The Hummingbird War

by Joan Shott

  “I think your father is afraid of how the world is changing. He feels as if all the risks he took and his sacrifices might be forgotten.”

  “I’m sure he does. He’s not a very flexible person,” I said.

  “He’s just going to take some time to come around.”

  I didn’t understand how he could defend my father after what he’d said. “How do you stop from getting so angry you could just, well, explode? How did you keep your cool when my father…?”

  He pulled me up from my chair and led me to the couch in the front room. He held my hands in his. “It’s not easy for people to keep their tempers from exploding sometimes. I know how things can get out of hand.” He looked at me and tried to smile, but there was no happiness in his expression. “Know it firsthand.”

  “How would you know that? I’ve never seen you angry.”

  “It’s something I have to control with all my will. My father once said anyone who refused to fight was just a coward. He was talking about me.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re not a coward. I can’t believe your father would have called you that.”

  He looked out the window towards the sound of the rain beating against the wavy panes of old glass.

  “There was this kid in my school when I was eight years old,” he said. “He bullied me and beat me up, and I’d come home with a bloody nose or a black eye, and my father would ask me why I hadn’t fought back. I told him I couldn’t fight, and he called me a coward. But I wasn’t a coward. I knew it,” he looked down at my hands and squeezed them slightly.

  “Then the kid followed me home one day, and my father saw him taunting me in the front yard. I tried to get in the house, but my father locked the door in my face, locked me out. I had to turn around and either fight or get beaten like a fool again. So I hit the kid when he pushed me. And then I hit him again, and then I couldn’t stop. He got up and tried to run away, but I knocked him down and pounded his face until his blood flew into my eyes. But instead of being scared, I felt as if I’d found the answer to every problem in the world. I beat him until my father came out and stopped me when the other kid screamed for help.”

  “What happened?”

  “I broke the kid’s nose and his arm and put him in the hospital. I was afraid for a while that what I’d done to him might cause him to die.” He looked past me. “Didn’t matter, though. I swore after that day I’d never let someone so much as look cross-eyed at me again. It had felt good to hit that kid when I’d finally let that part of me loose, just like I knew it would. Next time someone gave me the smallest excuse, I punched him in the face and knocked him out cold. It took me a few years before I finally figured out the guys I was beating up weren’t my father.”

  I’d never seen him unhappy. I swore there were tears in his eyes, but when I looked again they were gone. I knew it was about more than the beating he’d given the schoolyard bully, but it all seemed so far from the truth of him I thought I’d known. “Why are you sure my father will come around?”

  He looked at me and took a second to answer as if he had to climb back into the present. “Because he loves you, and when you love someone you do what’s best for them. That’s the way it should be. He’ll come around. You two are alike in the ways that matter. He’s a good man at heart.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure I am. By the way, who’s Danny?”

  Chapter Ten

  It was going to be a perfect day. When a warm summer morning unbroken by clouds or rain made an appearance in Seattle it was a reason to expect exceptional things. Even on the first of August. Just because it was summer, did not guarantee good weather. Not here. I waited impatiently at my desk for Matthew to tell him my news. He’d been away for two weeks, traveling to East Coast cities. I’d missed him so much I’d counted the days until his return. I looked down at the big star I’d drawn on today’s date when I flipped the calendar to the new month.

  August. I let the upcoming trip to the convention fill me with dreams of what might happen to me, to us, when we landed in Chicago. I only let good things float through my head, and when fear of the unknown rolled up, like a car coming behind me on a dark road, I dismissed it. Matthew wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  I made the coffee. He’d been preoccupied and quiet before he left, and I thought I’d surprise him by making it, maybe coax a smile out of him. I’d watched him make it hundreds of times, and I knew exactly how much water to use and how much ground coffee. I set his cup next to the coffee maker and listened to the water drip into the pot.

  While I waited I brushed my hair until it was as stylish as it could be. It was long and thick and unruly and I could never make it straight, no matter how much I fussed. Some things just can’t be changed. I’d worn a new sleeveless, peasant-style blouse made of embroidered cotton and some sandals, and even if my hair wasn’t cover girl material, I felt prettier than I had in a long time. My skin tingled in the summer heat as the sun rose above the hedge outside the window and lit up my face as if I were in the spotlight. I blushed.

  I found a station playing Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon and danced in my chair as I sat facing my typewriter. I listened to the seconds tick by on the wall clock and inhaled the smell of the coffee. It wasn’t really that bad. Maybe I could grow to like it.

  The eight o’clock news report on the radio predicted the high temperature in Seattle would hit ninety degrees, a rare event in the Puget Sound area.

  I was searching the dial for another song when I heard Matthew’s car pull into the driveway. The sound of his footsteps fell heavily on the treads of the stairs and momentarily broke the spell of the dreamy cadence of Nat King Cole. I turned down the radio and let the muted melody of Unforgettable wash across the background like watercolors. Matthew came through the door and dropped his briefcase next to his chair.

  “Hi, Diane. Do I smell coffee? Have you become a convert while I was gone?” he asked.

  “I have to admit I don’t loathe the smell of it the way I once did. I guess it’s growing on me. By the way, welcome home.”

