Kaitch

Time to let the cat out of the bag. Out of the box.

I made the call. Started the ball rolling. Requested an appointment. Deep breath.

Twenty-five years of belief, twenty-five years of refusing to accept, twenty-five years of immersing myself in the theories of the cosmos, the universe, looking for clues, looking for signs, looking for – what? Looking for Josh. And now I might have found him. Or rather, he might have found me.

If I’m right, then this is going to blow people away. If I’m right, then we’re going to incur a witch hunt, a miasma. If I’m right, then the hounds of hell will be let loose, the righteous and the narrowminds will shake their heads and shake their fists and call us crazy. If I’m right, then this will make the Elephant Man look like a sideshow. If I’m right, then the world just changed. If I’m right. If he’s right.

So I’m sitting here, looking out of the window at the bleached-out London sky, looking at it shedding its dirty rain, watching the pools of water form on the courtyard down below, and everything’s grey and everything’s quiet save for the soft pit-pat-slap, and everything’s still save for the raindrops, falling and bouncing, and everything that’s going through my mind is focussed on a wood on the edge of a paddock, dappled in summer sunshine, the greens and the yellows cutting through the grey like swathes of iridescent paint splashed onto the now, and I’m squinting into the sunlight as I emerge from the backdoor of a cottage that stands next to the paddock and I’m carrying two bottles of icy Coke and I’m walking down the stony path, past the flowers that stretch up and sun their faces, past the two bicycles that lie carelessly on the lawn, out of the ancient gate and down to the wood at the edge of the paddock, and the sweat’s sticking my T-shirt to my fifteen year old back and I’m walking through the long, rustling grass and I’m at the edge of the wood and I’m calling to Josh in that moment before –

There’s a phone ringing. It takes a moment before I realise it’s mine. It’s The Institute. Confirming the appointment. And suggesting that perhaps I’d like to speak to the one calling himself Josh a day or two before the meeting. Perhaps it would be beneficial to call. I say that that’s fine and that I’ll call. They say sometime between four and six would be preferable. I say that I’ll remember that. I thank them for the call and hang up. And I look out of the window as the sky cries its tears and I smile.