by Leslea Tash
“Damn it!”
Hoping for a miracle, I took a cab to the airport, anyway. What if the flight was delayed? Part of me just wanted to buy a ticket back home and surprise him—but the more cautious side of me won out. Wait, it warned. If it’s meant to be, it can wait until you’ve spoken. He left you his number, not his house key.
I’d wanted a lot of things in my life. Acceptance to Northwestern. A partnership at Parker & Bash. My mom to recover from cancer. My dad not to die of the same disease.
I’d come to learn there was a difference between wanting what was possible, wanting what was probable, and wanting the impossible. It’s the kind of reasoning that kept me sane in those years between Mom’s diagnosis and Dad’s final days. “Focus on what’s real, Wren.”
Sometimes I just wasn’t sure how much of what my heart said mattered. If something felt real deep down in my gut, could I trust it? Should I? Hearts have a way of seducing you into believe the impossible is not only possible, but probable. I hadn’t gotten this far by following my heart. I wasn’t sure anymore if that was my strength or my biggest mistake.
Laurie wanted me to call him—he still had feelings for me. That made him a possibility. My heart told me it was still probable we could work things out.
I ran up and down the terminal at Newark, feeling like a remarkable fool, totally useless in what was probably the wrong airport, anyway. They could have been flying into Evansville. Indianapolis. Why did I think they’d go through Louisville?
My mind raced, and my guts were still racked with guilt. “Impossible,” I said to myself as I climbed into a cab and headed home. “I should check myself in somewhere.”
“Where we headed?” the cabbie asked.
I gave him my address.
“That ain’t a hotel, yanno.”
“I know. It’s my apartment.”
“I heard you say something about checking in…”
I looked out the window, cutting the conversation off. Two huge ravens, stark as night swooped brilliantly in contrast against the overcast sky. One of them landed on a beam above the road. The other turned and flew the opposite direction.
That was me. Stark. Raven. Mad.
Reality had taken on an uncomfortable bend. Everything seemed convex and wrong.
Was it mad to think things could really be lining up? Could Laurie and I have a happily ever after?
The old fears, the old reasons for not being with Laurie decided to show themselves again, that very moment.
He’s a hometown boy. He’s got no future. He’s still in love with his dead girlfriend.
By the time I got to my building, I couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough. Being trapped in the back with all my insecurities shouting me down was crazy-making. I raced into my flat and slammed the door behind me. The entryway housed a small table where I usually threw my keys. A mirror hung above it, and I looked at my frazzled reflection in it.
“Maybe I want a hometown boy! Did you ever think of that?” I gave the mirror a piece of my mind. “Future? You want to talk about futures? You just walked away from a million dollar a year paycheck, lady! You could have been rolling in dough, but you’re chucking it for…for the birds? Really?”
I laughed. I cried. I could feel myself cracking apart, but it felt healthy—it felt great, actually—as though it needed to be done.
The hard, brittle veneer of my outer shell was finally caving in, and if I had to go a little cuckoo to hatch the real me, then so be it.
“And as for the dead girlfriend…yeah, he’ll probably always have a place in his heart for his first love. I think you’re a big enough girl to deal with that, Birdy. The man was obviously made for you. He just wrote a damn song about you! Don’t tell me this ridiculous fear is about Sylvia! This is about YOU, being too scared to lose. Being so scared to lose someone close to you, that you’d throw away the best thing that ever happened to you!”
A timid knock came at the door. “Miss Riley?” It was the doorman.
I opened the door, wiping tears from my eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Riley, but there have been some complaints from the other residents—the shouting?”
I felt my face color. How embarrassing. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and keep it down. Is there anything else?”
“No, miss,” he said. I tipped him, and he left, whistling back to the elevator.
I stuck my tongue out at the girl in the mirror. I wasn’t finished bawling her out yet, but I hoped eventually we could be friends again.
I tried calling Laurie a lot. His phone must have been on fire. He was on CNN, MTV, and VH1 every time I flipped through the channels. The whole world seemed to be crying “fowl” over Billy & the Boys’ disqualification from that TV show. TV crews were even waiting outside the garage where he worked in Birdseye.
“Wow. Must be a slow news week.” Don’t get me wrong, it was surreal and amazing that I could see him on 24 hour news coverage, but I wanted to reach him, and this wasn’t making it any easier.
I headed to bed, defeated and frustrated.
I couldn’t see Laurie giving up art to be a musician type, but anything was possible. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to see him and find out for sure.
So much was up in the air.
Chapter Seventy-one
Wren
It was the most frustrating week of my life. I wanted to talk to Laurie, but his phone was totally broken. Somehow I missed a voicemail from him, and I kicked myself for an hour over that. He said he’d call me back from a new number, but he never did. The minutes crawled by while I waited for my phone to ring. What could be keeping him?
Whichever God I had pissed off, I was willing to make amends. I prayed hourly for divine intervention, but nothing happened on the communication front. Even email didn’t work. When I tried to send him a note, I got an instant bounce-back message from his ISP.
