stand up so fast I knock the table, spilling our coffees and dropping my cutlery onto the floor. Crumpet runs hissing away from us and my heart beats like I ran a sprint.

‘No…’ I repeat quieter, my voice pleading. Forget the proposal.

‘I’m sorry.’ He leans towards me, reaching across the table to hold my hand, his warm skin on mine offering comfort suddenly scarce. I don’t want him to let go.

‘You don’t have to.’ I mutter, unable to speak any coherent thoughts.

‘I do,’ he says ever so softly, and I'm kicking myself for thinking we were past this, ‘Noah, it is God’s will–’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘No. I–’

‘I’ll take you to see a therapist.’

He gives me a compassionate smile.

‘There is no need.’

‘There is a need! If you are this unwell–’

‘I’m well. Please, calm down.’

‘Selaphiel!’ I bang my fists on the top of the table. More coffee spills. He slowly takes back his hand and takes his eyes off me, fixing them on the strawberries we picked together in perfect bliss not an hour ago. 

‘Just how can you expect me to be calm?’ I drop back into my chair and bury my face in my hands.

There is a heavy silence between us, only disturbed by the running of the tap and the rattling of dishes as we clean up the ruins of the breakfast. He washes the dishes and I dry them with a teatowel, absentmindedly looking at our photographs on the wall, finding our first picture together. Is this my fault? Am I a bad person..? In the frame, we are grinning at each other in our Red Cross T-shirts, with the fresh look of new lovers. The darkness, the picture hides. Behind us, a grey blur, the remains of a village wrecked by flood, and the big rips on the back of his T-shirt. For wings. The picture blurs by the sting in my eyes and I turn my face up to blink away the tears. I should never have ignored it, I should have done more, from the very first time I saw him, on top of that church’s roof. 

I didn’t know how he got up there, or why he was dressed in what looked like a costume, a short toga, clean and white, draped over his shoulder and secured around his waist with a golden rope; but he was there nonetheless, standing tall like a statue of a Greek god, looking over the village still half swallowed by the ocean.

I stopped in my tracks, a white cloud of breath escaping between my lips into the crisp, cold air.

He didn’t notice me at first, as I stood below, with a heavy box of supplies in my hands, wrapped up warmly in neoprene lined wellies, a wool scarf and bright red jacket. I swallowed my sense of unease as I was trying to think whether I should call out to him. My first thought, of course, was that he’d lost his mind, that he might want to jump. After all, many had lost what felt like their everything in the flood. I cleared my throat, trying the words I could say in my mind. 

When I finally mustered up the courage to open my mouth, his eyes found me. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting, stepping to the very edge of the roof. My heart thumped and I automatically raised my hand in return. The box fell on my foot. My knees buckled in the pain, and as I squatted there with watering eyes, grabbing after the bottles of water rolling away in every direction, I tried my best to catch them all before they’d roll too far and get too dirty, putting them back in the box. My heart was pounding, partly in embarrassment, but when I looked up, I couldn’t see him anymore. With a frustrated sigh, I shoved the last bottle back in the box, and stood, carefully testing my throbbing foot on the ground. Good. I could still walk on it. Just as I started to limp towards the shelter indoors, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Glancing back, that was the first time I looked into the pair of green eyes I would fall in love with. The boy — Selaphiel —, by some means not on the roof anymore, gave me a stray bottle and a smile that made me forget about my sore foot in an instant.

He wanted to help, and I wanted him not to freeze. Eventually, we came to an agreement: He’d accept wearing more appropriate clothes, and I’d let him help rebuild the village and care for the survivors. The T-shirt was a compromise. He said he couldn’t wear it because of his wings. First, I thought he was joking, later, that he was on drugs, but it was neither. I thought it was best to give him a job instead of arguing, and keep an eye on him. And he seemed to be fine. Working harder than anyone else on the team, with such devotion he would not stop for a break unless I pulled him aside to rest, he quickly proved himself to be the most selfless person I’ve ever met in my life. 

