The Meaning of Birds

by Jaye Robin Brown

  We step apart and I pitch first. Levi cracks it out toward what would be right field and I have to run for the ball. I jog back, breathing harder than usual. “Dude, you’re going to kill my buzz.”

  “I’ll bunt from now on, I promise.”

  “Why don’t we just toss the ball?”

  “Fine.” Levi puts down the bat and we stand a few yards apart tossing the baseball back and forth. He speaks first. “I miss her, you know. Vivi.”

  “Don’t. Please.”

  Levi nods. We throw the ball for another ten minutes in silence.

  “I’m never going to get anywhere with Cheyanne, am I?”

  “For a smart guy, you learn slow. No, probably not the way you want. Cheyanne is not into relationships beyond friendship. My observation.”

  Levi sighs. “Yeah. I figured. Come on.” He motions for me to follow him and walks over to sit on the back steps of the old house. We sit in silence, sipping on our drinks. A rabbit runs up my spine and Levi scooches closer. “For warmth,” he says. “Man, I wish I had a car. And a way out of my house.”

  I groan. “Oh my god. Same. Well, my mom’s all right, but my sister drives me crazy. We both need to get out of there. Mom’s still young. She should be dating.”

  “What’s with the hair?” Levi turns his head toward me and I notice how pretty his eyes are. Bright blue with thick long lashes.

  “I don’t know. Can’t a girl like me fix her hair? Maybe I wanted to look pretty.” I make a crazy face and stick my tongue out.

  Levi laughs. “You’re always pretty, Jess.”

  “Oh, really. Why haven’t you tried to kiss me? Isn’t that what happens when a boy thinks a girl is pretty?” I’m totally messing with him, but also maybe not. I mean, yes, I am messing with him, but there’s a part of my brain that’s looking for any sort of distraction, even if it means turning down a one-way street in the wrong direction.

  “What?” Levi moves away from me slightly.

  “I’m serious. I’ve never kissed a boy. It’s dark out, we’re drinking. If you were into me, wouldn’t that happen?”

  “Um, no, because I know you’re gay.”

  I look at the waning moon. “Yeah, probably. But how do I know if I’ve never tried the other side.” This is a line straight out of Nina’s playbook when she spent all my seventh-grade year questioning me and I spent all my time being pissed off at her. But my mouth is talking without much input from my brain apparently.

  Levi shrugs and he’s so red I can see it even in the moonlight. “I mean, I could if you want. But, I, uh, haven’t kissed that many girls so I might not make a good impression.”

  The alarm dings on my phone. A warning that we better go if we’re going to get back before my mom starts freaking out. I suck up the last of my Slurpee before answering. “I’m sure you’re a natural, Levi.” Then I lean over and kiss him on the cheek for fun. “Come on, I’ve got to get home.”

  I walk across the field to the barn on unsteady legs. Levi shuffles up beside me.

  “You were joking, right?” he asks.

  “One hundred percent.” The only person I want to kiss is gone, gone, gone.

  20

  Then: Brown-Eyed Birds

  “I can’t believe that’s all the homework you have.” Cheyanne rolled her eyes. “I want this to be over so I can be gone far away from Grady High School. At least until after winter break.” Cheyanne and Vivi’s textbooks were strewn across the table in preparation for first semester exams.

  “There are some advantages to not being an honors student, oh wise ones.” I grabbed a handful of popcorn and halfheartedly turned the pages of my history book.

  Vivi smacked the top of my hand with her pen. “That doesn’t mean you can’t study. You still have to get your GPA up if you’re going to get into State.” That was Vivi’s newest thing. Since my wood duck ink drawing had made it into the finals of the contest, she was convinced I could get into some fancy graphics program at NC State. Mostly because that’s where she planned to go. It made me smile, because it meant Vivi saw us staying together all the way through high school. I was 100 percent okay with that.

  I groaned for effect, though. “Both of you, total overachievers. We’re not even done with sophomore year yet.”

  “Details. Simply details.” Cheyanne started slamming her books shut.

  “Where are you going?”

