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Malcolm’s Dilemma

Eric Burbridge

    The memory button on the newly purchased power recliner positioned Malcolm Staan perfectly, easing the strained muscles in his lower back. The excess gut on his six-foot frame did not help, but he continuously told himself he would solve that problem. His man cave was not as perfect as he liked. The never ending strive to achieve it in his part of the house was a waste of time, his daughter Marissa said. What she failed to understand or accept, it gave him something to do that reminded him of his late wife, Cinnamon. For close to forty years they kept and insisted the kids keep order in the house. They were not obsessive with cleanliness, but demanded organization.
    “Be a slob when you get your own house!”
    They were proud of them, their home training stuck whenever they dropped by their places unannounced, which was rare, they never scrambled to straighten up or make excuses. Kyle was far more organized than his sister. “That’s why you can’t keep a girlfriend,” Marissa said. Their sibling rivalry kept the Staan household lively.
    In the near future, he would swap the photos on the light brown oak finish entertainment center with a different variety from the photo albums. What started as the ideal center for all his stereo equipment, VCR’s both Beta and VHS ended up being infiltrated with photos and artificial plants sitting on top. Why he let Cinnamon get away with that he had forgotten. But he did cut it short after she put the kid’s trophies next to the middle speaker of his surround sound system. What improvements should he make, buy a larger flat screen TV or remove that piano nobody played or paid attention to? Better yet get new area rugs with contemporary designs to brighten up the place. How many times had he thought that? He was finished with the worst of the grieving. No more tears, no reaching over in the middle of the night. The truth...Malcolm, you’re just plain lonely. He looked at that expensive poker table his daughter said cost too much and wondered, he should invite the guys over. They jokingly called themselves the Medicare Club. But he swore he would not do that again, at least not with Williams in attendance. Williams was short and petite, for a guy, when he used the bathroom he always needed the plunger. Why he came over his house to shit a brick he never understood and, he was a sore loser? They played for chump change, nothing to get too serious about, but wisely Malcolm never served anything stronger than beer. Neville, the lady’s man, so they led him to believe, always won more than he should. Malcolm deduced he cheats, but he did not know how. They all thought he looked ridiculous dressing like a guy half his age, but that’s what sleeping with younger women get you. Isaac was the more level headed of the group and probably had the best solution to Malcolm’s depression, find a hobby. He appeared more bodybuilder than a retired cop with long silver blonde hair. You would never know with such a friendly personality, something he developed over the years to help build his pet store business. Let him tell it, it was a blessing to be God’s gift to business.
    Now that he thought about it...where was Smokey?
    Malcolm’s heart raced. Calm down. He walked through the kitchen and noticed his food and water had not been touched. “Smokey, where are you?” The dog barked with more energy than he had in a while. There he was in the living room window on his leather sectional. That bushy tail wagging like mad. He jumped down and crept to the door. “No man, whoever she is we are not going for a walk, I’m not up to it yet.” Malcolm peeked through the blinds and there were kids across the street playing with their mutt who happened to be the same breed. He rubbed the dog’s head. “Last time you barely made it in before your leg gave out.” He never gave it thoughts animals could have arthritis, but Smokey’s hip was shot. He was thankful he lasted thirteen years. Now the energetic, smart as a whip canine was no more than a four-legged shit factory...on a good day. Smokey followed him back to his chair, barely making it down the steps to the lower level. He curled up and rolled over on his back. Malcolm gave him a belly massage with his bare foot. It was pleasing to see his reaction, his tongue hanging out his mouth. It almost brought tears to his eyes knowing the end was near. “Look at you, you know you’re spoiled.”
    Malcolm stabbed at the sticky remote’s keys until he found the baseball game; Sox v. Yankees. “That should be a good one.” He rushed up to the kitchen and poured popcorn in a bowl and hurried back. Smokey started to snore. Malcolm smiled and shook his head, a snoring dog. “Well Smoke, I’ll eat your share.” The third inning ended and his daughter’s name shot across the screen caller ID. Surprise, on a Saturday afternoon. “Hello.”
    “Hi daddy, how are you?”
    “Fine and you?” Marissa sounded cheerful. Thank God, but she needed something. “How’s my little princess?”
    “She’s making steady progress, but I’m not calling about that entirely.”
    “Entirely...that sounds ominous.” Malcolm laughed. “I’m messing with.” He spoiled his daughter and grandchild rotten. Cinnamon hated that.
    “Yes, I know, but Mary has a special request.”
    “Ok.” What would that be? Was it related to the therapy sessions they both felt she did not need anymore? The physical trauma of being shot in a crossfire between two drunks as they drove past a bar was over. Luckily the bullet passed through her chest without hitting any vital organs, but the mental crap came along with the lawsuit against the responsible parties. “I take it we’re on speaker.”
    “Hi granddad, how are you?”
    “I’m good little princess.” That sweet innocent voice warmed his heart.
    “You know I got a parakeet to keep me company. At first, I didn’t want to be bothered, but now I love her.”
    “That’s good.” Hold on Malcolm here it comes. “Your mom still there?”
    “Yes, I am,” Marissa said.
    “I know how you are about keeping your place clean, grand dad, but can I leave my parakeet with you for a few days?”
    “Mary,” her mother cut in. “I’ll do that.”
    “Ok., mom.”
    “Dad...dad.”
    “I’m still here, Marissa, get to the point,” Malcolm said, hoping he did not sound irritated. Which he was.
    “I know you’re dealing with Smokey. How is he anyway?”
    “I hate to say it’s a matter of time, but anyway...”
    “I’m taking Mary to Vegas with me on a short business trip. She’s been worrying me to death so off we go. I’d appreciate it if you watch the bird. I’ll set up a spot for her, she won’t be any problem.”
    “Ok, no problem, but I’ll set up the spot.”

