Bird After Bird

by Leslea Tash

  Janice had already taken a running start at reorganizing the company business for efficiency and elegance. Time-honored brand names had taken on the air of expensive delicacies that appealed to the affluent shopper while seducing the coupon-clipping budget buyer. All we needed were assurances from chain buyers that they could increase our shelf space on the in-store plan-o-grams and commit to increasing their warehouse inventory, and we could begin the production research segment of the project. If we had to build new factories, establish new relationships with transport, packaging, logistics on the whole, we’d take it from there. There would be incentives to offer, deals to make, bribes to hint at and names to drop. And more than that, there would be lots and lots of numbers to crunch, and a lot of late nights at the computer verifying what my team had produced. After that came financing options, and then we’d move on to the stockholders and the bankers.

  It took a lot of heavy lifting, but my talent was making all of it look like flowers. Making it work.

  “I can’t do this without you,” Janice said.

  “I’m sure you could—you just might not pull it off by the end of the quarter.”

  She swatted me on the butt before she hustled to make a lunch meeting. “Cocky thing!”

  Janice was as proud to have me on board as a new mother is of her first child. It was the first job I’d ever had where I felt like I was making a difference from day one.

  The only problem was when I was away from my desk. Janice had made sure I was invited to all the right parties, meeting new people every night of the week. “Unattached, Ms. Riley?” I must have been asked that a dozen times on the first night.

  The first few times I said “Yes,” I felt my heart breaking, but I drowned it in cocktails and shop talk.

  I spent the first weekend unpacking. Janice and Harold had pulled some strings to get me a flat in their building, and it overlooked Central Park. After placing Dad’s bird book in a place of honor in my bedroom, I gravitated to the window to take in the view. I got out my binocs and tried to spot anything.

  Central Park was famous for its variety of wild birds, and I’d already subscribed to the NYC birding email loops, so I was getting alerts of rare birds once a day. I couldn’t see anything right away in the form of rare species, but I could see a small band of birders armed with gear checking off birds in the trees below me.

  “To hell with unpacking,” I said, and slipped into my shoes. I grabbed my camera and keys and skedaddled across the street to introduce myself.

  Within moments, I regretted it. They were on a mission to spot a rare albino Prothonotary Warbler and they made it clear my help wasn’t needed.

  “I’m new in town, just trying to meet some fellow birders,” I said to a girl in glasses with stringy hair.

  “Sure,” she said, not bothering to lower her binocs.

  “I’m a pretty experienced birder,” I said, hating the tone my voice had just taken on. Was I whining?

  “Uh huh,” Stringy Hair muttered. “See ya around.”

  I felt like an idiot standing by after that, as if I had to beg to meet new people. I was meeting plenty of new people through work. I had my best friend in the same building. I was making seven digits annually.

  I raised my binocs and looked to the South, away from where the other birders were staring. “Albino Protho,” I said, “Three o’clock.”

  I felt the whoosh of their bodies turning in unison as I walked away. Screw those birders. Screw their little clique.

  And screw me.

  There was someone I wanted to call, someone I wanted to text, someone who would understand what I’d just spotted and what it meant to me.

  I glanced at my phone. Seven texts from him I hadn’t answered. The first few were about my safety, and I felt awful for ignoring them, but reading them now reminded me why I could never call Laurie again. I’d burned that bridge. I’d worried him and I couldn’t expect him to forgive me for how I’d handled the break-up.

  On the Monday after I’d left, he’d sent, -I know you’re okay. I just want to say I’m sorry for whatever I did.-

  A few days later, -I just wish you’d tell me why, Wren. I wish I could understand.-

  A week after that, just the word –Goodbye.-

  That one was the worst of all.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Wren

  Work continued to be easy, if unfulfilling, and Janice made good on her promise to take me to Broadway. We jogged the park together, too, in the mornings before work. I did my best to show her my gratitude. At least I thought I did.

