Bird After Bird

by Leslea Tash

  At night I held her in my arms, my skin thirsting for hers in a way I’d never known. I knew she wanted me, and it was becoming more and more impossible to keep from tearing her clothes off and taking it there.

  “You goin’ back up to Chi-town for another set of blue balls?” Billy asked me one Monday morning at work.

  “Mind your damn business,” I said.

  “Oooooh, touchy-touchy,” he said, before handing me the wrench I needed. “Sounds to me like somebody needs to get laid.”

  I took the wrench and had half a mind to smash him in the face with it. Instead, I took a deep breath, and turned to face my friend, his leering expression irritating me more than I expected. Quietly, so the other guys in the shop wouldn’t hear, I said “Look, Billy. I don’t know what this is yet with Wren, but I know it’s special. I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “I understand,” he said, nodding, a look of mock solemnity on his face. His eyes could barely contain the mirth as he whispered, “You’re afraid she’ll find out you have a small dick, ain’t ya?”

  I laughed, but looked back up at the engine. The car on the lift needed to be finished by lunchtime and I didn’t have time to screw around with Billy’s nosy questions.

  “You proposed to Lynette yet?” I asked.

  “Thinking about it!” he chirped.

  “For real, man?”

  “For realsies, dude. She’s pretty great.”

  I thought about turning the tables on him, blurting out “Great tits, anyway, right?” but thought better of it. Billy couldn’t help being rude, crude, and disgusting. It was in his DNA and he had no intention of ever changing. That didn’t mean I needed to stoop to his level.

  My phone bleeped in my pocket, and I hoped it would be Wren. When we broke for lunch, I checked.

  -Got an offer on my dad’s house. Coming to town for the weekend. See you Friday?-

  I could barely contain my excitement. The rest of the day went by in a blur. Just four more days until Wren came to town. I’d have to clean up the house and go to the grocery store. The past few weeks, I’d spent all my weekends running up to Chicago, but now I got to really show her what life on my turf was like.

  “What are you so smiley about?” Billy asked, his mouth full of burger as we woofed down lunch from the joint across the street.

  “Wren’s coming to town this weekend.”

  “Awesome! Bring her by the Beer & Bait and let her hear our band.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. Normally I never missed one of Billy’s shows. He and the boys were my compadres. “Last time she stopped in there, you almost puked on her.”

  When my phone bleeped again that night I was just getting out of the shower.

  -I hear someone important is coming to town this weekend.-

  I had to stare at the text for a long time. I’d expected it to be from Wren and I wasn’t sure what I was reading. Then I saw the name at the top of the screen. Jo. My little sister. Mom, Junior.

  I ignored the text and got dressed. In a couple of hours I’d be settling down to video chat with Wren for our nightly virtual snuggle session, and in the meantime there were things I needed to get started around the house.

  The phone bleeped while I dusted.

  -I know you read my text.-

  The phone bleeped while I did the dishes.

  -Grow up, Laurie. We need to meet her sometime.-

  The phone bleeped while I vacuumed.

  -If you don’t bring her home for Dad’s birthday, I’m telling Mom.-

  “Shit.” I’d totally forgotten it was Dad’s birthday that weekend.

  Fine. Saturday. But not for dinner—we’ll just stop by in the afternoon and say hello. Good enough?

  -We’ll see.-

  Who told you she was coming?

  -Who you think? Big mouth Billy.-

  Jo was as nosy as our Mom was mean, and I had half a mind to kick Billy’s ass for spreading gossip behind my back. What the hell had he done? Posted it on Facebook? Before I called Wren, I went online to poke around. Sure enough, Billy’s fiancé and my little sister were friends. Graduated the same year. “Ugh, small town shit.”

  I dreaded telling Wren she had to meet my family. I had a feeling she wouldn’t understand. Or would she?

  “What’s the big deal?” she said, all smiles, the warm background of her bedroom lighting her face in a flattering color. I screen capped the chat screen.

  “Did you just take my picture again?” she said, frowning. “I don’t even have any makeup on.” Her face was half-hidden by her fluffy white pillow.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said. “I want to take a thousand photos of you every time I see you. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  “I’ve been told,” she said, teasing, sticking out her tongue.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Mr. Byrd. How you do go on.”

  “I want to go on and on and on…”

  “Maybe this weekend, then,” she said sleepily.

  “You think we should?”

  A look of agitation crossed her face, and she took a deep breath. There was something she wanted to say, but she was holding back. I’d seen her make this face several times, and I always wondered—was she about to shut me down? I’d never put my feelings on the line quite like I was doing with Wren. I didn’t like the thought I might be pushing her too hard, too fast.

  Finally, she exhaled, and held the camera close to her face. “Laurence Byrd. I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you. The moment my phone starts beeping because you want to chat, I get wet. Every time you kiss me I worry that you’re going to smell my desire. I think about tearing your clothes off the moment you walk through my door. I don’t know, man. Do you think we should make wild passionate love this weekend?”

  I was hard as a rock. “I want you so fucking bad,” I said.

