The Meaning of Birds

by Jaye Robin Brown

  I kissed her hard then, hoping she could feel the trueness of my love mixed in with the desire. I imagined my lips were hands, pressing and cupping and pulling back to the gentlest feather touch, then diving back, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Vivi responded with her body, arching into me, gripping my hips and opening her mouth to take my wild need until she abruptly pulled away.

  “Stop.”

  “Stop?” I wanted to cry. My lower extremities were on fire and it was all I could do not to stick my hand down my own damn pants and finish what I’d started.

  Vivi scooted up on her elbow. “I don’t want to risk my parents coming home. I want it to be special. Okay, maybe cliché. I want a whole night. Time and space for it to unfold and be beautiful and if we’re going to be together forever, why is there a rush?”

  I spiked between hurt and remorse. “I’m sorry. I . . . It’s just, you make me crazy. Your kisses carve tiny pieces of me and coat them in glitter or gold dust or that perfect organic raw sugar you love so much.”

  Vivi grinned. “Perhaps you should consider a career in poetry if the art thing doesn’t pan out.”

  “Will it get me any further?”

  Vivi’s eyes darkened in a rapid flash.

  I squeezed her hip. “I’m kidding, Vivi. Kidding. I’m okay with waiting.”

  “We’re barely sixteen.” She traced my lips with her finger. “What if we do go further? What if it messes up what we have? My parents aren’t prudes but one of the things they both talk to me about is how sex changes things. That it both deepens the love, but can also create this whole other thing in the relationship to work through and around and with. We don’t live together. We won’t have parental consent. We said we didn’t want to sneak around.”

  I traced the rim of Vivi’s ear with my index finger. “You’re right. We did say that. I agree.”

  “You do? Are you sure?” Vivi rolled the hem of my T-shirt between her fingers and kept her eyes focused there.

  “I’m sure.” I tugged her earlobe to get her to look at me. “But . . . maybe our second anniversary?”

  Vivi cracked up. “Because we’ll be total adults then.”

  “Come on.” I hopped up and pulled Vivi with me. “Let’s get the binoculars and go look at the kingfishers.”

  “Okay.” She pulled me in for one more soft kiss. “Thank you. I know it’s probably not rational, but . . .”

  “Hey.” I cupped her hands in mine. “You don’t have to explain. You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re worth waiting for. Besides, do I look like the kind of girl who’s going to run out and find some other girlfriend just because you have boundaries? I like that about you. Even if it does drive me to eat too many jelly beans and occasionally try to blind myself.”

  “As long as you’re thinking about me while you’re doing those things.”

  “Naked. On the dock. Surrounded by birds, a pair of binoculars in your hand.”

  “Awfully specific, Jess Perez.” Then she giggled. “And duly noted.”

  “A girl can wish.”

  Vivi grinned and my heart tripped over itself. Being with your high school sweetheart forever had to be a real thing.

  As I watched her walk out to the dock ahead of me, I sent a little prayer out into the universe. Please let us be the real thing. Please let us last forever.

  24

  Now: Two Weeks, Six Days After

  I know best friends aren’t necessarily forever. And over the years, I’ve kind of been surprised that Cheyanne even stuck by me between my teasing, the girlfriend relationship with Vivi, and her utter so-much-cooler-than-me factor. But, I miss her. It’s been almost three weeks since Vivi died, and though the black hole of awful still sucks me in at random moments, there are seconds of new normal laid out in between. I’ve composed about twelve different texts to her in my head. What happens if I reach out to Chey and the uncontrollable grief bitch rises up inside of me again? Will I ruin whatever thread is still connecting us? Better not risk it. I lie back on the bed and pull Emma Watson onto my chest. She purrs as I run my palm over the top of her head and only halfway down her back. Any farther and the purr will turn to a hiss and a good swipe at my hand with either teeth or claws. Guess I’m a lot like my cat. Vivi stares at me from my bedside table.

  “What would you do?” I ask the photograph. I’d pulled it back out from the drawer last night. I desperately needed to see her face even though it made me sad.

