Fly Like a Bird

by Jana Zinser

  “Yeah, the bugs and rodents are a little out of control.”

  “Rodents? What is this place, Black Plague Manor?”

  Otis laughed softly and cleared his throat. “The truth is, I feel like that chicken Max used to talk about. The one that lost all its feathers in the tornado. I’m nothing but a naked yard bird.”

  “Yeah, but don’t forget that chicken sure could run when the wind kicked up,” Ivy said, and they laughed loudly.

  The door flew open with a bang. Thelma’s miniature frame stood in the doorway.

  “Otis, visiting hours are over.” She wrinkled her nose and her hairy lip twitched. She pointed her stubby finger at Ivy. “That woman has to leave.”

  Ivy looked at Otis. “Visiting hours? I didn’t realize this was cellblock 8B.”

  Otis shrugged and scratched his whiskers. “They have a lot of rules here.”

  Thelma stomped into the room. “And no alcohol is one of them. I’ll take that.” She snatched up the bottle of scotch and pointed to the door. “Now, out.”

  Ivy jumped up. “Thelma, you have no right to take his things.”

  Otis waved at Ivy, signaling for her not to make a fuss. “It’s all right Ivy. It’s a rule. As long as Carly’s all right, you can tell me what happened later. I’m pretty tired anyway.”

  The curtain of depression fell back over his face. When Ivy hugged him goodbye, she could feel his bones. Without her realizing, Otis had grown old.

  “I was right. This isn’t a home, it’s a seniors’ prison. I’ll be back tomorrow with Carly.”

  Ivy stomped down the hall. She held back her tears until she was safely back in the truck. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she sobbed for Otis and for her grandmother. She wept for growing old and dying, and for those left behind.

  Chapter 37

  SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY HOME

  The howling winter winds blew away summer’s warmth and the barren trees in Grandma’s backyard swayed and groaned from the force of the Midwestern gales.

  Grandma slowly slipped away from Ivy, moving closer toward the unknown abyss of the world beyond, her so-called Great Hereafter. Her cancer created an emptiness around her, as if death were preparing to suck her away. Ivy sat on Grandma’s bed and listened to her struggling breaths. Grandma squeezed Ivy’s hand. “When I’m gone, I want you to travel and see all the places you’ve missed. Take Carly with you so she won’t feel so trapped like you did. I should have given you the world.”

  Ivy nodded. “You did.”

  As the days passed, Ivy grew frightened as Grandma lost her hold on this world. The eighty-year-old seldom left her bed, sleeping on and off throughout the day. But whenever she was awake those days in late December, she looked out her window at the woods checking for signs of snow. She waited anxiously for the dance of the snowflakes to blanket the Iowa countryside, piling up big drifts and sending the remaining birds flocking to her backyard feeders. So far, the winter had brought cold brisk winds but no snow.

  Dr. Kelsey and Matilda checked on Grandma every night after the clinic closed, telling Ivy that Grandma’s time neared, perhaps a few more days or weeks, a few months at the most. Death was just a matter of time. And like most things, somehow Grandma knew.

  One Saturday afternoon, Ivy washed Grandma’s thin patches of silver hair that had finally grown back after the chemo. She propped Grandma up with pillows in the chair next to her bed. The winter weather put Grandma in a festive mood. She hummed her favorite Christmas song, “White Christmas.”

  Ivy held up a glass of cold water and Grandma sipped from the straw. “Ivy, see if Judy can make me look good before everybody and their brother comes trooping over here to say their sappy good-byes,” said Grandma, touching her hair. She grabbed Ivy’s arm. “And promise me you won’t forget to pluck my chin hairs before I die.”

  “Grandma, I promise, I won’t forget your chin hairs. And I’ll call Judy and see if she can come over tonight.”

  Grandma nodded. “Good, good.”

  That night after Judy’s Beauty Shop closed, Judy jingle-jangled into Grandma’s bedroom, snapping her Doublemint gum and clicking her high heels. She hadn’t changed much since Ivy first saw her step off the bus. Judy was still beautiful and lively.

  Grandma smiled and shook her head. “Judy, you sure can brighten up a room.”

  Judy smiled and danced with the pink cape until she flipped it around Grandma’s shoulders. “So, Violet, are you ready for a new do?”

