The Meaning of Birds

by Jaye Robin Brown

  I sit in an armchair, not the couch. “Where are your cards?”

  Levi sits wide-legged on the couch, edged toward the coffee table and his study notes.

  “Cards?”

  I pick up a pen. “Yeah, your index cards. For studying.”

  “You really do that?”

  “Uh. Yeah. If I want to remember anything for tests. Cheyanne taught me in middle school and she was right. She didn’t show you?” I rustle in the backpack I brought. “Here.” I move from armchair to couch and hand Levi half the index cards. “First we write. Word on one side. Definition on the other. Then I quiz you.”

  “Okay.” Then, “Thanks, Jess.” He nudges me slightly with his shoulder. A liquid feeling flows through my bones. Not fireworks like when I touched Vivi, but something steady and warming. It feels okay to be hanging out with someone, doing homework, focused and quiet. Not thinking sad memories, curled onto my bed, my breath stealing away.

  We take a break after writing out the words and Levi retrieves a bag of microwave popcorn and two Yoo-hoos from the kitchen.

  “You remember my weakness.” I let the chocolaty goodness slide down my throat.

  Levi takes a big sip. “Mine, too. Love these things. You ready?” He sets the bottle down and puts his hands on his knees in preparation for me to quiz him.

  “Yep.” I pick up the stack of cards we created and read the first word. “Capitulate.”

  “To yield.”

  I read the next card. “Steadfast.”

  Levi pauses, his eyes searching skyward like the definition is written on his ceiling.

  “You need a hint?”

  He nods.

  I think for a minute and the only thing I can come up with is the relationship I don’t have anymore. But is it even that? It’s not like the relationship is gone, Vivi and I will always be a we. Something about the thought actually makes me feel good. Like the over is only temporal.

  “How I was with Vivi.”

  “Loyal. Faithful.”

  “That’s right. You’re awesome at this. You’re so going to pass this test.” I put the card in the “nailed it” stack.

  Levi smiles, then falters. “You know, Cheyanne would never agree to study with me. One time we tried, but she got so frustrated because she’s so smart. She didn’t have the patience.” He looks at his hands. “Or the patience to even try a second date with me. Vivi was really lucky to have you. It sucks what happened.”

  I lay the cards I’m holding in my lap. “Yeah. It sucks.” And even though my moments-ago thought was soothing, I still don’t want to wander into Vivi territory out loud. “You know, can we not talk about it? I’d rather just keep studying or watch the movie you threatened me with.”

  “The Sandlot is not a threat.”

  “No, but my tears are.”

  Levi scoots closer and wraps me in a strong hug. It’s weird to be smaller than the person hugging me and not feel breasts pressed against my own. But it’s not too awful terrible. He’s warm and smells nice and his hug is surprisingly powerful. I don’t try to wriggle free because I’m giving it two seconds of thought. Could I do this? Thought answered. No way, no how.

  When the hug lingers on for too long, I break free. “Um. Movie?”

  Levi wipes his palms on his jeans. “Yeah, okay.”

  My gut is telling me his feelings are mixed-up about me. I should set him straight—no pun intended—right this very second, but I hold back. He’d deny it, and then I’d look ridiculous. Besides, I don’t want to give up his companionship, even if he may be starting to form the very wrong idea.

  “This is one of my all-time favorite movies.” He loads the DVD in his parents’ player and tosses the case to me, then calls in for a pizza. “Same as the other night?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good.”

  When he comes back to the couch, he sits next to me, close enough that from where I’m sitting cross-legged, I can feel the heat from his knee radiating onto mine. I should scoot away, but that might make things even more awkward. It’s just a movie after all.

  The pizza comes and we’re eating slices over the box so the cheese doesn’t get everywhere when my phone buzzes. “I better get that.” I lean over and grab it out of the side pocket of my backpack. It’s a number I don’t know.

  —Hey. This is Sahara. Deuces gave me your number. Text me?

