by Ka Newborrn
“Go on,” she shooed. She eyed the pitiful state of his brown leather shoes, snapped her gum and turned her attention back to the small television resting on top of her space heater.
He walked ahead carefully to avoid tripping over the partly-detached soles of his shoes. A small object glittered in the hallway outside the elevator banks. He knelt down to examine it. It was a blue diamond. He held firmly in his fingertips and held it up to the fluorescent ceiling bulb. It dazzled in the gray green light. He put in in his pocket and called the elevator.
He exited on the third floor, followed the sound of music to Harold’s apartment and knocked on the door. It swung open on its own. The entranceway was illuminated by colorful strobe lights and littered with clusters of people drinking from plastic cups.
He pushed his way into the living room and looked around. Mixed media depictions of the Philadelphia skyline made out of cardboard, glow-in-the-dark poster paint and shellacked breakfast cereal hung from the walls. Others were painted directly onto the lime green cinder bricks and gained texture from an abstract collage of magazine scraps. Above his head, aluminum foil mobiles in the shape of crescent moons, planets and stars hung from the ceiling.
On the left side of the room, more guests sat on a weathered couch, talking animatedly. A mirrored medicine cabinet door rested, knob up, on top of the coffee table. A rolled up dollar bill was perched next to it.
There was a karaoke machine in the right corner, and a table where Harold stood and sang along to Snap!’s The Power. He wore a black spandex minidress with exaggerated shoulder pads and galosh buckle closures. Between verses, he pursed his scarlet lips together and blew kisses at the cheering crowd.
A small, lustrous object caught the light at his feet. He bent to his knees and gripped it in his fingertips. It was a champagne colored pearl. He raised it to his nose. It smelled of violets.
An irate voice screamed from the doorway.
“Goddammit, Harold!”
He turned in the direction of the voice. The woman attached to it eyed Harold up and down angrily.
Another object sparkled on the ground in the direction of the glass doors leading out to the patio balcony. He tried to appear nonchalant as he bent down to pick it up. It was another blue diamond.
“Karen!”
Harold abandoned his karaoke performance and leapt from the table. He jumped into the woman’s arms, wrapped his legs around her waist dramatically and inadvertently splashed his beer all over the onlookers.
He picked up another pearl and followed a trail to the patio. She was standing with one leg inside the apartment and the other outside of the glass doors. Her brown shoulders were draped in wisps of gauze and her legs were covered in soft denim. Pearls and diamonds leaked from her spiraling coils and ignited into prisms. She shifted her focus back and forth between the aluminum foil mobiles hanging from the apartment ceiling and the stars in the sky outside.
She felt his eyes on her and turned to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak and swallowed instead.
“Bullshit! I’m totally generous!” Karen shrieked above the music. “I’m not being a bitch, Harold! I totally don’t mind if you borrow my dresses. I just wish you’d fucking ask first!”
He ignored the pitifully worn condition of his shoes and strode purposefully towards her. The sole of his left shoe detached completely, causing him to trip and fall on his face. The party guests turned in his direction. Flames of embarrassment lapped at his cheeks.
She watched the scene unfold for a moment before walking over.
“Are you hurt?”
He rolled from his stomach to his back and looked up at her. “I don’t think so.”
She stood in front of him and silently removed her shoes, revealing freshly manicured, opalescent toenails. Then she walked out of the glass doors and onto the balcony outside. He stood, removed his shoes, gathered up the traces of his pride and joined her.
They didn’t speak as they stood next to each other and watched the first snow of the season. Flakes of myriad patterns swirled through the landscape and dusted the streets below as if agitated by an unseen hand.
Bela finally broke the silence.
“They look like powdered sugar.”
“A good listener can hear them breathing.”
Bela thought it over for a moment. “What are you, some kind of pagan?”
She didn’t answer.
“Well. Try not to feel too bad. We’ll make a new religion. How about Barefoot and Powdered?” He made the sign of the cross, clasped his hands together and tried to catch a snowflake with his outstretched tongue. “Oh, and that was nice of you to take your shoes off for me.”