When I woke up in the mornings, he was already busy with work, and late in the evenings, I looked for him to tell him to get some rest. Like that, we ended up spending our evenings together, losing track of time in passionate conversations about all the crimes, war and poverty he had encountered whilst travelling the world for the last five years, and the places struck by natural disaster that I visited to provide aid; bonding over how we wanted to fix up the whole planet. “I will have to ask God to do something,” he said, and I made myself a mental note of warning. Proceed with caution.

A month and a half in, the weather changed. The day turned as dark as night, and we had to abandon the work outside, all of us sheltering in the church and the school building. It only got worse by the evening. With howling winds threatening to shatter the windows, and relentless rain hammering on the rooftop, muffled only by the thundering sky that made me shudder every time lightning struck, I could not wait to hide under a blanket. Whilst I was making my rounds, giving out cups of hot, steaming tea in the dim building I caught Selaphiel’s eyes a few times, watching over me from across the hall whilst distributing supplies. Maybe he was scared too, maybe he could sense my anxiety from miles, but either way I kept looking for him to calm my mind. A horrendous thunder made me spill some tea, and as I locked eyes with him, panting, another lightning struck, painting the shadow of two terrifying, large wings, stretched behind him in black, across the width of the wall.

I couldn’t breathe. It was most likely a pigeon, stretching its wings in the window at the right moment, but I could not stop myself from shaking. I never did well in storms, they were a living nightmare. After the tea rounds, I escaped the hall and slid down with my back to the wall in a quiet corner, out of sight and away from everyone.

‘Noah?’ His voice startled me. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he came looking for me, when until that day, I always made sure to find him in the evenings. I forced a smile.

‘Sorry… Thanks for today.’ He shook his head and, ever so thoughtful and attentive, handed me a cup of chamomile tea. I noticed he’d brought our sleeping bags.

‘It is a little quieter here,’ he explained, and when we rolled out the sleeping bags, he settled close to me.

‘Are you cold?’ I asked, all wrapped up and shivering, but he seemed most content in his ripped T-Shirt, lying atop of his sleeping bag.

‘No… And you don’t have to be, either.’ he scooted closer, and my heart skipped a beat as I looked into his shiny eyes catching the moonlight through the windows. I gave him a nervous smile and closed my eyes, reminding myself of the potential consequences of falling for a christian boy: it had not ended well before. Though I felt warmer, I wasn’t able to sleep for long, with the sounds of the storm and that of my own heartbeat in my ears.

I found him busy serving breakfast the next morning, and when we went outside to assess and remedy the damage caused by the storm, he threw himself into the work like no other, threading through rising flood on the streets to retrieve our blown and washed away tools and supplies. You really are an angel, I thought with feelings of gratitude, and something more, that at that point, I did not want to name.

It was towards the end of the second month of volunteering, when the weather started to warm and the birds chirped songs of new hope, that we could start working on houses. Selaphiel and I ended up working on the same one, and I would’ve fallen off the top of it if it wasn’t for him grabbing my hand and pulling me back up. My life flashed before my eyes when I slipped. I didn’t know how he got there so fast, how he had the strength to pull me back on the beams, or what had gotten into me, when I pressed my lips onto his as soon as we sat safely, for a moment too long and scarily one-sided. The bucket of tools behind him fell from the beam and crashed into the ground, the noise like a slap in my face, hitting me back to reality. I pulled away. He was motionless, his olive eyes staring wide open, shades of green with shimmery gold flecks shining with something like shock, confusion and surprise.

I swallowed down my fake regret and unease. 

‘Selaphiel..?’ He took a small gasp of air, his eyes flickering onto my lips. I should’ve said sorry and thanked him for saving my life, but my tongue formed different words. ‘I need some sort of a reaction…’ I heard myself plead, inflicting on myself an excruciating wait. Pausing for long was unlike him, and I could almost see the gears turn in his head, before he reached towards me. My first thought was that he was going to shove me off the roof, but the push never came. His hand slid into my hair.

