Bird After Bird (35 page)

“Unless your name is Wren, I don’t want to talk to you!”

“That’ll show ‘em,” Louisa said from the next room. Hap barked again.

“My name’s not Wren, it’s Rhoda—and I think we met, back at Crane Days. Remember me?”

I did remember Rhoda. She was a friend of Wren’s involved with conservation and birding. I met her at the pizza place while Wren and I were covered in mud from the marsh. Felt like ages ago.

“Rhoda? Yeah, I remember you. Hi, sorry. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. But I’ve got a pair of snowy owls here that ain’t so fine. You remember the snowies that were at Goose Pond so late in the year?”

“Um… yes. I think Wren mentioned something about an interruption?”

“An irruption,” Rhoda said. “It’s when a freakishly large numbers of arctic birds fly south for food. Anyway, this mated pair decided to stay for whatever reason, and unfortunately, one of them got hit by a car while it was scavenging on the side of the road. We need some funds to get him the help he needs, and I was wondering if you and your band would like to be part of the fundraising event.”

I thought about the debt I owed Billy & the Boys. Would this gig make up for losing in New York? No way, but it couldn’t be a bad start, could it?

“When, Rhoda?”

“Saturday afternoon work for you guys?”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Thanks, kid. And, hey—I heard about your heartbreak with Wren, and the origami birds in Central Park and all that on the news.”

I felt my face heat up. “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about—“

“She loves you, kid. Listen to me. I’ve known that girl for years—since she and her dad were birding their way across Indiana, while her mother was fresh in the ground. She’s a wild thing, you know? And—listen to me, kid—I know my stuff. Like any wild thing, when something hurts, she runs—her daddy taught her that, so don’t hold it against her too much.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Okay.” I started to hang up.

“Hey! Listen! The thing about Wren is, she always comes back. She comes home to roost. Don’t give up, Laurie Byrd. If I know anything, I know my ‘birds,’ and you and Wren are two of a feather. You hear me?”

I wanted it to be true.

Chapter Seventy

Wren

I wasn’t sure what his flight number was, but I definitely missed it. According to the net there was one flight between all of New York City and Louisville, Kentucky, and it left an hour before I finished researching possible travel routes. It’s not as easy tracking flights out of three airports as you’d think. You’d think you could just type “Where’s my boyfriend?” into Google, but it doesn’t work. I’ve tried.

“Damn it!”

Hoping for a miracle, I took a cab to the airport, anyway. What if the flight was delayed? Part of me just wanted to buy a ticket back home and surprise him—but the more cautious side of me won out.
Wait,
it warned
. If it’s meant to be, it can wait until you’ve spoken. He left you his number, not his house key.

I’d wanted a lot of things in my life. Acceptance to Northwestern. A partnership at Parker & Bash. My mom to recover from cancer. My dad not to die of the same disease.

I’d come to learn there was a difference between wanting what was
possible
, wanting what was
probable
, and wanting the
impossible
. It’s the kind of reasoning that kept me sane in those years between Mom’s diagnosis and Dad’s final days. “Focus on what’s real, Wren.”

Sometimes I just wasn’t sure how much of what my heart said mattered. If something felt real deep down in my gut, could I trust it? Should I? Hearts have a way of seducing you into believe the impossible is not only possible, but probable. I hadn’t gotten this far by following my heart. I wasn’t sure anymore if that was my strength or my biggest mistake.

Laurie
wanted
me to call him—he still had feelings for me. That made him a possibility. My heart told me it was still probable we could work things out.

I ran up and down the terminal at Newark, feeling like a remarkable fool, totally useless in what was probably the wrong airport, anyway. They could have been flying into Evansville. Indianapolis. Why did I think they’d go through Louisville?

My mind raced, and my guts were still racked with guilt. “Impossible,” I said to myself as I climbed into a cab and headed home. “I should check myself in somewhere.”

“Where we headed?” the cabbie asked.

I gave him my address.

“That ain’t a hotel, yanno.”

“I know. It’s my apartment.”

“I heard you say something about checking in…”

I looked out the window, cutting the conversation off. Two huge ravens, stark as night swooped brilliantly in contrast against the overcast sky. One of them landed on a beam above the road. The other turned and flew the opposite direction.

That was me. Stark. Raven. Mad.

Reality had taken on an uncomfortable bend. Everything seemed convex and wrong.

Was it mad to think things could really be lining up? Could Laurie and I have a happily ever after?

The old fears, the old reasons for not being with Laurie decided to show themselves again, that very moment.

He’s a hometown boy. He’s got no future. He’s still in love with his dead girlfriend.

By the time I got to my building, I couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough. Being trapped in the back with all my insecurities shouting me down was crazy-making. I raced into my flat and slammed the door behind me. The entryway housed a small table where I usually threw my keys. A mirror hung above it, and I looked at my frazzled reflection in it.

“Maybe I
want
a hometown boy! Did you ever think of
that
?” I gave the mirror a piece of my mind. “Future? You want to talk about futures? You just walked away from a million dollar a year paycheck, lady! You could have been rolling in dough, but you’re chucking it for…for the birds? Really?”