  I get silence and smiling eyes as an answer. It’s not fair there’s no cell phone to reach the other side. Vivi was not only my girlfriend, she was my other best friend. She’d know what I should do with my life. Cheyanne, school, therapy. Tears well and the cat turns heavy as stone on my heart. I move her to the side and curl into fetal position. When will this feeling stop?

  I hear the house phone ring and my mother’s voice talking, then there’s Nina banging on my door.

  “Get up.”

  The door opens without my invitation.

  “Seriously, Nina? Did I say come in?”

  “I’d be waiting for the rest of my life for that. Mom says get up. Some lady called from your school. Something about . . . blacksmithing? She’s on the phone.”

  That pops me up and out of bed in a heartbeat.

  Mom looks up from the phone, her books spread out on the kitchen table in front of her. “Here, get directions and work out the details. Your sister can take you.”

  “I can’t. I have plans,” Nina whines.

  “You can. And you will. I have a massive read and brief due on Tuesday.”

  “Well, I have work and a date.” Nina plops her hand on her hip as if her stance will make it clear to us her superior importance.

  Mom gives Nina “the look” and I know I’m going. I grab the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, didn’t mean to cause a ruckus.” Greer’s voice echoes through the line.

  “You didn’t.” I glare at Nina so she knows her selfish self was overheard.

  “Your mom was fine with you coming over. Are you up for it? Happy to give you a ride back home if it’s an issue.”

  I downplay my excitement. It still feels wrong. “I could come.”

  “Good. Let me give you the address. GPS should get you here, but you can call if there’s a problem.”

  I scrawl the address and her number on a scrap of the napkin left on the table from Mom’s breakfast. When I hang up, Nina’s still scowling.

  “You have five minutes to get your crap together, because I have to be at work at eleven.”

  “Fine. Don’t be such a wad.”

  “Girls.” Mom taps her pen on her books and we shut up. Mom going back to school to be a lawyer is something we all three agreed was amazing and necessary. Even if it means she’s not available to us much anymore.

  I run to my room to change, grab my phone and a jacket, and meet Nina at her car. Fortunately, Benny calls her within minutes of our leaving and she spends the drive talking on her Bluetooth to him instead of bitching at me.

  “Hey! You made it.” Greer pulls the garden gate open on the side of the house as Nina pulls away without so much as a see-you-later. A massive black-and-tan dog trots over and nudges his block-shaped head under my hand, his tail thwacking against the wooden fence. “That’s Rufus. He’s a big goof.” Greer reaches for his collar to pull him back.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m owned by a cat, but I like dogs, too. Just don’t tell Emma Watson.”

  “The actress?” Greer looks totally confused.

  I rub the dog’s ears. “Nope, my cat.”

  “That is an excellent name.”

  “Yeah.” I nod as I follow her into the backyard. “Vivi thought so, too.” And as soon as the words leave my mouth, the throat lump reappears. I try to swallow it down, but it takes some concentrated breaths and a discreet wipe of my eyes to get back to normal.

  A slender woman who looks like a radder, pixie cut, petite version of Cheyanne pops her head out the back do
or. “Is she here?”

  “Yeah, come meet Jess, the high school student I was telling you about.”

  Greer’s wife walks down the back steps. Their backyard is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. A riot of plants, mosaic concrete pavers, all sorts of metal sculptures, a hammock between two trees, and a mismatched assortment of patio furniture and umbrella tables that create the perfect atmosphere to throw a killer party. At the far end of the yard, a covered carport-type structure houses Greer’s home forge.

  “Hi there. I’m Eliza.” She holds out her hand. I shake it and am surprised by the strength of her grip. “Greer’s been so excited to finally have a girl working with her at the forge.” She winks. “And a gay girl at that.”

  Eliza is super pretty and has these perfect tattoos of swans swimming up and around her arms until they disappear under the sleeves of her retro polka-dotted blouse. When I answer, I feel myself get kind of shy. “Yeah, I was glad for the invite. Thanks.”

