Bird After Bird

by Leslea Tash

  “Somewhere special,” Billy said. “Carry it to your favorite spot in the park and leave it there. If it’s your favorite, maybe it’s Wren’s favorite, too.”

  After the mysterious blonde in dark sunglasses who was almost definitely possibly Madonna walked away, I had to hug Billy.

  “Hey! What’s that for?” He sounded indignant, but I couldn’t help but see how big his smile was.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just glad you’re here. Glad I’m here. Thanks for asking me. Thanks for helping me. You’re…”

  “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this done and get to the Empire State Building,” he said. “Hurry up, Hank! Laurie’s gonna kiss me or something if we don’t find this girl!”

  Altogether we spent about two hours in the park, leaving little paper cranes everywhere with my phone number inside. I started getting calls almost immediately, but none of them were Wren. I tried to push it out of my mind, just hoping somehow she’d find that number.

  We saw the Empire State Building. We saw Times Square. We ate famous New York Pizza. We saw a lot of stuff, and we bought tons of souvenirs for the folks back home, but by 10 pm that night we were ready to crash. No wild parties in the hotel suite of Billy & the Boys. Just a lot of worn-out hicks.

  The live call-in show was the following night. We taped one final song for the performance, to be played if we won the vote.

  We’d been in wardrobe and makeup, having our looks torn apart and improved ever so subtly for about an hour, when a producer came in asking for Billy. They went out into the hall together to talk, and I heard Billy shout.

  “I’m sorry, but those are the rules,” the producer said, re-entering the room. “Billy & the Boys, gather your things. You’ve officially been disqualified.”

  Chapter Sixty-six

  Laurie

  As it turned out, my romantic gesture was discovered even faster by the internet than our performance in Indianapolis. I guess the tide of discoverability hadn’t totally crested for Billy & the Boys yet, and word of my paper crane project for Wren went viral, with photos of the birds we’d left in the park linked to YouTube videos of our music.

  “Dude, if she doesn’t take you back, you’ll have no problem meeting someone new,” Billy said as my phone blazed into a near-nuclear meltdown. We were outside the hotel, waiting for a shuttle to the airport at the time.

  I scrolled through the numbers, looking for one that was familiar. None of them were Wren’s. “Hell with it,” I said, throwing the phone into the hotel fountain.

  The rest of the band would barely speak to me. They’d helped with the project and once word of it got out, the producers of the show felt we were unfairly campaigning for votes, which was expressly prohibited by the rules of the competition.

  “But it’s not advertising,” Billy said. “My friend is trying to track down his girl—surely you see that,” he told the producer.

  He’d pursed his lips, then frowned. “Ever heard of a phone call? We see that you performed a song called ‘Oh, Wren’ on Friday night, then hit one of the busiest hubs of traffic in the city the following day to promote the song with fliers and a call-in number.”

  “That’s my personal cell phone!” I said. “I left it for Wren to call me if she finds one of the birds!”

  But the argument was moot. Resistance was futile. The guys had helped me spread my wishes across 800+ urban acres, and now they were paying for it with a cancelled TV appearance.

  On the flight home, Fred leaned forward in his seat and tapped me on the shoulder. “This viral stuff is way more effective than some stupid reality show, man. Don’t sweat it. You know this is exactly how The Go got their start, right?”

  I didn’t know about The Go. I didn’t want to let down Billy & the Boys. I hadn’t asked to be a part of their band and I still didn’t want to be an entertainer for a living, but I felt like crap for ruining their chances.

  I hoped Fred was right. Billy didn’t seem upset, although Hank just stared out the plane window and gave me the finger when I did catch his eye.

  But what was done was done. All I wanted to do now was touch down, buy a new phone, and wait at home until Wren called.

  She’d call. I was sure she would.

  I believed.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Wren

  By Sunday, my apartment was a mess.

  “Wren!” Janice was knocking, and not taking no for an answer. “Let’s go for a jog and blow the stink off!”

  I opened the door. “You have a key. You could have let yourself in,” I said.

  Her eyes were wide, taking in the transformation of the apartment. “I knew you were serious about moving on, but I had no idea you’d found another job.” She frowned. “You’re not ditching me before we finish the financing piece, are you?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing of the sort.” I picked up a packet of manila folders and crisp white reports from my entryway table. “There’s one for each member of the board, and two each for the bankers. One for you, one for your files, and I’ll email you all the docs in case you find any last minute corrections need to be made.”

  She flipped through the pages briefly, nodding.

  “You’ve outdone yourself. I can’t believe you got legal and finance to sign off on these so quickly. But you know I’ve got you for four more days, right?”

  I smiled. I didn’t really think she’d hold me to it, but I didn’t have anything more pressing to do than pack, anyway. “Of course, J.”

  She looked up from the reports. “Then what? Where you going?”

  I pulled my hair into a messy bun as I crossed the room to my laptop, next to the files of personal financial information I’d left in the center of my living room. I picked up the machine and brought it to my friend, double clicking on an open tab two screens down from my grad school application and FAFSA-in-progress. “Well, I’ll have a few months to kill before I start, but I was thinking…”

  “You’re going back to school? For ornithology? Of course. Birds.”