  “I want you, sir,” she said. I saw her face contort and heard rustling in the sheets. Was she touching herself? “Talk to me,” she whispered throatily. Oh, God. She was.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me what you’re going to do to me this weekend.”

  I took a deep breath, enraptured by her glorious face. “Wren, I’m going to love you so fucking hard. I’m going to worship the shit out of you. I’m going to adore you in every room of the house and when I’m done I’m going to cherish you again and again and again, until you scream for mercy.”

  She came, laughing, a smile on her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes two happy slits.

  “Did that work for you?” I asked.

  “You know that doesn’t exactly qualify as dirty talk, don’t you?”

  “Wren Riley, I love you. I want to love you in person for the rest of my life. I solemnly swear I’ll do my share of dirty talk, but girl, I’m so in love with you right now, it hurts. Do you know what I mean?”

  She said that she did, and not long after, we disconnected for the night. I drifted to sleep with the knowledge that she loved me, too—I just hoped that she still would after she met my mother.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Laurie

  Wren looked amazing when she rolled into town on Friday night. I had wine and a roasted chicken at the house, and we nibbled and sipped until we ran out of things to talk about, and the temptation became too much.

  We kissed on the couch until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I tore her clothes off of her. I’d never been like that in my life—but she brought something out in me that no one ever had. I felt like a new man, emboldened by my need for her touch.

  “Laurie Byrd!” she exclaimed in mock outrage as I ripped the buttons from her shirt. “I do declare!”

  I pulled off my own shirt and lifted her up to carry her to the bedroom. Her words and giggles soon turned to moans as I sunk to my knees before her, removing the last of her clothes.

  “Let me please you, Wren,” I said.

  She did. She tasted swe
et as syrup, and the sound of her squeals as I worked her over with my tongue drove me wild. When she came, gasping and reaching for me, I yanked my jeans and briefs down and climbed atop her, savoring the feel of her embrace, her arms and legs wrapping around me as though our skins were made for one another—like we were two halves of the same beast, finally becoming one again.

  But I didn’t want to hurt her in any way. “I have condoms,” I said.

  “I want to feel you—all of you,” she breathed into my ear, echoing the sentiments of my own heart.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “I’ve always been safe. Always. You?”

  I nodded. “I don’t want to get you pregnant, though. Not today.” I started to pull away, to grab the box of condoms from the bedside table. She pulled me back into her arms.

  “I’m on the pill, Laurie. Please. I want to feel you inside me.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  And with that, she dropped a hand to my cock and guided me inside her. She was so tight and it had been so long since I’d been with anyone, I wasn’t sure how long I could last.

  “I love you, Laurie,” she whispered, her breath hitching as I moved in her, more and more powerfully with every stroke.

  And that was it for me. I tried to think about baseball, birding, the Army, anything—but the way her body moved beneath mine, the way she moaned and writhed against me was too much. I couldn’t hold out. I gave in to the power of sensation, to the sweet release of it all.

  “I love you, too, Wren,” I said.

  A few moments later she curled into my arms. I wanted to keep her there, safe, my precious one.

  Later, I woke from a nap to the bleeping of my phone on the nightstand.

  “Shut up!” I whispered.

  “You shut up,” she said sleepily, turning to face me. She kissed me. “Who’re you barking at?”

  “My phone, which serves no purpose when we’re together.”

  She reached across me to the nightstand and retrieved the phone. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, turning the screen so I could see. “These look important to me.” Billy had texted a pic of Lynette’s chest, her tight Billy & The Boys tee cradling a hand on her cleavage. I took the phone and blew up the photo to have a closer look.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. He did it.”

  “Did what?” Wren rested her head on my arm, rubbing her cheek against my skin.

  I showed her the phone, the pic zoomed in. “See that ring? Billy proposed to his girl.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  There was a text with the pic. “He wants us to go down to the Beer & Bait and have a drink.”

  “The Beer & Bait?” Wren’s nose crinkled.

  “I know, I know—but he’ll be on good behavior. Besides, you’d like the band. They’re pretty good.”

  Wren got up and headed for the bathroom. “Are there towels in here?” I heard the shower turn on as she disappeared from view.

  “You don’t mind going? It’s kind of a big deal that Billy proposed.”

  “I don’t mind, as long as I don’t get upchucked on again.” She stuck her head out of the bathroom door. “Besides, I could use some beer and bait.”

  “You eat worms, do ya?”

  “Why do you think my parents named me Wren?” She winked and shut the door.

  Be there in an hour.

  As I climbed into the shower with Wren I wasn’t sure an hour would be long enough. I didn’t care, though.

  She was so wet and we were both getting soapy, but nothing could put out my fire for this redhead.

  When we rolled into the Beer & Bait three hours later, I’d never been so sore or so happy in my entire life.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Wren

  There never seemed to be a good time to tell him about the letters. The deeper I fell in love with Laurie, the more I wanted to tell him everything—including the fact I had found those little origami birds with his innermost thoughts inside.

  Every time I raised the subject, though, I feared the truth would push him away.

