Greshmere

by Scott Wittenburg

  “Thank you, Cleetus. I appreciate that. I guess what I’m looking for is someone to help me get a bead on what I should be doing here. I mean, I know there’s plenty to do, but I feel sort of directionless. I feel like I need some guidance, for lack of a better word.”

  “Then guidance it will be, Greshmere,” Fleitzer said. “During my time here, I’ve come to find that there are two kinds of souls in our presence: those who wish to be left alone for one reason or another and those who wish to be with others. It seems as though you belong to the latter, Greshmere.”

  “Well, I sure can’t imagine doing everything on my own, as Dreena seems to be doing. At least not right now. I guess that rules me out from being an independent.”

  “There are actually quite a few like Dreena, more than you might expect in fact. And I’ve learned that seeking and maintaining independence is not a negative thing, as I used to think it might be. These souls are of a certain type that need to learn things on their own in order to be content. It is believed that most of the Who-Keys were like Dreena in the beginning and that independence is one of the main criteria for becoming a Who-Key. This is only a theory, of course,” Fleitzer said.

  “What about those who want to rediscover themselves? That seems to be pretty uncommon, from what Shnarker indicated.”

  “They are rare, indeed. In fact, I’ve only known a half dozen birds that have gone that route in all the time I’ve been here,” replied Fleitzer.

  “I haven’t known any,” Hanzer interjected.

  “Whatever became of them, Fleitzer?” Greshmere said.

  “Who knows? They were always en route to other destinations and I never saw any of them again.”

  “I don’t understand why anybody would want to rediscover themselves, personally,” Cleetus said. “I’ve met a few in my time and every one of them seemed rather high strung. It’s as though they are being driven by some sort of inner force.”

  “I think that lark we keep seeing around Belvedere Castle is one of them,” Shike said.

  “What makes you say that, Shike? Just because he never wants to talk to us?” Cleetus said.

  “Not just that. I saw him fly from building to building along Central Park West a few days ago. I mean, he literally covered every one from Sixty-Third Street all the way up to the eighties—never skipped a single one! He would just land on the roof and stare out into space for a moment then move on to the next building. You have to admit, that’s not something you normally see.”

  “That is a bit odd, but there could be another explanation. You know as well as I do, Shike, that it’s not good to jump to conclusions.”

  “I know, I’m just saying—”

  “What do you say we talk about something else, folks? We have a guest in our presence and I’m sure there are more constructive things we could be doing,” Fleitzer said.

  “I agree, Fleitzer. Greshmere, what would you say to joining us for an agenda session?”

  “Agenda session?” Greshmere said.

  “An agenda session is when we plan out what we’re going to do on a given day,” Cleetus explained. “It’s one of the best ways we have found to make our time here more gratifying. It sure beats simply going about it blindly.”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Greshmere said.

  “Excellent!” Cleetus said. “Shall we go to Martin’s, group?”

  “Yes, let’s do it!” Zoley cried.

  “Martin’s it is, then. Greshmere, please follow along. We promise not to lose you.”

  “Okay.”

  The birds took off in unison with Cleetus in the lead and Greshmere following from behind. They headed east from the Boat House and flew directly over Conservatory Water at low altitude where Greshmere spotted a small group of humans launching their model sailboats. As he followed the loosely formed pattern of birds up ahead, he was thankful for Dreena’s suggestion that he get to know some others of his kind. He was already feeling a sense of belonging here that had been sorely lacking until now.

  They reached the edge of the park at Fifth Avenue and Cletus led them north until they got to East Seventy-Sixth Street. Greshmere observed the hubbub of activity in the city below as the flock cut over to Park Avenue. There, Greshmere followed closely behind as they suddenly dipped down and landed on a windowsill located a couple of stories from the roof of a high-rise building. He peered in through the open window and saw a cozy, well-kept apartment inside. The window was open about eight inches and the sill was just wide enough to accommodate the seven birds now lined up along it.

  Cleetus said, “Here we are, Greshmere. Welcome to Martin’s apartment. Martin is our human friend who lets us come and go as we please. He loves birds you see, and ever since Fleitzer and I just happened to land on this sill one fateful day, he has left the window open so that we will keep showing up.”

  “The tough part is whenever he offers us bread crumbs. We have to act like we’re eating them; otherwise he would get suspicious if we turned down his food. It’s not so bad—we just take it into our mouths and let it sit there until we can spit it out later. Martin has never been the wiser,” Fleitzer said.

  “Is he in there now?” Greshmere asked.

  “No. He goes to work very early so we will have the whole place to ourselves.”

  “So what do you do in there?”

  “Come on in and you’ll find out!” Fleitzer said.

  Fleitzer flitted through the window and landed on the arm of a leather sofa. The others followed suit and looked on as he pecked at a remote control device resting on the arm. The television screen suddenly came to life.