  “Well, you two take your tour of Greer’s metal utopia back there and come on in when you get hungry. I picked up Thai food last night on my way home from the studio and there are a ton of leftovers for lunch.”

  “Studio?”

  “I’m a tattoo artist.”

  It’s there again. The flutter of life. The zap of being here on the planet and being excited and alive about something. It’s not fair that I’m meeting this devastatingly cool couple, the picture of how I imagined my future life. It’s all the what-could-have-beens punching me in the gut. But I manage to pull a happy face and hide the sorrow. “That’s really cool.”

  “I like it. Enough about me though, you go have fun. We’ll get more acquainted in a bit.” She waves us off and disappears into the house. Rufus follows me as I follow Greer to the forge.

  “Are these yours?” In the yard are flowers and rabbits and toads made out of metal and planted into the ground on rebar stakes. They’re not typical though. More like twisted yard art babies produced in a marriage between artist Albrecht Dürer and Dr. Seuss. Way different from anything going on at Cabinetworks. An uneasiness settles upon me.

  Greer glances over her shoulder. “Yep. Eventually, if I can get enough galleries to start carrying my work, I might leave Cabinetworks. But for now, this is my side hustle. With both me and Eliza being artists, I have to do the adult thing so we have decent insurance.”

  Artists. Art. Pens. Memories. A college career mapped out by Vivi with our future in mind. I didn’t know Greer was making sculptures. I figured she was making fancier furniture or stuff for fireplaces. Is it too late to catch Nina’s car? This does not mesh with my plan to leave my creativity behind. But I’m stuck here, so there’s nothing to do but take the tour.

  Greer shows off all the scrap metal she’s amassed. Along with her coal forge, she shows me two welders and a plasma cutter, which she swears is the ultimate cool tool. There’s a sandblaster for working the finishes off the metal and in a closed-off workshop room, a small kiln that Greer explains is for adding the glossy color to parts of her pieces.

  “What do you think?” She holds up the body parts of a frog. “You think the guys at Cabinetworks would add it as decoration to the chests of drawers?”

  I laugh, because the frog, though recognizable, is distorted and looks more alien than animal. The furniture at Cabinetworks is straight up mountain-cabin style. “Good luck with that sales pitch.”

  Greer grabs a metal box and pulls a bunch of enamel color tiles out and arranges them in a row. She picks hot orange and fuchsia samples from the pile and places them on the frog. “And these colors, opinion?”

  “Very poison dart frog.”

  “I think it will look great in a bed of zinnias.”

  I nod, not sure which flowers are zinnias, but I guess it doesn’t matter. The colors are wild and would look great in any garden.

  “I’ve got something I wanted to ask you while you poke around in there.” Greer motions for me to look through the scrap heap, which I guess she saw me eyeing as we walked in.

  I pull a rusted chandelier from the pile and turn it sideways. It would work perfect as a flower for Greer’s wild garden creatures. “Sure.”

  “I found out yesterday I got into this art show up in Raleigh and I’m going to have to bust my hump to get enough work together to fill a booth space. Do you think you’d be interested in a part-time job? I suggested James but Liza wasn’t comfortable with the responsibility of dealing with him and a parole officer. But I can tell she likes your energy. Energy is very important to Liza.” Greer laughs.

  I put the metal piece down. “Work for you?”

  “I mean, the money’s not great. I could pay you nine bucks an hour cash, so no taxes taken out. And if you want, I could teach you how to use some of this other equipment. You could even do a few of your own creations for the show as a way to make up for the low pay, if you were into it.”

  I’m quiet for a long minute. I think about Levon’s joint-selling opportunity I passed up and the money I’ve nicked from my mom’s drawer. It would be nice to have a legitimate job. But this place, Greer and Eliza, they’re going to bring up all my sad over and over and over again. I want the job, but I’m not sure I can handle the emotions.

  Greer pushes her ball cap up on her forehead. “Damn. I guess I could go to ten. You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

  “I, it’s not the money, I mean, yeah, ten’s better. But I don’t have a car, and you’re too far for me to ride my bike and my mom works and is in school and my sister is temperamental.”