  Grandma gently touched what was left of her hair. “I don’t have much hair left, but when I die, make it look good for my casket-viewing, if you can.”

  Judy stroked the thin strands of Grandma’s silver-spun hair. “Now Violet, don’t you worry on about that.” She nodded in Ivy’s direction. “Ivy will tell me when you pass, and I’ll go down to Baker’s and make you look beautiful on your way to heaven. You can believe that.”

  Ivy sat on the side of Grandma’s big mahogany bed.

  Judy’s bracelets tumbled down her arm as she gently combed Grandma’s hair. She looked over at Ivy. “I wanted to tell you something. Jesse and Raven are getting a divorce.”

  Ivy grew silent, remembering the betrayal of her friends. All her old feelings swirled around.

  “A divorce? I knew that a long time ago.” Grandma pinched her fingers open and closed. “Birds talk.”

  No one knew more than Violet Taylor.

  The morning before Christmas, Ivy dipped the green sponge in a glass of cold water and dabbed it inside Grandma’s dry mouth. Grandma swallowed hard and coughed, making strange gurgling sounds as she tried to breathe. She waved her trembling hand until the spell passed. “Ivy, don’t forget, bring Justin home. Nothing will be right until we do right by him.” She tried to clear her throat again.

  Ivy pulled the quilts over her grandmother and kissed her cheek. “I will, Grandma. Don’t worry, I will.”

  “He’s Miss Shirley and Ben’s boy for sure and we would never take him from them, but we need to stand up and claim him as family.” Grandma closed her eyes and groaned. “And don’t forget the birds,” she whispered, her words harder to understand.

  Ivy stroked Grandma’s wispy strands of silver hair that Judy had somehow managed to tame. “I won’t, Grandma. I’ll feed them every day, just like always. Carly will make sure of that.”

  Grandma smiled. Her gums were black along the edges. There was so little of her left. Death was coming to claim its due. She sighed and sank back against her pillow. “The birds will be my sign.” Grandma’s eyes fluttered like the wings of the birds she loved, and she fell asleep.

  Ivy was closing the red velvet curtains when she saw Jesse walking up the sidewalk to the house. When she opened the door, Jesse handed her a poinsettia plant.

  “Merry Christmas, Ivy. I guess my mom told you. Raven and I didn’t work out. You want to take a walk out to Beecher Pond?”

  Ivy hesitated, then nodded.

  They walked around Beecher Pond and went into Uncle Tommy’s old duck blind. Jesse took Ivy’s hand.

  “I’ve been wanting to apologize for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it. I was so stupid, and I didn’t treat you right. I didn’t want to wait but I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Ivy gave in to his kiss, wanting the old dream, but then she stepped back. She stared at the place where the picture of her mother and father had been on the wall. “It’s not enough, Jesse. I want someone who will wait through anything for me. I deserve that.”

  She had learned a long time ago that Grandma was right. Sometimes life’s disappointments can turn out to be blessings. Jesse and Raven never made it past Stilton and ended up unhappy together. After all, plans change. Raven told her that when they were children.

  She left Jesse in the duck blind and ran home, feeling the cold wind on her face. For the first time, she felt free from the darkness of her regrets.

  On Christmas Eve, Ivy and Uncle Walter brought the already-decorated tree down from
the attic and they re-arranged the bird ornaments on the branches. The holiday tree ritual would be Carly’s job soon. The traditional unveiling of the perpetually decorated Christmas tree, like all things, would soon pass to a new generation.

  Grandma settled on the couch in front of the fake white Christmas tree. She spent Christmas Eve, as she always did, with her family. Everyone gathered there except Angela, who hadn’t been back home since high school. No one really talked about her, and Ivy and Russell’s questions about her were avoided or left unanswered, until they rarely asked anymore. Ivy thought she saw her once in Stilton but decided it was just a trick of her mind trying to rearrange the pieces of her family to make sense.

  Uncle Tommy, Aunt Hattie, and Russell went through the motions of the traditional Taylor Christmas celebration for Grandma’s sake. But Ivy knew that Uncle Tommy and Aunt Hattie didn’t really want to be there.

  Uncle Walter never replaced his scorched Santa costume, but they still carried on the other Taylor traditions. They fed the birds, and when the eggnog and Christmas cookies were gone, they helped Grandma up the stairs to her bed. As Ivy pulled up the warm covers, Grandma reached for her hand. “I know my end is near. We got through Christmas Eve without a family fight this year.”

