Prologue #2
Making my way through the small patch of trees that is this makeshift campsite, I peek out, checking to see if the road is clear.
A pair of headlights is approaching, so I dash across the road and onto the pavement before I’m spotted.
Being mid-November, it’s still dark at this time, and I have somewhere to be before the sun comes up.
I follow the ring-road into the city centre and make my way through West Orchards, the main shopping centre – one of the only places in Coventry open before seven o’clock in the morning – and exit onto Trinity Street, nodding a “good morning” at the Lady Godiva statue as I pass.
I cross St. Michael’s fields and reach the base of the old cathedral tower, my shoes failing miserably at protecting me from the dampness of the grass.
My wet feet squelch a little in my Vans as I pad softly through the quiet streets, my only company the fox scurrying away into a hedge as I approach.
The only part of the old cathedral still standing, aside from the footprint of the building presumably destroyed during the war, is the tower.
It’s technically a tourist attraction, only ￡5 for the pleasure of climbing, but after a chance encounter with the caretaker a few days ago, when I explained why I wanted to go up there, he said he’d leave the door unlocked for me.
I thought he might be a bit mad offering to open up a place like this for some homeless guy he just met, but he just winked at me and told me he’d once been where I was, and if this could give me a bit of relief, then he was happy to do it.
With a gentle handshake and a comforting pat to the back of my hand, he’d pressed a tenner into my grip and walked off.
He hadn’t even blinked at the bruises on my face and the stiff way I carried myself after some drunk students had decided I was a punching bag a few nights before – the reason I had moved out of the city centre and into my little ring-road roundabout oasis.
I haven’t seen the caretaker again, but as promised, when I push on the heavy, studded, wooden door, it gives way just like it has the last three days.
I climb the one hundred and eighty steps before emerging onto the roof and taking in the breathtaking cityscape below, the lights of homes and businesses twinkling as the city stirs for another day.
The winter wind up here is biting, and I wrap my flimsy jacket tighter around me as I take my usual spot, sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the central spire facing east. The position offers some protection from the elements, thanks to the low walls surrounding the roof, as I wait for my favourite moment of the day.
From up here, my problems feel a million miles away.
I’m not homeless, jobless, and alone. I’m just Corey, a guy who had a rough start, but who’s always been fascinated and enamoured with the idea of how each new day gives us an opportunity to change our lives.
As the sky turns a dusky pink, bringing the dawn with it, I stand and lean my elbows on the wall to watch.
I’ve always been a positive person, keen to see the glass half full rather than empty, and I always try to see the best in people and give them the benefit of the doubt.
But I’ve also always been an overthinker.
Someone whose brain gets very loud, very quickly when I feel lost or as though I’m not in control of a situation.
A chronic people-pleaser who has come unstuck and been hurt as a result more than once in my life.
I can only assume it’s a side effect of growing up with overbearing parents who took everything from me, not once, but twice, so now any feeling of a lack of control over my own fate leaves me with something of an exaggerated doomsday thinking pattern.
Jesus Christ, a freezing cold night of no sleep and too many memories has left me shaken, and I’m feeling adrift this morning.
Reaching into my, admittedly progressively harder and harder to find, well of positivity, I make a decision.
I am absolutely determined today is going to be the day I make something happen to set me on a new path, one that will hopefully have a happy ending.
Maybe I’ll find a job today or have a proper meal.
Something. Anything to change the monotony of self-pity and loneliness shrouding me since I arrived in this city.
That’s not who I am.
I’m a positive person, goddammit, and I will make something good happen today.
I take a deep breath and relish the way the cold winter air blows the cobwebs away. I look out to the horizon, the view from my perch high above the city unhindered by the buildings below. I feel almost like I’m on top of the world.
Maybe I am.
A warm glow breaks the horizon, a smile creeping over my face as nostalgia over those pictures I used to paint fills my chest. I feel lighter, warmer, filled with all the possibilities this new day brings.
Another deep breath expands my chest again, and the heaviness I’ve felt hanging over me since last night lifts.
The sun is rising.