Flesh and Feathers

by Hylton, Danielle; Fifer, April

“Do think I could stay here for a few days? I just can’t bear to go home.” The fact was–it was the truth.

  She smiled at me. “Of course, you can stay as long as you’d like.”

  I stayed with her for almost a week, not wanting to leave. Jen kept me busy, which helped me keep my mind off of things. Finally, when the time came to return home, I was reluctant to say the least.

  Placing my key in the lock, I felt a sudden overwhelming sadness. After opening the door I stood there, looking inside. A small gust of air came from down the hall, bringing with it an all too familiar scent. Mr. Parker’s apartment carried the fragrance of jasmine down the hall. It was almost like he wasn’t really gone. A loud noise of something breaking made me jump. I looked down towards his apartment and noticed there were boxes sitting outside the door. I moved quickly down the hall, bracing myself for whatever it was that I was about to see. I peered around the corner and saw two men packing up Mr. Parker’s things. One of them was cursing at a lamp, which had fallen and broken.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  A man in dark blue coveralls acknowledged me. “Can I help you, Miss?”

  I paused and looked around. Almost all of Mr. Parker’s things were gone. “Um… where are you taking all of this stuff?”

  “Back to our warehouse. Someone is coming to claim it,” he answered.

  “Really? Do you know who?”

  “No ma’am. We were just hired to pack it and move it.”

  “Oh. Okay. It’s just that I was a friend of the man who lived here. I didn’t realize he had any family.”

  The man looked at me and didn’t respond.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” I hung my head down and turned to leave.

  “Miss, wait… by any chance, are you Azaleigh?”

  I turned to him. “Yes.”

  “Well, I found this box, and it has your name on it. I guess–whatever it is–he must have wanted you to have it.” The man handed me a small box that had my name beautifully written on it in Mr. Parker’s handwriting.

  “Thank you,” I said and walked back to my apartment.

  Sitting at my kitchen table, I stared at the box. I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it, but that would not have pleased Mr. Parker. I popped the tape on the ends and very carefully pulled the brown packaging paper off. Inside was a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I opened the note gently and began to read it.

  My Dearest Azaleigh,

  I am sure if you are reading this, then my life here has ended, and I have moved on to the next. Please don’t be sad, my angel, for I’ve been waiting to reunite with my beloved Lilly. Knowing my Lilly, she has been even less patient than I in our reunion.

  I’ve never told you our story, but it was one of great love and devotion. We were barely nineteen when we married. I had been discharged from the military on account of an injury I sustained during a training drill. Lilly had waited for me, and once I had made it home, I knew I would never leave her again. I couldn’t bear the thought of her not knowing if I would return. I suppose that is why she left this life first. Unable to see me every day, would not have been easy for her.

  We were twenty-five when Lilly told me that she was with child. I had never been so nervous in my life. I surely would not have been a good parent I thought. Had I known I would never get the chance, I would have thought differently. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, the baby stopped moving. When we made it to the hospital, we learned that we had lost the baby and to my dismay, Lilly was dying too. She remained strong, but in her final hours, she began hallucinating. Lilly had told me that our baby had come to her in a dream–our baby girl. She called her Angelica. She said that Angelica could not enter this life because she was greatly needed in the next, and that she felt terrible about leaving two wonderful people abandon with no infant to embrace. However, Angelica swore an oath to my dear Lilly that she would come back in her next life to revisit, and her presence would be much like the child we had lost. Lilly gave me a stone necklace that I had never seen before, telling me that it was Angelica who had given it to her. She pressed it into my fingers with what little strength she had and made me swear to give it back to our beloved daughter when she returned.

  I had kept every promise I’ve ever made to my beloved Lilly, and now I have made good on my very last promise to her. Azaleigh, I know that I may have been only your neighbor down the hall, but to me, you were much more. And if life after death is true, like my Lilly said, then Angelica made good on her promise too. You, Azaleigh, were like my daughter.