  I’m not sure what my face is doing, but whatever it is, Levi feels like he needs to check in on me. “Everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah.” But there’s a deep pit in my stomach as I shove the phone back in my bag, the text from Sahara unanswered. And when Levi slides even closer, close enough that his knee actually touches mine, I don’t move away. Maybe Nina is right. Maybe I should give this straight thing a try. It’d be better than having to think about a girl other than Vivi.

  26

  Then: Catbirds

  Vivi’s mouth was clamped in a thin, hard line. I knew I should try to appease her, but I wasn’t feeling it. “Oh, come on. Stop. You know I never think about other girls.” I reached for her crossed arms only to have her shrug away from me. A vaguely familiar prickle rippled through my veins. The annoyance materialized in my voice. “You’re being ridiculous. Jealousy is ugly.”

  “You’re calling me ugly now? Thanks, thanks a lot.” Vivi unfolded her arms but only to storm off in the direction of the bathrooms. Great. The Youth Pride mixer swelled and throbbed around me, music playing, bodies dancing, people flirting. That’s what had started this. Her thinking I was flirting. Did she not know that she was the only girl I ever thought about? I mean, sure, I could talk and laugh and be nice to other people. I could even have my Emma Watson free pass that she jokingly gave me for my birthday. But I would never use it, even if I had the chance. I was in love with her and for me that meant she was it. Lock, stock, and barrel.

  “Shit.” I rubbed my hand across the stubble of my newly shaved head. Then I dropped my hand. The stupid haircut was what got me in trouble in the first place. Some girl from another high school had convinced me to let her rub her hand over my shorn scalp. It just so happened to be at the same moment Vivi had bounced off to put in a good word for me with Grady High’s art teacher, who was one of the chaperones.

  Now I had hell to pay, because when Vivi turned around she’d seen some girl she didn’t know giggling and stroking the top of my head. And okay, I was laughing, too, but it didn’t mean I wanted to get with the girl.

  There was no choice but to go after her. “Vivi, stop. Wait.”

  She kept walking, making a left to circle away from me. “No. I can’t believe you. Why would you flirt with that girl like that? Especially when I was over there trying to convince Mrs. Thompson to give you a spot off the waiting list this semester.”

  “Babe, please, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her touch my hair.” My blood started to boil in old familiar ways, and I counted my breaths in a one, two, three, deep pattern. It had been a while since I’d had something trigger me into rage, but I could feel it coming. I knew it wasn’t logical, but that didn’t always help me shut the valve.

  “Oh, what? Is your grief expressing itself again? Nice avoidance.”

  And spike. I counted harder, closing my eyes to do it. When I opened them, Vivi was gone. I spotted her across the room talking to a guy from Grady. Try as I might to catch Vivi’s eye, she was resolutely not looking. And I was having a hard time stopping the spiral of anger. I could stay and risk really losing it. Or I could leave.

  I walked out the door. Luckily the mixer was close to home, so I hoofed it through the muggy late August heat. I texted Vivi to let her know.

  —I’m going home. Don’t come after me. I wasn’t avoiding. I’m sorry, but shit got weird for me. I love you.

  Then I turned my phone off. If she called or texted there was a chance I’d still blow and I wanted to process through whatever set me off. Vivi’s dig at the end was because she was hurt, I knew that, but it wasn’t cool for her to make
light of my diagnosis.

  I walked through the front door and threw my keys on the bench.

  “Shit.” Nina’s voice was panicky.

  I looked toward the source of the sound and saw my sister’s arms flailing back into her shirt, then her head popping up over the back of the couch, followed by the face of the latest, Enrique somebody. Lovely. Nothing like walking in on your older sister sucking face on the couch.

  “You’re not supposed to be here!”

  “It’s my house, too.” It’d be so easy to let this can of steam blast at my sister but instead I stomped to my room, opened the bird field guide Vivi had given me, and flipped pages looking for something to draw. The breathing and the walk home helped but losing myself in a new drawing would let me find my way back to the moment and the normal me.

