Bird After Bird

by Leslea Tash

  “Where’s that coming from?” she asked.

  I hadn’t been sure exactly where Billy & the Boys were going to set up, but we’d almost found them. I shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

  The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was ablaze with shades of orange, purple and pink when we entered the clearing. A table had been set with covered dishes of wine and cheese, grapes and apples, and two wine glasses, with a bottle of red waiting to be uncorked. Billy & the Boys were playing their rendition of a Trampled by Turtles song, and before Wren could say no, I swept her into my arms for a dance.

  “You set this up?”

  “Guilty. Booked us a room here at the B&B, too.”

  She sighed. Her expression seemed sad, which surprised me.

  “Would you rather sit and eat? You want to just go home? Tell me what you want, Bluebird. We’ll do it.”

  She pulled me in close, resting her cheek against my chest and swaying to the tunes the Boys were playing. She mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out.

  “What’s that?”

  She pulled away from me and looked up into my eyes. “I said I just want to be here now—in this moment—with you. I want it to last forever.”

  “It will, babe. It will.”

  I thought about dropping to one knee right there and proposing, but I stuck to my plan.

  We danced another song, then I walked her to the table. I uncovered Wren’s dish and she dove into the platter of goodies while I uncorked the wine.

  “Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked, her mouth still full of fresh-baked bread and homemade butter.

  “Give me a second,” I said. My plan was to cross the clearing to the band. That was their cue.

  Wren grabbed me by the hand before I could get away. “Come on and sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I didn’t like the sounds of that. The boys moved on to another song, and I sat across the table from her while she poured the wine.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she said. “Not exactly.” She filled her own glass, then clinked hers to mine. “To us,” she said.

  “To us!” I smiled. She was so beautiful in the golden light, and the sunset was fading to pink and purple against the cosmic blue of night and the brightness of the stars. I could see Venus, and the moon. The ring felt like it had taken on a life of its own, like it was dying to leap from my pocket onto her finger. As much as I’d feared singing, I could barely wait to express myself. “What do you need to tell me?”

  “I’m taking a job in New York.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Laurie

  “New York, huh?” Well, that wasn’t part of my plan. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I want you to come and see me as much as you can. We’ll walk in the park, see some shows, visit the MOMA—it’ll be awesome!”

  I slipped my hand back into of my pocket and dug into dinner. The ring felt cold and small now, unimportant.

  I couldn’t propose to her now. Not while her life was getting ready to become even more hectic. As little as I’d heard from her over the past two weeks, I couldn’t imagine what the stress of moving and starting a new job was going to do to her time.

  “Must be a pretty big opportunity.” I tried to sound happy for her, but my heart gave me away.

  I thought I’d tell her that she’s my bluebird, that I wanted to follow her to my own happiness. I’d decided I could take my art on the road, to run a booth like the artists we saw that day at Eagle Creek. I thought she’d support that, see the potential of my being able to travel for work, for shows, while she had to fly to Chicago for meetings. I thought we’d work it out. I thought it made sense. I thought it was beautiful.

  So much for that.

  I was willing to make my life around her, but she didn’t even care to discuss her plans for the future with me. How naïve had I been?

  “Laurie, we’ll still see each other as much as we can. I can’t turn down this job. It’s the chance of a lifetime and I can write my own ticket after this.”

  I nodded, but as the boys ran out of songs to play and launched into January Wedding without me, I felt like a fool.

  “Laurie, what’s wrong?”

  I had a gulp of my wine. I had to get it off my chest. “I just wish you had asked me first before you took the job.”

  “Why? It’s not like we’re engaged. We’ve only known each other a few months.”

  I nodded, biting my lip. The guys were looking at me funny. They could tell something was wrong. I gestured for them to go ahead and finish up.

  As they packed up, I leaned forward and spoke quietly so the guys wouldn’t overhear. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

  “Since when do I need a man’s permission to make my own decisions?” She was angry, hurt. The light of the candle centerpiece on the table flickered off her bird pendant, and in her eyes.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Wren. I just don’t want to lose you.”

  Her eyes watered in response, but she said nothing.

  I leaned forward and took her hand in mine. “I know what I want. Do you?”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Wren

  I’d planned on telling him that night, at the end of the date.

  I hadn’t known there would be a dinner reservation or a B&B.

  When he’d suggested meeting in Indy I’d taken that as a sign that he wanted more space in our relationship, too—after all, neither of us had a place to crash there, and he’d never suggested a hotel.

  I thought I’d take the temperature of our relationship after the hectic past two weeks, and if things were going well, I’d tell him at the end of our night. Gently.

  I’d rehearsed my speech, about how I thought we should slow down until I was settled. It all made sense. I’d even written it down on paper.

  The thing that scared me the most was that long distance relationships never work out. The short-term feelings of falling in love—of infatuation—were short-lived. If it was meant to be, it would still be in a year or two, right?

  As I flew to Janice’s for the weekend, I reviewed my notes in the journal. It all made sense on paper. So why did I feel like I’d just lost my best friend?