“I prefer my bare feet.”
“When you get tired of listening to snowflakes, will you go out to see some music with me?”
“You see music, too?”
He raised his hands disarmingly. “I promise I won’t drink from my fingerbowl. If you died of a soap overdose I could never forgive myself.”
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
1979
Calvin
Calvin found a dead hummingbird in the landscaped maze beyond the house while raking leaves with his father on a chilly Halloween morning.
He leaned his weight against his toy rake and stared at the corpse. To his six-year-old perception, its brightly-colored foliage was far too beautiful to be associated with death, so it had simply chosen this peaceful, random spot for a nap. He gathered up the courage to move in closer and gently clasped his hands behind his back in an attempt to remain as respectful as possible.
The diminutive bird was surrounded by a mosaic of autumn leaves in shades of garnet, topaz, citrine, and amber. He exhaled and watched his frosted breath shroud the corpse in a smoky mist that trailed outward towards the grove of oaks, past a handful of wild apple trees, and beyond the withering vestiges of rose bushes, violets, and morning glories that his mother had abandoned earlier that year. A sudden gust of wind brought forth the perfumed scent of green wood, dried petals and crisp Winesap apples. Calvin believed he could also detect a subtle trace of fear.
It lingered in the air and brushed past the surface of Calvin’s woolen locs, lightly stroking the back of his ears. He inhaled it unknowingly and slowly walked backward to escape the instinctive knowledge of stumbling upon something he could sense and smell but never see or touch.
A jackdaw perched at the south end of the turreted roof caught a whiff of it and cawed mockingly in response. Calvin turned slowly to face it. It circled a few times on its scaly claws and shook out its raven wings before flying off with a streamlined, ebony swiftness towards the direction of the knotted oaks.
It wafted through a crack of open window at the west end of the house and into an adjoining bathroom, pausing to admire Jana as she dozed in a bubble-filled tub. Gathering courage, it gently brushed the delicate veins of her eyelids. Emboldened by a sense of unrequited longing, it slid under the iridescent bubbles to nestle up against her. It poked out its belly until it aligned with hers and cradled its head in the space between her breasts. It soothed its fumbling hands against her hips and comforted itself with the sound of her heartbeat, gingerly extending a finger across her inflatable bath pillow to touch the luminous halo of her curious tresses.
She awoke with trepidation, looked cautiously towards the window and instinctively brought her arms to her chest and abdomen to shield her body. The sudden agitation of the water caused the mass of bubbles to separate, exposing an inky-black body of water beneath.
Crackling leaves crunched underfoot as Calvin pulled up the hood of his faded blue sweatshirt and wiped a stream of mucous from his nose with his sleeve. Across the lawn, Russell paused at his rake, wiped sweat from his brow and watched his son lovingly. Calvin knelt down and cradled the hummingbird with his fingers, then carefully placed it on top of a garnet leaf laced with yellow palmate veins.
Fear coursed in Jana’s blood. She pulled the stopper from the drain of th
e tub and grabbed her crumpled terry cloth bathrobe off the floor next to the tub. As the water spiraled down the drain, she ran into the adjoining bedroom and fumbled around for a bottle of pills in the drawer of her nightstand.
Shaking a pill from the neck of the bottle directly onto her tongue, her eyes spotted an open can of Tab and a pack of Chesterfields on the ebony rolltop desk across the room. She ran towards it, clutching her stomach through her bathrobe. With cigarette in hand, she gulped down the last of the soda and stood in front of the window.
Calvin approached the house with the hummingbird cupped in the protective cradle of his fingers. He paused momentarily to watch the image of his mother framed through the second-floor window. Visibly shaken, she turned her back to the sun-warmed panes and listened to the sound of Calvin’s sneakers crunching through the leaves. She inhaled her cigarette deeply.
“Doctor Mommy,” Calvin called as he entered the back of the house through the beveled glass doors. “Doctor Mommy,” he repeated, a bit more authoritatively, tracking dusty footprints across the parquet flooring in the dining room and up the creaky wooden staircase leading to the second floor. Jana sank into the desk chair, her wild eyes fixated beyond the window to the oak grove past the maze. Smoke poured from her nostrils.
