Bird Girl

by Megan Rose

  His blue-green eyes looked hopeful, and he was shaking slightly, causing the paper bag to make crinkly noises in his hands. He was the picture-perfect definition of a geek, and he knew it, despite his attempts to make himself look cool (like the expensive high-tops he was wearing that looked ridiculous on him).

  He tried to slouch and lean to the right a little bit, giving the appearance that he didn’t care about anything, but his posture was too good and he popped right back up like a jack-in-the-box. It looked like his brain was working extra hard for some reason, and as the smell of Chinese food wafted through the air, his subtle wire-framed glasses fogged up, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hey, Lacey! How are you doing?”

  “Hi Connor. I’m good.” Lacey stood there waiting for him to hand her the food and give her a price, but he didn’t budge.

  “Listen, I was wondering…if you weren’t busy…there’s this dance slash party thing that the school’s having and I just wanted to know if maybe you would…ifyouwouldcomewithme.” He spat the words out so fast she barely understood what he said. Then, he scrunched up his face like he was preparing for Lacey to slap it.

  “Oh, well that’s really nice, Connor. Actually, I’m busy that day, so…”

  “But I haven’t told you the day yet.”

  “I’m very busy for the next 2 months,” Lacey answered quickly. “I won’t have a free night. Tonight is my last one actually, and my plan is to just relax.”

  “My shift ends soon. Do you want someone to help you relax?” he asked with a look on his face that Lacey could only assume was his attempt at being slick.

  “Uh…no.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks anyway.” He turned to walk away, shoulders hunched, looking down at his feet.

  “Connor?”

  He whipped back around, hopeful. “Yeah?” This time when he spat it out, he actually spat. Onto Lacey’s face.

  “My food?”

  “Oh right…”

  ✽✽✽

  An hour and a half later Lacey had finished eating and watching the end of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. She got up to throw away her garbage and turned off the TV. She had given up on Streetcar when she got so mad at Stanley that she decided to fast forward to the end to watch them all gang up and kill him, as they inevitably would. It turned out not to have the happy ending she was hoping for, and she had been displeased.

  It was 9:45. She had nothing to do, which usually made her very happy; she had the night to herself. But tonight she didn’t feel so happy, and she knew Walrus Girl had officially taken over.

  It was the price she had to pay for being Bird Girl. There was always a crash, a week or month of lethargy and unhappiness. She just did her best to push the bad feelings down, like vomit that was creeping up her esophagus. Walrus Girl didn’t go around blurting her feelings out to everyone she met. Walrus Girl just did what she had to do.

  Lacey curled up in a ball under the covers in her bed at 10:00. Then, just as she thought some Ben and Jerry’s might cheer her up (after what seemed like hours of lying in silence), she started crying. She didn’t know why. She had had a lovely day. Even the part with Ryan Gosling Man wasn’t too bad. Looking back on it, it was kind of funny. (Okay, no it wasn’t, but surely worse things in the world have occurred.)

  She sank under the sheets in her bed and pulled the covers over her head. Then she cried into her sheets for what felt like forever until she eventually wore herself out and fell asleep.

  The next morning, Lacey woke up feeling better. She took a shower and washed off all the tear-stained eye makeup and scrubbed the remaining negativity away (or she told herself she did). There was a bowl of apples near her front door that she had bought to entice herself to eat healthy, and on her way out she grabbed one. She began to walk along the curb of the sidewalk.

  Then, she remembered about the new croissants they were debuting at the grocery store. She just happened to pass the store on her way to work, and it would be rude not to try out their new product. Lacey looked at her apple, took a bite, and resolved that she had officially eaten something healthy for the day…and wasn’t the healthiest kind of food the kind that was good for your soul, anyway? Croissants fed the soul. She skipped over to the market for her croissant. Perhaps she would sample their doughnuts too, so she could compliment the baker.

  The salon was busy when she came in. There was some sort of scheduling mishap and there were two different Ms. Joneses standing in the waiting room with expressions of outrage on their faces.