*

    Marissa looked and acted more like her mother every time he saw her. Tall, thin and graceful and the only characteristic of his was a skinny pointed nose. The older Mary got you could see she would be the same. Marissa and Mary, he jokingly called them his M&M’s. They placed the cage on the table he put it close to the window in the lower level area. It just fit on the two-foot square table. He found the plants a new home on the window sill. He still had a good view of Cinnamon’s small garden with the empty rusted wild bird feeder in the middle. Since her passing he could not see himself planting anything. The only reason he helped is when she appeared to get tired, especially when it was hot. And they looked good working side by side... he enjoyed the comments from their envious neighbors. “You and your husband do everything together and your colors are always alike.” That was something she started and he never paid attention to the fact if he wore whatever color she wore something similar. God knows he missed her. The girls were running late, so late, that Marissa hardly stopped to pet and play with Smokey. “The bird’s name is Fifi granddad and everything she needs is in the bag. Don’t give her too much food. Ok?” He saw the love in her bright eyes for that bird.
    “Ok sweetheart.” A few minutes later they were gone.

*

    Fifi’s cage had it all; mirrors, ladders, spinning wheels to play on and a big plastic container for food and water. At first, she just sat there looking at Malcolm until he thumped one of the bells hanging from the top of the cage. That got a fierce reaction she chirped and jumped all over the place. Feathers flew everywhere. You’re messing up the floor, bird.” Fifi jumped on the perch closest to Malcolm and flapped her wings as hard as possible. Was that parakeet for screw you or what? “Ok, bird you win for the time being.” Malcolm went to the utility closet. “You see this, bird?” Fifi chirped as if to answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He picked up a small re-chargeable vacuum cleaner. “This is a ‘Dirt Devil’ and it won’t take but a minute to clean up your mess. I hesitate to turn this thing on for fear of scaring you to death, but keep flapping and I’ll have no other choice.” The bird looked at the thing, jumped over to the water container, drank and calmed down.
    The sun finally peeked through the clouds. It got good and warm, perfect parakeet weather. She jumped from the shade of the cage to directly in the sun’s warm rays. “You like that don’t you, I’ll make it better.” He closed the overhead A/C vent and opened the window and dropped the screen in place. Fifi sang. He forgot about Smokey messing with the bird. The muscles in his lower back pulled slightly as he climbed the five steps to the kitchen. “Smokey, where are you?” He opened the frig and got stuff to make a sandwich. The second game of the double header was starting soon and he was not planning on moving. He might end up taking a much-needed nap. Smokey hopped into the kitchen sniffing around. “Lunch time, Smokey, but first it’s time for you to go out.” The dog glanced at him, walked over to his bowl and nibbled. “That answered that question. Don’t bother me when the game gets good. When you finish I’ll introduce you to Fifi.” The dog did not want to go out and he prayed he did not have an accident later. He checked everywhere, no problems. Good, now to finish making lunch and enjoy the rest of the day.

