Birdspell

by Valerie Sherrard

  “There’s my handsome son,” she said.

  “Hi Mom. How was your day?”

  “So-so. I’ve been watching some home improvement shows,” she said, taking a small bite of cookie and chewing slowly. “It’s got me thinking.”

  “Oh, yeah? I’m going to get Sitta — you can tell both of us about it.”

  And she did, of course. I nodded and responded autmatically while my mother, who knows nothing whatsoever on the subject, described how she was going to become a freelance home decorator. And make a fortune.

  Being rich is always part of Mom’s fantasies. Strangely, it’s never part of mine, even though we’ve been down to practically nothing more than once. There are quite a few things ahead of wealth on my wish list.

  My thoughts had drifted as Mom continued talking when, suddenly, she jerked upright, slapped her leg, and said, “Things always work out, even when it looks like they’re not going to.”

  I’d have said the opposite. Just not out loud.

  “Remember the gorgeous outfits I bought for my new position at the dry cleaner’s?” she asked excitedly.

  “I remember,” I said, feeling my jaw tighten. It would have been hard to forget.

  After two days as assistant manager, Mom had decided she needed to dress for success. Not so much for the dry cleaner’s position, but because of the bigger and better things she just knew were right around the corner. The final result was a heap of clothes on the floor in her room, gaily tossed there after she’d strutted around, showing off each outfit.

  Even if they hadn’t gotten rumpled, there was no way I could have taken a bunch of women’s clothes anywhere for a refund — supposing I’d been able to find the bags and receipts and figure out what was what.

  “It’s like I knew!” she said now, her eyes lit up and shining. “A premonition or something. Because nobody’s going to hire a decorator who’s not dressed for the part!”

  Kind of like nobody’s going to hire a decorator who’s got zero training or experience, I thought, but didn’t say.

  I pulled myself to my feet and told Mom I was going to make supper. She followed me into the kitchen and sat at the table, talking about her new plan while I put fries and fish sticks on a cookie sheet and stuck it in the oven.

  This was new. Not the upswing in Mom’s energy and emotion, but the pattern. She’d already been up, and she’d slid down. The usual thing after that is she levels out enough to see the doctor and get back on her meds. But up, down, and now back up? I didn’t know what to expect next. That was scary, because I’d always been able to count on, plan on even, the way one stage followed another.

  As I put plates on the table I realized Mom had gone quiet. So, I told her it all sounded great, and she smiled this brilliant, bright smile and resumed talking. As scrambled as the world gets when she’s up, that’s when she feels genuinely happy and energized. Considering how she suffers at other times, it’s impossible not to be glad she at least has that.

  It was also impossible to ignore the fact that we were probably heading toward eviction. Except this time, I made up my mind to try to find out when it might be coming.

  I hadn’t talked to Mike since the night Mom threw him and Mr. Zinbendal out in the middle of dinner. In spite of her threat when he left, I thought he’d probably talk to me, so I took a chance and called him.

  He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he sounded glad to hear from me, even when I told him why I was calling.

  “Can you find out if Mom has enough money in the bank for the rent?”

  “I don’t know, Corbin,” he said slowly. “Your mom only meant for me to access her account in emergencies.”

  “This is kind of an emergency,” I said. “I really don’t want to have to leave here, and I’ve been saving my babysitting money, so if we’re just a bit short on the rent I might be able to make up what’s missing. But if there’s enough, I’ll use my money for other things.”

  Mike hesitated, but then he told me to hang on. I heard tapping at a keyboard and a muttered sound that wasn’t encouraging, and then he came back.

  “There’s just under fifty bucks in there,” he said.

  “Did she already get this month’s child support? And that benefit thing?”

  “Yes. Sorry. They’ve been spent.”

  So. Eviction is almost certainly coming up. We might squeak by if Mom levels out, gets another job, and scrapes up what she owes really quick, but I knew that wasn’t likely. I wondered if there was any chance I could persuade her to look for another place in the same general area if we got kicked out of this building. So I could keep my jobs. So I could stay in the same school. So I could still have the few friends I’d made.

  Izelle and, in a way, Taylor. And Mr. Zinbendal. If we lived nearby it would be easy for me to visit without Mom knowing, if it was okay with him.

  Since Izelle knew about Mom, I decided to alert her to what was coming. Not just because she deserved to know, but because she was someone safe to talk to.

  I waited a few days, until her regular visit with Sitta. Since Mom was in the apartment there was no chance to say anything until the visit was over and Izelle was ready to leave.

  “I’ll walk you downstairs,” I said.

  She glanced at me a couple of times before we got to the lobby. It looked like she was about to ask what was up but, for a chatty person, she managed to wait until I spoke.

  I waited until we were outside, where I could be sure no one else would overhear.

  “You must have noticed my mom hasn’t been doing so great lately,” I said, trying to ease into it.

  “I did,” she said. “Is it very —?”

  “Bad? Yeah. She lost her job earlier in the month and she’s been, well, really struggling.”

