Early Morning Breeze
Sunlight dazzled my eyes before I even opened them. I had no idea what time it was, but I figured it was early. Forcing open my eyelids, I peered at the clock on my bedside table and was astounded to discover it was 5:46am. Nearly four hours before I normally woke! I groaned, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was hopeless: I was well and truly awake. Sighing, I sat up and dragged a hand across my eyes.
Suddenly I remembered what Katya said last night. I was curious as to what she liked so much about going for a walk in the mornings. I couldn’t get dressed without making too much of a racket, so I pulled on a shawl and slipped my feet into my old sneakers, carelessly tying the laces. I have to admit I felt a little excited to be going out on my own – I’d had so little independence in my life so far, even something as little as this sparked flames of rebellion in the pit of my stomach. I had to supress a maniac giggle as I tiptoed downstairs and eased open the rusty old side door.
Once I was out in the bright sunlight, I stood for a minute and simply breathed in the sweet morning air. It smelt so fresh, so clean, it was so cold I could feel it burning in my lungs. I was sure I’d never felt a sensation more exciting. Heading off in the direction of the nearest field, I started walking but after a while I couldn’t hold myself back anymore so starting sprinting, the wind tangling my hair, my shawl trailing behind me.
The sight of the field at sunrise was, quite simply, breath-taking. The golden sunlight glinted off the tiny drops of dew still smattered on the grass. I felt almost afraid to take a step into the whole scene, it seemed sacrilegious to disturb it. But then the soft melody of bird call caught my attention, and the child in me exploded out: running, skipping, attempting cartwheels. I lifted my head and sang into the endlessly blue sky, laughing louder than I’d ever laughed before, revelling in the unbridled joy of it all.
Suddenly my foot caught on my trailing shoelace, and I jerked sideways, falling so fast I couldn’t react. Just before I hit the ground a pair of strong, warm arms caught me round the waist and held me steady. The sunlight was in my eyes and confused me for a second, so I couldn’t tell who it was who held me.
“What a nice way to say good morning!” a familiar voice quipped, and I jolted upwards, sudden embarrassment shrivelling inside me.
“Katya!” I giggled nervously. “W… what are you doing here?”
She bent down to retrieve the items she’d dropped to catch me: a battered, dog-eared old book and a half-eaten apple. “I came here to catch the sunrise, and to explore! There are so many fields around here I wanted to suss out the best to do yoga in,” she explained. I had no idea what yoga was, but I had so many burning questions to ask her about her life it seemed such a small question in comparison. I added it to the list. She gestured for me to sit down next to her, and then she wrapped a slightly damp picnic blanket around both of our shoulders.
“What are you doing here, sweetie?” she asked me in return. I confessed shyly that I’d been compelled to walk in a field at sunrise after hearing her talk so passionately about it, and watched her eyes light up.
“I really make that big of an impression on you, huh,” she murmured. It didn’t feel like the kind of statement to make a smart reply to, so we sat in comfortable silence for a while, with no sound but the crescendo of bird songs and her occasionally crunching at her apple.
“Hey, Katya,” I nudged her.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“How did you end up in England? If I was from Boston I don’t think I’d ever want to leave,” She cackled a little at this.
“Obviously you’ve never been there! No, when my parents died I knew there was nothing for me in Boston any more. I’ve been all over the place: I lived in Los Angeles for a while, making coffee for movie stars and such. I had to pack that in when the photographer I was staying with found me in bed with one of his models and threw a painting at my head. Then I skipped down to San Francisco, did a couple of protests there with Harvey Milk and his crew. I had a blast there, but it wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury. I went hungry most days and slept on the streets. Then, one day I was sleeping down the docks and I overheard that they needed an extra hand on a cargo ship to Thailand! I mean, I had to take it, how many times would I have the opportunity to go to Thailand? Those days on the ship were awful, I had to cramp down in the bowels of the ship with the rats and I was sick as a dog. But when I got to Thailand, it was incredible. I just chilled out and smoked weed and learned yoga for months. But after a while I got restless and knew I needed to move on. I heard a Simon and Garfunkel song on a jukebox somewhere, you know the one that goes ‘to England, where my heart lies… lalala…’ So the next day I stowed away on a ship to England, broke some hearts, ended up in an office somewhere, and got posted here!”
I was speechless. There was nothing but silence as her words hung in the air between us, our breath making soft clouds every time we breathed out.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three,” she replied cheerfully. I felt so childish, so inadequate in comparison. By the time she was my age, she was having adventures and making something of her life, and what had I accomplished? I’d written a couple of songs, but that was it. How could I in any way match up to her? I was panicking, spiralling in existential self-hatred when a soft voice beside me brought me back to earth with a bump.
“And how about you, my love? How did your nice little all-American family end up in England?”
“It’s no way as interesting as you! We lived in Wisconsin until my father died five years ago. He left us a huge pot of money, my mother had desires to become an English socialite and send me and my kid siblings to fancy British finishing schools, so we moved here! I think I like it more than America. Although I haven’t seen much of it.” I gabbled, self-conscious. But Katya’s steady gaze calmed me down, stopped me feeling like I had something to prove to her.
“Why not?” she asked. It seemed like she was genuinely interested in what I had to say.
“Oh, I’m not allowed out much. I’ve finished school now, though I was dying to go to university Mother wouldn’t let me. So I go out to her friends’ fancy dinner parties now and again, and I go to the cinema with the kids my age from the village, but I don’t like them much. They don’t want to talk about real things, they just want to talk about boys and gossip about other girls.” I finished with disdain.
“You ain’t never been to London?” she asked. I shook my head. She boggled.
“Well, I have to say I’m very jealous. You get to see it for the first time. Your first time in London is something you never forget,” she said, smiling. I smiled too. We sat in compatible silence until the sun had fully risen, and my joints were stiff with cold, and I felt more peaceful than I had in five years.