  “Let’s watch the MTV channel!” Zoley exclaimed from her perch on the back of the sofa.

  “We won’t learn anything from that, Zoley. I say we go to Good Morning America.”

  He gave the remote a couple of pecks until the show came on. The birds spread out and made themselves comfortable on Martin’s sofa and recliner.

  “This is great!” Greshmere said. “So this is how you get your information.”

  “Some of it, anyway. TV is just one of our resources—there are others,” Cleetus said. “Martin has a desktop computer over there that he rarely turns off so we can pretty much peck our way through Google whenever we want to. He also has an impressive library in another room.”

  “So we always know where to find the action,” Hanzer said. “And to get an idea of what the humans around the globe are up to. At least to some extent. Nothing beats actually going there of course.”

  “This is cool,” Greshmere said.

  “Well, why don’t we all just sit back and relax until we find something exciting to do in the big city,” Fleitzer suggested.

  And so the seven birds spent the next hour watching television until they finally agreed upon the Bronx Zoo as their destination for the day.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Greshmere bid his new friends farewell and returned to the Essex House sign to settle down for the night. He had been given an invitation to spend the night with the group but he politely declined. Perhaps some other night, he’d told them. Fleitzer informed him that the group usually spent their nights either at the Boat House or one of the high rises along Central Park West, depending on the weather. He added that Greshmere could almost always find them in the park in the morning around The Mall whenever he felt the mood for company.

  He had had a wonderful day at the zoo and assured the group that he would visit them again in the very near future. It was odd, but for some reason he felt like he wanted to be alone now. It was as though he had socialized all he could for one day and felt the desire to be alone to reflect and gather his thoughts. He also realized that although the group was wonderful and had made him feel welcome, he had no desire to spend a lot of time with them. In fact, he already felt that it was time to move beyond that.

  Tomorrow is another day, he thought.

  With that, Greshmere closed his eyes and soon felt the familiar warmth begin
to radiate throughout his body.

  Chapter 6

  -Then-

  “I love you, Daniel,” Megan purred into his ear.

  “I love you, too,” he replied, his voice catching a little.

  They kissed for a long time and as Daniel held her tighter, he swore he could hear their hearts beating in unison in his chest.

  Two hearts beating as one.

  At this moment, Daniel was certain that he was the luckiest guy on earth. He had been with this same awesome girl for three years and had never once regretted a moment of their relationship. Theirs had in fact been a storybook romance.

  Now they were high school seniors and would be graduating in a couple of weeks. This was their second prom together and the fifth school dance they had attended since their sophomore year. In three years, there had been only one little hiccup in their relationship. Not bad, considering all they had gone through together.

  He was glad that the DJ had finally played a slow song. It was the old classic by Percy Sledge, When a Man Loves a Woman. He despised most of the music that was popular nowadays and wished that there were more songs like this to dance to. At last he’d finally gotten the chance to do a slow dance with Megan.

  She still wore the same perfume she had as a sophomore; her scent as intoxicating as ever. As she rested her head on his shoulder, Daniel wanted nothing more than to stay this way forever. His doubts about the girl had finally evaporated their junior year. It had taken that long to feel assured that Megan really loved him as much as she claimed to.

  But every now and then he still got paranoid about her. Guys were always staring at her because of her stunning beauty, which never failed to make him nervous and jealous. She could have anybody she wanted; yet he was the lucky one she had chosen.

  It just didn’t seem real.

  The song began to fade out. He continued holding her tight in his arms. She looked up and they kissed again, her chestnut brown eyes so wide and beautiful.

  It was a wonderfully long, lingering kiss that lasted until daybreak.

  Chapter 7

  -Now-

  Greshmere’s eyes opened to a brand new morning. He felt so euphoric that he couldn’t sit still another moment.

  He wanted to fly.

  With a great leap forward, he soared out over Central Park. He felt the morning sun’s warmth under his wings as he ascended higher and higher toward the east until the island of Manhattan became little more than a footprint behind him in the landscape below.

  He had never flown this high and he wondered how much higher he could go. Was there a limit? He was a superbird, according to Shnarker. Did that mean he could fly upward until he finally ran out of air? Or could he go even beyond that?

  He soon noticed how much less effort it took to flap his wings the higher he flew. In fact, he almost felt like he could almost glide continuously upward if he wanted. That didn’t make sense. He wondered why he almost seemed so impervious to the earth’s gravitational pull and then realized he had just answered his own question. The further up you go, the more weightless you become. He had learned this fact in his former life.

  He was now so high that he could see the entire length and breadth of Long Island below. And nothing but the Atlantic Ocean beyond. He was loving this! He continued his ascent until the entire eastern coast of the U.S. formed a distinct boundary between land and ocean. He was really booking now!

  Next stop: Europe, he thought. Should he do it? Why not? He was moving along at a much faster clip than he had ever thought possible and at this rate should arrive at his destination in a relatively short time.