  Love Always, Mr. Parker

  I clutched my chest, trying to keep my heart from beating through it. Sadness filled me but with it came a sense of rejoice. I had not known everything about Mr. Parker’s life before but knowing that he had someone waiting for him on the other side filled my heart with hope. Although I knew I was not the daughter he had spoken of, it made me feel good to know that I was able to give him something that he had lost.

  I folded the paper back into its neat little square, and emptied the rest of the contents from the box onto the table. Inside was a unique stone necklace. It had a braided silver chain, and an elegant silver brace that held the stone in place. The stone itself was white with an inscription written in a language I didn’t recognize.

  I sat there holding the letter and necklace, and in my mind, I sifted through my memories of Mr. Parker. I guess it is common to regret things you should have done. It was apparent that he was closer to me than I was to him. I should have been a better friend.

  Chapter 8

  Changes

  The next two weeks went by rather quickly. I wasn’t over all that had happened, but I was able to keep myself busy enough so that I didn’t dwell on it. Jen had been as supportive as anyone could be, and Tannah had added hours to my schedule in hopes that it would help keep me occupied. I don’t think that was the only reason. Our newest waitress, Charlotte, seemed to be a little on the absent minded side. She hardly made it to work on time, and when she was there, she hardly ever got any order right and usually ended up spilling something by the day's end.

  It was a busy day at the diner. The special for today was meatloaf, and as gross as it may have sounded, it smelled delicious. Charlotte was waiting tables with me–and to be honest–I needed a break from her. Even though she was an extremely nice person, she had a way to pluck every nerve I had. I asked her politely to cover my tables while I took the trash out.

  I gathered up the trash–which equaled two bags–and started out back. I met, Jackson, our cook at the back door, who had snuck out for a quick cigarette. Jackson was a little on the heavy side with grayish colored hair that was thinning on top. He was kind enough to hold the door for me while I lugged the bags out. He must have thought I was struggling because he asked if I needed some help. I smiled and shook my head; I just needed a few minutes to myself, and he was smart enough to figure that out. He proceeded back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

  The back alley smelled like rotting food, and the heat from the sun only made it worse. However, the smell didn’t bother me enough to make me retreat back inside. I just felt off and couldn’t understand why. I was hoping some fresh air would do me some good–no matter how bad it smelled. Ever since my accident, I felt like I couldn’t get myself together–like I was lost and out of place.

  I stood there holding the two garbage bags as I looked up into the sky. The sun shined down to the alley, between the two buildings. I used to hate taking the trash out back because it always seemed closed in and isolated, but with the sun sneaking down onto the street, it made me feel unchained from the hustle and bustle of the busy day.

  After a minute of soaking myself in the sun, I figured that I’d better hurry up and get back inside. I’m sure they would have sent a search party to look for me if I was gone longer than ten minutes.

  As I walked over to the dumpster, I noticed a large black crow that was si
tting on top of it. It wasn’t uncommon to see crows around the city, but usually when they saw a person they would fly off. This bird just sat there–eyeing me, as I got closer.

  “Shoo,” I fussed at it, hoping to scare it away, but he wouldn’t budge.

  I looked around and saw a broom lying against the brick wall near the back door. I placed the trash on the ground and picked up the broom, inching my way towards the bird, which looked to be the size of a small dog.

  “Sorry, Buddy, but you’ve got to go,” I said, warning him. As I got closer, he crouched down and spread his wings. Looking at him, a small knot formed in the pit of my stomach, causing a strange tingling feeling to run through me. I didn’t like this feeling at all, and I didn’t understand where it was coming from.

  I shoved the broom at the bird with a single lunge, and he took off flying. The sound of his wings beating against the air carried through the alleyway. Then that feeling I was having turned into something else. A memory possibly… or maybe it was déjà vu. I watched him climb as he flew, soaring over the buildings and then disappearing into the sky.