  “Well, it’s not over yet.”

  “It is for me.” Grandma closed her eyes. “Will you open the curtains, so I can see the snow before I go?”

  “There isn’t any snow.”

  “Yet,” Grandma said knowingly, holding out her curled up palm. “Here,” she said, opening her hand, revealing her wedding ring from Sam Taylor. “It’s yours now. I don’t need it. I’ll be seeing Sam soon enough.”

  Ivy took the ring and slipped it on her finger. “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll take good care of it.”

  Ivy pulled open the heavy red velvet curtains. Cancer slowly destroyed the hulking beauty of Violet Taylor. Her body whittled away until only the barest survival remained. Grandma lived through life’s tornadoes, but the ravages of cancer had plucked the feathers of Grandma’s life one by one and left only the soul intact. The reality of Grandma’s impending death sucked all the life out of Ivy.

  Grandma smiled and looked up. “Sam?” She closed her eyes and sank into the unconscious world. Ivy sobbed. Grandma’s soul would leave a big hole when she left this world. Ivy kissed Grandma on the forehead. “Goodnight to the great surly one. May your mighty soul find its resting place in peace and bring joy to the Great Hereafter. We will miss you here on Earth.”

  Christmas Eve drew to a close, and Grandma remained unconscious, falling deeper into the unknown world. Then the snow fell heavy and wet outside Grandma’s old Victorian house. The dance of the snowflakes finally arrived, but too late for Grandma to see.

  Russell kissed his sleeping grandmother goodbye then joined his mother who had put in her obligatory holiday family appearance and was anxious to go. “Are you coming with us or are you going to keep worshiping the devil?” Aunt Hattie said to her husband.

  “I think I’ll visit with Jack Daniels for a little bit before I come home.”

  Aunt Hattie rolled her eyes. She pulled Russell out the door behind her. “I’ll drop you off at your apartment.” Russell still lived in the apartment above the Coffey Shop. He continued to enjoy working for the post office despite the unending ridicule of his father.

  Carly was still up playing cards with Uncle Walter, so Ivy put her to bed. Then Ivy went back to Grandma’s bedroom where her uncles avoided each other on separate sides of the room as their mother lay dying. Not even death could break the silence of the uncles’ deep-rooted sandwich war. Ivy shook her head, still trying to understand all the years of long-standing muteness.

  “Don’t you think twenty-six years is long enough to hold a grudge?” Ivy asked.

  Uncle Tommy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Not for me.”

  Ivy sighed. “Like Grandma always said, time stands still in families.”

  Uncle Walter picked the lint off his sweater. “Tell Tommy if he wasn’t so stupid, he might be worth talking to. And it wasn’t his sandwich to begin with.”

  Ivy delivered the insulting banter. The uncles’ bickering wasn’t amusing anymore. “Uncle Tommy, he says it wasn’t your sandwich, and you’re stupid.” Her blue eyes dimmed as the conversation triangle bounced back and forth.

  An icicle broke loose from the front porch roof and shattered on the sidewalk below.

  “Ivy, you tell Letter Boy he hasn’t had a thought worth listening to in twenty-six years.” Uncle Tommy tucked his wrinkled flannel shirt into his pants. He stormed out of the bedroom and thumped down the stairs muttering, “I need another drink.” A moment later, Ivy heard him rattling around in the kitchen.

  Uncle Walter ran his hands over his sagging face and through his salt and pepper hair. He closed his drooping eyes.

  Ivy wandered over to the window. Snow clung to every branch and railing. A beautiful blanket of white fell, purifying the town as if preparing a final tribute for the exit of one of its oldest and most cherished citizens. The diffused light from the street reflected the white landscape onto Grandma’s bed.

  “Grandma, you should see the snow. It’s beautiful. And listen, the birds are louder than usual tonight, especially for winter.”

  The quiet evening amplified the occasional bird songs. “Can you hear them?” Ivy asked.

  Grandma’s mind gradually closed, but Ivy hoped she heard the birds’ farewell, their final salute. Although Grandma’s frail body lay unresponsive, Ivy knew that if Grandma could hear, her heart would have rejoiced. Grandma spoke the language of the birds after all. Christmas Eve descended on the big Victorian house on Meadowlark Lane, and the silent sleep overtook Grandma’s mind as the heavy snow turned the world white.