  “Wren, you’ve got to cheer up. You’re starting to make me regret hiring you,” she said one morning as we rounded the reservoir.

  “Even after I brought in twice our goal on the Big C-mart’s shelves?”

  “Yeah,” she huffed. “I don’t mean as your boss. I mean as your friend. You look like somebody died.”

  “I do?”

  She laughed. “As long as you’re on the job, you’re on fire, but…”

  “I can’t stop thinking about him, Janice.”

  “Then call him! Tell him you’re sorry!”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “And why the hell not?” She stopped running, and leaned forward to rest her hands on her thighs, catching her breath. I jogged back to her, and waited.

  “Once I’m done with something, I’m done,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed my own words, but I said it. Maybe I’d believe it if I said it aloud.

  “Let me get this straight.” She straightened and began walking at a brisk pace. “You fell in love with the guy. He was perfect for you—seemed like you brought out the best in each other—and you blew him off and split town.”

  I felt like she was stabbing me in the heart with a knitting needle. “Sounds about right,” I said. A pair of Double-Crested Cormorants flew overhead, drawing my attention for a moment before they landed in the water.

  “Listen, Birdy…I know you’re trying to make a name for yourself, and believe me, no one gets that like I do. But what about you, girl? Don’t you deserve someone to love you?”

  “I don’t know if I do, Janice.” And there it was. That was the truth of it. I hadn’t felt worthy of Laurie. “He was too sweet, Janice. I was going to hurt him, eventually.”

  “Well, you made damn sure of that, didn’t you?”

  As we wound down our run, a busker played the banjo on a park bench. I recognized the song. It was the last one Billy & the Boys had played that night at the vineyard.

  I didn’t have much cash on me, but I gave him what I had. It was the least I could do.

  Chapter Fifty

  Laurie

  The dreams were dark, filled with memories I’d been trying to forget for months and years.

  A phone call from Donna that wouldn’t end. She just kept saying Sylvia and Boomer were gone, until I couldn’t hear myself think.

  The rattle and hum of a truck as Rodriguez and I were called into the field to repair a Hum-V. The voice of our commander crackling over the radio. “Do not stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect civilians, Specialists Byrd and Rodriguez.”

  My finger on the radio clicking it off.

  The old lady with the broken leg, her foot dangling at the wrong angle, and as I lifted her up from the side of the road.

  The explosion that rocked Rod’s body into fragments. The bullets that came too close right after.

  The look in the old woman’s eyes as we rolled into a heap beneath the truck. The look on her weathered face as my buddy lay dying. The look that said “Why fight? This is the way of the world.”

  Nothing that used to help me cope was working now. The Beer & Bait only reminded me of Wren and I hated the way the guys in the garage joked about things as though there were more to life than total devastation.

  Total devastation. I thought I knew what that was, from the war. I thought I knew what that meant, from the faces of Donna & Lew at Sylvia’s funeral. I thought I knew… />
  For the first couple of weeks after Wren took off, I couldn’t create. I postponed art classes and I put my sketchbook and pencils in the closet so they’d stop looking at me like I was neglecting them.

  I fed Hap and let him in and out of the house, but I had no desire to walk him. I just let him run.

  I stopped buying birdseed, too.

  I went to the garage, I came home, and I slept.

  Louisa checked on me eventually. “Thought you’d up and gone to Chicago,” she said.

  “There is no Chicago anymore,” I croaked.

  Hap whined at her feet, eager for someone to play with him. I’d cuddled with him at night but I didn’t have the energy to run with him. “Thinking of taking him back to Donna and Lew. I can’t seem to handle him anymore.”

  “Laurence Byrd, are you serious? You’d give up your dog? What kind of person does that?”

  “An asshole.”

  “Laurie, you’re not an asshole.” She smiled, and hugged me. She was quiet a minute. “Wait. Did Wren call you that?”

  “Wren didn’t call me anything. She just left.”