  When he was gone, I shook my head as the remnants of the bizarre feeling exited my body, leaving me a little shaky. I dropped the broom and grabbed the garbage, dragging them closer to the dumpster. Where the bird had been, there was a large tear in metal. The sides of the gash were jagged and had been peeled back. I leaned in closer. Was that blood? I asked myself.

  I had reached out to touch it, when I heard the back door of the diner swing open, and Tannah called out my name. “Az! What is taking so long? Charlotte has dropped two plates of food. I need you in here!”

  “Coming,” I called to her as I tossed the bags in the dumpster and then turned to go back inside.

  ***

  It was Saturday, and my first day off in a week. I was pretty excited about it–my goal was to do some major cleaning to my much-neglected apartment.

  After hours of slaving, everything was completed. Last chore was laundry, which I had to take down to the lower level of the complex–where the laundry facility was located. I stuffed the hamper until it was overflowing. It was amazing that one person could have this many clothes to wash.

  I stepped out of my apartment, and while locking the door behind me, I looked up to see the back of a man standing in front of the mailboxes that lined the hallway walls. His muscles were tense, and he was moving back and forth while mumbling under his breath. I smiled as I listened to him fuss at one of the mailboxes. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, so I stretched to my tiptoes to view over his shoulder, hoping to get a better look. When I realized what he was doing, I let out a gasp. He was scrapping Mr. Parker’s name off the mailbox. He had successfully removed the “E. PAR” and was working on the “K”.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, as I threw my basket of clothes down. He was completely caught off guard and was unable to respond.

  “I said what are you doing?” I repeated, with surprisingly more force than the first time.

  “I was trying to remove the name.” His words were filled with alarm and spoken cautiously.

  Furious, I was able to make my voice louder. “This is my friend’s mailbox. You can’t just go removing his name like you own it.”

  “But… I kind of… do own it. I just moved in.”

  Realizing how badly I had just overreacted, I stepped back, hanging my head, and apologized.

  “Oh…, I’m sorry. My friend used to live there.” The apology was not sufficient enough for my behavior.

  I looked away to find that when I had dropped my hamper to the floor, my clothes had spilled out. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. The basket was bursting at the seams from where it had been over-stuffed.

  “I thought this was one of the safer neighborhoods,” he said, as we bent down simultaneously to reach for the hamper. “I didn’t realize I would need to carry my mace with me to my mailbox,” he continued.

  “Mace,” I said, embarrassed that he might actually think he needed protection. Great! That’s all I needed was to have a formal complaint made. I could see it now, “Mailbox stalker attacks new resident.”

  “Look, I overreacted. I said I was sorry.” I responded quickly, holding my hand up and not making eye contact with him. I was careful to not shout. However, I did use a firm voice.

  I thought I would die when he picked up my bra and handed it to me. “Well, it’s certainly better than being sexually harassed by the girl in apartment 2B downstairs. Earlier today, it took me fifteen minutes to reassure her that I am happily married.”

  “You’re married?” I asked, almost in shock.

  “No–that is–unless, Coyote Ugly, in apartment 2B asks,” he said, tittering a bit.

  I couldn’t help but grin. Apartment 2B was a girl named Brenda. She was not easy on the eyes and her personality was just as unbearable. I was relieved knowing he had met her before me. It made me feel like my outburst was less significant.

  I didn’t blame her; it took everything for me not to stare at him. His build was masculine and worked on. And I felt, if I looked into his eyes for too long, I would get lost somewhere in them.

  “Well, I have laundry to do, so I should go. I won’t be any trouble–so you don’t need to carry mace or anything,” I said, while repositioning my basket under my arm.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “What?” I asked, sounding confused–because I really was.

  “You could come by tonight and have dinner, while telling me about my new neighbors. You know, like, who the partiers are, who is sleeping with whom, and who might break into my house when I’m not home.

