Up With The Crows

by Zoe Parker

  The black feather flutters down and lands right on the back of my hand, perfectly balanced and beautiful in its multiple colors. It’s in that second I realize, this feather saved my life. If I hadn’t been chasing it, I’d be as squished as my poor car. With an unsteady hand I pluck it up and wrap it in a tissue. I have a hard-sided glasses case in my purse specifically for these types of situations. Focusing on this task is the only thing that keeps me from breaking down and becoming a complete blubbering mess.

  After getting my statement, the cops start their investigation. I step back and let them do their thing, fighting the urge to kick the truck a few times. I’m glad there wasn’t a barrage of questions, because my brain is a bit foggy and the idea of having to think too hard makes me sick to my stomach. So does looking at my poor car.

  This is the final nail in the coffin of me becoming a stripper. I’ve tried to avoid it as long as possible, but I’ve missed the only other interview that I might have actually gotten hired from.

  While I stand there—accepting that I’ll be wearing a lot of glitter baby oil and thongs—staring at the train wreck of my morning, the driver is taken away in an ambulance. He’s going to be fine, but his company wants him checked out in case. The representative that came out made sure that I have his insurance information in my numb hands. They’re paying for everything, but the process will take time they said, so not even a rental car will be provided. The tow truck pulls up to take away what’s left of my car. It feels like that’s what’s left of my life, too. Hurriedly, I dig anything I need out of it. My gym bag that’s tucked under the seat, some keepsakes that I can’t replace and the paperwork.

  Then my car is moving away, on the back of a flatbed truck to become another crushed square of metal in some far away junk yard.

  The harsh caw of a crow pulls me from the tunnel of blackness that I see in my near future. Frowning, I turn to the trees behind me and find it sitting on the edge of a branch, its head cocked to the side and eyes on me. A foreign urge to move and see if it really is looking at me causes me to step to my left. Unerringly, its head follows me. That’s weirdly cool.

  “Is this your feather, girl?” I’m not sure what makes me ask it, but who cares if anyone sees me talking to a bird, I do it all the time. Another harsh caw and it hops down the bench directly in front of me. Cawing again it lifts into the sky and then circles around me, so close I swear I feel the brush of feather tips on my face.

  I’m completely nuts in thinking that the damn thing wants me to follow it. Standing there debating it, the first drops of rain fall on my upraised cheek. The noise the circling crow makes this time resembles laughter. Snarky bird. Fine, let’s top off a crazy day with me following a bird through the streets. As if sensing my decision, the crow leisurely takes off west of me, towards the outskirts of town.

  With a sigh I follow, what else can I do?

  Following the mysterious crow is an adventure, that’s for sure, and every time I fall behind she—because it feels like a she—circles back around to get me. Onwards we walk through the town’s outskirts weaving in and out of the wooded areas like we’re walking in a maze. To a bird, maybe we are. Looking down on all of us human rats in our miserable mazes of life. Walled in by—Oh, Jesus shut up, Mel.

  Smirking at the tone of my “common sense voice,” I can’t help but keep the smile on my face as I follow my new companion. Depression has been my friend for so long, that it’s nice to think that maybe for a little while—especially after what happened today—I can feel a different way. Do something other than worry about tomorrow.

  Watching her circle above me, then swoop down and land on a stone pillar pulls my attention to the building the pillar is in front of. It’s a right creepy place, I can’t deny that. The walls are almost a cathedral color brown, with stone column at each corner and an arch as a doorway. I’m pretty sure there are stone gargoyles on top of the building as well. They look like any other stone gargoyle you see on a building, except these ones are smiling. A tall black cast iron fence guards the front of it with a bit of a saggy look to it. This place has a definite aura of gloom to it, but that doesn’t matter to me.

  What does matter is the now hiring sign in the window.

  Looking back at the crow I ask, “Did you bring me here because I need a job?” Her answer is that laughing caw.