*

    Malcolm woke without the usual lick to the face and mouth from Smokey. He stared at the ceiling and did leg stretches. That felt good, time to start the day. The curvy blonde weather person predicted a sunny day and she was right. He opened the blinds and hit the shower. He slipped into a floral pair of shorts and pulled a wrinkled t-shirt over his unruly silver gray hair. Fifi sang as he approached the staircase. Now he needed to tackle the dirty dishes, but first he listened to the message from Marissa. Thank God, they made it as he expected and they would call when boarding the return flight. Where was the dog? “Smokey, where are you?” He heard what sounded like the dog dragging his leg through the kitchen. He hated that sound. The dog looked pitiful. “Come on big dog you can make it.” His wagged his tail when Malcolm opened the back door.

*

    Malcolm opened the window next to the bird’s cage. “A little fresh air will do you good, Fifi.” She perked up and jumped to the closest perch and chirped several times. “Your welcome. Soon the game will be on and the three of us can watch.” That could not happen without, Smokey. He forgot about him longer than he should. Hurry up and get to the door before he starts scratching. Cinnamon told him a thousand times to get a doggie bell. What’s that he asked? Don’t know...invent one, she would laugh, but he never did. He snatched open the door just before Smokey got there. “Ah, beat you to it.” Smokey squeezed past and made a beeline to his water bowl. “Well you’re walking better. When you finish come and watch the game.” His tail wagged and his head remained in the bowl. Malcolm searched the frig for cold cuts and the potato salad. Suddenly, Fifi started screaming and frantically flew from one perch to another stirring up feathers and seed shells. A cat sat on the ledge staring at the bird. It pawed at the screen, several times, frustrated it jumped down and went about its business. “Relax bird it’s gone.” The dog looked up and headed downstairs. “Look at the mess you made. There’s crap in the water. After I change this I’m done with you guys, it’s me time, you got that?” He would faint if they answered. He put his plate on the bar and unlatched the cage door. No sooner had he put his hand to dislodge the water bowl Fifi jumped past his hand and out the cage she went.
    “Oh shit! Fifi come back here!” He snatched his arm out shifting the cage to the end of the table. Food and water spilled saturating the bottom. Smokey jumped to attention and watched the frightened bird fly all over the room. Back and forth it went from the top of the entertainment center to the top of the curtains. Malcolm got dizzy following the bird’s flight path. Finally, she settled down, landed on a blade of the ceiling fan and chirped, what seemed to be a Tarzan holler of triumph. How was he going to get that bird back in the cage? A beach towel was big enough, but Fifi might get hurt. Hold the cage up and she might fly back in. No, that cage was too big and heavy. Forget that damn bird. He was hungry and tired watching it... it will be fine sitting on the fan blade.
    As soon as Malcolm opened his mouth to bite his sandwich Fifi chirped and flew toward the cage. Smokey stood and instantaneously caught her in his mouth.
    “Smokey, what have you done!!!” Malcolm jumped out his chair and his lunch hit the floor. He grabbed the dog’s mouth prying at his jaws. “Open your mouth, dog!!” Smokey struggled to shake Malcolm’s fingers from pulling his jaws apart. “You better not eat that bird!” He screamed repeatedly. Fifi’s muffled chirp got loud when Smokey’s mouth opened and there went Fifi. She circled the room and went back to the fan blade. Malcolm fell over and rolled on his back, his heart raced while he caught his breath. Smokey stood over him and he licked his face. “You trying to kill me dog, or what?” He laid there staring at the ceiling. Who would believe this? Now for the task at hand, clean up and get that bird back in the cage. He closed his eyes for a second dreading the work when the front doorbell rang several times.
    FedEx or Amazon? “Ok, ok, here I come.” He sat up and immediately felt his lower back pull. The bell rang again. He hobbled to the door not thinking about the bird. He looked out the blinds...Amazon, it was his medication. The usual driver with her bright smile, cheerful eyes and uncombed hair style waved.
    “Hey Mr. Staan, here’s your package.” She hurried back to her truck. When he opened the screen Fifi shot right pass his head.
    “Fifi!!” His heart sank. The bird flew to the neighbor’s evergreen tree and disappeared in the branches. Malcolm stood there, shocked. What would he tell his granddaughter?

