Birds
People
Sam choked as his heart sprang into his throat. On the next block, her hair thrown together like an abstract painting, a familiar figure waited at a bus stop. He shuddered, his legs weakened, and for a moment, he understood the plight of deer when a car barrels towards them. His sensibility devolved as he jumped down a side street his conscious mind had yet to notice.
“No—no—no,” Sam wheezed. “This morning can’t get worse.” He covered his mouth. Why’d I say that? He might as well step on every sidewalk crack from here to work. What is she doing here? She didn’t live in the area, and she worked across town. Does she want to see me? “Fuck that.” He muttered.
A part of him that reveled and craved self-destruction wanted to look again, wanted her to notice him. They hadn’t seen each other for four months or spoken for six. The last time was at a local bar. She’d been the one to turn and leave then, and that hurt more than he imagined it would. He rubbed his face, then looked back.
I can be normal, right? He swallowed as his heart began to climb higher.
She was a force of nature with perfect words. I can’t just say ‘hi’ when she’ll say something that’ll leave me spiraling. I can’t think about anything else today. His legs carried him further down the sidewalk before his mind could turn him around.
The homes were dignified and wise along this road. Each house on the left was separated from the sidewalk by a recessed patio, complete with flower beds and rock gardens. On the right, they rose above the pavement, tethered by wonderful staircases with iron rails. The road carved its path along the hill’s scuffed slope, and ancient boulders marked property lines and accented flower beds. Sam regained control of his limbs and sat on a knee-high brick wall overrun with ivy.
What am I doing?
Her last words to him surfaced, released by a ghost that lived deep within his bones.
“You’re a bird, Sam.” She’d whispered it at the climax of a protracted fight. She’d always had a cruel mastery over language. But it was these parting words that burrowed deepest of all.
He had mulled over those words for hundreds of hours, picked them apart and reassembled them, but they never changed. She’s the bird. You can’t up-and-go without a good reason. It was an unoriginal thought by now, but the one he always settled on. He took a deep breath and took in his surroundings, desperate for distraction.
Across from him, a woman slipped through a half-open front door. Her beauty was fundamental and shown like a dying star as she descended the stone staircase. In one hand hung a pair of scuffed heels while she gripped a purse in the other. Her aura filled the air and muddled the sky as she reached the street and looked around. Sam tensed as her eyes passed over him, but she did not stop. She wore a midnight-blue dress with dainty shoulder straps. Her discomfort was palpable as she stood in the morning light dressed for the night before.
As she surveyed the street again, her gaze once more passed over Sam. A deep, rich sadness clouded her eyes and drew Sam in like a whirlpool. He wanted to cross the street and speak with her. He needed to ask if she was okay, to fall deeper into her sorrow. Sam stood up. Is she lost? Of course, he was lost, too. He sat again. She stared through his eyes without seeing anything. A new memory flooded his mind. The last fight he had with his girlfriend played out like a sinking stone.
“You know when the sky darkens and thunder destroys a still afternoon? All the birds vanish! They disappear—fly away! Then, when the sun spills over the clouds, they’re back, like a magic trick. You’re like those birds. I need someone who stays. Even in the storm.” Her perfect speech had become muddled through tears. Sam remembered saying nothing. He just perched on the edge of his bed, wishing he could vanish, as she sobbed beside him.
A black SUV stopped in front of the girl. Sam watched as she checked the plates against her phone, then got into the back. His spirit flinched as the door shut. Sealed within the vehicle, the woman rolled away, though her sadness formed a film on the tip of his tongue like a name lost to memory.
A man stepped out onto the patio above the street. He half-heartedly lifted a long black coat above his head, but the SUV was gone. With a grimace, he tossed the coat into a green garbage bin beside the steps and rearranged the trash bags so that it fell to the bottom, then withdrew into his home.
Sam picked himself up. The sadness was haunting; he had to leave. She didn’t need help. She was waiting for a ride, that’s all. His legs hurt the farther he went down the road. I shouldn’t have stayed. His heart sank as the road descended the hill. I never know how to help, anyway.
“Hey! Bud!”
Sam groaned as the sudden greeting tore him from his head. A red car, an expensive one by the look of the trim, was parked with one wheel on the curb as its hazards flashed like a Christmas display. A man jumped out of the passenger side and approached him. “Hi, can you spare a second?”
Sam stopped. “I’m trying to get to work.”
“So am I.” The man shifted sideways. “Listen, I lost my phone. Could you do us a huge favor and give it a quick call? I know I had it when my wife and I left, but I’ve torn the inside apart, but no luck.” He gazed at his shoes.
