Owl

by M. Raiya

  Again, I remembered the knife in his hand. No, I couldn’t leave him. And so….

  My grandfather be damned. I raised my wings and swooped to the footboard of Vin’s bed.

  He gasped and pulled farther away but didn’t leave his chair.

  The footboard was wooden and had a nicely rounded top edge. I tried not to dig it with my talons as I settled and looked back at him. We were about three feet apart, our heads about the same height.

  “You must have spent time around people,” Vin said softly. “I wonder if you were raised in captivity and I look like someone you imprinted on. Have you escaped from somewhere?”

  Here goes, I thought. I shook my head.

  Vin froze for a second, then laughed awkwardly. “Damn, you almost act like you understand what I’m saying.”

  Hell. I bobbed my head up and down twice.

  His jaw fell open.

  I stayed motionless.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I’m imagining this, aren’t I? You really can’t understand me, right?”

  I had to puzzle that out a second, and then I shook my head.

  “You know what I’m saying?”

  I bobbed my head.

  “No way. I mean, no way.”

  I blinked at him three times.

  “Oh man! Have I gone crazy?”

  I shook my head.

  “Um, pick up your right foot.”

  I picked up my right foot, held it there a second, and then put it back down.

  Vin kind of slumped in his chair as though all his energy had gone to his brain to understand what was happening. I just waited, giving him time to process. Acceptance would come later. Understanding, later still.

  He looked back up. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve gone crazy. That’s the only real explanation.”

  I shook my head.

  “Look, I’m talking to an owl in my bedroom. That’s crazy.”

  I fluffed my wings a little. He had nothing on me where crazy was concerned. Then I shivered a little. I was really talking to a person again!

  “All right. So if this is real, then why’s it happening?”

  Sure, I could explain that with nods and shakes of my head or by picking up one foot.

  “Can all owls do this?”

  I shook my head. That question was easy.

  “Just you?”

  I nodded. Well, around here anyway.

  “Why?”

  I just waited.

  He ran his hands over his face again. “Was that you last night, with the squirrel?”

  I nodded.

  “Shit. Really?”

  I gave him another nod.

  “Why’d you do that? I mean, is there a reason you’re here?”

  I’d like to know the answer to that myself. I cocked my head at him. There was no way I could communicate that I wasn’t budging until I was sure he was past whatever crisis had driven him to bring the knife upstairs. Or paddle too far away from land in his kayak. I took a firmer hold on his bed and settled myself, fluffing my feathers and lowering my body over my feet. Nope, definitely not budging.

  His face went white, and to my amazement, I could almost see him make the connection. He glanced at his desk where the knife had been. Then he turned back to me. “Um,” he said, much softer. “Are you like a guardian angel?”

  I wanted to laugh. How had he come up with that? Must have been the wings. I straightened and spread them, flapping silently, sending ripples through his curtains. Then I folded them and sent him a direct look, shaking my head. No angel, me. For sure.

  “Okay, I get it,” he said. “You have a sense of humor, don’t you?”

  I shook my head solemnly, letting my eyes go wide and innocent.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said.

  I shook my feathers back into place demurely.

  “Damn, you’re amazing,” he said.

  I preened a little. I would agree with that.

  He was still so tense I thought he might have a heart attack. Wouldn’t that be ironic.

  “Um,” he said, his eyes going back to the place where the knife had been, and then to the ripped screen, which was blowing faintly in the breeze outside the window, just barely visible in the darkness. “Shit. I—I don’t know if I’d have really done it. I was just thinking about it. So if you’re just here to stop me, then I promise I won’t. Okay?”

  I blinked. Uh-huh. Not going anywhere.

  “Is that why you’re here?” His voice was very soft.

  I didn’t answer.

  “That was a yes or no question.”

  I tossed my head. Like I had to answer him just because I could? He had a long way to go.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m pretty much an idiot. I’m not worth it. Worth your time, I mean. Whoever, or whatever, you are, I’m sure you’re too important to be wasting your time watching out for me. Believe me, it wouldn’t be a great loss if I did. No one would notice.”

  I was so upset that I started dancing and flapping my wings. I guess my wingspan is pretty big—three and a half feet—especially inside a bedroom. I might have even hooted a little. He fell off his chair and scooted along the floor, getting out of the line of sight between me and the window.

  “Go, go!” he said quickly. “Really, this is creeping me out!”

  Shit. I did a hop-flap over to the windowsill and perched on it, half in and half out. I tried not to look threatening as I got myself back under control.

  “Vin?” his mother called up the stairs. “What are you watching up there?”

  Vin struggled to control himself a moment, then shouted, “Nothing. I mean, just YouTube.”

  “Well, keep it down. We’re trying to work.”

  “Sorry.”

  He looked up at me in silence for a long moment. I dipped my head a little in apology. I hadn’t meant to scare him. It was just that he had scared me, talking about life that way. I knew there was really no way I could stop him if he had his heart set on suicide. I just wanted him to know that at least one—person—cared. Maybe it would make a difference. Maybe not.