  “Do any of your friends call you Birdy?”

  “A few, I guess,” he’d said. He was straightening up his living room, then putting my bag away in is bedroom. I noticed the covered canvas was gone, as well as the photo from the mantel. “Not since high school.”

  “Did I ever tell you my dad called me Birdy, too?”

  “Is that why you got the bird on your back?”

  “I was surprised you didn’t ask about it last night.”

  “I had better things to do with my mouth than ask questions.”

  He gently turned me around and lifted the back of the tee. His fingers traced the tattoo on my lower back. Normally I didn’t feel the need to explain my ink to anyone. It was personal. I felt an unfamiliar desire to share everything with Laurie, though. “A tramp stamp. Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “I’m not judging,” he said.

  It was a swallow, Sailor Jerry style.

  “I didn’t find yours last night.”

  “What, a tattoo?”

  “Yeah. Don’t all soldiers get tattoos?”

  He shook his head. “Thought about it, when I graduated Basic. Couldn’t find anything I’d want for the rest of my life, though. Yours is nice. Suits you.”

  I laughed. “You think?”

  “Sure. I mean, I’d expect a wren, but the swallow is cool. Does it have a meaning?”

  “The tattoo artist said it meant ‘freedom.’ That sailors used to get them before their first long voyage, and then one to match at the end.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Supposedly, the swallow would carry their souls home if they drowned.”

  “Wow.” He let my tee drop. “Well, we’ll stay away from the lake tonight, just in case, okay?”

  My hand in his, I felt safe. I felt happy.

  As we headed out to the Beer & Bait to see his friends, I was lost in the potential of a future him. Where would we live? What would we do? Would he move to Chicago to be with me? It was too soon to ask.

  I was so swept away that I didn’t even recognize my ex behind the beer tub at the bar side of the Beer & Bait.

  “Well, Wren Riley,” he said, handing me a locally drafted microbrew, the cap already off. “This one’s on the house, girl.”

  “Peter,” I said, raising the beer to him in salute before having a sip. “How’ve you been?”

  “Never better,” he said, exchanging money and bottles with a couple before turning back to me. “Whatever you’re drinking’s on the house tonight. What brings you back to the big, old, funky Bird?”

  I laughed at the way he used that term. Back in high school it was common among our classmates to refer to Birdseye as “the Bird.” No good reason. Just kid stuff.

  Laurie’s hands were on my shoulders. “Pete,” he said in greeting, from behind me.

  “Hey! You two a thing?” Peter said, smiling. “I had no idea!” He reached out and shook Laurie’s hand. “Congrats, man. You’re coming up in the world. Not every fella in this town has had the pleasure of escorting the Homecoming Queen to the Beer & Bait!”

  “Oh, Peter,” I said, turning away from him and looking for a table. Billy winked at me from on stage, pointing. His girlfriend—fiancé now—waved to me from a table nearby. We’d never met, but she seemed to know who I was. I looked around the bar for a moment. Hopefully Cindy Wiseman and her friends wouldn’t show up again.

  I went and sat with Lynette, and she introduced herself. “You were the reason I tried out for cheerleading,” she whispered into my ear, so I could hear her over the music. “And the school play. I wanted to be just like you, Wren.” She smiled, and her front teeth jutted out, making her appear slightly goofier than she probably was.

  “You’re too sweet,” I said.

  A grief counselor tried to tell me once my “overachieving” had something to do with my mom, but I wasn’t emotiona
lly neglected, and after a normal period of grief, I thought I was downright well-adjusted. All I’d ever done in school was my best. Birdseye just happens to be such a small community, someone who’s good at more than a few things stands out. There were people like Lynette who saw it as a good thing, then there were people like Cindy who hated you for it. The problem with high school was that I never knew which were which.

  So I had been myself, and when being myself seemed to offend others, I learned to keep to myself. One of the ironies of a small town life is that although in many ways it can provide a lot more privacy than a city life, everyone who does know you seems to think they know it all. It didn’t bother my dad that much, but then, no one expected him to be the best at everything. He was a teacher in the next town. I was the girl who everyone treated like the front-runner of some kind of competition.

  It was a relief to move away.

  I always thought it was a shame that no one from Birdseye ever went away for college, unless it was to one of the nearby in-state universities. They missed out on finding autonomy, on discovering what life was like “out there.”

  There had been no Ivy Leaguers, and I was the first of anyone I knew to attend Northwestern. There were no people of color in my high school class and four years of prom themes set to country music were four too many, as far as I was concerned. Don’t get me wrong—I like country music. It’s just that when I flipped through Vogue, I never saw anyone dressed in a formal gown and cowboy boots.

  “Oh, don’t you love this song?” Lynette asked.

  It was an old country favorite about seeing one’s mama again in heaven. I remembered the first time I’d heard it on the way to school, just a few months after my mom died. I remembered how I’d tried so hard not to cry on the bus, because if I cried again, they’d send me to the school counselor. He’d try to make me talk, instead of letting me go to Advanced Math where I could focus on equations and story problems.