  “My hair is not like this on a whim.” Cheyanne had her sleek hair twisted into an elaborate series of spiral braids worthy of Cinderella’s ball.

  “Oooh, do tell,” Vivi said.

  I crossed my arms and rocked back in my tall kitchen chair. “It’s not like that, Vivi. She’s probably got to go to her brother’s violin recital.”

  Cheyanne narrowed her eyes at me. “I’ll have you know, it is like that.”

  I uncrossed my arms and kicked my chair down so all four of its feet were on the ground again. “It is?” I had to admit I was surprised.

  “Well not like that, like that. It’s simply an outing, but I wanted to look nice.”

  Vivi clasped her hands to her cheeks and leaned forward on her elbows. “Spill.”

  “Okay.” Cheyanne organized her books into her backpack. “Remember how I told you that Mr. Lunesto recruited some band kids to join the orchestra class?”

  We nodded.

  “Well, there’s this guy. He plays string bass, too. I agreed to go to a jazz concert with him.”

  “More,” Vivi said.

  Cheyanne tugged the zipper shut. “His name’s Levi. He’s actually a really good musician. Said his grandmother was a nightclub singer and played the piano. Anyway, he’s cool and sort of shy and I said okay because it’s a band I’d like to hear and there’s no way my parents would let me go alone.”

  “You have a date?” I was shocked.

  “No. We’re going as friends. That’s it.”

  Vivi pointed at Cheyanne’s hair. “That’s a date do.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told the two of you. Even my closest friends just do not get it sometimes. Can I not go out for a night of music with a fellow music-lover and have that be all it is? Why does the world feel the need to pigeonhole me into some age-old stereotype of girl meets boy, or girl, then it’s all Cheyanne and whomever with a baby carriage?”

  Vivi leaned against me and grinned at Cheyanne. “Our little Chey has a date.”

  Cheyanne hoisted the massive bag on her shoulder. “It is NOT a date.”

  “Uh-huh.” I winked to let her know I was only kidding around.

  Cheyanne walked to the front door.

  Vivi called after her. “You know we’re teasing you. Enjoy the music.”

  All we got was a raised middle finger as Cheyanne walked out. We watched her leave through the window. Lucky girl had gotten a car for her sixteenth birthday. Not a new car, but it had four wheels and gave her freedom. She got in it and started to back out.

  I turned to Vivi. “Have you . . . ?” I’d never asked her this. Fear of the answer, maybe?

  “Have I what?” Vivi chewed her pencil in a distracted sort of way as she returned to staring at her American history book.

  “Wanted to date a guy.” It was stupid, but I got nervous waiting for her answer.

  Vivi looked up and smiled. “Well, first. I have a girlfriend. And we are in love. And I don’t plan on ever leaving her. But, if I were in an alternate world where I hadn’t fallen head over heels for you, I might consider it.”

  “What?” I acted shocked, but wasn’t really. Vivi was one of those bighearted, open-minded kind of people and if Vivi had to classify herself, I felt pretty sure she’d say it was all about the person, not the gender.

  “Alternate world, not this one. What about you?”

  “Please.” I scoffed. “Never.”

  Vivi sat up at that. “Really. You’re so absolutely sure? You’re not at all curious.”

  “About dating a guy?”

  “Yes.” Vivi tapped her
pen against my hand. “Come on. For serious. You’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be with a guy?”

  “I think it’d be gross is what I think. I cried when my mom told me how babies were made. Told her I NEVER wanted that to happen to me. Are YOU curious about being with a guy?”

  Vivi huffed out a breath. “Stop. I see you getting your feathers ruffled. We are having a theoretical conversation, not a planning meeting.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She shut me up with a kiss. “I’m sure. Besides . . .” She winked. “They make substitutes for you to satisfy my curiosity.”

  That really shut me up.

  It’d be weird though if I didn’t wonder about the whole male-to-female mechanics. Maybe not curiosity about the physical part, but the societally accepted part. My mom, though totally cool with Vivi, worried about my lack of a father figure. She had mother guilt that my life would somehow be more difficult because of my sexuality. Nina complained that because I was gay she didn’t get the full sister package, there would always be some woman that mattered more to me than her. And then society, for as much as things had progressed over the years, there were still plenty of people who only saw the word sinner stamped on my forehead. It would be so much easier if I could like guys.