  “Good to be back,” he said. “Sick of traveling and getting nothing for it.” He threw his newspaper on the desk and draped his jacket across the back of his chair. His eyes rolled across the room as if he was adjusting to a change of light. He smiled at me. “I told you I’d wear you down,” he said, pointing at the coffee pot.

  I jumped up from my desk and just about shoved an envelope under his nose. I couldn’t stop my grin from breaking wide open.

  “What’s this?”

  “My first payment on the loan you gave me.”

  He opened the envelope and looked at the check. “You didn’t have to start paying me back so soon. I thought you’d wait and see if you got a scholarship first.”

  “I got the letter yesterday. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  “How much is the scholarship?” he said, as he put the check back in the envelope and placed it on top of the stack of unopened letters on his desk.

  “It’ll cover my tuition and books.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Was that all he could say? I had hoped for at least a hug, but I stood by his desk in my new clothes and somewhat-styled hair while my smile melted into disappointment. Maybe he needed more prodding. “I brought something else for you.” I walked back to my desk, pulled a paper bag out from my drawer, and handed it to him. “With my thanks. You know, for the rides and everything.”

  He opened the bag slowly as if he expected something to fly out of it. “Vegetables?”

  “From my garden. They’re the first of the season. Some cherry tomatoes, green beans, and there’s even some carrots.”

  “You are an amazing woman.” He picked a cherry tomato out of the bag and rolled it gently between his fingers as if it were a diamond. Then he popped it in his mouth and ate it. “This is the best tomato I’ve ever eaten. Thank you.” He crumpled the top o
f the bag closed, put it on the floor next to his briefcase, and opened the newspaper.

  And that was it? No intimate gaze into my eyes, no touch on my arm. I’d missed him every day he’d been gone, but it seemed he hadn’t missed me. Did I wear my new blouse for nothing? I knew he could buy his own vegetables at the market, probably didn’t even cook for himself, but it was the only thing I could give him, and I wanted to show him how much I appreciated the loan, his help with my bird-watching assignment, even if I’d dragged him into the freezing river. I wanted to let him know I thought about him when we were apart. But there had been the fateful trip to retrieve my car. I didn’t think there was anything I could give him to make up for what my father had said, but I wanted this to be a better day than most, so I pretended everything would be all right.

  The last sweet chords of Unforgettable eased out of the radio like the warm day stretching out before us. I wondered how they found each other, those people in love songs. They just took their chances at love. Just like that: as easy as snapping your fingers. But how do you know when it’s safe to give your heart? I sighed too loudly and looked up to see if Matthew had noticed, but he was buried in the middle of the newspaper, his hands clenched bloodless at its edges. I turned the radio off, shifted uneasily in my chair.

  “Matthew, I’m finished with the bills and my filing. Do you have anything else? I thought maybe I’d go to the printer for you if you had any new pamphlets for the next peace rally.”

  “Nope. Things are going to be slow on campus until we get back from Chicago. Besides, everyone’s off for the summer.” He put his newspaper down, pushed the mail aside, and searched under a pile of unopened letters.

  He seemed distracted, but I supposed he was thinking about the convention. In Chicago there was a good chance for national television coverage, and that was the only thing he’d talked about lately. How he’d find out where the news people would be, what the best time of day would have the biggest audience, whether the convention would be broadcast overseas. I’d thought the day-to-day work to win over the nation’s young people was what he had wanted more than anything. I must have been wrong.

  His phone rang and he grabbed it, knocking the handle off its cradle and onto the desk. He held his breath and listened to whoever it was on the other end of the line. He seemed disappointed when he shook his head.

  “Sorry, we’re not organizing any rallies until after the convention. I’ve got a box full of pamphlets here if you want them. Help yourself. Good luck.” And then he hung up the phone, rotated his chair to face the window, and stared at the sun rising behind the branches of an old maple.

  “I don’t understand. No rallies until after the convention?” I asked. I thought it was the perfect time to organize on campus, even if the crowds were smaller. Get them to feel a part of what would be happening in Chicago. Wasn’t he missing an opportunity?

  “No,” he said without turning around.

  “I’m taking a long lunch with my friend today, if it’s all right with you,” I knew he wouldn’t object to my plans, but felt the need to let him know I still understood he was the boss, even if he seemed less enthusiastic about his job at the moment.

  “One of your roommates?” he asked, as he continued to stare out the window.

  “No, her name is Lilly. I met her last fall. It’s her birthday and I’m taking her to a Greek restaurant near campus for lunch.”

  He spun his chair around and almost fell over. A look of panic washed across his face. “Birthday?” he asked.

  “Yes, my friend’s birthday. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I just remembered someone’s birthday, and I would have forgotten if you hadn’t mentioned…your friend. I’ve been so caught up…goddamned business about the convention, yeah, the c-convention, that I forgot.”

  He was tangled in his words, running his fingers through his long hair mindlessly, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask what was so upsetting. I was afraid he would tell me something I didn’t want to hear. Like we’re not going to Chicago, or he was taking another job, or he cared for someone else.