*

    Rarely Malcolm drank, he could count the times when he indulged over the past twenty years. This called for several. He dug out a fifth of scotch that got pushed in a black hole in the cabinet over the microwave. What could he say? Who loses a parakeet? Three shots later all those emotions subsided. He no longer felt like the fool he was. Smokey sensed his pain. The dog laid his head on his lap, looked up as if giving him that don’t be so hard on yourself. “Well Smokey, any suggestions? Don’t answer that after I pried a meal out your mouth.”
    He could not concentrate on the game sitting next to that empty cage. Fifi was more than likely in a cat’s or squirrels gut by now. He glanced at the empty wild bird seed feeder and for a second; he thought he saw the bird land and start nibbling at whatever. It couldn’t be, but it was. “Fifi,” he shouted. “Get over here!” Like it would listen. He slid the screen open. It might miraculously fly back in the house. A five-run inning took his mind off Fifi until out of the corner of his eye something moved by the feeder. It was that damn cat creeping slowly stalking the bird. Malcolm shouted out the window. “Fifi, run.” She took off. The cat turned and gave him a dirty look. “To bad pussy cat better luck next time,” Malcolm laughed, as the disappointed feline walked away. Where did she go this time? Maybe in the hedges by the neighbor’s garage. He did not want to go out in the back this time of day. Momma Smith, as the kids on the block called her, would be sitting in her rocking chair smoking weed and dipping snuff. That wad of spit would fly out of her semi-toothless mouth and splash on the grass. It was disgusting.
    She hated Malcolm, but loved Cinnamon.
    “How do you stand talking to her?” He’d ask.
    “She’s a sweet older person, don’t be so mean.”
    “We’re older persons too.” Thinking about Cinnamon gave him an idea. Use your telephoto lens to scan the trees, then catch her with old fishing net, if possible. Brilliant. It had been years since he last used his Canon AE-1. Who would have thought the digital age would make film damn near obsolete? He positioned the small step ladder in the back-bedroom closet and dug around for the old bag of equipment. After straining muscles and popping joints he finally found it. All of this expensive stuff was now collector’s items. He attached the 75mm to 400mm lens to the body of the SLR and out the door he went.
    It was a relief not to see Momma Smith rocking in her chair minding other people’s business. The sun screen was down over her enclosed back porch. Slightly breezy and humid it was still his type of weather. He scanned the tree in the neighbor’s yard. Other birds bounced around, but no Fifi. He walked to the back fence and...
    “What you doin’ you long head idiot?”
    That shrill voice of Momma Smith’s startled him and made his skin crawl. He could barely make her out behind that screen. He had been teased all his life about the shape of his head, but she said it with such hatred. “Shut up!” Ignore her and find the bird.
    “You spyin’ on people ain’t ya? I’m tellin’ everybody you fool.”
    “Go somewhere and have a heart attack.” Malcolm shouted back. That shut her up. For a second regret creeped into his heart. Maybe the old hag was mentally ill or had dementia. Regardless he was not going to apologize. Damn the neighbors what he did on his property was his business.