Eventually, there was nothing to do but pack. He was probably going to think I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, but I reasoned that he had been thinking that for months, anyway. If technology was conspiring against us, I’d fill my time making other plans.
I hovered over the “buy now” button on the airline’s website, desperation making a surprise flight home sounding better by the minute.
Finally, the apartment was packed and I was ready to leave New York for parts unknown. All except one thing: my original Jerry Hartt. I carefully pried it from its canvas and rolled it into a cardboard mailer. I would carry it onboard when I left.
The board meeting was a success, per Janice.
“You’re free to go, but I wish you’d stay.”
“Do you really?”
She laughed, and her laughter turned into a sigh. “No. I’d rather see you happy.”
Since I didn’t know where I’d be living or staying, I put my things into a relocation company’s storage facility and packed just the essentials. Janice agreed to oversee their departure, and finally I clicked “buy now” for an eticket home.
It was the first time in my life I set out with no job and no firm plans, other than grad school in a few months. I had a bit of money saved from my job, and I had the money from selling Dad’s house, but other than that…I had nothing but freedom and wishes.
I didn’t shed a tear for New York when I got on that plane. Twelve hours later, though, I was about to burst with them. We’d encountered a mechanical malfunction over Pennsylvania and made an emergency landing in Pittsburgh.
“I hate when this happens,” the man in the seat next to me said.
I smiled. Not really interested in conversation, I returned to staring at my phone hoping for a text message to pop up while we were allowed to connect to WiFi.
“One time I had a flight from Atlanta to LAX that was supposed to be direct—ended up disembarking and reboarding in every damn airport from Mississippi to Arizona. Bird after bird.”
“What’s that?”
“I said we had to disembark—“
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“No, the other part. The last part. Something about a bird?”
He smiled, kicking his seat back and lolling his fat head to the side as he spoke. “Oh, the stop in Louisiana was because of the birds. Whole flock flew right into the damned jet engine and smoke was going everywhere…”
I smiled and turned away again. I was sure he’d said “bird after bird.” That was me, wasn’t it? A wren chasing a Byrd, one metallic flight at a time. Or was it Laurie chasing me?
And did it even matter who chased whom, as long as you ended up with the right person? I’d never really understood how that could work out.
Until now.
I didn’t know who I was going to become or what my future would hold, but I knew I was ready, and if Laurie would have me back, we’d figure it out together.
No messages from him while we waited. The only comfort in turning airplane mode back on was knowing I was one stop closer to home.
When we landed in Kentucky it was early Saturday morning. “We made it on one bird after all,” Mr. Fatcheeks said before he pushed his way into the line and half-stepped back out of my life.
I rented a car, drove to Dubois County, and checked into a hotel in record time. Pretty sure that rental Mustang had a jet engine of its own. I wanted to use it to drop in on Laurie, but we still hadn’t spoken!
“Ugh.” I collapsed on top of the bed in my hotel and did my best not to scream.
I guess I did want him to chase me. I might be a thoroughly modern woman, and obviously I’d come all this way to be with him…but I still had my limits. He’d come all the way to New York and not looked me up. There must have been a reason for that. Fear? Lack of time? Lack of interest?
I took a shower while I waited. “I’ll give it an hour,” I said. “If he hasn’t called by then, I’m calling again and going over to his place. To hell with this!”
It wasn’t until I’d been out of the shower, dried my hair, and changed my clothes that I realized my phone was still in airplane mode. I made the switch, and my phone lit up with texts from an unfamiliar number.
-This is my new number. Laurie-
-Rhoda called, we’re going to Linton Saturday for a fundraiser.-
-Can you fly home?-
-You can text me. This number isn’t public. I had to turn off the old one, and old email.-
-I love you, Wren.-
My heart raced in my chest.
I love you, too, I texted.
The phone bleeped instantly.
-Please come home.-
Then, because technology hates me and love had turned me into an idiot, my phone died. I’d left my charger in the car and it had simply run out of juice.
“Maybe I should just drive to his place,” I said to my reflection. “Good idea,” I answered.
I liked the girl in the mirror a lot better here in Indiana than I had in New York.
Chapter Seventy-two
Laurie
I was still waking up when Billy banged down my door. “C’mon, man! We gotta get up there early!”
“Can I at least shower and eat? I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“I reckon,” he said, coming in and plopping in the chair I’d come to think of as Wren’s. “Thanks for doing this, man. I know you keep saying you don’t want to be part of the band, but you’ve gotten us more publicity than anything else we’ve ever done. And they can’t throw us out of this one! Are you sure you won’t stay on?”
“Totally sure,” I said, throwing a coffee liner into the maker and spooning in some freshly-ground beans. The aroma of the coffee brewing brought me back to life. “Ah, that’s more like it,” I said, pouring a cup as soon as there was nearly enough liquid in the pot to make a cup. I sat in the chair opposite Billy to sip and wake up. “I’d offer you some, but you’ll have to wait a minute for it to brew.”