  I fought the urge to write what I was feeling. I didn’t want to cry on the plane. I just wanted to crash.

  Well, not literally crash, but sleep. You know.

  I stuffed the journal back into my purse, and felt it catch on something. Reaching into my bag, I felt the slightly tacky 4 x 6 print Kerry had given me a few weeks ago, from the box of photos.

  I traced the figure of the little boy holding my hand on the banks of the lake. We’d found each other again, and he’d loved me, and I’d hurt him.

  I told myself that hurting him now was better than hurting him later. If the relationship didn’t work long-distance, I’d end up breaking his heart. Or what if he broke mine?

  And was he really over Sylvia?

  “I know what I want,” he’d said. He was so young. Was it possible he could know his own heart that well?

  It was more than possible. It was reality.

  I stared out the window of the plane until the web of lights converged in the darkness below to the epicenter: the city, which rose fast in the foreground as we prepared for landing.

  The truth caught me in the chest like the heavy weight of the Gs as we descended: Laurie had wanted me and I wasn’t good enough for him.

  I was so tired, I couldn’t wait to get to Janice’s. I just needed a chance to cool my head, to breathe.

  To try and forget what you’ve done, a little voice inside me said. Who was that? My mother? Maybe. Didn’t you and Dad take up birding to take your mind off me?

  Yes. But no. It’s not the same. Or was it?

  “Welcome to New York City,” the voice of the captain said over the PA. “Thank you for flying with us today and we hope you enjoy your stay in New York.”
/>   I hadn’t packed a bag, so I scurried off the plane with just my purse before the line got serious.

  Are you willing to give up your dream for a small town life? Like your father gave up his potential? I wasn’t sure whose voice that was, but it sounded an awful lot like Mr. Parker’s. I shushed it by hopping into a cab.

  And the job in New York was going to have an insane schedule. Sure, I’d be able to fly Laurie out to see me, but how available would I be? Janice and Harold had an entirely new social circle in NYC that was even better-moneyed than the Chicago crowd, and as dearly as I cared for Laurie I wasn’t even sure he would want to go to those parties.

  I knew the sort from college. The Ivy Leaguers who considered themselves rogue for attending Northwestern instead of Harvard or Yale. As much as I loved Laurie, that wasn’t his world.

  He’s not part of our world. Troy’s voice that time.

  I texted Janice.

  Almost there

  -Doorman expecting you-

  I pictured Laurie in his work clothes, leaning against his pick-up with the dog in the back. I saw him at the Beer & Bait, all clean denim and buff leather boots. I saw the inside of his cabin, the canvases on the studio walls. I couldn’t ask him to trade that for doormen and taxis and parties and strangers. He’d left it once, for the military. It was unthinkable to ask him to do it again.

  More than that, though, he deserved the kind of partner who could give as much as he needed. He’d been through so much since Sylvia, since Rodriguez’s accident. I wasn’t sure he’d totally dealt with all of that yet.

  Never mind that I knew no one but Janice—work would mean I’d meet lots of new people—people with whom Laurie would never mesh. People whose suits cost more than his car. No matter how much I adored him, their eyes would tear him apart before he even opened his mouth to say hello. It wasn’t fair to put him in that position.

  But what was the alternative? Me giving up my career to be, what was it he suggested? The bank president of the local savings and loan?

  I had to take the job in New York.

  And I had to break Laurie’s heart. It was either break it now or break it later.

  It’s a kind of mercy. That was my voice. I told it to shut up.

  “Opportunity cost,” I said, hating myself.

  “What’s that, miss?” the cabbie asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just…nothing.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Wren

  “You owe the boy some kind of explanation, Birdy,” Janice said. Harold had gone to bed, but Janice had waited up.

  The moment she saw my face at the door of her penthouse, she took me into her arms and held me. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked, and it all came blubbering out.

  She’d changed me into jammies and hooked me up with my own pint of gelato before taking me by the hand and shoving me into a cushy overstuffed couch in her den. A nature channel played on a low volume while we talked—a hawk circled its prey, below. I couldn’t look. I felt convicted, like a hawk of a woman preying on a mouse of a man. There was a time when I’d enjoyed the notoriety of being the office man-eater, but that time had passed.

  “I’m not ready to talk to him.”

  She sighed, and had a bite of her gelato. “What you did, you did for decent reasons. You’re just…shit, Birdy, you’ve been through a lot, losing both of your folks. And this life—our kind of life—it’s a lot of pressure. You’re not the first woman to choose career over love, and you won’t be the last.”

  “Remind me why we do it.”

  “Because we can! And if you don’t do it, someone else will.” She laughed, setting her snack down on the coffee table. I knew without asking that a housekeeper would clear it away if Janice forgot to do it, herself. It was one of many perks of the lifestyle I’d worked so hard to get a shot at. “You’re young—this is a lot of pressure. It just is.”