*

    He sat and tried to concentrate on a crossword puzzle. That did not work, that cage was still empty. His cell rang. He rushed to the kitchen. It was Marissa. “Hello.”
    “Hey dad, how are you?”
    “Good, how’s the trip?” What will he say about that damn bird?
    “Ok, but Mary’s a little homesick, can you believe it?”
    “I guess.” Here comes the punch line.
    “So, we’ll be on the 9am flight back in the morning. Hold a second she wants to talk.”
    “Hi granddad, how’s Fifi?”
    “She’s good.” He lied.
    “I figured you like her, see you soon.”
    “Ok princess.”

*

    Isaac’s Exotic Pets and other Crazy Things opened at 10 am, but Isaac said Malcolm could get in early due to his dilemma. After all he had a granddaughter and he could imagine how she would be hurt. He told his good friend and poker buddy he had a plentiful variety of parakeets. Since Malcolm was affluent he was not going to get a discount. Be glad I’m opening early my friend. Soon he would not open at all. The economic down turn finally caught up to him. His boastful pride in his business acumen will be red meat for friend and foe. Why do people like to see each other fail? Whatever the reason he had a good run. And that plentiful variety was a lie, but he did have two. It would be nice if he took both so he could close out that part of his inventory. He sold more snakes and puppies. He turned on the main lights. “Well, good morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m early with a slight hangover so be patient. All foods and other stuff will be distributed when the help gets here.” The remaining animals responded with the usual noise. He assumed it was their approval. He thumped the cage of Yellow and Lulu. “One of you is leaving, but hopefully both.” Usually they flew all over the cage, but they just sat there. “Your new owner should be here any minute,” Isaac said, looking out the window as a black Mercedes pulled into the handicapped space. “He’s here boys and girls.”
    Isaac opened the door before his friend hit the buzzer. “Hello Malcolm, how are you?”
    “Good, sorry for the inconvenience, but as I said...”
    “Don’t say another word,” Isaac said. “It’s ok, follow me.” They walked down a narrow aisle past a wall of bare shelfs and fish tanks. “The little darlings are right here, but there’s been a development, Malcolm. Now don’t look so concerned.”
    “Is that the development? It’s only two, you gave me the impression there were more.” Malcolm said, he looked at the two birds.
    “No. There’s a shortage of birds. I need to have at least a few around.”
    “Can’t use the yellow one and the other looks sick or tired.”
    “That’s Lulu, she’s just lazy. I had to call a friend to find her. You said green and yellow.” Isaac lied and he didn’t feel bad about it. “My friend and/or competitor charged me a fortune for Lulu.”
    “You said it was a shortage. I need the bird and I bet he did, but whatever, wrap her up or whatever you do, my daughter will be back soon enough. Don’t hustle me I know you. What’s the price, Isaac?”
    He was embarrassed he had to stoop to such a low and Malcolm’s look of disgust didn’t help. Some of this crap could have been avoided had he applied for the proper SBA assistance. To hell with all the red tape and the government. Big mistake, Isaac, big mistake. “We’re friends, Malcolm don’t get upset, but honestly I’m in a jam, I’m juggling all kinds of shit.” Isaac patted his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell. “I got to take this.” He went toward the store’s front mumbled into his phone and returned. “Lulu cost me a hundred, so...”
    “I’ll give you three, okay?”
    “Deal.” Isaac quickly plucked the bird out of the cage before it knew what hit it. “Hear anything from the old crowd?”
    “No. I thought about every one the other day now that you mention it.”
    “I’d love to beat Neville at his own game. I don’t care what you say, he cheats and I’ve learned a few tricks.” Isaac said, and swiped Malcolm’s credit card.
    “What you saying you cheat now other than the price of your animals?”
    Isaac sighed. “No, not at all — I’m a better poker player, and the group should get back together.”
    “At my place minus the drama, right?” Malcolm said and they headed for the door.
    “Of course.”
    “I’ll think about it.”