  Now I’m back to the beggars can’t be choosers bit. Patting my wet hair down as much as possible, I straighten my damp jacket as I stroll through the open gate with a lot more confidence than I’m feeling. I mean, come on… the bird’s feather saved my life and then she brought me here, something miraculous is going to happen. Hopefully it’s not a plane falling out of the sky onto my head. Or a nuclear bomb or a world-destroying comet that no one saw until ten minutes ago.

  TV has made me super paranoid about the impending end of the world. I even have a zombie apocalypse plan, written down and everything, if this gives any idea of what level I’m on with it.

  Pausing at the front door, I take one last look at the building that’s absolutely a bB-rated horror movie scene in the making, and go in.

  Chapter Four

  Some tribes of birds will relieve and rear up the young and helpless, of their own and other tribes, when abandoned.

  William Bartram

  The first thing I notice is that the outside and the inside don’t match at all. The walls are an awful puke green with shit brown diamonds on them. The scheme and décor are straight out of a seventies sitcom that I remember watching as a kid. It clashes with the floor that’s blindingly white, and not a single mark or pattern mars its eye piercing uniformity. Every time I look down at it, I can see my face clearly reflected. Whoever cleans this place does one hell of a job, I hope they pay them well, and I also hope that if this is the job that’s available, they don’t expect me to be this good at it.

  A small curl of dread flutters through my stomach. I have no idea what this job is, my brain semi-deserted me while I followed the crow here. Christ, I followed a bird here. My steps falter, as I lean a clammy hand against the ugly wall. What in the world possessed me to pursue a bird like it’s a reasonable thing to do? The shock of everything?

  Maybe it’s the fact that you never do anything fun, Mel.

  There’s that inner snarky voice again, minus the logic this time. The fact that it’s telling the truth doesn’t change that I still followed a bird around without questioning it. Straightening, I wipe my sweaty palm on my wet pants and say the most important phrase I’ve said today.

  Fuck it.

  Eyes on the door ahead of me I ignore my noisy shoes and the fact that I’m scuffing up their floor, I hike my purse higher on my shoulder and when I get to it, open it without turning around to run like I want to. Inside of the room is a massive amount of potted plants and a single desk. Seated at the desk is a severe looking lady with her blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun. She’s somewhat normal looking considering what the rest of this place looks like. However, the look of shock on her face and her gaping mouth make me question things a bit.

  Clearing my throat, nervously I say, “Hi, are you still hiring?”

  Like a fish gasping for breath out of the water, her mouth opens then closes. After doing this several times, it closes with a snap. She attempts an awkward smile that resembles a grimace more than anything. Straightening the papers in her hand with a tap on the top of the desk she stands and smooths a hand down her tan skirt.

  “You can see me?” she asks.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I fight to keep my face straight.

  “Uh, yes?” I say it hesitantly, not sure why I wouldn’t be able to see her.

  “Well, then. Yes, we’re still hiring.” With a lot more confidence she sits back down in her chair and waves for me to come closer. Acting as if she hadn’t been gawking at me seconds before and asking me if I can see her.

  “Can I ask what the position is?” I ask.

  Her blue eyes, bright in her pa
le face, pin me to the spot. “The position is several rolled into one. A dietary aid, a housekeeper, and a nurse aid just to name a few of the tasks. It’s a hard job, is this something you can do?”

  I nod at her, unsure of what will come out of my mouth if I open it.

  “Fantastic. You’re hired.”

  Wait, what?

  “Just like that?” I can’t help but add, “I didn’t tell you my name yet.” She smiles and hands me a stack of papers and then rustles around in her desk drawer. She gives me a brown bag with what feels like clothes in it.

  “It doesn’t matter; you’re perfect for the job.” I think the smile she gives me is supposed to be reassuring but fails miserably. “Be back here at four p.m. sharp for your first day of work tomorrow. You work twelve-hour shifts five days a week and will be adequately compensated.”

  Wow, that’s a lot of hours but hours I need.

  “How much per hour?”

  “Does $25 sound fair to you?” 25? Good God.