  Vivi pointed to the dogwood tree in the front yard. “See those dark-eyed juncos?”

  Beady-eyed petite brown birds hopped around the branches, a constant flow of landing and leaving.

  “Yes.”

  “They have a very strict social hierarchy. But as humans we have choices. Why would you want to limit yourself with labels? Say something happened to me and the next right person was male, not female, or even someone fluid, you’d limit yourself because of gender?”

  I thought about it, but knew the answer. I’d never feel for guys the way I felt for girls. Just like Cheyanne would probably never want the romantic kind of relationship most people expected her to have.

  “Yeah, I think I would. I mean, if I wanted a relationship like this.” I pulled Vivi’s chair closer to mine and put my mouth on the side of her jawline and kissed the smooth skin covered in the finest mist of down.

  Vivi’s smile arced into my touch as I kissed up the side of her cheek and worked my mouth slowly to her lips. I brought my hands to Vivi’s sides and pulled her closer. Kissing Vivi was like breathing. Necessary and life-giving. “You see,” I said as Vivi softened against me, “I’m a girl’s girl.”

  “Lucky me” had been Vivi’s answer.

  21

  Now: Two Weeks, Four Days After

  “Lucky me,” I whisper under my breath as I walk into McGovern’s room and try to ignore my hangover and the memory of the asshole at the community center. Chuck Norris greets me with a stare and an asinine comment. “When Chuck Norris crosses the street, cars look both ways.” I plop my bag down on the desk behind Deuces and slide into the seat. “Hey, man.”

  I get an icy breeze in return.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  He twists in his seat. “I told you there was nothing I was going to do to jeopardize getting this cuff off”—he points at his ankle monitor—“and you had to go and pick a fight at my pool table? Monte was pissed, getting in my face, threatening to call my probation officer because I invited you to come hang at the hall. You emasculated him. You’re lucky he didn’t pull a knife on your skinny ass.”

  “God, don’t be such a wad.” The anger volcano flashes in my head but I hose it down. I shouldn’t have done anything to put him at risk. Though that guy did grope me. What was I supposed to do, just let it go? If Deuces isn’t going to speak to my right to defend myself, I’m not going to sit by him and help with his English homework. I grab my bag and move over by Levon.

  “Sup, milkshake.”

  “I’m human not liquid.”

  Levon grins. “You’re tight. I like you. How was the J I gave you? Good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re going back to the big school, right? You want to go into business with me and my brother? We could use a girl on the inside. Easy to hide stuff inside a makeup bag. Hook people up on the sly.”

  I’m about to circle my face with my hand and explain that this girl doesn’t carry a makeup bag when McGovern slams through the door, a huge Circle K Styrofoam cup in one hand, a bear claw in the other, and his tattered marine corps carry bag over his shoulder. “Fucking fine day, miscreants, now shut the hell up so I can take roll.”

  Levon’s still waiting on my answer. “What do you say? Are you in?”

  I definitely need a job, but with a mom studying to be a lawyer, something legal is way more in my wheelhouse. But then I wonder, did I manifest this opportunity?

  “I’ll think about it,” I say. “Still three more weeks to go before I make my escape.”

  “Don’t think too long, opportunities like this don’t come along every day. The pay’s sick. Easy money.”

  “Perez.” McGovern’s voice booms and I snap my head up, worried he’s caught wind of what we’re talking about, but he’s just checking our names off on his computer.

  “Here,” I reply.

  “Tell you what,” Levon’s whispering again. “I got a sample package fixed up for you in my bag. You take it for free. Don’t sell them for less than ten dollars, anything you make above that, you keep. See how long it takes you, then decide. Bet you can make fifty dollars in an hour or less.”

  This time when McGovern yells my name, he’s pissed. “Perez, you said you were going to be no trouble. You’re not doing much for your cause. Shut it. Do that work your teachers sent over. Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” I walk over to the folder that’s been deposited in the slot with my name on it and grab the packet of worksheets and review quizzes that have been sent over from the school. “I’m on it.”