  Quietly, not taking his eyes off me, he edged across the floor until his bed was behind him, and then he pushed himself up to sit on it. I held still for another moment, and then I hopped over to the back of the chair where he’d been sitting. He said nothing. I paused and then flew to his headboard, which was rounded and smooth like the footboard. Now I was close enough for him to touch me. If he wanted to, especially after I’d just scared him.

  I could tell he did. I could tell he was afraid to. I remembered how it had felt when he’d held me in his arms. I knew he was remembering that too. There was no reason for that to happen again, now that I wasn’t half stunned any longer.

  We stared at each other for a long time. Then, finally, he reached out with his right hand. I focused on the large class ring on his third finger. Its stone was as blue as his eyes, faceted and sparkly. The band was white gold and had a sailboat—his school emblem, I assumed—on one side and a music note on the other. I approved of both.

  Then his hand touched the edge of my wing. I made myself hold still even though a shudder went through me. No one had touched me for—a very long time.

  It was more than I could handle. I backed off a step, and he lowered his hand quickly.

  “Sorry.”

  I blinked, trying to let him know it was okay, but I was so flustered that I lost my hold on the headboard because it was slippery and I was trying not to sink my talons into it. For the second time that night, I fell onto his pillow. All right, I admit I really am a little clumsy, which is embarrassing for someone who can fly.

  I knew I looked like a wiggly ball of feathers as I tried to get my feet under me and my wings untangled. My nerves were shot. It took far longer than it should for a mighty hunter like me to get organized again, but finally I hopped up to the headboard and tried to look dignified.

  He was smiling awkwardly as we looked at each other.

&
nbsp; “Thank you,” he said suddenly.

  I dipped my head a little, then fixed him with my eyes.

  He knew in an instant what I was asking. He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “It’s—I don’t know. Everything. And nothing. It’s mostly about my music.” He gestured toward his guitar. “It’s all so stupidly clichéd. My parents want me to become a lawyer, and I’ve already agreed to go to Cavendish University, which has a good prelaw program, but the closer it gets…. I’m graduating in a couple weeks.” He shuddered. “I don’t want to go to college at all. I want to focus on my music, now, while it’s burning in me. But they want me to be like them so bad. I’ve tried to tell them, but the decision got made years ago and the closer it gets, the less I think I can do it.”

  I dipped my head again. Choices were such precious things to have. Mine had been taken from me.

  “But I mean, they’re good people. I don’t want to let them down.”

  My parents had let me down. At least my mother had. She could have tried to talk to my grandfather, tried to get him to lessen my sentence. But like everyone else, she’d stood by as his rule had grown harsher over the years until no one dared bring questions to him any longer. I understood that. He scared me too. My father had been mentally impaired most of my life, ever since a boating accident, so it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t stood up to my grandfather. But the sense of betrayal had hurt.

  Now, though, at least I didn’t have to answer to anyone except myself, or depend on anything except my own two wings. Suddenly, I felt old. I couldn’t tell Vin to ignore his parents and do what he wanted, but I made a little crooning sound to let him know I understood where he was coming from, at least.

  He sighed. “And then there’s the gay thing.”

  Bingo, I thought. Right again.

  “I mean, they accepted the son of one of my father’s cousins when he came out, but privately they started in about how much his parents were going to miss not having their own biological grandchildren, and all that stuff. They don’t have a clue about me, and I hate to… well. Anyway. Then when I was a freshman, I made the mistake of telling a senior, and that didn’t go well. At all. At least I got lucky and it didn’t go around the whole school.”

  Huh, I thought. Well, we had that much in common. My family had no idea about me, either. I knew how they would have reacted if I’d told them. They’d have told me to get over it in a hurry. No tolerance, no acceptance. It was an unnatural, human thing. It was my job to make baby owl shifters someday.

  Sometimes, I wondered if my grandfather had known, and if that was part of why he’d banished me. If he had, it made what he did to me even more cruel. He truly had taken everything from me, since there were no homosexuals among real owls, as far as I knew anyway. Not that I wanted to find out.

  Of course, none of that mattered. I was an owl, and that’s all I would ever be. And if my grandfather found out I was sitting in a teenage human’s room right now, I’d be a dead owl.

  Vin kept talking. “But don’t think they’re bad people. My parents. They’re just self-absorbed. When I need them, really need them, they’re there in a big way. When I was nine, I fell out of a tree and broke my arm, and I had to have surgery.” He turned slightly and pointed to a faint scar on the upper part of his left arm. “They got me the best doctor, and they were with me the whole time, and did a great job taking care of me afterward. And it wasn’t just for show, so they would look great in front of their friends. They really care about me. They just assume I’m self-sufficient when all is going okay. And I’m not really sure how to tell them it’s not.”

  I nodded. I believed him. I also thought it said a lot about him. Not everybody his age would have that kind of insight.

  He went on. “And all day at school, I’m around people who think they know me, but they really don’t. I feel stuck.” He tried to smile and didn’t look very convincing. “I mean, it’s pretty pathetic that the only one I dare trust with the truth at this point in my life is an owl.”

  Well, he was right in assuming I couldn’t tell anyone. I got an urge to hop over onto his knee and press my head against his chest. But that wouldn’t be right, because…. Well, because…. Huh. I wasn’t sure. It just wouldn’t be.