  “Did you just say $25 dollars an hour?” I ask stupidly.

  “Fine, 35.”

  “Benefits?” I squeak out, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from repeating her words again.

  “Full coverage. You’ll be provided a card tomorrow, and the benefits are effective immediately. I suggest you wear the uniform in the bag. Our patients tend to be messy.”

  “Patients?” Crap, this is some type of hospital?

  “Yes, this is an asylum, hum—er, girl. Now, be here on time tomorrow.” Feeling dismissed I turn and walk back down the pukey colored hallway. Once outside I look around and notice the hiring sign is gone. Creepy building, yes. Crazy house, yes. $35 bucks an hour, yes. It takes everything I have not to jump up and down in excitement.

  The caw of the wonderful bird who brought me here pulls my gaze upwards.

  “You’re freaking awesome!” Smiling, feeling like the weight of the world is no longer pressing on my head I turn and begin the long walk home. I don’t even care when it starts raining again.

  An hour later, I care a lot about the rain. My clothes are sopping wet, and my shoes are now in pieces, I lost the sole off one a half-mile back. The worst part is I still have around 2 miles to go. Thankfully I made good time this far, and I’ve at least had a companion for the walk. The crow is still flitting around somewhere, calling out to me occasionally from the trees.

  The papers the secretary gave me, or whatever her title is, are tucked inside the paper bag under my shirt as protected from the rain as I can make them. I fight the urge to check, which will surely get them wet, and make myself keep walking. My purse is tucked under my armpit and will remain there until I can get out of the rain. While my phone is gripped tightly in my hand with my sleeve over it, thankfully, I had enough brains to get a mostly water proof cover for it when I bought it. The cover cost more than the phone, but it paid for itself a long time ago. I drop my phone all the time, especially on my face when I’m trying to read. I’m not exactly the most coordinated person when it comes to some things and the more protection I can give it the better. It’s not like I can afford to replace things every month.

  Well, I might be able to if I can keep this job. Because $35 bucks an hour! The first paycheck will be more than I’ve made in a month, no, more than that at some of my other jobs. Even more really. It’ll be enough to fill my small fridge with groceries and get the boys some snacks. Maybe I can also get them that new combination cage? Hell, I could buy a car. The thing saving me now is I can take the bus until I get one… my great idea dies a quick death. I don’t have a bus pass because I always used my Mom’s—that I’m pretty sure she bought for me—which means I can do one of two things. I can sell a kidney, or I can ask my mother to loan it to me. Also, ask for some food, I need to be able to eat. That’s three things, not two.

  Ugh, I’m such a bad daughter.

  The caw of the crow pulls me out of the hole of “I’m screwed” and to the larger-than-normal bird above me. I’m guessing she’s someone’s pet, she’s too acclimated to people for it to be otherwise. I’ll look in the lost pet ads when I get home, not that I haven’t thought of keeping her around if she’ll let me but if she belongs to someone—I’ll do the right thing and make sure she’s reunited with her owner. I’ll deal with that when I get to it.

  Thankfully, the rain has finally let up so now she’s flying above and slightly in front of me, instead of hiding in the trees. Smiling, I realize that I need to give her a name, something that suits her. Such a clever bird deserves a name, even if it’s a temporary one. The first name that pops into my head is Morrigan, but I discard it. It doesn’t feel right. I love reading mythology and folklore, seeing how people once thought about the world has always intrigued me.

  Most mythology ends in tragedy and one such story involving a crow, jumps to mind. Koroneis. For a time before the owl, she was a short-lived companion for the Goddess Athena. However, Koroneis doesn’t fit her. Athena strikes me as a better choice, so that’s what I’ll call her.

  “What do you think of the name, Athena?” I ask out loud—that caw of laughter echoes behind her. That’s settled then; she likes the name.