  Louisa’s face went white and she sat in the other easy chair. She patted her lap and Hap leapt onto it, snuggling against her. “I don’t get it. She seemed so perfect for you.”

  “No such thing as perfect, L. You know that.”

  She was quiet for a while, then she shoved Hap off her lap and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She opened the fridge. “You been eating? You look skinny.”

  “I eat lunch at work. Not very hungry.”

  “C’mon, let’s go get something.” She crossed to my chair and started yanking me by my hand.

  “Another time.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer, Mr. Byrd.”

  I sighed. “Alright, Miss Byrd. But you’re driving—and you’re buying.” I had a couple of paychecks I hadn’t yet taken by the bank.

  In the car, she tried to talk to me about Wren, but I shushed her.

  She persisted. “Just listen. I knew before her dad died—you didn’t. She was damaged, honey.” I must have made an angry face, because she quickly backpedaled. “She’s a great girl, don’t get me wrong. I always liked Wren. Everybody did. But she changed when she lost her mom. She just sort of…stopped caring. She withdrew. She took part in all the school stuff, but she was above it, you know? Above scouts, above cheerleading, definitely above homecoming.”

  “You weren’t much of a fan of homecoming either, if I recall.”

  “True, but you know how Mom pushed until I got added to the court.”

  “Yeah, didn’t she threaten the principal?”

  “Something like that. Anyway, never mind me. I’m talking about Wren. I know you love her, Laurie, and believe me, if she had a circle of friends in high school, I was in it—but from sixth grade on it seemed like the only thing she cared about was getting out of this town. When her dad died…maybe that was it for her, you know? Honey, all I’m saying is, maybe you got too close for comfort. She never was the type to open up.”

  “I thought she opened up to me.”

  L reached over and squeezed my hand. “I bet she did. But, you know, the thing that always struck me about Wren was that she didn’t want to drop her pain on other people. Another kid in our class lost his mom about a year after Wren lost hers. She went to the funeral home. We all did. She was kind, but she didn’t shed a tear. Didn’t make it about her. I think she was good at hiding her feelings. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t have them. Maybe she just never learned how to deal.”

  “You think I hurt her?”

  L shrugged. “If you don’t think you did, then you probably didn’t. I just know she was never going to stay in Birdseye. As much as you like to hide out at home, I always kind of thought Wren hid in plain sight. She was everything she was supposed to be according to Birdseye’s expectations, then she left. No hard feelings, just—gone.”

  I didn’t expect Louisa to pull into Donna & Lew’s driveway, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was pushy in that way. Correction: my older sister was pushy in every way. It was one of her best qualities, I reckon, if big sisters can be said to have good qualities. She gunned the accelerator down the driveway and honked the horn before she parked the car.

  Lew opened the back door and waved, not recognizing L’s car. When he saw me in the front seat, he broke into a wide grin. “Laurie! Get in this kitchen! Donna’s gone and made too much chicken & dumplings, and I can use some help, kid!”

  Louisa smiled, shaking Lew’s hand. “It’s been a few years, Mr. Childers. I’m Louisa, Laurie’s sister.”

  Lew drew Louisa in for a hug. “You’re family. You like chicken & dumplings?” He ushered her into the kitchen with his arm around her shoulders.

  I felt myself slumping, and tried to straighten my posture, but I was too late. Donna was flying at me, ladle and bowl in hand. “Laurie Byrd! I thought we told you not to be a stranger! Get in this kitchen and eat, would ya? Heavens to Betsy, you look skinny!”

  Louisa laughed, and Donna gave her a welcoming hug, the dripping ladle making a mess of her floor. Our own mother would never have abided such a thing, but Donna was much more laid back. “Of course I remember your pretty sister, Louisa! Grab a couple of bowls out of the cabinet, won’t you?”

  L didn’t have to be told twice. Before I knew it, I had a steaming hot bowl of homemade dumplings and slow-cooked chicken breast in front of me, and Louisa was digging into her own.