  Stuttering I said, “Oh, um, I’m not sure.” I had just met him and thought it would feel a little strange to eat dinner with someone I didn’t know in Mr. Parker’s apartment.

  “Come on… I cook really well.” He was persistent. I had to give him that.

  “Sure.” Was the only answer I could muster, and this seemed to please him.

  “Great. How about seven o’clock?”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then,” I stated, grabbing my basket and heading down the hall to the stairwell.

  “It’s Gage, just in case you wanted to know,” he spoke, watching me as I walked away.

  I paused looking back. “Az,” I hollered before disappearing down the stairs.

  At seven o’clock sharp, I showed up at Gage’s apartment. However, I couldn’t bring myself to knock on the door yet. Instead, I proceed to argue with that stupid voice in my head. This is ridiculous. You are at the apartment of your dead neighbor, attempting to eat dinner with your new neighbor, who only a few hours early, handed you your bra after you almost attacked him in the hall. Go home! Just as I had finally talked myself out of it and turned to leave, Gage opened the door. “Az, I thought I heard someone out here,” he said. So much for my great escape.

  I looked him over. Did I miss something? I thought to myself. He was wearing a nice green collared shirt that matched his eyes and khaki pants. Then I looked myself over, feeling a bit underdressed. I was wearing a paint stained shirt and holey jeans.

  “I… I can go change,” I said.

  “You look great, come in.”

  Theapartment looked very different. Mr. Parker’s old antique furniture had been replaced with a lush contemporary setting. “Wow, it’s so different,” I said. However, I quickly added, “But in a good way,” trying not to insult him.

  “Thanks, it’s Az, right?”

  “It’s actually Azaleigh, but most everyone calls me Az.” I said, correcting him.

  “Can I get you glass of wine?”

  I followed him to the kitchen where an exquisite meal was laid out on the table. It smelled fantastic. “Gage, this looks wonderful.”

  He grinned. “I actually like to cook, so for me it was nice to be able to cook for more than just one.” He pulled out the chair for me to sit. Everything about him spoke charming.

  I had been wo
rried that it would be awkward eating dinner with someone I didn’t know, but Gage made it easy. He was relaxed, probably more so than I would have expected.

  “This is really good,” he said, with a mouth full. I giggled, watching him enjoy his food.

  I twirled the spaghetti around my fork, attempting to look somewhat elegant while trying to eat. However, spaghetti doesn’t quite work that way. “So are you new to LA or just to this area?”

  He waited until he swallowed before answering. “I’m new to living in LA. However, I have visited here in the past. I’m sorry, maybe it’s just me, but dinner just seems to be exceptionally good tonight.” He chopped down on another fork full of food, closing his eyes as he chewed. He was really odd, but funny.

  I grinned as he came back to reality and focused on the conversation again. “I’m a consultant.”

  “A consultant for what?” I asked. Consultant would have been my last guess. I totally would have gone with a bar bouncer… or underwear model.

  “I work for a large organization that deals with security services for important people. They use me to set up their security detail.”

  “Like… celebrities?” LA was definitely full of famous people, although I never saw any. Actually, I did see that woman from the hemorrhoid commercial that one time; however, I didn’t think she would appreciate me mentioning it.

  Gage paused for a moment. “Yeah..., celebrities so to speak.” And although I could hear a hint of some hidden meaning, I didn’t pry. “What is it that you do, Azaleigh?”

  “Nothing as glamorous as setting up hi-tech security systems for LA’s finest citizens. I’m a waitress at a diner down the street.”

  “Ah, but you get to live life on your terms. Hard work gives you that freedom.”

  I had never thought of it that way before. I had to say, I was pretty amazed at how intellectual he was.

  It was a nice night. We laughed and talked and for the first time in a while, I felt normal. It was after eleven o’clock, and regrettably I told Gage I had to go because my shift started early. He graciously walked me to the door, and I told him goodnight.