Sam rolled his eyes. Why care anymore? “Sure.”
“Thanks!” The man pumped his arm. “Appreciate it, bro!” He sprang towards the vehicle. Sam frowned as his phone’s screen brightness diminished, foreshadowing a dying battery. He’d help them out and call once, then be on his way. How hard could it be to find a phone in a car?
“What’s the number?” Sam asked, his thumb ready.
“Uhh,” the man rubbed his face. “734-454-8122?”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “A Michigan number?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Grew up there.”
“Cool.” Sam hit the call, then turned his volume down as the dial tone sang. “My sister completed her undergrad there.”
The man raised his chin. “Good schools.”
Sam nodded back, then looked away as silence percolated between them. The man’s wife hung her hand limply from the window.
“Did you call?” Her husband peered at Sam’s darkened screen.
“It should be ringing now.”
“Babe!” He poked his head around the passenger doorframe. “Do you hear any buzzing in here?” She waited half a second, then turned her head.
“No. It has to be at the house.”
“I know I had it! Okay? It was in my hand when we left.”
His wife shifted her hands to the steering wheel. “Then how’d it vanish?”
“How does anything go missing?” Her husband tapped the roof. “Maybe it slipped under the seats then slid around?”
She sighed. “We checked under them.”
“Look again.”
She tightened her grip on the wheel. “You’ve got your work cell, plus that ancient pager for this sorta thing. I’ll be able to reach you while you’re on your trip. Just get back in so we can go.”
“I can’t use my work phone for personal calls. You know this.”
Sam tried to yell at them to shut up, but all he managed was a halfhearted expression of annoyance as his head slumped to the side. This is a waste of time. He had to return to work before his coworkers thought he’d flown the coop.
“You’re going to miss your flight!” His wife brushed her strawberry hair aside, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’ve been here for nearly twenty minutes.”
Sam straightened. The route to the airport passed by the coffeehouse.
“Hey,” Sam waved his phone in the air. “I’m calling again. Can we all listen this time? No talking.” The man mimed a key locking his lips, then shot a look through the window to his wife. She shrugged, then her eyes widened.
“I hear it!” She twisted in her seat. Sam felt energized; things had started to turn around.
“I have the longer reach.” Her husband threw the adjacent rear door open and dove onto the seat. A suitcase toppled out and fell onto the cement. “Where do you hear it?”
His wife’s hands wriggled in the cracks between her seat and the center console. “Got it!” She held the prize for them to see.
“Yes!” The man reached feebly for his device, but she withdrew her hand and answered Sam’s call with a giggle.
“Thank you!” Her frustration faded as she smiled, then hung up.
“Yes,” the man stretched as he held his hand out towards his wife. “We owe you big time.”
“Actually,” Sam slipped his phone away. “The airport is past my work, could I get a—”
“Who the fuck is this girl texting you right now?”
“Wh—what?” Her husband poked his head under the doorframe.
“This number!” She waved the phone in his face. “Can’t wait for you to land!”
“You’re crazy! That’s not a girl. It’s the shareholder I’m meeting in Orlando.” He made another attempt to retrieve the phone.
“I’ll be wearing the little outfit again.” She slapped his hand away. “Right, she’s you’re business partner, and that makes it alright!”
“It’s nothing, okay? I-I don’t even know the number.”
“I’m not an idiot!”
“Honest! I said they had the wrong person,” He clutched the open doorframe. “They won’t stop texting me!”
“Close the door.”
“Babe.” He tried to sit, but she jolted the car out of park. “What the—”
“Shut the fucking door!”
He jumped back as he shoved the door shut. “Calm down! Come on!” Their car turned the corner and vanished as the hazard lights continued to blink.
Sam wondered what kind of black magic fairy curse had befallen him this morning.
The man groaned and kicked at the pavement. “Sorry,” he caught Sam’s astonished eye and relaxed. “That was a lot to see.” He bent over and picked up the suitcase. “It wasn’t anything. So I have a little fun when I’m out of town. I’m sure she’s done it too. She’s just sensitive and flighty, like a bird. She’ll calm down.” He walked up the way Sam had come and offered a limp wave as his suitcase rattled along behind him.
“What the hell?” Sam kicked the street. He felt his phone start to vibrate in the pocket of his apron. “What now?” He half expected it to be the man’s wife, or his boss, but his spirits rose as his sister’s initials flashed across the screen.
“Sam,” she said as soon as he answered, “something’s wrong with your dog.”
Editor: Shannon Hensley
