Bird After Bird (8 page)

Having qualified birding guides on hand was essential not just to educate new birders who otherwise didn’t know a chipping or song sparrow from the pests who built nests in their suburban downspouts—the success of the event as a whole was important because the cash it raised, however modest, went toward wildlife preservation.

Yeah, I’d be honored, Rhoda.

I made a mental note to ask the managing partner to kick in another annual sponsorship of the event. We might not be bringing in a single client from Greene County, Indiana where the event was held, but it looked great on the corporate website. “A firm that cares for the environment.” I was pretty sure they’d even posted a photo of me in hip waders from last year’s event, arm-in-arm with Rhoda and some of the guys from the Indiana Department of Natural Resources.

Gotta run, though. Email me the deets.

-No prob. Thanks, Wren.-

The MAM execs were waiting in our biggest conference room when I arrived. Darcy met me at the elevator and took my coat. She handed me a printed agenda and a cup of coffee and gave me a thumb’s up as I rushed to join them.

The execs were solemn as the grave when I entered. “Make no mistake, Ms. Riley, we’re pleased to see you, but—“

“But Mr. Parker’s unfortunate email slip will never happen again, I assure you,” I said. “Now, what should we hit first? The results of the R&D scout trip to Mexico, or the consumer feedback on the mp3 stereo options?”

The meeting went on in similar fashion until at last they had to go. Normally I’d have taken the clients to lunch on the company tab, but they were needed back in Detroit and had an early flight. I was thrilled I could keep my plans with my best friend.

I reached my stop and the café a few minutes later. Janice waved me down from our usual table. We'd long ago agreed to no less than one monthly meet-up for a chocolate & coffee lunch with chocolate martinis for dessert.

“What’s up, Man Eater?” She winked.

“Sometimes I do wish I could eat them. Easier to deal with indigestion than damage control.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No worse than normal, I’m just getting tired of it.”

She nodded. “Panini sound good? I ordered them for both of us,” she said, rising to hug me as I put away my purse and jacket.

“How many martinis did you order?” The waiter delivered our drinks and I told him to go ahead and send another round.

“Girl, if only those things were as devoid of calories as you are of shame.” She raised her glass in a toast. “To my former boss and the best maid of honor a gal could ever have. I'm going to miss you.”

“Miss me? Where you going?”

“Congratulate me, Birdy Girl. I'm moving to New York."

We clinked glasses and each had big gulps of the chocolate elixir. Janice worked for a competing econ consultancy. It was up & coming, and had offices in New York. "Moving? Of course you got promoted! Mozel tov! What did Harold say?"

Harold was Janice's old man. Literally, he was
really
old—twice her age. Theirs was a unique love, for sure, but it worked. I hadn't been supportive when she'd first fallen for him—and because he'd been a client at our old firm, there were plenty of rumors that Janice was transitioning career-wise from economist to gold digger.

If we’d been close in college, being deemed the office gold-digger and man-eater had just made our friendship stronger.

Janice was a young, beautiful woman of color and Harold was a rich white industrialist firmly ensconced with his family's business: a brand of food products you could find on every grocery store shelf in the US, Europe, and beyond. The fact that his company used black women as part of their branding didn't help the ugly things being said about her behind closed doors at the office.

"Aunt Janica," Martin called her, before I threatened to turn him in to HR. God, he was so ugly. Good riddance. I sometimes wondered how he’d taken it when Janice had been hired in above him at the other firm.

Harold and Janice were made for each other, though. She held her head high and before long the only thing anyone ever said about the union was how well Janice's ring fit her beautiful hands. A five carat princess diamond has a way to shutting people the hell up. So does job performance, and Janice’s was becoming well-known.

Janice raised her glass to signal the waiter for another drink. "Oh, he’s not thrilled about moving back to the city, but you know Harry—he'll go wherever I want, whenever. Besides, he knows there are better cigar stores in NYC than Chi-town.” She shrugged. “It is what it is. It was
his
board that offered me the job, regardless of his complaints. Not like I could turn down the family business!"

"So not just a transfer, but joining the company, huh?"

She smiled, nodding. From the moment I’d met her in our Northwest University dorm room, I’d known she was a “family first” kind of girl. The countless snapshots she hung on the walls were proof of that. Cousin after cousin, siblings, aunts, uncles, and a zillion snaps of her mom and dad. I didn’t have a big family, myself, but Janice made me feel like I had a sister. Sometimes when she talked about their big Christmases, I thought I wouldn’t mind being officially adopted.

"You'll knock 'em dead in New York." I finished my own drink and handed the glass to the waiter, who replaced both our drinks with fresh ones. "These have some kick today! Better bring coffee, please. I have a meeting at two and I don't want to stagger into it drunk. Again."

We both giggled. Janice knew I'd never been drunk at a meeting and it wasn't likely to happen in my lifetime.

"I’m going to miss you so much,” I said. “Who will I do chocolate lunches with?”

“Oh, treat that admin of yours once in awhile. She’s a gem.” She smiled. “I’ll miss you, too, Birdy.”

“Are you happy, Janice?" I don't know where the question came from, and I already knew the answer, but as the waiter arrived with our grilled chocolate paninis, it just slipped out.

"You know I am, girl. Why do you ask? You going to offer me my old job back?"

"In a heartbeat, if I thought you'd take it." I had no idea how much money Janice was making since she'd left our firm, but I was sure the move to corporate work was going to bring a pretty penny. There’s no way my firm would match the offer, and it seemed that ship had sailed, anyway. "I do miss working with you. Hey, tell you what—you find an opportunity for me in New York—just by accident or whatever—let me know. You never know. I might be ready to step up to corporate, myself."