  “Well, if I could drop you back to nine an hour, and provide your rides, would you consider it? I’m thinking all day Saturdays or Sundays, your choice, and the two afternoons a week you come to Cabinetworks. You could ride home from there with me and work for about three hours. Fourteen hours per week. Cash money. We’d maybe start next weekend?”

  I do a quick calculation—approximately five hundred a month. Maybe I could find a wreck to drive and not have to rely on Nina all the time. And I wouldn’t have to become a drug dealer. And just because I’d be helping Greer with her artwork, didn’t mean I had to do my own. Plus, Mom would be happy I’m involving myself in something other than pints of Ben & Jerry’s and reruns of Kim Possible.

  “Okay,” I say. “Sounds like a plan.” Then, “Wow, I have a job.”

  Greer twists both of her thumbs upward, then motions for me to follow her toward the back door and pulls open the screen. Rufus pushes past us into the house.

  “Well, it’s settled then,” Greer says as she unlaces her work boots. “I’ve got an employee.”

  “And your long wished-for apprentice?” Eliza unfurls her legs from the sofa and I try hard not to stare at the sparrows dancing up her calves. Birds. It’s the tattoo Vivi would definitely have wanted if she’d seen it. This job may gut me.

  Greer props her elbow on my shoulder. “Yep. Going to bring another boss blacksmithing babe into the fold.”

  Eliza claps her hands. “Well, good. Greer needs the help. Are you hungry? Please tell me you’ll help us eat some of these leftovers. I went overboard ordering last night.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Since I’m reliant on them for a ride home, and because Nina rushed me out of the house with no breakfast, I don’t mind sticking around to eat. But sticking around to work? I’m a push/pull of thoughts and emotions. It’s awesome. I can’t. I could be a blacksmith. But the proximity to art? And a couple that reminds me of everything Vivi and I could have been?

  I shove my racing thoughts away and bring up the me who hammers hot iron. Be in the now. Be happy about the opportunity. Be grateful.

  “I’m actually really hungry,” I say. “Thank you.”

  25

  Now: Three Weeks After

  My phone buzzes Sunday after lunch. It’s Levi.

  —You think you could help me later? I’m bombing my English class this semester. Could use a study date.

  I move my phone from one hand to the other and
think before answering. It’s a lot of Levi time. I might have given him the wrong impression under the influence of vodka and Slurpee. I might have given him the wrong impression when I hugged him goodbye after bowling, and he kissed me on the cheek. But the alternative is a night at home, alone, again. Alone is the loneliest place to be.

  Yeah, sure. I have to let my Mom know. Grounded. For studying she’ll say okay, I answer.

  Nina agrees to give me a ride on her way to work. When we pull up, Levi’s standing outside on his porch. Nina leans forward to look at him through the window, then pokes my thigh with her forefinger. “You didn’t say you were studying with a guy. He’s cute. In a down-home kind of way.”

  “It’s not like that, Nina.”

  “It could be like that if you’d open your mind. If you decided to be straight, you’d never have to cheat on Vivi.”

  What’s weird? I’ve had this exact same thought. But it left just as quickly, because you don’t decide to be straight. “Decide? Are you for real?” I reach for the door. “Drop it, okay?”

  She double winks at me as I get out of the car. “Call me if you need a ride home. I should be off work.” Her generosity is only because she’s curious about the situation.

  “Thanks for coming over.” Levi meets me on the bottom step. “My mom has a migraine. She was going to wait up to meet you, but her pills make her sleepy. So we’ve got to be quiet.”

  “Your dad’s gone?” There’s an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Levi’s wearing cologne. He’s standing very near. I feel a little out of control. Study date couldn’t mean date, could it?

  Levi leads me up the steps and opens the screen door, then the front door. His house is the same kind of one-story ranch as mine. Just a little bigger and more lived-in, the difference between a rental and a home. Inside the house smells cleaner than I expected based on the outside. Like pine and bleach. His upright bass occupies a place of prominence in the corner of the living room. On the coffee table, Levi has an old vocabulary book open.