  The yellow-bellied sapsucker page caught my eye, both because the name and the bird were interesting. Compact, a longish bill, feet for gripping the sides of a tree. And the name, yellow-bellied, which was another word for coward, which I guessed I was for running off, but sometimes it was easier to deal with myself in quiet spaces. As my pen drew in the basic starting shapes and shading began to form, I calmed down. And as I calmed down, I realized what a jerk I was for leaving Vivi there. I turned on my phone. There were texts but I didn’t read them before sending my own. Easier to just say what I wanted to say, than read and have a potentially bad reaction.

  —I’m really sorry. Can you stop by my house before you go home?

  Vivi’s reply was swift. Be right there.

  I had to walk out through the living room again, but with Vivi standing in the front doorway, Nina and Enrique had to at least act human. “Hey, Vivi.” Nina fake smiled and acted like she hadn’t just had some boy’s hand up her shirt. But I didn’t want to linger for small talk.

  “Come on back to my room.” When I closed the bedroom door, I reached for Vivi to give her a hug but Vivi placed her bag in between us. “Not yet.”

  My heart dropped, worried that Vivi wouldn’t forgive me for walking out of the mixer. But Vivi had a huge grin on her face.

  “Look in my bag.”

  I pulled the handles apart and peered down into the shiniest eyes I’d ever seen. A tiny mew followed. I looked up at Vivi with my mouth dropped. “How?”

  “Right? I was upset after I got your first text because what I said was so wrong. It’s stupid how jealous I got and I should have never thrown your issues in your face like that, but you’re smoking hot with your hair buzzed and that girl knew it and I just wigged out. And then when you started counting I thought you were faking, and oh, none of this matters because something amazing did happen. One, Mrs. Thompson said she had a space in Art 2 this semester after I showed her some of your drawings on my phone and that she’d let you skip Art 1. Apparently, your level can be at her discretion if you can prove you’re ready. You just have to go change your schedule on Monday. And two, I went out behind the building through a back exit to call you. There’s a Dumpster there. That’s when I found her.” Vivi looked into the bag, too.

  I reached in and pulled out the smoke-gray kitten. “Hey there, kitten.” Then to Vivi, “Are you going to keep her?”

  Vivi put her bag down and glanced at my open sketchbook. “Can’t. Dad’s terribly allergic to cats. I can’t even take her home for the night to keep her until the shelter opens.”

  I held the kitten up and made kissing noises at her. “Shelter? I won’t let that bad lady take you to the shelter.”

  “Have another bright idea? Funny, this bird you’re drawing, the yellow-bellied sapsucker? Its call actually sounds like the mew of a cat.” Vivi whirled and her mouth and eyes grew round. “It’s meant to be. She’s meant to be your cat.”

  I kept talking to the kitten. “Are you meant to be my cat?” The kitten answered with a swipe of claws at my nose. I laughed. “Yep, you’re my cat, all right.”

  “You came home and drew?” Vivi kept staring at the drawing.

  I cradled the kitten in the crook of my elbow and stepped over to stand next to her. “Yeah, I didn’t want to be mad. I got triggered, I guess, and didn’t want to lose it with you. So I came home and started sketching.”

  “Did it help?”

  “A lot. I’m really thankful you pushed me to turn my doodles into something more. That’s amazing what you did with Mrs. Thompson.”

  “I’m sorry I got so jealous. Next time I’ll be more chill.” Vivi threaded her arms between my arms and waist, the cradled kitten between us. “There’s one more very important question, though.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Vivi said. “What are you going to name her?”

  I looked down at the kitten and laughed. “You sure you won’t get jealous again?”

  “Um . . .” Vivi raised an eyebrow.

  “I only know one other person with eyes this cool color of coppery brown.”

  Vivi let out a slow breath. “Soooo . . . you’re going to name her Hermione?”

  “Nuh-uh.” I grinned. “I’m going to name her Emma Watson and then she’ll be in my bed and when you call and ask me what I did during the night, I can say I spooned Emma Watson, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Hmmm, maybe this was a mistake.” But Vivi’s eyes were laughing. “I think I’ll have to tell your mom how you’re not responsible enough for a cat.”

  “See, that’s where you’ll get derailed. My mom is helpless when it comes to kittens. And when I tell her it’s us or the shelter, well, this beauty won’t be going anywhere.”

