#burned wings

Sam: The police report is calling it a stabbing. Witness: Sure, yeah that´s the official story. I mean I was outside… I mean. Dead woman, no blood… come on… and this crazy burn marks… It´s a cult think right?

For all the work he’d put into this, you’d have thought Matthias would have learned some foreign languages. He had tried. He’d studied language books, podcasts, conversations on tape, Netflix shows with subtitles on… But all of that fell short when you were actually sitting behind bars and trying to puzzle out what the cops were saying about you through muffled walls.

It was about as bad as you’d expect. The drunk in the cell with him smelled like days old alcohol and urine and didn’t speak a word of English. He had a thick beard that hadn’t been groomed in a while and hair that was equally as unkempt. But that wasn’t the bad part. Nah. Ernesto was a nice guy who’d muddled through introductions with Matthias and tried to put him at ease. Matthias’ terrible Italian had guided him through the conversation a little roughly, but it seemed like Ernesto had been in here a few times, and it always turned out okay. The real bad part was not knowing what was going to happen next, not having something to sleep on or anywhere to wash, only having a toilet in the corner of the room but no toilet roll. All this, because he hadn’t been good enough.

He had been out on his own, free and clear, a young bird spreading its wings for the first time. But like Icarus, he’d flown too close to the sun, and now he was falling. What happened to people like him in Italian prisons? He’d seen television shows and movies that painted it as less than pleasant; the idea of a young foreigner being jailed in another country. Surely the embassy could help, if he could get in touch with them. He didn’t know the phone number though, and they hadn’t offered him a call yet anyway. He paced, backwards and forwards, wrestling with his conscience and doing his best to ignore Ernesto’s motorcycle-engine snoring when the door opened.

His whole body stiffened, a fight or flight mode activated. Matthias had never done much fighting. Bruised knuckles and bloody knees hadn’t been his way of life. Should he need to defend himself against a police officer, his hopes about his chances were that of dust in the wind. But as she stepped into the room, like an angel descended from the heavens to rescue him and at the same time, his nightmare, his thoughts calmed. “Mum…” Matthias shook his head, eyeing her in disbelief, wondering if he’d caught a second hand high from the whiskey soaked into Ernesto’s clothes and fallen asleep. “Mum, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t quite accusation, but it wasn’t quite not. She turned and spoke to his jailors in flawless Italian that he envied, and the key turned in the lock moments later. Then, she answered him.

“What any good mother would. Come on, sweetheart.” She extended a hand to him and he walked towards it, ducking when she tried to stroke his hair and glancing over his shoulder at the officers who seemed half-glad to have him off their hands. He didn’t say anything else until they were outside in the car she’d rented.

“You were keeping an eye on me, weren’t you?”

From behind the wheel, she glanced over at him with a sad smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows it would’ve taken you more than eight hours to work out what’d happened and come over and get me if you weren’t.”

She looked almost sorry, and it was hard to be angry with her given the extent to which she’d just saved his neck. No. Matthias was far more annoyed with himself than with the woman who’d birthed him, who’d risked her life to bring that screaming, blood-covered body into the world and risked her reputation to come to Italy after him. If there was one thing a thief hated, it was interactions with the law.

“It will be alright, Matt,” she said, her voice soft like water trickling in a spring. “They never knew your real name, and I’ve offered them ample incentive to not go looking for it. We’ll go back to your hotel, let you shower and get your things, and be back in London by supper time. There’s no need for this to do your prospects any damage.”

He had gone from gazing out the window watching the sun streak along the building-tops in the distance to looking over at her, eyes wide and worry marking his every feature. “No…” He managed, shaking his head.

“Hm?”

“Mum, please…” He begged. “I love you, and I’m bloody grateful you got me out of there, but I’ve got to do this. For me. I messed it up. But I can do better. I have to. Please.”

She took her eyes off the road just for a moment to look over at him, her boy, the golden haired, blue-eyed angel that had been the best thing she’d ever done. Oh, to this day, he never stopped challenging her. It was as wondrous as it was tiresome.

“You know if you get caught again and we can’t help you, Kings might withdraw your offer. You might actually end up in court. In prison.”

Matthias wet his lips with a tongue that had barely retained any moisture and nodded. “I know. But a kid never learns to ride a bike properly ‘til you take the safety wheels off. Even if they crash a few times.”

It wasn’t the riding she was worried about. It was certainly the crashing. She looked at him like he had just declared he was going off to war. He couldn’t tell in the early dawn light, but he swore there was something that resembled a tear in her eye, the physical mark of her love for him, her worry. She was silent for so long Matthias wasn’t sure if she was going to speak at all, but when she did, it was with a soft sigh. “Alright.” The car drew to a stop, and it was only then that Matthias realised they’d actually reached the hotel. “At least lets go out for breakfast together before my flight, hm?” He couldn’t help it. He reached over the gear stick and threw his arms around her. His mother released a soft snicker and ruffled his hair, patting his back. “Oh, you stink!” She laughed. “Go on. Shower first, then food.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed back, getting out of the car and stretching his legs and arms, looking back over at her before he disappeared inside. “You’re pretty sound, you know? I wouldn’t be half the man I am without you and dad. I just… reckoned you should know that.”

Burned Wings (2013) -

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2802140/

[subbed]

[CVF 2014] Chinese Visual Festival - http://chinesevisualfestival.org/