A brief knock at the door ensued. The glass knob turned and the door slowly creaked open. Calvin stood in the frame with outstretched palms, urging the corpse towards his mother. “Fix it, Doctor Mommy.” His eyes were wide and innocent.
“It’s dead, honey.” Jana avoided looking at the bird. Her voice was shaky.
Calvin walked into the room and placed the corpse on the desk. “But it’s a baby, Dr. Mommy. You’re a baby doctor. Use your spethacope.”
“Stethoscope." Jana corrected gently. "And Mommy’s not a doctor anymore.” Her voice was mildly impatient.
“It’s a baby!” Calvin stamped his foot. His lip twitched.
Jana placed her elbow onto the desk and held up her brow with the palm of her hand. She stood up suddenly and paced to the bed, kneeling down to pull a small tapestry suitcase out from underneath. “Mommy’s going away on her trip today and she needs to pack. You know that.”
“Why are you going away?” Calvin asked.
“I’ve just been really tired is all,” Jana began. She opened the suitcase and circled the bed. “So I’m going to a retreat. A spiritual one. I need to find my way back to something I lost when I was a girl. I have to decide if I want it to be a part of my life again, honey. I think it might bring me peace.” She looked into her son’s eyes and searched for a glimmer of understanding. “Do you understand?”
She didn’t have to search for very long. “Won’t saving the bird and watching it fly again bring you peace right here?”
“You know it’s dead.”
“Are you sure? Does it have to be? You’re a baby doctor. It’s never too late for you, you can always fix it.” Calvin’s tiny voice boomed with authority. “I know you can still fix it! Help it!”
“Stop it!” she replied too loudly, too harshly. She backhanded the hummingbird off the desk and onto the floor.
Silent tears welled up in Calvin’s eyes. He walked to his mother’s side and wrapped his arms around her protectively. Humiliated, Jana knelt down to her son’s eye level to return the embrace. Overwhelmed by the love that he felt for his mother and comforted by the knowledge that he could both see and touch her, Calvin allowed himself to cry openly. As his mother held him closer and tighter, he forgot all about the hummingbird and the tears he shed were exclusively for her.
Russell’s heavy footfall on the staircase broke the reverie. He paused at the doorway of the bedroom, cheerfully unzipping his hooded sweatshirt. His smile faded at the somber sight of mother and son in mourning. Reminding himself to appear bereaved for the sake of his son and intrigued by his wife’s sudden proficiency as an actress, he bowed his head as Calvin knelt down on the floor and retrieved the hummingbird back to the safety of his cupped palms.
“What is it? Couldn’t you find the stethoscope?” Russell asked his wife. He cleared his throat and playfully raised an eyebrow. Calvin turned his back to his parents and continued to coddle the corpse.
“No, yeah,” she began, avoiding her husband’s eyes. “I, I dropped him. Cal, I’m so sorry I dropped him. I’ll go get the, uh,” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the bureau as she wandered in its direction.
She found the stethoscope rolled up inside an old laboratory coat at the back of the drawer. Like a sacrificial offering, Calvin placed the hummingbird gently upon the desk. Jana held the eartips in place, checked the seals and placed the disk over the tiny body.
A warbling pulse funneled at the bell. Surging through the tubing like a rising streak of mercury, it ignited the latent embers in her heart and erupted into a ball of fire. The fire spread through her chest and traveled rapidly to her fingertips, singeing them upon contact. She shrieked as she dropped the chestpiece. Alarmed, Russell ran to her side and grasped her shoulders.
“Baby! Are you okay?” He cradled his wife’s face with his hands and drew her close. He looked carefully into her eyes. “Are you having an attack? Calvin, bring me the bottle in the…”
“No, no; I’m okay. Please, I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little anxious about the trip.”
She nestled in closer to her husband’s chest, comforted by the safety of his strong, brown arms.
Russell took the stethoscope from his wife and placed it around his own neck. He examined the bird and paused for a few moments before removing the earpieces. “I’m sorry son.”