  I nodded, unable to hide my joy as happy tears formed in my eyes.

  Janice set the laptop on top of a box and hugged me, hard. “Oh, Wren…that is just perfect. I couldn’t think of a better field for you than that. So what are you going to do with that degree?”

  I shrugged, wiping my eyes. I knew she would support whatever decision I made, but it was a load off to see her so happy about it.

  “Anything, everything. Research, field work, or I could get involved with a wildlife charity like Audubon. It could get my foot in the door of a zoo…really, it’s as big or as small as I want. A raptor rescue, maybe? Who knows. I just know this feels right, Janice. It feels more right than anything I’ve ever done.”

  “Well, you know you can count on my support. If you need letters of recommendation or even donations, just holla, you got it.”

  I clapped my hands, then looked down at my clothes. “God…I’ve been researching schools and filling our forms all weekend. I’m disgusting. Once I decided to do this, I just dove in and I haven’t even looked at myself in the mirror since Friday.”

  “Typical Birdy,” she said. “Go change into some clean sweats and let’s hit the park.”

  I was practically skipping my way around Central Park that gorgeous Sunday morning. The weather was beautiful and the people were so happy. It was like a Disney movie, and it even seemed like some of them were singing my name.

  A group of teen girls gathered around a smart phone, watching a video and singing “Oh, Wren, oh Wren…when will I see you again?”

  To be honest, it was a little disconcerting.

  “You have any idea what that’s about?” I asked Janice.

  She shook her head. “Spent all weekend at the Hamptons with Harold and his relatives from London,” she said. She pointed at her head. “I’m full of British politics and bizarre cultural references right now. I wish I had time to chill out and catch the latest
tunes.”

  We jogged a little more in silence, rounding the reservoir, before she spoke up again. “How much you want to bet Laurie wrote a song for you, and they played it on that talent show he came here for?”

  Laurie. I’d refused to let myself think about him. He was always there at the edge of my mind, but I’d forced myself to focus on grad school apps and job searches and a whole new life in an effort to forget he was in town. It had worked, and now Janice was dragging me out of my insular darkness again.

  “Anything’s possible,” I said. But was it? Was it possible he missed me as much as I missed him?

  We were slowing down from a jog when I saw a paper crane on a park bench. I pulled Janice to the bench, and she gratefully took a load off while I examined the little bird. It was made of fancy origami paper, not the kind of sketch paper Laurie usually used.

  “What are the chances?” I said.

  “Anything’s possible,” Janice said, ripping the bird out of my hand and unfolding it without ceremony.

  I could see writing inside. As she handed the page to me, I saw ten digits I couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried. It was Laurie’s number. There were no drawings, no note. Just the name “Wren.”

  We’d jogged to that spot in the park, but we ran all the way back to the building. I needed my purse and I needed a cab, and I needed to find that guy before he left town.

  If Laurie had left that bird for me, then that meant he would forgive me—maybe he already had. And if he would see me again, I would die happy.

  In the meantime, I was merely dying.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Laurie

  Throwing my phone in the fountain after leaving my number all over New York might not have been the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but it was close. I slept most of the flight home, and when I woke, we were about the land. The guys were considering whether or not they should try to call in sick to work.

  “Dude, the boss ain’t gonna like it if his entire crew is out sick. Probably cost us all our jobs,” Billy said.

  “C’mon, guys. We can muscle through this. You know how many all-nighters I pulled in the Army?” I didn’t normally talk about my military days, and I guess that got their attention, because they stopped arguing.

  They needed rest, but they needed their jobs more. I knew they’d do the right thing. Still, I felt bad about costing them their shot at fame. “Tell ya what—I’ll bring doughnuts tomorrow, okay?”

  That won me a few tired smiles, at least. They were understanding guys, but I was going to feel awful about this for a long time. I wasn’t sure I could make it up to them, but I was going to try and find a way.

  Billy had left his van in the parking lot, so no one came from Birdseye to pick us up. Finally, on the drive back to our country home, I began to feel normality returning.

  “I really wish I hadn’t chucked my phone,” I said.

  “Use mine,” Billy said, handing it to me. “Text Lynette and tell her we’re about 45 minutes out.”

  I did, and she sent back a note.

  -TV crew from Evansville already stopped by the house. Everyone wants to interview Laurie about the birds in Central Park stunt. ????-

  “Tell her I’ll tell her later.”

  Long story. Tell you tonight.

  -k luv u-

  She sent a pic of little Willie, sleeping in her arms, and I texted a smiley back on Billy’s behalf.

  We’d met at the shop before we left town, and that’s where Billy returned now, so we could each claim our cars and drift home to recover from our whirlwind weekend. I stayed behind to talk to Billy a bit longer, apologizing for how things had gone down.

  “Don’t sweat it, man. It ain’t your fault. Stupid fucking prick producers with sticks up their asses. What’s that they said in Shakespeare? A pox upon their houses! Something like that, anyway.”

  I had to laugh at that one. You know you got under a redneck’s skin when he’s quoting Shakespeare.