"And leave Troy behind? Or would he come with you?"

I laughed again. "Oh, please. You know we’re not serious."

Janice cocked her head to the side. "I thought you really liked him."

"Well, you know, Janice...I do.” Why had I just said that? I didn’t realize just how much I disliked Troy until I lied to my friend. “I mean,
of course
I do. I wouldn't keep seeing him if he weren't likeable on at least a base level...right?"

"Who are you trying to convince? Methinks the lady doth protest too much," she said quietly, looking up at me while she swirled the liquid in her half empty martini glass.

“Maybe, Janice.” I felt the levity we were enjoying go flying right out the window. Quick, to the chocolate! I had a big bite of my Panini, and just about orgasmed. “Oh my god, these things are SO good. You are not going to find these in New York!”

"Alright. Wren?"

"Yes?" I was wiping the chocolate from my mouth and enjoying my martini buzz. Coffee arrived right on schedule.

"Are
you
happy?"

"Yeah-no." I'd meant to say "Yeah, sorta," but changed mid-stream to "no." The result sounded like "You know."

"No, I
don't
know."

Janice was quiet for a moment, dipping the last of her panini in the cherry sauce that was served on the side. She had a bite, washed it down with a drink of steaming hot coffee, and then wiped her mouth with her linen napkin.

"I'm sorry, Birdy. I know you never want to talk about this stuff, but I worry about you. Your dad just died, honey. It's only been a year. You're not
supposed
to feel happy yet. You know what I mean?"

I nodded, looking down at my lap. I wasn't going to cry. I’d done enough of that over the weekend. I'd grown up in the lap of grief, losing Mom so young. Losing Dad
sucked
, but I'd always seen it coming.

"I do know what you mean. I promised Dad I’d keep moving, just like we did after Mom died," I said, having another drink of my coffee. I could feel the buzz of liquor wearing off. "Found out this weekend he left me something, and if I needed a reminder, it’s a good one.”

“I just worry about you. If I lost my dad…”

“I’d be there for you. Just like you are for me.”

She smiled. “I know you would. Same old Birdy," she said.

"Good!" I put my coffee mug down and leaned in toward my friend. "The thing is, Janice, I want to be happy like
you
are. You've got Harold and he adores you. He may not have been what you were looking for, but that man has made your life complete, anyone can see it. You've been together now for—what?—three years? You glow. You're more beautiful today than the day you married. That’s
happiness
. That’s what I want."

Janice didn't blush easily, but she was on the verge. "No, you're right, Birdy. Harold and I have it all. We've got the love, we make good money, we’ve got our health, we don't have any deadbeats dragging us down on either side. His kids from his first marriage are respectful and his first wife is dead. We can do anything we want, give our time and energy to any project we choose. Every day I wake up and ask myself how I got to be so blessed.”

She had a sip of coffee before continuing. “The thing is, without Harold's love—his
true
love—I wouldn't feel this way. I might want a marriage, a career, children—whatever, but without the love of a good partner, I don't think I'd
feel
this blessed. I might have the very same
things
, but not
feel the love
—you feel me?"

"I feel ya, girl. You’re birds of the same feather.”

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a penguin and I’m more of a…”

“An angel?”

She laughed. “You know better. I was going to say ‘hawk.’ But we choose to flock together, that much is true.”

Chapter Thirteen

Wren

Falls of the Ohio

If it was good enough for Lewis & Clark, it’s good enough for us, Princess MuffinStuff. Welcome to stop one.

We stopped at the bakery before sunrise and fueled up on chocolate chip goodness, counter-balanced by the unnatural concoction of whatever gets added to factory-bottled chocolate milk. I had to detox myself with a cup of black coffee, but you’re young—you’ll burn off the poison in no time.

The area chapter of the Audubon Society has nothing but good things to say about this place. Let’s see how we do.

The page was stiff from the glue Dad used to attach maps and brochures from the park. He was so thorough, he’d even included pressed specimens of wildflowers. A single feather from a horned lark had lost some of its integrity, but was otherwise recognizable tucked into the spine.

In the bottom right corner of the spread was a photo he’d captioned, “An auspicious start for the Two Birditos. Rare barn swallow.”

There was a list of birds we’d spotted, a few with question marks when he wasn’t certain. That’s the thing about birding. Sometimes you don’t really know what you’re seeing until long after it’s gone. Only when you’re hunkered in front of your field guide looking at page after page of photographs that may or may not accurately reflect the variances among every sub-species, can you sometimes rule out what you thought you saw in favor of a more common bird. In the beginning, that can be a little defeating, but in the long run, real birders come to realize their skills are sharpened by the exercise, and at some point you realize you’re not in it for a prize. There are awards nationally for Most Birds Spotted, but if you’re watching birds for a prize, I’ve always thought you’re kind of missing the point.

IDing had gotten easier with the rise of the internet, but it still wasn’t as simple you might think. Fights broke out among bird nerds online all the time over sightings of rare birds—even over whether or not you should post photos of them. The argument was that poachers or miscreants would use your information to find the beauties. Personally I didn’t know much about the wild bird poaching trade, but I resolved myself today to keep my photos from this Big Year to myself; or at least to share them exclusively with my birding pals.

No, this trip was just for me. I’d bought a paper journal just for the purpose. It had a silhouette of a sparrow on the cover, and was decorated with the names of different birds. The pages were blank, lined and trimmed with a sweet birdie icon. I wasn’t sure what I would write in it, other than lists of birds spotted, but I didn’t rule anything out.