  I laughed. “We’re the same age! Where do you get off calling me ‘too young’?”

  She smiled. “I’m not judging you, honey. I promise. It’s just that I remember how hard it was to deal with the bullshit when Harold and I got together. You were literally the only person who told me to follow my happiness. Nobody else believed in me. The rest of the world was either accusing me of being a gold-digger, or begging me not to waste my youth on an older man. Nobody got it. It was a lot of pressure, Birdy.”

  The hawk on the TV dived for the kill.

  “Wren, you had your reasons. Since when do you second-guess yourself? If this is what you want to do, I’m not going to talk you out of it. All I’m saying is—you owe that boy something of an explanation. You won’t be able to live with yourself, girl. You’ve got to talk to him.”

  I sighed, and pushed my own pint away. The gelato didn’t taste very good.

  The hawk carried what looked like a vole in its talons, and the camera panned wide to show it flying away from the scene of the kill. That was me. Flyaway Birdy.

  “He’ll never forgive me.”

  Janice nodded. “Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. Would you blame him?”

  “No.”

  We stayed up talking another hour or so, then Janice said she had to get to bed for an early meeting with a photographer. She was being profiled in a business mag and she needed to look her best.

  “As if you ever look anything short of goddess-like,” I said, but I could see she was fading fast. She said goodnight and showed me to the guest room, where I’d stowed my purse and the clothes on my back, the sum total of what I’d arrived with. My phone lit up on the dresser.

  -I know you can see these texts.-

  -Please let me know you’re okay.-

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the phone. I knew if I answered his texts he’d call immediately and want to talk, or worse—video chat. I couldn’t take seeing the hurt in his eyes. I wasn’t ready. I wished there was something I could do to comfort him, but I could barely comfort myself.

  “Opportunity cost sucks,” I said into the pillow, before all faded to black.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Wren

  Leaving Laurie hurt, but leaving Chicago wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

  Darcy cried quite a bit, and the girls on the floor insisted on a Girls Night Out before I split town for good. We had a hell of a good time, and before the night was over, I’d invited all of them to apply for positions at my new company. I knew it was unlikely that any of them would relocate for me—their salaries were too low to make them “key” employees, although only God knew how the machinery of Parker & Bash would work without them.

  “I know I’m going to be reassigned to Troy,” Darcy slurred over her third Appletini. “That little punk is gonna be my new boss.”

  “Give me a month in New York, Darce, and I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse, okay?”

  “After a month of that little shit, I’ll probably take you up on it,” she said, clinking glasses with me.

  At the office, it was difficult to close up shop on my files, with Troy salivating over all my work. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on my contacts and clients. He’d already had his hands all over one of the new interns, too.

  I kept my mouth shut, relieved to be leaving this particular brand of office politics behind. I knew I’d have a fresh batch to contend with in New York.

  On my last day, Troy came into my office without knocking, his hands behind his back.

  I stood, hoisting my purse to my shoulder and ready to make a run for it. “What did you need, Tee-roy?”

  “Got something for ya,” he said, producing a cheesy gift-shop coffee mug with a cheap teddy bear tucked inside. The mug read “Bon voyage!” The little bear held a heart that said “I wuv you.”

  “Thoughtful,” I said. “Why not just give that to the intern now, because when I walk out the door, I’m leaving that here.”

  “Ouch, Birdy—“

  “DON’T call me that.” I’d put up with it politely b
efore, but I didn’t need to now. When Troy said it, it reminded me too much of Laurie, and I didn’t want to be reminded of Laurie. I wanted to forget everything. It was the best part of moving—my mind was filled with to do lists, and I had begun to look forward to filling it with life in NYC.

  Just because I hadn’t had any calories for the past two weeks that weren’t alcohol or sugar based didn’t mean I wasn’t dealing. I told myself I was ready to blast off for a whole new life in New York City—one where I was going to make the most of my potential, of my future, of my talents. I didn’t need any man holding me back, especially not Troy and his fake-sappy goodbyes.

  I barged past him, banging him out of my way with my hip.

  “Come on, Wren! You’re breaking my heart here!” he called, as I made my way to the elevator for the last time.

  “You’re lying, Troy…everybody knows you don’t have a heart.”

  The last thing I heard as the elevator doors closed behind me was the sound of applause from Darcy and the girls.

  Maybe it wasn’t the classiest exit of all time, but it worked for me.

  It worked for the new me. The real me. The Business Me. Tough as French manicured nails Wren Riley, the next Forbes 30 Under 30 cover girl.

  “I wuv you,” I scolded the reflection in the elevator doors. “What an ass.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Wren

  Work was almost too easy. I knew several of my team members as former clients, and I’d worked with contacts at the big chains before as a trusted consultant. Now that Harold’s company was trying to leverage their market share in those stores internationally, I had the pleasure of explaining to people who trusted me on all sides how we were going to make more money, all around. It’s kind of like the Fortune 500 version of being a flower delivery person. Everyone likes good news wrapped up with a pretty bow.