  We said our goodbyes and I got out of the van, headed straight for my truck. I was going to go buy a new phone and see if Wren had called.

  “Mr. Byrd! Mr. Byrd! Can we please as you a few questions?”

  I glared against the sun and stared, trying to focus as three reporters shoved microphones into my face.

  “Um…”

  “Hold all questions, please,” Louisa said. Thank God for huge favors, she appeared out of nowhere, squeezed herself between the media and myself, and took over. “My brother just got back into town, and he’s got some urgent business to attend to. If y’all will stop by the library around lunch time tomorrow—that work for you, Laurie? Anyway, come by the library tomorrow around noon, and Billy & the Boys will be happy to answer all your questions, okay? For now let’s let the boys rest. Thanks.”

  Louisa slid into the passenger side of my truck and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I said “You know you are the best sister ever in the history of the world, right?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to play PR pro. ‘No questions, no questions.’ Did I look as glamorous as I felt back there?”

  I laughed. “Missed your calling, for sure.”

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  Laurie

  I got a new phone, but it was useless. It lit up non-stop with calls. The list of missed numbers was so long, I would never get through it to see if Wren had even called.

  I was overwhelmed. What could I do?

  Carefully, I sketched Wren’s face from memory. It wasn’t perfect at first, and I had to erase and redo the brows to make them perfect. I couldn’t remember the exact placement of the freckles on her nose, so I cheated with those, as well. Still, it wasn’t bad. The curly hair, the flirty eyes, the full, pouty lips, the pert nose…

  Dear Wren,

  I missed you in New York. I’ve missed you every day since you left and then I got so close and I missed you again.

  Why didn’t I just call you? Why did I think some kind of magic would happen, that you’d come to the show or come looking for me, suddenly sorry for leaving me after all this time? What’s it been now? Three months?

  Jesus, Wren. I know you love me. I’ve never known anything more.

  And now everyone in the world is calling but you.

  What do I do, Wren?

  How do I reach you now?

  Hap groaned in his doggie bed. He’d been so excited to see me, he’d run laps around the cabin for forty-five minutes. Now he was exhausted, seemingly relieved to have me back.

  “Stop being a pussy,” I said.

  Hap barked, as though in agreement.

  I crumpled the paper, picked up the phone, hit decline on the latest incoming call, and dialed Wren’s number.

  Straight to voicemail.

  “Wren, it’s Laurie. Can we talk? My phone’s giving me issues, so I’ll be getting a new number today. If I don’t answer when you call back, just hang tight. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.”

  I hit the End button and the phone lit up with another new call. I should have just turned the phone off and put it in a drawer, but I was angry and frustrated, so I hit Accept, and yelled into the phone.

  “Unless your name is Wren, I don’t want to talk to you!”

  “That’ll show ‘em,” Louisa said from the next room. Hap barked again.

  “My name’s not Wren, it’s Rhoda—and I think we met, back at Crane Days. Remember me?”

  I did remember Rhoda. She was a friend of Wren’s involved with conservation and birding. I met her at the pizza place while Wren and I were covered in mud from the marsh. Felt like ages ago.

  “Rhoda? Yeah, I remember you. Hi, sorry. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. But I’ve got a pair of snowy owls here that ain’t so fine. You remember the snowies that were at Goose Pond so late in the year?”

  “Um… yes. I think Wren mentioned something about an interruption?”

  “An irruption,” Rhoda said. “It’s when a freakish
ly large numbers of arctic birds fly south for food. Anyway, this mated pair decided to stay for whatever reason, and unfortunately, one of them got hit by a car while it was scavenging on the side of the road. We need some funds to get him the help he needs, and I was wondering if you and your band would like to be part of the fundraising event.”

  I thought about the debt I owed Billy & the Boys. Would this gig make up for losing in New York? No way, but it couldn’t be a bad start, could it?

  “When, Rhoda?”

  “Saturday afternoon work for you guys?”

  “We’ll make it work.”

  “Thanks, kid. And, hey—I heard about your heartbreak with Wren, and the origami birds in Central Park and all that on the news.”

  I felt my face heat up. “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about—“

  “She loves you, kid. Listen to me. I’ve known that girl for years—since she and her dad were birding their way across Indiana, while her mother was fresh in the ground. She’s a wild thing, you know? And—listen to me, kid—I know my stuff. Like any wild thing, when something hurts, she runs—her daddy taught her that, so don’t hold it against her too much.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Okay.” I started to hang up.

  “Hey! Listen! The thing about Wren is, she always comes back. She comes home to roost. Don’t give up, Laurie Byrd. If I know anything, I know my ‘birds,’ and you and Wren are two of a feather. You hear me?”

  I wanted it to be true.

  Chapter Seventy

  Wren

  I wasn’t sure what his flight number was, but I definitely missed it. According to the net there was one flight between all of New York City and Louisville, Kentucky, and it left an hour before I finished researching possible travel routes. It’s not as easy tracking flights out of three airports as you’d think. You’d think you could just type “Where’s my boyfriend?” into Google, but it doesn’t work. I’ve tried.