“No, I’m too excited for caffeine. Been pissing every fifteen minutes as it is.” And with that, he ran to the bathroom, as though to demonstrate. He wandered back in less of a hurry. “Really, I’m surprised you’re not wired! This could be our big break! This show’s being called a mini-festival, you know that? They’re calling it Bird Aid, for Pete’s sake! Expecting huge crowds.”
“There’s only one face I want to see in that crowd,” I said.
“Have you heard from her?”
“Yes! She texted me.”
“And?”
“Said she loves me.”
Billy’s face lit up. “Did you call her?”
“Tried. Voicemail. I hope it’s because she’s mid-flight.”
“It was the song, wasn’t it? The birds? We came through for you, didn’t we?”
I just smiled.
“Will she be there today?”
I shrugged. “I asked her to come home, but I didn’t hear back.”
Billy’s phone beeped. He glanced at it, punched a few buttons, and said “You told some of your artist friends from the community center to pack up their bird art for today, right?”
“Yeah, I did. Why?”
“Well, according to Fred, they’re waiting for you there. They want directions or something…”
“Shit. Yeah, I said I’d give them a map to the facility. Some of them aren’t exactly GPS-friendly.” I stood and poured out my coffee. “Sorry, Billy, I gotta run.”
“No prob, bro! You get the artist contingent set up, and I’ll meet you and the rest of the boys at the garage, okay?”
“See ya there.” Billy left, and I took a quick shower. I almost didn’t shave, but then I remembered the promises of TV being there. Rhoda’s request for us to play the show in Linton couldn’t have been better-timed. The press conference at the library had gotten news of the show out to all the local media outlets, and it was regional news. I didn’t want to blow it for Billy & the Boys with a grunge look.
My hair had grown longish the past couple of months. I liked it. Totally different look from the military cut I used to sport. I toweled off, ran my fingers through my hair, dressed, and Hap and I hit the road.
The whole town was waiting at the community center. Art students, scout troops, even Donna & Lew were there to support the local Search and Rescue training group, as they joined in the caravan of hometown folks headed up for the fundraiser.
There were a lot of things I wasn’t sure of, but nothing could keep me down now that I’d touched base with Wren. I checked my phone to see if she’d texted me back since I’d told her to come home.
Nothing.
Must be airplane mode, I reasoned.
Or maybe she never wants to see you again, the hurt and angry part of me whined.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I accidentally yelled aloud. My painting students stopped socializing immediately, turning to stare at me open-mouthed. A team of schoolgirls with shirts that said “Birdseye loves Billy & the Boys” pointed their fingers at me and laughed. Lew looked at me like he’d never seen me before, and shook his head slowly.
“And now that I’ve got your attention,” I yelled, “What the heck are we waiting for? Let’s get up to Goose Pond and raise some money for an owl!”
Chapter Seventy-three
Wren
I’d waited the better part of a week to see Laurie, to tell him I was sorry, to beg him to forgive me and begin our lives together.
I’d done so much soul searching lately, I wondered if we’d even known each other before, when we fell in love. I was ready to show him my whole heart, bare my entire soul to him, but more than that, I was ready to guard him against any kind of foreseeable hurt for the rest of his life. This part of me, this shield I had used to block out anyone who might get too close to me to hurt me was no longer going to keep out the man I loved.
Instead of worrying how I’d eventually hurt him, I was ready to be the woman who made sure Laurie would never be hurt again. He was the only man I’d ever need, and I was ready to be the only woman he’d love, for the rest of our lives!
I flew to his house. The
rental car zipped down the highway, and I had to pass a couple of cars with curious “Goose Pond or Bust” signs shoe-polished on their back windshields on the state road. Finally, I pulled into the gravel drive with old growth trees on either side, past the mailbox with the reflective letters B-Y-R-D. My heart pounded in my chest as the gravel crunched under my tires.
I slowed, realizing I might hit Hap if I drove too fast.
I put the car in park and looked up at his cabin. Gorgeous, natural, homey, just like I remembered it. Home, I thought. This is where I belong.
I ran to the front porch and banged on the door.
“Laurie! Laurie! I’m home! I’m home!” I could barely say the words, emotion choking my voice.
Nothing.
Not even a bark.
I walked around the back of the house and looked into those floor-to-ceiling windows where we’d sat and watched birds for hours. Nobody there.
I walked out to the barn where Laurie parked his old green pick up truck. Gone.
“Well, SHIT!”
I got back into the rental. My phone had finally charged enough to turn on.
-BirdAid up in Linton today. Your friend Rhoda from Crane Days called. Are you coming home?-
I’m home! I texted him a pic of myself in front of his cabin.
-OMG! You’re here? I’m halfway to Linton!-
I’ll catch up with you
- I want to see you now!-
You have a gig?
There was a pause. I dialed his number.
“Babe,” he answered.
I felt winded. My heart raced at the sound of his voice. “God, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too, Wren. I’m so glad you came back.”
“You think you can forgive me for being an idiot?”
He laughed. “Nothing to forgive, really.”
I cried, fighting for breath. “No—I never should have left the way I did. It was wrong.” I could barely eek out the words, through the tears.