  “Lacey!” Mayra ran over to her. “Thank God you’re here! You can take Ms. Jones back for her cut and color, right?” she said, smiling at the two women.

  “Um, yeah. Sure. Which one – “

  “It doesn’t matter!” Mayra said in one of those voices where you’re whispering but you’re actually yelling. “Just take one of them and do what they tell you to do!”

  So Lacey took Ms. Jones Number One and they headed back to her station. Quickly, Lacey shoved the end of her croissant into her mouth and put the box of pastries that she had bought for the rest of the week on an unoccupied table nearby. “Okay Ms. Jones, what would you like done?”

  “You’re doing my hair? I thought you were just bringing me over here. No, I can’t have you do my hair. You look a mess yourself. I don’t want some young hippie styling my hair. Where’s Clara? I’m sure you’re lovely at making people look like they just rolled out of bed, like that new teen style, but I don’t need that at my age. This has just been a waste of my time, anyway. Thank you for trying. Don’t beat yourself up about it – you’re just young. You’ll learn style soon enough…and get rid of those shoes.”

  “My shoes?” She looked down at her slightly dented, dirty silver sandals.

  “Thank you for the attempt, dear. You were very nice,” and with that Ms. Jones Number One patted her on the cheek, took off her smock, threw it at Lacey, and left the shop.

  Lacey ran over to Mayra. “Mayra, you would not believe what just happened to me! I was – “

  Mayra looked hassled. “I’m sorry, Lace, I really can’t talk right now. I have a million things I have to do before I leave for my seminar tomorrow.”

  “What? Seminar? When? Where?”

  “I told you about it. Don’t you remember? We were at your place watching Mean Girls and I told you all about it.”

  “That’s what you were blabbering about? Mayra, it was almost time for Glen Coco! You don’t chat over Glen Coco!” How could she not know the golden rule of watching Mean Girls? “The person who talks over Glen Coco and/or does not exclaim ‘The limit does not exist!’ at the right time, will be discarded from the group of movie-watchers. I guess I just made an exception for you.”

  “Yeah, well whatever. I’m leaving here early today to finish packing and then getting up at 3 AM tomorrow to get on my flight to California.”

  “California?” Now Lacey was really mystified. “That’s so far away! How long will you be there? And don’t you always talk about how you hate California?”

  “Yes, a week and a half, and yes. But this is an incredible seminar and I’ll make a lot of great connections. Aren’t you excited for me?” Mayra was going to school to become some sort of scientist, Lacey wasn’t sure what exactly. Something with bees. She left college for two years to take care of her mother, who was diagnosed with cancer. But now Mrs. Talia was doing much better and Mayra was back in school ready to save the bees! Or something.

  “Oh…of course. Of course I’m excited for you! Duh! You’re going to have a great time! Isn’t there a time difference? Won’t Blake be upset?”

  “Yes, there’s a three hour time difference, and no because he’s coming with me.”

  “To a seminar about buggy…bee things?” Lacey reached in her pocket and unwrapped a piece of gum, offering one to Mayra. She shook her head.

  “Yes. I told him he wouldn’t like it, but he insisted. Plus, he thinks this is a chance for us to have a romanti
c vacation together. The seminar is only a week. Blake’s keeping me there three extra days for whatever sort of romantic crap-thing he has in mind for our anniversary.”

  “Oh well that’s…nice.” Note to self: Impale Blake with scissors.

  Lacey continued cutting hair, trying not to think about her only true friend leaving her alone for a week and a half, and she almost managed to start to cheer herself up a little.

  And then Lana McStevens walked through the door.

  Chapter 2

  "Lana?” Mayra said as her highness entered the salon with such drama, the whole room turned and looked at her. Everything she did seemed to be in slow motion, and every move she made looked like she was posing for a picture. In her Louboutins, she looked down at the average people of Whindry, all desperate to absorb a drop of beauty from her overflowing cup. Mayra began spitting out the first questions that came to mind.