  Saying more than that would have felt like a betrayal, so I moved on.

  “Chances are pretty good we’ll be getting kicked out of our apartment soon.”

  “Oh no!” Izelle’s eyes flashed with alarm. And concern. “Do you have any idea where you’ll go if that happens?”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” I said. I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Usually when we move, Mom wants to go to another part of the city. That way she knows she won’t run into anyone who knows what happened.”

  “So I might not get to see Sitta — hardly ever,” she said slowly. Then her head snapped up. “Oh! Corbin, I’m so sorry — thinking about myself when you’ve got all this to deal with!”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking, it would be better for everyone if you found another home for Sitta. Somewhere stable, and where you can keep seeing him. That’s only fair.”

  Izelle stared at me. “Do you want to give him back?” she asked.

  Not even a little bit.

  “Kind of,” I said. “I mean, he’s a great bird and everything, but it’s just one more thing for me to worry about and take care of when things get rough.”

  “Corbin, are you sure?” she asked. Her eyes were so sad. I couldn’t look at her.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve got enough to handle without a pet. Even one like Sitta.”

  “How soon do you want him gone?”

  Never. Never, never, never.

  “The sooner the better,” I told her.

  Thirty-three

  I DID MY BEST to explain the situation to Sitta.

  “You’ll be better off,” I told him. “I mean, you’ve seen what it’s like here. Some days are great, but the bad ones can get pretty dismal. That’s not fair to you, buddy.”

  Sitta helped himself to a piece of baby spinach and ate it with no sign of concern.

  “That’s right,” I said, “you’ll be cool with it. You know how to take things in stride. And don’t worry, Izelle will still get to visit you. So it’s not like you’ll be completely among strangers.�
�

  Unlike me.

  But so what? Being surrounded by strangers was my normal. Why I’d let myself make the mistakes I’d made here on Westlester was beyond me. I knew better than to make friends, get to know neighbors, let people in. The bottom line was, it had always been me and Mom against the world. Because family is the thing that matters the most, and she was all I had.

  I wouldn’t forget that the next time. Classmates and pets and games of cribbage with a lonely old guy across the hall — who needed them? All that does is leave a person feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut when it’s time to walk away.

  I wonder how long it takes for a toddler to forget someone completely. Molly will probably have no recollection of me in no time. It will be like “Cobin” never existed in her world.

  Man, I hope that kid has a great life.

  “Call, call,” Sitta said. He’d probably noticed my focus had drifted. He can be a bit of an attention hog at times, that bird.

  “I told you before, there’s no one to call,” I reminded him.

  “Spell?” he said. It sounded like a question.

  A laugh got out past the lump in my throat.

  “Yeah, a spell is exactly what we need,” I said. “Except, we both know there’s no real magic in the world. If there was, I have no doubt whatsoever you’d be in charge of it.”

  Sitta gave me a nod and took to the air. It’s amazing, how birds lift off, and I watched him make a couple of loops around the room before heading down the hall to see if there was anything new in the rest of the apartment.

  It had felt like a real home for a while. Another mistake I wouldn’t let myself repeat.

  That made me wonder how quick this landlord would be about evicting us. Some were lightning fast, others cut you a bit of slack. Either way, it was close enough to the end that I’d be able to finish the school year at Middling, which was one small thing to be thankful about.

  Izelle let me know a couple of days later that she had arrangements coming together for Sitta.

  “Can you keep him for a bit longer, though?” she asked. “So there’s time to get everything organized?”

  I shrugged. “I guess,” I said, like it didn’t much matter one way or the other. But it annoyed me a bit. What was the big delay? If someone wanted Sitta, they should be excited to get him as soon as possible. I sure hoped Izelle hadn’t found him a home that wasn’t going to appreciate him.

  I didn’t ask anything about it, though. To be honest, I’ve kind of pulled back from being so chummy with Izelle. Not because she’s done anything wrong, but seriously, what’s the point?

  It’s Mom I need to be concentrating on anyway. She didn’t stay “up” very long this time and I’m hoping I’m right about the first drop being brought on by the loss of her last job. It’s going to be hard to handle things if the ups and downs start being unpredictable. You can prepare yourself a lot better if you know what’s coming next.

  Her interior decorating idea folded and faded into nothing in about three days. After that she went back to lying around, staring at the TV, sleeping, and picking at her food. I got a package of brownie mix and made that for her. Brownies are one thing she’ll almost always eat.

  I mentioned Mike to her once, to see where she was at, but she didn’t take the bait.

  So for now, everything is a waiting game.

  Waiting for Mom to get past the slump and back on track.

  Waiting for Izelle to take Sitta to his new home.

  Waiting for a notice on the door that says we’re out of here.

  The only thing I’ve finally learned to stop waiting for is change.

  Thirty-four

  WE’RE NOW OVER A week into June and so far no eviction notice has been posted. I almost wish it would hurry up and come. I just want to get this over with.