I laughed. I cried. I could feel myself cracking apart, but it felt healthy—it felt great, actually—as though it needed to be done.

The hard, brittle veneer of my outer shell was finally caving in, and if I had to go a little cuckoo to hatch the real me, then so be it.

“And as for the dead girlfriend…yeah, he’ll probably always have a place in his heart for his first love. I think you’re a big enough girl to deal with that, Birdy. The man was obviously made for you. He just wrote a damn song about you! Don’t tell me this ridiculous fear is about Sylvia! This is about YOU, being too
scared
to lose. Being so scared to lose someone close to you, that you’d throw away the best thing that ever happened to you!”

A timid knock came at the door. “Miss Riley?” It was the doorman.

I opened the door, wiping tears from my eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Riley, but there have been some complaints from the other residents—the shouting?”

I felt my face color. How embarrassing. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and keep it down. Is there anything else?”

“No, miss,” he said. I tipped him, and he left, whistling back to the elevator.

I stuck my tongue out at the girl in the mirror. I wasn’t finished bawling her out yet, but I hoped eventually we could be friends again.

I tried calling Laurie a lot. His phone must have been on fire. He was on CNN, MTV, and VH1 every time I flipped through the channels. The whole world seemed to be crying “fowl” over Billy & the Boys’ disqualification from that TV show. TV crews were even waiting outside the garage where he worked in Birdseye.

“Wow. Must be a slow news week.” Don’t get me wrong, it was surreal and amazing that I could see him on 24 hour news coverage, but I wanted to reach him, and this wasn’t making it any easier.

I headed to bed, defeated and frustrated.

I couldn’t see Laurie giving up art to be a musician type, but anything was possible. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to see him and find out for sure.

So much was up in the air.

Chapter Seventy-one

Wren

It was the most frustrating week of my life. I wanted to talk to Laurie, but his phone was totally broken. Somehow I missed a voicemail from him, and I kicked myself for an hour over that. He said he’d call me back from a new number, but he never did. The minutes crawled by while I waited for my phone to ring. What could be keeping him?

Whichever God I had pissed off, I was willing to make amends. I prayed hourly for divine intervention, but nothing happened on the communication front. Even email didn’t work. When I tried to send him a note, I got an instant bounce-back message from his ISP.

Eventually, there was nothing to do but pack. He was probably going to think I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, but I reasoned that he had been thinking that for months, anyway. If technology was conspiring against us, I’d fill my time making other plans.

I hovered over the “buy now” button on the airline’s website, desperation making a surprise flight home sounding better by the minute.

Finally, the apartment was packed and I was ready to leave New York for parts unknown. All except one thing: my original Jerry Hartt. I carefully pried it from its canvas and rolled it into a cardboard mailer. I would carry it onboard when I left.

The board meeting was a success, per Janice.

“You’re free to go, but I wish you’d stay.”

“Do you really?”

She laughed, and her laughter turned into a sigh. “No. I’d rather see you happy.”

Since I didn’t know where I’d be living or staying, I put my things into a relocation company’s storage facility and packed just the essentials. Janice agreed to oversee their departure, and finally I clicked “buy now” for an eticket home.

It was the first time in my life I set out with no job and no firm plans, other than grad school in a few months. I had a bit of money saved from my job, and I had the money from selling Dad’s house, but other than that…I had nothing but freedom and wishes.

I didn’t shed a tear for New York when I got on that plane. Twelve hours later, though, I was about to burst with them. We’d encountered a mechanical malfunction over Pennsylvania and made an emergency landing in Pittsburgh.

“I hate when this happens,” the man in the seat next to me said.

I smiled. Not really interested in conversation, I returned to staring at my phone hoping for a text message to pop up while we were allowed to connect to WiFi.

“One time I had a flight from Atlanta to LAX that was supposed to be direct—ended up disembarking and reboarding in every damn airport from Mississippi to Arizona. Bird after bird.”

“What’s that?”

“I said we had to disembark—“

“No, the other part. The last part. Something about a bird?”

He smiled, kicking his seat back and lolling his fat head to the side as he spoke. “Oh, the stop in Louisiana was because of the birds. Whole flock flew right into the damned jet engine and smoke was going everywhere…”

I smiled and turned away again. I was sure he’d said “bird after bird.” That was me, wasn’t it? A wren chasing a Byrd, one metallic flight at a time. Or was it Laurie chasing me?

And did it even matter who chased whom, as long as you ended up with the right person? I’d never really understood how that could work out.

Until now.

I didn’t know who I was going to become or what my future would hold, but I knew I was ready, and if Laurie would have me back, we’d figure it out together.

No messages from him while we waited. The only comfort in turning airplane mode back on was knowing I was one stop closer to home.

When we landed in Kentucky it was early Saturday morning. “We made it on one bird after all,” Mr. Fatcheeks said before he pushed his way into the line and half-stepped back out of my life.

I rented a car, drove to Dubois County, and checked into a hotel in record time. Pretty sure that rental Mustang had a jet engine of its own. I wanted to use it to drop in on Laurie, but we still hadn’t spoken!

“Ugh.” I collapsed on top of the bed in my hotel and did my best not to scream.