  “What are you doing here? Do you have an appointment? Don’t you live in LA?”

  “Hello to you too, Mayra. Lovely to see you. You look fabulous. I know this is crazy, right?” Lacey could tell it was time for a Lana monologue, and everyone would be rapt with attention.

  Lana had made Lacey's life miserable during high school because Billy Gibbs had asked Lacey to a dance after he had turned Lana down. They went and had a crappy time and then never went out again, but Lana couldn’t get over it. She wasn’t used to not getting her way.

  Bird Girl told Lacey to strike – peck her eyes out, poop on her head, something, but just as she was gaining the courage to make some snide remark, a familiar yet nauseating feeling came over her.

  Lacey liked to call this her Fishbowl State. It happened every once in a while, when she couldn’t handle what was going on around her. It was like she was surrounded by water that muffled everybody’s words and dulled all the colors around her. Her lungs felt like they were filling up with water, so she couldn’t breathe or talk, and she was sure she was going to die.

  “Lacey! Look at you!” Lana ran over to Lacey and gave her a vanilla-scented hug.

  Lacey responded but wasn’t exactly sure what she had said. She couldn’t focus on how much better Lana looked since high school or how inferior she felt to her senior class’ Prom Queen. All she saw in front of her were swirls of browns and grays.

  Quickly flashing through Lacey’s mind were all the things that Lana had done to torment her over the years – embarrassing pictures, spreading rumors, pulling pranks, writing crap on the bathroom wall that wasn’t even clever. She felt pathetic admitting that all of that still bothered her almost a decade later, which is why she would have to act like Lana’s presence didn’t make her feel like a wounded bird whose neck was about to be wrung.

  Lacey came out of her Fishbowl State and heard, “I’m here to take Mayra’s place while she’s gone for the week!”

  It was literally her worst nightmare. She would rather have to watch (and stay awake through) A Streetcar Named Desire five-million times than work in the same vicinity as Lana. In fact, she would rather be humiliated five-million times in front of Ryan Gosling Man than work under Lana’s authority.

  “That’s great, Lana. I’m actually on my lunch break so I guess Mayra can show you everything you need to know.”

  Mayra looked up at Lacey pleadingly as she made her way to the front door and, out of Lana’s earshot, apologized profusely.

  ✽✽✽

  Into the bright sunshine, Lacey decided she wouldn’t let Lana McStevens (or Lana McDemon, as Lacey liked to call her) bring her down. She put all her energy into focusing on the sidewalk, as she walked on the curb to the all-American market and sandwich shop on Rock Avenue. It was owned by a nice, fluffy, not-at-all-American man named Julio. Julio had a mustache that always twitched when he talked and made Lacey smile, and going there to pick up her lunch was her favorite part of the day.

  Some days she came back to the salon to watch The Price is Right on the little TV they had set up in the waiting area, but today she would enjoy being alone for an hour on a bench, with just her delicious chicken salad sandwich and her thoughts (and peach iced tea and two or three candy bars and maybe an ICEE).

  Lacey ordered her usual and wandered around the store while she waited for her order to be called. The store, called “Sandwich Shop,” (Julio was a simple man) baked their own bread, just like Subway (except not like Subway because it was bread made with love and yeast, not chemicals and lies).

  She strolled through the mini-store stopping at the section with the healthy food, debating whether she should get the cheese and crackers with grapes or the fruit salad containing some green and orange things as well as something yellow and a few grapes. It was always good to be adventurous and try something new.

  Then she looked at the price. A little steep just for a mouthful of some little green cubes she probably wouldn’t even like. She was better off getting something more filling and substantial that cost less.

  On her way to the refrigerator to grab her Snapple, Lacey discreetly put three Snickers bars in her basket and thanked God that old Mrs. Withers was working the register and wouldn’t judge her on her selection. It’s not like she was going to eat them all at once. She had one for lunch, one for a snack later when she got hungry before she went home, and one for an emergency. Emergency candy was a necessity and she had run out a few days ago (missing pink pumps emergency – one candy bar for each shoe – then she found them six minutes after her emergency consumption).