  “And a pretty weird owl,” he added, giving me a grin that looked shaky around the edges.

  I gave a little flap of protest, even though I agreed with him completely. He laughed. Then I cocked my head at him again.

  “That’s it,” he said with a shrug. “Pathetic, isn’t it? It’s just that I’ve been thinking about graduation—worrying about it—for so long, and now the time’s here, and I’ve got to decide. And sometimes it just seems easier not to have to.”

  The quiver in his voice made me hoot softly.

  “Sorry. I’ve got no business burdening you with this.”

  I hooted again.

  “So what do you think I should do, Wise Old Owl?”

  I blinked.

  “Do I become a lawyer?”

  I didn’t move.

  “Do I become a musician and be poor the rest of my life?”

  I didn’t move.

  “Have I got to figure it out for myself?” he asked heavily.

  I didn’t move.

  He frowned slightly. “What other options are there?”

  I wished like hell I could talk. What I wanted to tell him was that he could decide for himself. Not figure it out, like it a math problem with a right or wrong answer. He just had to decide, and whatever he chose would be okay, because he had the ability to make more decisions whenever he wanted to. What he decided really didn’t matter, even though it felt vitally important to him now, because if it didn’t work out, he had millions of other choices he could then make. That was the ability he had that I didn’t. But I was trapped inside myself and couldn’t make him see his own freedom. The only choice I had was which direction to go look for mice in every night. But my hard-won knowledge was locked inside with me.

  Well, I did have a few other decisions I could make. I hopped over onto his knee. Startled, he reached out to touch me, then pulled his hands back, clearly not wanting to confine me. I sat still, getting used to how it felt to be close to someone again. And from the smile on his face, he didn’t seem to mind.

  I stayed there a few moments, then did a hop-flap back to his headboard. I was going to spend the night right there. I settled down, put my head under my wing, and closed my eyes.

  “Okay,” he said quietly, and started getting ready for bed. I was so worn out that I was asleep before he turned out the light.

  Chapter Four

  I WOKE when Vin’s phone alarm went off at six. He rolled over, whacked it into silence, and then flopped down on his back. It was a second before he caught sight of me.

  “Whoa!” he gasped. “You’re real!”

  No shit. Good morning to you too. I felt tired and grouchy. How was I ever going to go back to sleeping in a dead tree after being warm and dry all night? Because of this, I was going to have to get used to being an owl all over again. Because of him. Dammit.

  He groaned. “I gotta go to school. Will you come back tonight?”

  I bobbed my head without even having to think about it.

  “Okay, good,” he said, and then we got up.

  He headed for the shower, and I headed outside, pausing in his window first to make sure there was nobody about. By the time I had done my business and had a drink at the edge of the lake, I could see him through the kitchen window making himself coffee and sticking a slice of cold pizza in the microwave. I remembered pizza. I’d never liked coffee much, except for the caffeine boost. His parents were racing around with their phones. I hid in a pine until he came out of the house, backpack slung over his shoulder, and stood at the end of the driveway. I would have shown myself, but his parents were backing out of the garage, and by the time they were out of sight, the big yellow bus had pulled up. He vanished inside its warm, companionable world.
/>   I went to find something to kill.

  FORTUNATELY, I had good luck under a birdfeeder not far from Vin’s house. Unfortunately, a flock of damn blue jays spotted me—one of the drawbacks of hunting by day. I had few natural enemies, but crows and blue jays bugged the crap out of me. If they spotted me, they’d put up such a screeching fuss that every mouse or squirrel for half a mile would take cover. They would dog me for a long time just because they could. They knew I couldn’t take one of them once they’d spotted me, so they tormented me just for fun. They were the badasses of the bird world but couldn’t touch me for class. I was beautiful and I knew it.

  The jays pestered me for twenty minutes, jeering and daring each other to dive-bomb me, until I finally lost them by flying across an open field where a red-tailed hawk was hunting. She wouldn’t bother me, but they’d make a nice meal for her. I’d never killed another bird because it just seemed wrong.

  Once free of the jays, I flew to the swamp and perched in the opening in my tree. The cavity had been made long ago by nesting pileated woodpeckers. I had made it bigger, smoothed out the inside, and kept it fixed it up with fresh dead leaves and grass. For a while, I’d been on the lookout for things to personalize it—I’d wedged a couple postcards I’d found in a trash can into a crack, I’d snagged a little calendar, and I’d liberated a small blanket from someone’s clothesline. But the blanket had mildewed, and it hurt too much to look at happy puppies and kittens someone else got to adopt and bring home, and seeing time pass every day made the ache worse. I got rid of everything. It was the only way I could survive.

  Now I looked out over the swamp. A family of wood ducks swam for cover on the far side of the swamp, the babies looking around at their brand-new world like it was a cool place. Little did they know, I thought, as two of them got lost behind a fallen log and their father quacked sharply, keeping an eye on me, and they scuttled to rejoin the little flock. A couple red-winged blackbirds fought over in the cattails, and a vulture soared overhead. They could all tell I’d just fed and wasn’t going to bother anybody. Usually I was already inside the cavity and asleep by now.