  “Laurie, I saw your sister at the Stop and Shop last week and told her she should bring you by sometime. Lew and I were missing your company.” She smiled at my sister. “I’m so glad you came. What’s new? What’s going on?”

  I took a bite of dumplings and shrugged in response. I didn’t understand how they could be so happy. It was downright disconcerting. Hadn’t their lives been destroyed when they lost their daughter? They’d made it clear I was welcome, but didn’t seeing me make it harder on them?

  “Laurie, what’s wrong?”

  I dropped my spoon and took a deep breath. “Remember that girl I told you about?,” I said, and Donna’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes! Why didn’t you bring her today?”

  How could she be so accepting?

  “She broke up with me,” I said.

  “Well, shit,” Lew said, putting his own spoon down. “What the hell did you do, son?”

  I laughed. It was one thing for me to beat myself up with the question, but another thing entirely to hear someone else say it. “Wish I knew. I was going to propose.” The room was quiet for a moment. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “I was even going to sing to her.”

  “Well, that’s it,” Louisa said, between bites. She swallowed, nodding. “Josh Groban, you are not, brother.”

  Donna chuckled, but her eyes were filled with concern. “Oh, hush. Laurie’s got a beautiful voice.” Quietly, she asked, “Any chance this is just a blip?”

  “A blip?” I wasn’t sure I understood.

  Donna handed me a napkin. “Wipe your mouth, Laurie. You’ve got dumpling goo on it.” As I did as she instructed. She continued. “A blip. When things happen that don’t make sense. When life is going along just fine, and something happens that screws it up for a while. Not a catastrophe, per se, but, you know…a blip.”

  I thought about it. I hadn’t heard from Wren for two weeks. Was that catastrophic? Or was it a blip?

  “She hasn’t answered my texts,” I said.

  “Did you call her?” Lew asked. “Back in my day, we didn’t text. I had to chase Donna in person.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t called because I can tell she’s seen the texts. It couldn’t be more clear: she doesn’t want to talk.”

  Lew rose from his chair, patting me on the shoulder as he took his empty bowl to the kitchen sink. “You might be right, son. You might be right. Still… something to be said for chasing in person. Worked on Donna.”

  I manag
ed a few more bites of the dumplings, mostly to keep from hurting Donna’s feelings. Her cooking was remarkable, and I felt a lot better for eating.

  Louisa and Donna played the small town social game through the rest of the meal, connecting the dots between who they knew in common and what activities they did where. My sister was a librarian at the local outpost of the Dubois County Library, and she tried to recruit Donna to one of her book clubs.

  Eventually, Lew took me aside. “C’mon. Gotta show you something.”

  I thought he would take me outside to see his latest lawnmower. He was always upgrading, and Sylvia used to joke that he ought to go ahead and buy a tractor and be done with it.

  He surprised me by steering me down the hallway toward Sylvia’s room.

  Only the room wasn’t Sylvia’s anymore.

  Her things were mostly removed, and a stack of boxes filled the center of the floor. Her bed was gone. The old wallpaper was down, and a fresh coat of butter yellow gleamed on all four walls.

  “Wow,” I said. “It looks…”

  “It looks like moving on,” Lew said.

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Laurie, we kept her room just as she’d left it for a year. Grief counselor told us it was the best thing to do.” He saw the surprise on my face. “Yeah, yeah…we went to grief counseling. Probably should have dragged you along with us, I’m guessing. Anyway, we left it this way because we weren’t ready to let go. Then…after a time…we just were.”

  He was quiet for a bit, letting that sink in, I guess.

  “I think you know what I mean, don’t you? We’ll never stop loving our daughter—and I know you’ll never stop, either, Laurie. It’s not real love if it stops.”

  I leaned against the doorway, wishing for a chair. I suddenly felt so tired—too tired. I hadn’t been sleeping or eating well and the fatigue was worse than during Basic. “You’re right, Lew. I won’t ever stop loving Syl, but eventually it must have been time to move on, otherwise it couldn’t have happened.”