  “I wouldn’t have known it was Lilly’s birthday if I hadn’t seen it on the blackboard at the place where I pick her up. What are you going to do about this other person’s birthday?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the particulars. He might tell me it was his girlfriend’s birthday and, if there was such a person I was going to have to learn the truth eventually. But I wanted this to be an okay day, so I didn’t ask whose birthday he’d almost missed.

  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate some little gift. You know, the thought and all that,” he said, drumming his fingertips on his desk.

  Well, it was a woman, but it could be anyone — like a sister, or a friend from college, or maybe it was a girlfriend, but if it was, he didn’t seem overly concerned about pleasing her. I wanted to cross my fingers and make a wish that he was thinking about anyone but a girlfriend, but that was foolish. My chest was beginning to ache with panic. I shouldn’t behave like a teenager. He was my boss and I was still supposed to be in love with my husband. Wasn’t I? My husband, the man I was beginning to think I’d never really known, the man I’d married after a meteoric romance of only a few months, the man I’d never see again, the man I thought about less and less each day.

  “You’re a considerate person, Matthew, but I guess I should have known that since you loaned me the money to keep my house. You’ve been there when I needed you.” I knew I was angling to remind him that if he had a girlfriend, he’d certainly been spending quite a bit of time with me lately. He smiled half-heartedly but didn’t give away any hints of what he was thinking.

  I tried to find things to keep myself busy at my desk until just before one o’clock when I left to walk to the church to meet Lilly. For once it was a relief to leave the office. Matthew’s reticence made me feel as if I was in the way, but I knew Lilly would be happy to see me.

  She was ready when I got there, eager to begin our walk to the restaurant. Her hair was brushed and pulled up on top of her head and her skin seemed almost rosy. She was wearing linen pants that looked this side of new and a pair of sandals, something I’d never seen her wear before.

  “Hey, you look great, Lilly. Happy birthday,” I said.

  “Good grief, I don’t like thinking I’m another year older. Sixty-one.”

  One more solid fact I had about her life I could file away. I had been friends with her for months, and I was just now learning her age. Maybe the fault was mine. I kept people at a distance where I couldn’t get to know them and they couldn’t get to know me. And when I did open up and let someone in who’d believed in me, like Matthew, I ended up not trusting them.

  “I’ve been thinking about Greek food all morning. I have a craving for moussaka,” I said, as I led her down the sidewalk towards 45th Street. “I made it once from eggplants I grew in my garden.”

  “You must have a wonderful garden. Moussaka sounds good. I haven’t had that since I was in Athens,” Lilly said.

  Lilly was as down to earth as anyone I’d ever known. She’d commiserated with me when I’d been lonely, scared, and broke, as if she’d been in those places, too. But her speech and manners were sophisticated, a fact I found disconcerting given the circumstances in which we’d met. To hear that she’d once been to Athens, nonchalantly dropping the comment like small talk, and I’d never even left the state of Washington. I didn’t know her well enough. We needed to spend more time together. I could trust her. I couldn’t think every new relationship I made would end in heartbreak, even if I still felt my heart’s pieces tugging at their sutured seams. Lilly would never hurt me.

  We strolled in the direction of the restaurant. Lilly, as she usually did, held on to my arm for support, but I felt less of a pull from her weight. It could have been that she was getting healthier. Her strength seemed to rise and fall like the tentative breath of a newborn. I never knew what to expect when I saw her; whether she’d be dis
heveled or looking almost urbane, as she was today. Lately she’d been on a stretch of looking happier, healthier. I hoped my friendship with her had been part of the reason for her improvement and that she needed me as much as I needed her.

  When we were seated in the restaurant and looking through the menus I said, “My birthday is this month, too. It’s on the day we’re coming back from Chicago. Let’s plan to go out for dinner after I get back.” Dinner, not our usual lunch.

  “Oh, Diane, I would like nothing better than to celebrate your birthday with you. Are you excited about the trip?”

  “Yes and no. I guess I can tell you…I’m scared.”

  “Sacred of what?” she asked, as she glanced at the menu.

  “I’ve never been on an airplane before, and after what happened to Bobby, I’m pretty scared to fly. And that city is huge. I’m not all that good with strangers. I suppose you think it’s sort of childish, but I know I’m a little mouse, afraid to speak up. What am I going to do in a city full of war protestors and police and reporters?”

  “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you. You’ve never had the opportunity to prove yourself in a situation like this, and the trip will be your big chance. Besides, you’ll have your Matthew there to help you.”

  “Why do you call him my Matthew?” I certainly didn’t feel as if anything about him belonged to me right then.

  “I’m hopeful your relationship will strengthen with this trip. I know you have feelings for him. You’ve told me so, and I don’t think you’d say something you didn’t mean.” She closed the menu and placed it on the table, her hands shaking slightly.

  “I think about him all the time, Lilly. And then I worry, because I know I shouldn’t think about him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve told you the doubts I have about my marriage. If I made a mistake with Matthew, it wouldn’t just hurt me, it would hurt him. And today he was distant. He hardly spoke to me at all. I don’t understand. Something is bothering him, and I can’t ask him what it is.”