*

    Malcolm hated greed, whatever financial difficulty Isaac had was his fault. He opened his business in a newly renovated strip mall. Each store had big full picture windows and contemporary awnings, sculptures and a brick façade. You are in over your head, idiot. You got me this time my friend, but I’ll get you on the table. Lonely or not, Isaac was going to pay for taking advantage of his dilemma. Two can get good at poker, my friend. He smiled and flipped him the bird as he pulled into traffic. Whenever he had to drive past the big airport he got caught in heavy traffic. Every time. He accelerated across the local lanes between a couple of eighteen wheelers into the express lanes. It moved beautifully, for the moment. Surprise, but than his cell rang. Damn, Marissa, don’t be at the airport. “Hello.”
    “Dad, we got an earlier flight and we’re waiting to get our luggage, see you shortly.”
    “What...what?” Traffic tightened he slammed on the brakes not to rear end some idiot.
    “I’m sorry, Marissa, I’m in traffic. You coming to the house?”
    “Yes, we should be there in a little while. We’re starving so I’m going to stop and get something to eat.”
    “Ok that’s fine.” Now he had a little breathing room. When he thought about it he hoped the dog hadn’t made a mess. Traffic moved at a good pace. He accelerated to make up for lost time. It would be nice if they stopped at a big breakfast place. He needed Lulu to settle in without incident. Deception was not his thing and he was not good at lying. It should go smoothly, if Mary found out she might not speak to him for a while. He envisioned her saying, “I hate you, granddad,” and running out the room. He shook at that thought and pulled into the garage. Lulu had not said a word. He looked the bird over, maybe she was asleep, again. “You better not die on me, bird, not at my house.”

*

    Malcolm beamed with confidence things would work well. Smokey had not made a mess and played with his ball in the yard. Lulu seemed to accept her new home without any problems. He sliced his specialized BLT with a dash of crushed red pepper on swiss cheese. They would be here soon. Suddenly, Lulu started to rise hell. “What’s wrong bird?” He hurried downstairs; sitting on the window sill was Fifi. It was a miracle. It appeared the birds were talking. He opened the window and cage. “Halleluiah, where have you been? I thought you were dead!” Fifi’s feathers were badly ruffled like she had been in a fight but other than that she was fine. They sat on their perches and chirped repeatedly.
    How would he explain two birds?
    The door bell rang over and over. That was Mary, she only did that when she was excited. “Hey, granddad, you like my hair?” Her mother smiled, kissed him on the cheek and headed for the kitchen.
    “Yeah princess, it’s different, but I like it.” It was puffy on top and short on the side like a guy’s, but the color was blonde with a touch of red. Was it Halloween or what?
    “How was the trip?”
    “Fine. I brought you a steak house salad. See how big it is?” He nodded. “Enough for two days.”
    “Thanks. What’s with the hair style is that corn rolls or whatever they call it?”
    Marissa shrugged. “Don’t know what happened, but she met some friend’s kids and the next day she was grown.” His daughter smiled shaking her head. “She said she didn’t want the counseling and prayer would be best. Can you believe it?”
    Malcolm nodded and did not notice Mary went downstairs. She ran up the stairs. “Granddad you got Fifi a friend, that is so nice.” She hugged him.
    “Thank you, princess, I thought you’d like that for your upcoming birthday.” He lied, surprised it rolled off his tongue so quick.
    “Thanks, but I was thinking and I know I didn’t ask you mom, but I want to give you Fifi to keep you company. You’re lonely, granddad. Besides I’m twelve and it’s time to start acting like it.”
    Malcolm threw up his arms. What!! I oughta ring your little neck! He got cussed out, lied on and hustled...and she doesn’t want the birds.
    Marissa looked puzzled. “You okay, dad?”
    Relax, Malcolm. “Yes, of course.” The sincerity in Mary’s eyes warmed his heart. “That’s sweet of you, I accept the birds.” They did not stay long after that, jet lag or whatever. He sat in his chair and wondered how soon could or would he get rid of those parakeets. He did not want to hurt her feelings. She was right he was lonely. The best way to cure that, resume poker night. Maybe the drama and extra noise would liven him up.

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