When Wings Break

Approved Appropriations

Approved Appropriations

Each route he took, his wrist tracker pinged against a command box. He knew he was flying on borrowed time. Each beat of his wings through the air highways on the highest speed permitted was Saleh challenging time to slow and allow him the mercy of reaching his destination in time.

The tracker beeped. Once, twice. On the third turn, it buzzed long and extended as it turned a blazing red.

"Damn it!"

That was now a five hundred dollar fine over his registration fees. Anyone who'd told him growing up in America was easier had clearly never met bills. Saleh didn't slow down. He was going to make due payments when he got to the other end. The tracker continued monitoring his speeds and movement; the track boxes would pick up his lack of registration but the fine was already in the system.

Rain overshadowed the northeast. The clouds looked like the types he loved playing in as a child. His workplace loomed in front of him. He'd been so close. He landed in the front parking lot, trusty pair of boots taking his landing force as he walked into the building, OneRepublic crooning in his ears.

"You're late," Denise smiled from behind the counter, already packing in two packages to be airlifted to various parts of the city. Seven boxes marked with the restaurant's logo. "You'll make for a terrible husband, Saleh."

Babu Yusuf walked out of the back then, black chef uniform neat and tidy compared to the slightest stain on his rolled-up sleeves. "Quickly. Dinner time is not time to leave stomachs growling. Eh. Saleh! Saleh, come, come, come. I've been meaning to speak with you."

Saleh felt the steep drop in his stomach. It was one he would not enjoy. Wings rightfully adjusted, he reached into his pouch, ignoring a table of admirers he recognized from school. "Right away, Babu," he handed a card to Denise.

She frowned, shuffling aside for a waiter to pull a bunch of serviettes from the cupboards below. "Much as I'd like you to buy me dinner, uh, um, aren't you supposed to, like, ask first—Oh! Flight card. Didn't catch that thermal, huh?"

He ignored the mockery. "Just register me. Full pay this trip, yeah?" It wouldn't cost too much from his pay. Agile and fast fliers were sought out in a world looking for alternative ways. The witches did not appreciate mockery of powers, not to mention manna hackers were a nasty bunch.

"Speak better to me, Casanova," Denise pulled out her bottom lip, batting her lashes jokingly. "I'm hurt."

Saleh grew tensed, muscles clenching a bit more and drawing the full weight of his wings closer to his back. Bad idea; he could just as easily overstrain and then he was out of his last possible two rounds tonight. It wasn't her fault today was not a pleasant day.

"Sorry. How about," he stepped aside and allowed another flier to pass. He picked up the touch pen on top of the pickup monitor. Extra information called for some chocolate cake; there was the promise of an extra tip. Christophe liked chocolate banana cake.

"How about skating?" she said, turning away to work on the computer hidden by the high counter. "Like, you and me on a rink so I can see how those wings of yours work in the snow?"

Saleh felt his brows pull down. "If that's what you want. How about this Saturday? Twelve good?" Babu Yusuf had a rule that all data had to sync before leaving the building. He had a distaste of other internet connections after his son informed him how likely it was to be hacked in a public network. He changed the password on a weekly basis. Saleh hit sync in his tablet and waited. "How about lunch after?"

It would be the perfect excuse to get away for some time. Denise's expression grew brighter, her fingers tapping along as she pulled her lip between her teeth. "I would, like, love that," she said. The computer dinged. "And now you're less likely to get hailed."

It wasn't two minutes later and his tracker dinged with a notification. It was a simple bliss to be able to see the green light up. "Nice. Thanks, D. Always my savior."

"Better remember that!" she called as Saleh walked off, delivery pack in hand. He would pull it in front of him before he hit the skies. He didn't get to go far before Babu Yusuf's laughter challenged the cutlery clinking and silent conversation mood that made up the atmosphere at Babu's Mostly Eastern.

He was a big man, near as tall as Christophe. Dark Middle Eastern hair curled backward in a net, showing a slight patch of salted strands hidden within. He wore his chef uniform proudly; Saleh did not recall a single time Babu had not either been in his uniform or been holding some form of cutlery. Unlike Saleh, he had not been born with wings though both parents had a pair of strong, Forth Level wings.

As he came closer, Saleh recognized a table full of traditional garbed middle easterners. What female head was present had been hidden with colorful shukas, the three men's heads covered with iconic embroidered caps. He could bet the pattern was a family guarded tradition.

Mama Arif looked up with eyes dancing in laughter and recognized him. "Saleh!" she was on her feet and coming towards him in an instant. He was taller than her but when she pulled his cheeks down for affectionate kisses, he felt the child.

"Look at you," she pulled away, eyes growing wide with happiness. "Oh, my. You have grown. Arif. Arif. Look at Saleh."

Arif? Saleh looked over her shoulder to the man she looked at, feeling a tightness in his chest. Arif grinned back, dark eyes as happy as his mother's eyes. That was all Saleh could recognize of his childhood friend. Clean-shaven, he displayed the rounded face he shared with his father, as well as the wide shoulders that would one day take on a family.

"You've grown."

"You're one to speak," Saleh replied, feeling his own lips widen.