  Becoming a drug dealer on a Thursday is perhaps one of the stupider decisions I could make in my short time here on the planet, but I could use some cash. If McGovern wants to lump me in with these guys, I might as well do something to get lumped. Except Deuces is a prime example of why I shouldn’t even think about it. Not to mention how Vivi would probably bring a flock of ass-whooping angels down to whip me into shape. When I slip back into my desk, I lean forward. “Thanks, man, but I’m going to pass.”

  Levon scowls, then shrugs and goes back to the math worksheet he’s pretending to attempt.

  That afternoon, when I leave the building and turn on my phone—totally not worth it to risk cell phones with McGovern and Chuck Norris staring me down—there’s a text from Cheyanne.

  —I thought you might want to know that deadlines are approaching for some schools.

  I have a choice. I could text her back, say I’m sorry, get on with it. Be back to the Jess who was Vivi’s girl, Cheyanne’s best friend, and loving daughter to Ellie, sister to Nina. But I hate the world right now. I hate it so hard I wish I could be a supervillain and burst random cars into flames. Cars with entire families. Moms. Dads. Little children. Even the family dog. The world forgets to wash its hands. The world forgets there are people out there with asthma, who might touch the same doorknob, and then die, all because you didn’t wash your damn hands. And for some reason, Cheyanne with her “I’m grieving, too” and her “Vivi would want this” and her “Let’s get on with the business of getting Jess over it” is the last person I want to be around.

  No. If I text her back I’m liable to push her so hard and so far, I’ll never hear from her again. I’m smart enough, and have had enough therapy, to realize that would be a mistake. I need to wait until I’ve made sense of myself. If she’s really my friend, one day she’ll understand. And forgive me for being such a dick.

  My phone buzzes and I’m about to turn it off but it’s my mom.

  —Don’t ride the bus. I’m picking you up.

  Immediate guilt sets in. I got home on time last night, and she’d stayed in her room when I’d yelled to announce my presence, so there’s no wa
y she knows I was drinking again—and on a school night. But the guilt is there anyway. I know I’m messing up in a hundred little ways. Every minor step on this post-Vivi path is taking me deeper into some dark spiral, but I don’t want to stop. If I have to feel, I want it to burn me from the inside out, not drown me with suffering. I think about Nina’s concerns. I’m not that girl, am I?

  I text back, Ok

  She shows up ten minutes later, looking sharp in her black linen pantsuit.

  “Hey.” I throw my bag in the back and climb into the front seat, buckling before she pulls away from the curb. “Shouldn’t you still be at work?”

  “They let me leave early for this.”

  “This?” My suspicion rises.

  “Jess, you can’t get in fights, get suspended, and expect no action on my part. If you don’t want Samantha to help us find another therapist, fine, but I think a grief group would be good for you.”

  “Mom.” I reach for my seat belt like I’m going to get out.

  She hits the safety lock button and glares in my direction. “It’s a group, Jess. At the VA. It’s for kids who’ve lost their parents. I know you feel like you worked through losing your dad, but losing Vivi has to bring it back up, and maybe you can help some of these younger kids, and have a moment to breathe through your current situation. Please. Give it a chance.”

  It’s not like I have a choice unless I jump out and run at the next traffic light but she’s already put a stop to that. Besides, she might have a point.

  “You’re the boss.”

  Mom looks at me and I can tell she wants something more but I slump in my seat and stare out the window. My life has gotten so fucked in such an impossibly short span of time. The flare of anger burns again and this time I’m mentally bursting Vivi into flames. Her dying was never part of our plan. Why did she have to die? What was she thinking?

  I carry my anger with me down the overbright hall of the VA, into the double doors of the recreation room where the grief group is being held. Then it deflates. These are little kids. Seven, eight, nine maybe. They’re squirming in their chairs or curled into the beanbags placed every so often in a wide circle. The therapist is a guy in his forties or so and he looks a little bit like how I imagine my dad might look now. How’s that for a mind fuck?