  Downstairs, a bottle broke. “Don’t do this to me, Mr. Jack Daniels,” Tommy yelled.

  Ivy thought perhaps even Uncle Tommy had surpassed his holiday cheer quota.

  “I can barely stand to be in the same house with that man,” Uncle Walter said to Ivy.

  Uncle Tommy’s voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. “Ivy, I heard what the old mailman said.” He huffed up to Grandma’s room and grabbed his coat from the chair beside Grandma’s four-poster bed. “Ivy, I’ve got to be getting on home.”

  Ivy knew Uncle Tommy wanted to escape the responsibilities and stress of his dying mother. But she sighed with relief, glad he was leaving before the never-ending uncle-battle raged.

  Uncle Walter cleared his throat. “Too much work always makes Tommy nervous.”

  Uncle Tommy glared at his brother. “What would a mama’s boy like him know?”

  With no energy left to relay their insults, Ivy just waved her hand in the air. “It’s okay, Uncle Tommy. Go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Uncle Tommy shook his head. “Can’t come over tomorrow. Football’s on.” He pointed to Grandma. “Only did it all these years for her.”

  Uncle Walter rolled his eyes. He started brushing his mother’s feathery gray hair and softly singing “Sentimental Journey.”

  “Look at him. He’s nothing but a brown-noser. Always has been,” Uncle Tommy said.

  Ivy shook her head and walked Uncle Tommy downstairs. He looked around. “Hey, where’s Carly? She hasn’t been bothering me for a while.”

  Ivy tapped her watch. “Well, it’s pretty late. She went to bed a while ago.”

  Uncle Tommy sniffed. “She didn’t say goodnight to me.”

  Ivy could tell the ice of Uncle Tommy’s heart was slowly thawing. Grandma used to say there was something about a heart that can’t help but be touched by a child.

  “I think you were still visiting with Jack Daniels when I tucked her in bed. But I’ll tell her you said goodbye.”

  Uncle Tommy shrugged. “No big deal.”

  Ivy realized even the hardest hearts can soften. The narrowest path, given time, will find bends and curves and can eventually change course. Uncle Tommy scra
tched his chin and sniffed. “Yeah. You’d think you’d be more grateful to me, being that I shot that worthless father of hers.”

  Ivy stared at him. The shrill bird call she heard that night was Uncle Tommy! He shot Miles. “You? I thought you didn’t want any part of it.”

  Uncle Tommy shrugged. “He was a varmint. Easy shot. Two points. Cats are harder to hit.”

  Stunned, Ivy stared at him. “Well, thank you. You saved my life.”

  He put on his coat. “Whatever. I just thought it was time I told you.” He buttoned his coat and stepped out into the snow. “Merry Christmas.”

  Ivy shut the heavy front door behind him to keep out the winter wind. She pulled the curtain aside and watched her uncle trudge unsteadily down the sidewalk. Uncle Tommy’s back porch post deserved a big notch.

  She went back into Grandma’s bedroom. “Uncle Walter, it’s snowing so hard you can barely see the Christmas lights across the street.” Uncle Walter’s head lolled back against the back of the chair, his mouth open. “Uncle Walter?”

  He startled awake. His dry tongue surveyed his mouth. “I must have fallen asleep for a second. I guess I’m just a little tired from the worry and all.”

  The heavy bags hung like dark crescent moons under his bloodshot eyes. Ivy rested her hand on his shoulder. “Saying goodbye can take a lot out of you. You better go on home, too. You must be exhausted.”

  Uncle Walter yawned again. “Well, I am a tad tired. I may keel over if I don’t get some sleep. Anyway, my knee’s been acting up again. I’m no spring chicken myself, you know. I’ll come over tomorrow, bright and early, like always.”

  Ivy hugged Uncle Walter. “Sure. You go on home and go to bed, Uncle Walter. I’ll feel better knowing you’re getting a good night’s sleep.”

  Ivy knew that caring for his mother and silently fighting with his brother took a heavy toll on him. Uncle Walter needed the solitude of his neat and tidy trailer to regain his strength.

  “You deserve some rest,” Ivy said.