  It’s Monday, so Izelle came over after school. I told her to go ahead and get Sitta while I checked on Mom. She was in bed when I got home and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. It was.

  Not that there’s much danger. She’s not nearly as low as she gets sometimes — it’s more like she’s really, really tired. More importantly, I swiped her meds and hid them. Non-prescription stuff too. All out of reach for now.

  Izelle came into the living room with Sitta perched on her thumb after she’d fed him.

  “When’s he moving to his new home?” I asked.

  “Things should be settled this week,” she said. She kissed his beak and he leaned in as if he was looking into her eyes.

  I smiled in spite of myself.

  “I’m glad you’re going to be able to keep seeing him,” I said.

  Izelle turned to face me, something she’d avoided doing lately. I know she feels the difference between us, the stiffness and pulling away. I like to think she understands, and isn’t hurt or angry about it.

  “Me too,” she said lightly. Then her face changed and she took a deep breath.

  “You know, it’s because of Sitta that we got to be friends,” she said.

  I made no comment.

  “We are friends, right?” she pressed.

  “Sure,” I said. Dismissively.

  “It’s important you know that,” she said. “That I’m your friend, I mean.”

  “Did you give Sitta fresh water?” I asked.

  She got it. Subject closed. It was a strange conversation anyway, even for Izelle. My guess was that she was feeling bad about Sitta’s upcoming move. Maybe she felt guilty about it, although there was no reason for her to since it had been my idea.

  The rest of the visit went okay. No more awkward talk about friendship at least. When she left I told Sitta not to mind her.

  “She’s an emotional type,” I said, while he stood on one of my shoes. “But she seriously cares, so you’ve gotta overlook it when she gets all heartfelt and stuff.”

  Sitta gave me a wise look. He understands a lot, that bird, but before he could say anything, Taylor’s familiar knock came at the door.

  To prove how smart he is, Sitta flew straight to our room. He seems to know when someone knocks he’s going to be tucked away somewhere secure.

  “Hey,” Taylor said when I opened the door. “Can you come down to my place?”

  “I have to make supper,” I said. “Can you bring Molly here?”

  “It’s not to watch Molly,” she said. “Come on, it will just take a few minutes.”

  I hesitated, decided not to bother disturbing Mom if it was going to be that quick, and followed Taylor.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “It’ll be easier to explain when we get there,” she said.

  And then we were there and inside. Molly raced to me with her usual excitement, but my brain was busy taking in what else was happening.

  “Don’t be mad,” came a timid voice.

  The speaker was Izelle, who’d left my place only minutes before. She was in the corner of the living room, next to Taylor’s mom, Sandra. Mr. Zinbendal was across from them and walking toward me was Mike. Taylor had planted herself behind me, like a guard or something.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded. I might have said something angrier, but Molly was there. And it was the first time I’d seen Mr. Zinbendal since the night Mom flipped out. The look on his face got to me.

  “We just have a few things we want to say,” Mike said. It seemed he’d been given the role of spokesperson in this ambush. “But before that, we need to make sure there’s no one here who shouldn’t be.”

  I imagine the confusion showed on my face.

  “So, Corbin, is there anyone here who you wouldn’t help, if they needed it?”

  “What?”

  He repeated the question. I looked around the room.

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “You’d help all of us?” Mike c
onfirmed. “For sure?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “What if I needed help?” Mr. Zinbendal said. “What if I fell and hurt myself, but I told you to leave me alone?”

  “I’d still —” I stopped. “You tricked me,” I said.

  Mr. Zinbendal smiled. “No,” he said. “Your heart spoke. Now, let our hearts speak to you.”

  Izelle, who was clearly behind getting everyone together, told me she was sorry for betraying a confidence, but she’d done it out of friendship and caring.

  “Just like if I fell and you needed to get someone to help me,” Mr. Zinbendal pointed out.

  Taylor told me she was disappointed in me and a bit mad, but she was getting over it and I should have trusted her because it would have taken pressure off if there were times I couldn’t babysit and whatnot. It wasn’t the most organized speech ever, but she got her point across.

  Sandra told me she was going to make an effort to get to know Mom, to be a friend and sounding board and do what she could to help make things run a bit steadier.

  “But we won’t be here,” I pointed out.

  Then Mike told me he’d gotten a message through to my father, that the rent was paid and my dad was coming to see me and get some things worked out as soon as he could get away.

  That was when Izelle admitted she hadn’t looked for another home for Sitta at all, so he wasn’t really going anywhere.

  And Mr. Zinbendal said, as the oldest one there, he was also the wisest. Everyone smiled at that. Also, he told me the people in that room were my friends — that, in fact, they were more than my friends, they were my family.

  Their hearts sure had a lot to say.

  Thirty-five

  AS PROMISED, MY FATHER showed up ten days later.

  Mom was on the futon. She was still a bit down, but she’d restarted her meds and I could see she was starting to come out of the slump. She’d made up with Mike and apologized to Mr. Zinbendal, which were huge signs she was on her way to leveling out.