Calvin looked at his parents and scratched the back of his afro. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” he asked quietly.
Russell took Calvin’s tiny hand into his large one. “Let's have a snack.” He handed the stethoscope back to his wife before placing his hand around his son’s shoulder and leading him gently out of the bedroom.
Tentatively, Jana touched the chestpiece. It was ice cold. She sat motionless in the desk chair and stared at her fingertips.
She opened the suitcase and haphazardly threw in a few articles of clothing. Walking into the adjoining bathroom, she lingered at the window and watched the smoking clouds above the oak trees. Then she went back to the desk, grabbed the stethoscope, and tucked it into her suitcase.
✽✽✽
In the kitchen, Calvin opened the cupboard to retrieve his favorite mug: a piece of hard plastic molded into the shape of Wile E. Coyote’s head. Russell filled it with milk, cleared a space at the cluttered kitchen island for his son and quietly pulled out a chair.
Calvin sat down and sipped thoughtfully. His eyes trailed upward to the chandelier above his head, then shifted to the amber, leaded glass windows in the adjacent dining room. Sunlight poured in, framing his face with an ethereal glow generally reserved for the most precious of heavenly beings.
Russell left the kitchen to leave Calvin alone with his milk and his thoughts but returned a few minutes later with an unfinished pine cigar box and a box of acrylic paints. Lining the island with newspaper, he spread the paints and brushes to Calvin’s right and a cup of water to his left. The boy's eyes were filled with questions as he looked up at his father. Russell rubbed his son's head and left the kitchen to check on Aunt Alice and help his wife with her suitcase.
Calvin watched his father disappear up the staircase and turned back in his chair to give the cigar box his rapt attention. Squinting with concentration, he painted a backdrop of oak trees capped with smoking stratus clouds, and the bereaved bird in profile: green crown, yellow beak, and pale blue body.
Pleased with his progress, he swirled a clean, watery brush into the red paint and carefully dabbed on a ruby throat. He sneezed suddenly. As he brought his sleeve to his face to catch a stream of mucous that escaped from his nose, a slash of watery red pigment dripped from the brush and bled from the bird’s ruby throat into the pristine coolness of the oak trees and stratus clouds. He tilted his
head and reexamined the painting.
In that instant, it occurred to him that his depiction no longer resembled a ruby-throated hummingbird at all but looked like an unidentifiable animal whose throat had been gutted by a predator. He attempted to cover the carnage with an extension of pale blue sky, but the end result was a ghastly, purple bruise that effectively destroyed the essence of what he had originally tried to convey. Huffing with disappointment, he saturated the entirety of the cigar box with an angry swirl of purple. Then he skipped out of the kitchen and into the projection room to watch Villa Alegre.
After the show was over, he returned to the box and the paint was dry. Choosing a silver pigment this time, he seized a brush and carefully printed the word, HONOR across its length in uppercase letters. Satisfied, he ran to the foot of the staircase and called out for his father.
✽✽✽
The sound of a car engine made its way up the driveway. Russell took the stairs two at a time with his wife’s suitcase in tow and opened the front door to greet the driver. Jana, dressed in jeans and a navy fisherman's sweater, trailed a few paces behind.
She knelt down to Calvin’s eye level and tucked her matted curls behind her ears. Her eyes softened at the sight of his beauty as she kissed the top of his head.
“You know that Mommy loves you very much, don’t you?” she asked.
Calvin looked at the faint creases on her forehead. He was startled by the wounds he saw in her eyes. “Yes,” he answered softly. He gently patted her hair.
She hugged him tightly. Her eyes were focused on her knees. “I’m so sorry about the bird Cal,” she choked. “I dropped it. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
She gave him one last squeeze, stood up, and joined her husband at the side of the cab. Russell kissed her goodbye and closed the car door. He returned to his son’s side and felt for his hand. Calvin clasped it wistfully as the cab snaked along the driveway and crunched autumn leaves beneath its tires. It grew smaller and smaller, then gradually disappeared beyond the bend of the gate. They turned away, went back into the house and closed the door behind them.