‘Let’s try again.’

I knew it was wrong, and I tried not wanting it, reminding myself every time he turned his back and I saw the ripped back of his T-shirt. Pursuing someone with that kind of delusion felt as unethical as dating a kid under eighteen. At the very least he told me he was older… That didn’t help draw the line between us: I kept stepping over.

Watching the sunset on the shore, over the littered beach and the sparkling waves, as I rested my hand up on his back, I could not stop myself telling him that everything he believed just wasn’t true. It was painful as I feared I would upset him, but he turned his face towards me, tilting his head the same way he did each time before we kissed.

‘If not an angel, what can I be to you?’ he asked with a hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

At that, I promptly duct taped the mouth of the voices of reason and doubt, and threw them into the deepest, darkest pit of my mind with the intention of silencing them forever.

All that, so I could show him what he was to me, what I wanted us to be, which I did that night, despite my better judgement and despite how he winced and gasped “W-wings..!” when I pushed him onto his back. I selfishly still had him, firmly shoving the voice of judgement to join the rest of the ones trying to hold me back into the prison of ignored thoughts. So what, if he’s bonkers? Isn’t all fair in love and war?

And yet, here we are: five years on in the grave of my own digging at the end of the worst ever day in my life. I should've forced him into mental care years ago, instead of pretending ignorance. I clear my throat.

‘When are you planning to..?’ I cannot bring myself to finish my question, but finishing sentences was never of importance between us.

‘Tomorrow. But we’ll meet again. Maybe in about sixty years? I know it sounds like a lot, but I promise, it is not really a long time at the end.’

‘Are you actually talking about the afterlife..?’ I’m stunned by his bluntness.

He nods.

‘You can’t leave Crumpet,’ I protest, shaking my head with a heavy stone in my throat. ‘I won’t let you–’

‘I know you are upset–’

‘I’m scared.’

‘–but I don’t want to part on bad terms,’ he says, and I just simply do not want to part. ‘Let me say goodbye.’

I don’t want to hear it.

Staring out the dark window, I avoid looking at him as he holds my hand and tells me how I am the kindest person he ever met and how he will always treasure the time we had here on Earth.

I wonder if “I love you” always felt like a knife through my heart, twisted. I will fix this. Even if I have to tie him up and carry him to the hospital against his will, even if it means that we are over. I won’t let anything happen to him.

‘...If you could believe me, it wouldn’t be this painful. I wish you could.’

‘How could I risk that?!’ I snap.

‘You would be right not to, if it was anyone else. But I’m telling the truth.’

‘Everyone thinks they are.’

My anxiety grows by the second as the sun sets, and I can’t for a moment let him out of sight. I can tell he feels bad for me, but not bad enough to say what I want to hear.

‘Why are you so sure there is heaven? That there is God? Where is your evidence?’

‘Been there, seen him.’ He smiles, but he also clearly sees wings that he doesn’t have.

‘Selaphiel, I’m begging you–’

‘Noah,’ He still has a way of saying my name sweetly, as he beckons me to the window. ‘come here.’

‘I’ll grant you a parting wish,’ he says, but I don’t want a parting anything, I just want him to stay.

‘What are you now, a jinn?’ I ask, not in the nicest of tones. At least if he was a jinn I could trap him inside a lamp for eternity… That should be safe enough.

‘It will only be one wish. Look.’

He makes a little swiping movement with his finger and above, I see it: a long tailed shooting star travelling through the sky.

‘I wish for you to be happy, when I am gone. I hope that you will find God.’

I close my eyes and with every fibre of my being wish that he will not. I want no more of that talk. No more of heaven and no more wings.

As I've told him: a wish only comes true when one guards it with silence, keeps it as a secret.