  He was gonna do it!

  He glanced back over his shoulder and could no longer see the east coast. Nothing but the huge span of the Atlantic for as far as the eye could see. He flashed back to his knowledge of the globe and wondered what his coordinates were now. He knew that the British Isles were northeast of the States. If he flew due east, he would probably end up somewhere in Africa. How far to the northeast should he aim? If he went too far northeast, he’d end up in Greenland—not really where he wanted to spend the day.

  He knew that as long as he headed toward the sun he would be moving easterly, but how truly east that would be depended on the earth’s tilt on its axis.

  Suddenly he laughed to himself. What difference did it make? So what if he was flying too far south and ended up in Portugal or Morocco? He’d just simply hack a big left turn and head north up the coast toward the Isles—it wasn’t like he was in some kind of hurry!

  Feeling giddy now, Greshmere bore to the left of the sun a bit just for the fun of it and decided to maintain his present altitude. He had absolutely no idea how high he was and quite frankly didn’t care. It was beautiful. The sun shimmering on the ocean and nothing but blue sky and ocean in his sights. This must be as close as it gets to pure, unadulterated perfection, he thought. The world seemed like one great big vista of blue that was limitless, infinite.

  Greshmere began making his plans for his European adventure. He would definitely go to England first. He wasn’t sure why but he had an overwhelming desire to go there no matter what. It was a priority. He wanted to see London for certain—Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey—all of those places he had heard of but never seen before.

  But how could he know that he’d never seen them before? He couldn’t. Shnarker explained to him that knowing about certain places only meant that he had learned of their existence through photos and data he had attained in his former life. This knowledge had no bearing on whether he had in fact actually been to this place or that at one time or another.

  Okay, so whether or not he had been to London before was moot. He just knew that he wanted to go there and go there now!

  After London, he would visit other parts of England. The English countryside would no doubt be wonderful to explore. And then maybe check out Wales and Scotland—fly on over to Ireland and check it out. And then there was France, Italy, Germany!

  How cool is that?

  He considered the fact that he had only been in heaven for a little more than forty-eight hours and he was already experiencing an elation that one could only dream about. To be flying this high, this far, with nothing but the earth’s miles and miles of ocean below was simply miraculous. Taking into account that he was flying non-stop to another continent put this in the over the top category.

  He was in heaven.

  So how long should he stay in Europe? A day, a week, a month? He didn’t know and at the moment didn’t really care. It wasn’t as though he had anything to go back to in New York—no commitments of any kind.

  He would just play it by ear.

  Chapter 8

  -Now-

  Greshmere never made it to Europe. He had flown over four hours before suddenly encountering a pocket of extreme upper atmospheric turbulence. He had run smack dab into a horrendous storm front. The high winds and rain buffeted his tiny body like he was a speck of dust and he had totally lost all sense of direction.

  Without the sun as his reference point, he had been forced to let the wind carry him while trying to maintain his balance. When he finally broke free from the storm’s grip, he flew through the thick clouds until the sky cleared and he was able to see the sun again. He then headed due west, hoping that his course wouldn’t take him too far off from the northeast coast.

  He had learned a valuable lesson that day: although he could fly anywhere he wanted to, he would have to keep in mind some essential factors like time, trajectory and the weather before embarking. Being invulnerable to death was no excuse for poor planning and lack of common sense.

  When the coastline of the States finally came into view, he discovered that he was at least two hundred miles south of where he wanted to be. He modified his direction accordingly and fought the westerly winds until he was finally on track for New York City. By the time he finally returned to his roost on the Essex House sign, it was late afternoon in the Big Apple.

&
nbsp; As he sat there looking out at the park, he had to laugh at himself for his folly and recalled what had led up to his whirlwind flight into craziness.

  He had awoken that morning feeling as though he was on top of the world. Energized and happy as could be.

  Like the morning before, he had awoken to a sensation—an incredible sense of ecstasy and joy. He now questioned why that was. Yes he was in heaven and that was wonderful. But why this mysterious rapture first thing in the morning?

  He wondered where Fleitzer and the rest of the group were now. He wanted to tell them about his ill-fated European flight and see if they could shed any light on his emotionally charged mornings.

  Greshmere sprung off the sign and made a beeline to Bethesda Fountain. After a quick look around and not spotting any of the group, he flew over to the Boat House in hope they would be there. But there were no signs of Fleitzer and the others.

  He debated flying over to Martin’s apartment but decided against it. Instead, he recalled Cleetus mentioning that Central Park West was another one of their favorite haunts and opted to try his luck there.

  As he winged west over the Lake, he realized that his decision to minimize involvement with the group the night before had been made in haste. Although he still wanted some degree of independence, he didn’t feel quite ready for that. There was a certain amount of security knowing that others were there whenever he needed to talk and for that he was grateful.