  She had to stock up her supply, especially now, seeing as Lana McDemon was going to be running around town. So, hurriedly, she picked up two bags of M&Ms, one bag of Skittles, a big Hershey Bar, and some big Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (for a real emergency – like if she lost her Kate Spade bag), plus a king-sized dark chocolate Hershey Bar. Dark chocolate is actually good for you so that was more of a health purchase than anything else.

  Dumping the load of hydrogenated oils in her basket, Lacey heard her name being called and she got her sandwich, made by the owner himself, and thanked him. He said something cheery, Lacey wasn’t really paying attention; she was too busy trying to hide her candy craze from other people as she accepted her wrapped-up sandwich from him.

  Mrs. Withers rang up all her things and complimented her on her taste in puddings, as the ones Lacey had picked out were Mrs. Withers’ favorites. Lacey wasn’t sure what of her food she thought was pudding, but she wasn’t going to point out her purchase of five-million candy bars. And now a few more bags of candy that she took from the display by the register at the last minute.

  She searched all of the candy on display at the register while her food was rung up. Lacey still looked for the nostalgic 90s candy Wonder Ball (a chocolate ball with a prize inside) every time she went to the store, but she figured it was just wishful thinking. Stupid kids had to go choke on the prizes inside. Now the Wonder Balls were gone. How do you even choke on a Wonder Ball? You know there’s something in there.

  “Thank you very much.” Lacey smiled and walked to the door where a very nice man held it open for her. She smiled up at the man who resembled a flasher, with his tight blonde curls, brown fedora and tan trench coat, and he creepily stared back at her. Lacey shuffled on out of the store.

  Walking a few steps down from Julio’s and into the park, Lacey sat on the bench that she always sat on when she ate lunch outside. She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles on a tree stump in front of her, and then she opened her magnificent chicken salad sandwich. It looked delicious. It smelled even better. But for some reason, she wasn’t hungry.

  Maybe it was because Lana and her skinny little self had come back and Lacey was feeling self-conscience about the fact that she had more than 6% body fat. That was probably it. Stupid Lana. Ruining her lunch. Making her feel a little walrus-y.

  Just as Lacey finally finished staring at the sandwich and started to take a bite, a man tripped over her legs. “Oh, I’m sorry!” they both said in unison. Then Lacey looked up
at the man, who was still engrossed in whatever he was doing on his iPhone.

  Lacey prayed that he kept walking. It was Ryan Gosling Man. She shrank into the bench as much as she could and thought that maybe if she acted invisible, she would become invisible. You know, the power of the mind and all that. She closed her eyes and thought really hard about being invisible when she was interrupted by Ryan Gosling Man’s voice.

  “I’m sorry…was I interrupting?” he asked with a polite look of concern (or was it just amusement?) on his face. That was when Lacey realized she had truly been meditating, humming “ommmm…” and everything.

  “Oh, no! No, no, no. I was saying “Mmmm,” ‘cause my sandwich is really good.” She nodded emphatically and rubbed her belly for good measure. She realized that if she ever quit doing hair and makeup, she would have a great fallback career acting. Even she believed her lie.

  “Oh. Okay.” He stood there for a moment, contemplating something. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, gesturing to the spot next to her on the bench.

  Lacey stilled. She wasn’t expecting that, but she said, “Of course not! Yes, please do.”

  “I’m hoping you walked here normally on the actual sidewalk. Would I be right in saying that?”

  “Yes you would be,” Lacey said, trying not to look at the extremely attractive man next to her, the one who thought she was an imbecile.

  He reached his hand up to her face and touched her lip. Just as she was about to say, “Take me,” dramatically and have him whisk her away (except it would be more like awkward lugging rather than dramatic whisking because it was Lacey), he said, “That looks a lot better.”

  He removed his hand and began to unpack his lunch. “I was worried you’d need stitches, but I didn’t really get a chance to tell you that. It looks like it’s healing on its own, though.”