  As I pass the sign with the name of our housing development, “Dark Meadows” in faded golden letters, I can’t help but exhale in relief. I’m almost home, thank God. Today has been the strangest day ever, seriously, and I’ve had some weird days. My car was smashed by a truck, I followed a crow to a creepy building that ended up netting me a job, and then I walked all the way home in the rain.

  Yeah, totally fucked up day but at least one thing turned out successful. Smiling at the absurdity of it, I see my Mom too late to stop from bumping into her.

  Shit, “Hey Mom.” The look on her face tells me some type of lecture is incoming which sucks because I want to get out of my wet clothes and destroyed shoes. After I feed the boys, I plan on curling up with a book and my empty stomach.

  “I was worried sick about you! The insurance company of the truck who hit you called to let me know that the car would be totaled out and they’ll be giving you full compensation. What the hell happened Mel?” She has her arms crossed, and her brown eyes are now full of the ire that used to spell doom for me as a kid. Shifting nervously from foot to foot I mull over what to tell her. The look on her face softens, and she gently grasps my elbow.

  “When is the last time you’ve eaten?” The concern in her voice is thick and my undoing.

  Tears immediately start pouring out of my eyes, the whole emotional crier thing kicking in and I manage to get out, “I borrowed some cheese and bread and had a sandwich this morning.” I can’t lie to her, not when she’s looking at me like that. “I was chasing a feather when the truck hit the car, so I didn’t get hurt,” I say in a rush. “Oh, and I got a job too.”

  I’m pretty sure she almost rolls her eyes at me, I see the beginning of it before she blinks.

  Her eyes don’t miss any details as she looks at me from head to toe, “Go inside and get cleaned up, I’ll order you some take-out,” she says, and my growling stomach loudly answers her. “Mel, you have to stop having so much pride. It’s going to starve you to death.” Lightly squeezing my arm, she turns away and walks into the house. Staring after her a moment I frown. She gave in way too quickly and I know it’s not the snotty tears, those have been a regular thing my entire life—I’m pretty sure she’s immune at this point.

  Wait, did she offer to get me take-out?

  The cry of Athena close by pulls me out of my thought stupor and I hurry to unlock the door and head inside. The boys put up a ruckus as I kick off my shoes at the door and slip on the dry, comfy slippers. Comforting them, I tell them about my day as I take care of their food and water while unlatching their cages to let them out to run around a bit. Thinking of Athena, I cross to the only small window in the building. Opening it, I place some bird seed on the sill and call for her.

  The boys can’t get to the window, so I’m not worried about them g
etting out.

  Needing to be warm and clean I take a quick shower and bundle up in my worn but comfortable pajamas. Grabbing my phone, which I read on, and my charger I curl up on my inflatable bed and merely lay there a minute enjoying it. When Athena lands on the sill with a flutter of wings, I give her a look, and she makes that laughing caw then proceeds to ignore me to eat the seed.

  The boys all hop towards her stopping on the closest rope across the room to huddle together and silently stare at her. In the wild, she’d eat them, and maybe they know this given the way they’re all posed like a group of gawkers. Their beaks are even hanging open in shock. Unable to help myself I snap a picture of them with my phone. This is one of those moments in life that you can’t reproduce and want to remember forever.

  The knock at the door makes me about jump out of my skin, laughing at my reaction I climb out of my snug nest and open the door with a smile of anticipation on my face. I love Chinese food. It’s probably my favorite food and my mouth waters from the thought of eating it. A lot of it. The sight on the other side of the door rips the smile right off my face. My Mom is standing there holding a paper bag—which contains my food—and in the other hand holding up an old bicycle—the one I had when I was a teenager.

  “Mom?” I ask.

  “Here’s your food,” she says, handing me the bag and the envelope in her right hand. Frowning, I take them both and look apprehensively at the bicycle. I’m not much for them, I wasn’t then, and I’m not now, it doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s dug it out of the basement, either.

  She plans on me riding the thing to work.

  “I thought since you don’t have a car until they send us the check to get you another, you might want to ride your old bike. It’s reliable and doesn’t require anything but your legs to use it.”