  “Emma Watson.” Vivi lifted the kitten’s little face. “Have to admit, it’s a pretty cool name for her.”

  I leaned forward and kissed my girlfriend. “And you’re a pretty cool girl for bringing her to me.” I brushed my nose against hers. “Are we okay?”

  Vivi wrinkled the tip of her nose against mine. “The best. Do you accept my apology?”

  “Duh.” Then, “You never have to be jealous of me. I’d never cheat on you. I don’t even think about other girls. Even if I am seriously cute with this haircut.”

  She shoved me backward onto the bed and Emma Watson jumped sideways onto the pillow in a tremendous huff. Then Vivi kissed me, long and slow, and any anger I’d felt melted away as my body molded into hers and the kitten’s purrs filled the room.

  27

  Now: Three Weeks, Two Days After

  I can’t decide whose stare is worse, Emma Watson’s, Chuck Norris’s, or Levon’s. But, since he’s the one in front of me . . .

  “Look,” I whisper. “I see the same six or seven people all the time. I’d be the worst salesperson ever.” Convincing him I’m not up to being his and his brother’s mule is getting annoying.

  “Miscreants,” McGovern growls in our general direction.

  I bow my head to my work and ignore Levon for the rest of the morning.

  At lunch, we’re at Carport BBQ. It’s literally in someone’s carport, a take-out window set up in their kitchen and a big smoker going in the backyard. Deuces plops down on the bench next to me. He’s got a full rack of ribs on his oversized plate. “I’ll miss these lunches if they send me back to the big school.”

  “Will you get to go back once you’re off probation?” I use a fork to eat the pulled pork off my sandwich. It’s too much meat to pick up and eat with my hands.

  “Maybe, but I’m good with McGovern. Figure I might put in at Cabinetworks when I graduate.”

  I nod and chew.

  Deuces points at me with a rib held between sauce-covered fingers. “How come you never texted Sahara back?”

  “I gave you my number to give her. That was the only agreement.”

  “Ah, man, she’s still driving me up a wall about it. Throw the girl a bone, or whatever it is you got.”

  I steal his pickles off his plate. “Fine. I’ll text her.” There’s a pit in my stomach as I say it. Texting another girl feels like cheating. Even if I know Vivi is dead, gone, not of t
his world. Logic doesn’t rule over feelings here. And I’m pretty sure Sahara is simply curious. I’m not some big stud. I’m a one-girl girl. And currently, that girl is a dead girl.

  That afternoon, after Cabinetworks, I ride with Greer to her house. Her truck is a three-quarter-ton blue Dodge that’s seen better years. The floor is covered with mail, coffee to-go cups, and empty plastic gum dispensers. I have to shuffle stuff aside to make room for my feet.

  “Sorry about that,” Greer says. “I’m a hopeless slob except with my tools.” She turns off the road into Bea’s Donuts. “Want a coffee?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She orders three coffees and a baker’s dozen of mixed donuts. “Have you had these before?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Eliza’s going to love us for bringing her Bea’s. Cream and sugar?”

  “Just sugar.”

  When we get to the house, Greer parks on the street and I carry in the donuts and drinks. We go up the back steps into the kitchen. Rufus wags his tail from his bed next to the table. Apparently, he’s not an evening dog because he’s not even bothering to get up. “Hey, buddy.” I slide the donut box and drink tray onto the table, then squat down to scratch him on the belly he presents me.

  Eliza emerges from somewhere in the back of the house. “I thought y’all would be here earlier.” She slides in next to Greer and leans in for a kiss. “Hey, babe.” Then she plops into a chair, all push-up bra and tattoo-shop-tight T-shirt and I stare harder at Rufus.

  “Ah, nectar.” Eliza lifts the to-go cup in my direction. “How are you, baby babe?”

  “Good.” It’s a dead-end answer and stops probing questions. Plus, Eliza is really pretty and I get nervous in front of her. Even if she is ten years older than me and married to my boss.

  “What are y’all working on tonight?” Eliza grabs a rosemary batter donut with lemon-curd-and-blueberry filling from the box.