Mama Arif laughed, clapping his back affectionately as the smell of morning baking wafted into his nose. It was familiar and foreign at the same time. "Come. Come, Saleh. Meet everyone." She nudged him forcefully towards the table, speaking off a mile a minute. "That's Babu Abdul and bin Salma. You know their cousins Uncle Farhan and that no good puppet Leo."

When Mama Arif decided someone deserved her exasperation, all conversations would become so. She tensed beside Saleh as he extended his hand out for the greetings. "I, of course, do not mean he is terrible. He has a good job, finished school... Tell me, Saleh, did you finally finish that course of yours?"

"Ah, bibi," Babu Yusuf laughed. "You'll have him tell us too much if I let you speak too long."

"Speak too long, Babu?"

Babu Yusuf had the grace to clear his throat, snickers coming from closer tables keenly paying attention. He rubbed the back of his neck. When he next spoke his voice had a squeak in it. "I enjoy your voice, my darling. Don't get me wrong, just, ah, just that, um--"

"Is that a delivery, Saleh?" Arif asked, laughing at his father's predicament.

"Delivery! Yes. The boy has delivery. Time to leave, Saleh."

Mama Arif did not look convinced. Her brows pulled down as she looked upon her husband with a formidable look. "Delivery? He is part of the family. He should be part of this dinner. Has he even eaten?" she stood in the way of Saleh's quick departure, tough and dainty hands cupping his cheek before dropping to his shoulder. "Look at him. So small even if so tall."

"You just said he's grown, Mama Arif. Either the boy has grown or has not. What is it?"

"Hush. You, silence. Not feeding our poor Saleh," she turned sweet eyes upon him again. "Are you hungry, my love? Do you need something to eat? There's good soup in the back, I'm sure--"

Saleh spotted Arif laughing off on the table, joined discreetly by his sister Miriam and the unknown second young female. Saleh smiled politely. He was used to this. "I'm very well fed, Mama Arif. Babu takes care of us well."

"Yes?" her eyes rounded.

"Bah! I am a chef! A chef!" Baba Arif bellowed, calling the entire restaurant to attention. Arif lost it then. Mama Arif shared a wink, her hand waving him on.

"Tell bin Salima I will visit her soon," she kissed him on his cheek one last time. Saleh nodded. He glanced back to glare at the still snickering Arif. He caught a raspberry from Miriam, a mocking face from Arif, and a quick glance back to the table by the young woman. He offered his goodbyes.

"I look forward to mosque day, Saleh," Babu Abdul said, eyes sharp and nose hooked at the end. If he should have wings, Saleh thought it should be a pair of sturdy Third Level raven tones pair. "I'm told you enjoy reading theological texts."

Saleh sensed a deliberate enunciation. He nodded. "He can tell you everything from Thespian to Mohammed, this one. But now he must go. Time, Saleh. Time." Baba Arif's hands on his shoulders turned to a deliberate nudge out the door.

"Eh." He waved back once, had he not, it would have been rude. He strapped on his backpack, checked his tracker's screen for the first address as his feet carried him towards the door. Double doors slid open as he felt his wings begin to unfurl, the tail feathers attached to his wing shoulders expanding in preparation for flight.

His immediate take-off was halted with the ding of his phone. He placed in his Bluetooth and pressed play. "Saleh."

"Oh, good," Christophe started. "Don't hang up."

Saleh felt his muscles grow stiff as that deep baritone came through the line. "Um, why would I hang up?"

"Because I am an opportunistic pig,"

"And i***t," Bunny whispered loudly on the other side.

"An i***t? Who wants an i***t?" Christophe paused and the silence stretched. Had he just realized he was on phone? "I am an i***t, Saleh."

Saleh swore he could feel ice drizzle down his back in the sensitive line between his wings. He swallowed. "Listen, Christophe. I've got something I'm doing, and, ah... Christophe?"

The silence stretched slightly more. "Have dinner with me." The silence this time was all Saleh.

"Uh, what?"

"Dinner. You, me. We'll start with an activity? I hear the bookshop you like has a new batch of books."

"Christophe."

"And chocolate," he said it as 'chocolat'. "We can eat up after dinner."

"All that sugar? You'll never make it home on your own," Saleh winced at the direction of his words. He trekked away from the front door as a pair walked closer. What was he doing? The clouding sky warned him to get back to work, his life. That kiss was his for memories. He should not look for trouble. "There's this delivery--"

"Saleh." He stopped talking. "I am an i***t for stealing a kiss, but I am honest when I say I want more. Allow me, Saleh."

His heart went high, so high he was sure it was the one chocking him where he stood. He swallowed to try and dispel the thickness. "Christophe. I- I can't. I'm sorry. See you at the centre."

With a click of his finger to his ear, Saleh cut off the call. It was a d**k move. The sky had grown darker. He could probably make this last trip and then get home with a slight drench. He wouldn't mind a full ice bath right about now. At least it would match the pain inside of him.

Swallowing thickly, hands on his chest, Saleh allowed his wings to expand, shaking off the strain of the last bout. He still had a lot more to go, including a few more over at Aerial tower. Should be a nice way to end his day.

He sighed. It couldn't be helped.