Sunset on the Overpass

Bystander #1

The concrete vibrated softly underneath us, like being on a lily pad in a pond. A sea of lights flowed toward us before disappearing beneath our feet. Vroom! The boy stood on the wall, holding onto the rusted fence and watching the parade of lights. I looked to the stars for answers.

I had been on my way to the convenience store down the road. My friends were expecting me to come back quickly. It was cool outside. I came upon this boy on the overpass, blonde in a grey hoodie, scanning the traffic, the hills in the distance, the opal sunset. He was glued to the chain link fence that separated him and the cars on the highway.

His wings were tattered, as could be expected of any pair belonging to a teenager (especially a boy). Everyone was born with a pair of wings, kind of like moth wings. They were fairly delicate so as we aged they were usually not strong enough to carry our bodies. Upon nearing adulthood, they were clipped or removed entirely a lot like how tonsils can be taken out. I expected that this boy just didn’t want to lose his and so here he was now to attempt one last fly. Maybe he just wanted to be a kid forever. We all feel that way from time to time. Even now, my parents reminisce about fluttering around in their backyards as kids. 

The boy sidled to a hole in the fence that was big enough to wedge himself through. Now nothing was between him and the busy roadway below. He was thin, but I didn’t know if his wings would be enough to hold him anymore. The dark, empty overpass felt like a world apart from the thunder and exhaust smoke under us. 

“There’s still time,” I said wistfully. I didn’t know his name. He was handsome though. His head was bowed and he was gasping for air. He was scared but exhilarated.

“You still have so much time,” I said, studying the youth in his face. His cheeks were still a little pink. “Don’t risk it this way.” 

There was another teenage boy who had appeared from the other side of the overpass. He was walking his bike across. He didn’t have wings anymore although he too was still particularly young. His expression was stern and he made several crass remarks that I wasn’t assertive enough to rebuke.

“‘Ey, let him do what he wants,” he said. “Come on, I don’t have all night to stand around chatting with the two of you.” This comment made me think momentarily about my friends back at my house who were probably starting to worry about me. Should I just go back? No, if this boy could be saved then I would save him.

Bystander #2

When I first saw him, he was standing on the edge of the wall, leaning through a hole in the fence, surveying the horde of incoming cars. It must feel like being a king up there. Now, he was crouched on the wall as if he was changing his mind. His wings were limp on his back, like damp towels. There was no way he would survive a drop. He was basically the same as me at this point: flightless. 

“What are you waiting for, coward?” I looked at him scornfully. “If you’re going to do it just do it.” I saw the girl next to him frightened and pleading. What an attention-seeker. It made me angry. His forlorn face turned to the setting sun. His laces were undone. 

Just a couple of months ago my own wings had been burnt off, not because I had necessarily aged out of them but because I had been in too much trouble. Adults didn’t think I was trustworthy. My parents were tired of chasing me around the neighborhood late at night. They didn’t like the way I talked to them. If I couldn’t take to the sky then I would run with my legs.

“You know, it’s not going to get better. Nothing is going to change.” I leaned my bike on the wall next to him. He peeked at me and I gave him a crooked smile. “Everybody always says things will go your way eventually, but they don’t know.”

“Think of your family. What will they do?” The girl scanned his face, trying to transpose her rationality onto him. It was so sentimental that I almost puked. The boy looked over his shoulder between us like he was watching us play table tennis behind his back.

The boy’s face was flat. He hunched his shoulders up so they nearly touched his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’s made up his mind, just give him some room.” I felt resentment boiling up inside of me. He was going to be free and I was going to be stuck here. It’s like having a fever, being cold and hot at the same time.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He looked at me then. “Ben.” After that, nobody said another thing.

Without warning, Ben threw himself forward and as if I had been chained to his ankle, I felt myself being pulled to the wall to see what would happen to him. The girl almost bit her hand off in shock. “No!” she called after him desperately. 

Ben

Taking a gulp of air, I pushed myself off of the wall and toward the torrent of cars. My wings strained to beat behind me. The wind from my fall was strong, threatening to tear them apart like knives through tissue paper. I reached out toward the sky, maybe for a cloud to hang onto or the moon. A pair of headlights blazed nearer to me. 

Before I could go splat on its windshield, I pulled myself upward. I imagined I was piloting a plane and that somehow reminded me how to fly. I checked the time on my watch. A little after eight-thirty. I cursed under my breath. My curfew was at nine. In my head I wished that I would get home before then and that my shortcut over the highway would prove worth it. I took one backwards glance at the overpass where the boy and girl stood watching me drift into the distance. What annoying, strange people. They kind of reminded me of some people from my school. Someone’s always looking at you these days. Always talking at you. I waved goodbye to them and darted south toward my house.