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The Goose Master

Irene Ferraro

    “Walking is no longer the pleasant activity it used to be!”
    So Julian heard, everywhere he went. It made him feel guilty.
    “You can’t walk anywhere, anymore, without encountering bird turd. It’s because of these geese!”
    Julian self-consciously hid his bread crusts inside his shirt. A delicate, mossy green swirled the surface of the glassy lake. A multi-textured, reflection in motion, stood before him. The inscrutable water was riffled by the wind. The double images suspended in the water were thereby broken up into parts, misleading pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. When the wind died down, the picture in the lake was once again intact. A mystifying process of questions with no answers was offered by nature. Julian was in awe of nature, as he felt it had nothing personal to do with him. Grass-covered banks rose around the pond, and beyond that, dense areas of trees, a tangle of branches and bushes and vines. In the fresh water, and on the banks of the lake, a gaggle of geese had once again claimed the afternoon. They swam and waddled, snipping at crumbs of people food dropped by the human population, snapping at innocent passersby, and covering the grass, and paving, with droppings. It WAS difficult to walk, thought Julian. Attention was necessary to avoid the inevitable smears. It was not easy to keep one’s shoes clean. Little children, walking heedlessly as children often do, would be apt to slide in the unpleasant messes, and fall down. Julian watched the scene with intense silence. A goose feather was snatched by the wind. It bobbled before him on the breeze. Furtively, he removed a crust of bread and threw it on the grass.
    “Hey!” someone said.
    An angry, bearded man was standing before Julian. The man stared at him through desperate eyes.
    “Are you feeding those parasites?” the angry man asked.
    “Geese are not parasites,” said Julian.
    “If you call yourself a citizen, you do not throw bread crust to the grassy banks! You do not throw your earnings to the worms!” said the man.
    Julian winced.
    “I’m feeding birds. That’s all I’m doing,” he said.
    “The menace that are the geese thrive because of you! If you didn’t feed them, they might starve to death!” said the man by the lake.
    “I am not breaking any laws. I’ll do what I want,” said Julian.
    “You love these birds so much? You must be a goose, yourself,” said the man. He laughed, heartily.
    Julian resisted answering him. He threw a fistful of bread crusts on the grass.
    There was no denying it. Julian was a lonely soul. The geese were his friends. They occupied his environment. They were more dominant than human kindness. The geese were largely despised as a great nuisance. Julian identified with them. Like Julian, the geese were outcasts. They were regarded with contempt. They were marked as an undesirable group. Each one of them, as individual creatures bore the brunt of people hatred. No matter that they were birds and did not respond to verbal vituperation. In fact, the geese were undisturbed by their own multitudinous presence. They were symbols of unconcern to Julian, who was constantly worried about something. He liked watching them. He enjoyed feeding them. He wished he could find a company of persons like the geese to which he could belong. Given opportunity, he would have easily claimed goose membership. He threw another fistful of bread crusts on the water’s slopes. Two women walking for exercise glanced his way.
    “That man should be arrested for feeding those birds,” puffed one.
    “I know. They poop enough as it is,” puffed the other.
    A little boy rode over to Julian on his bike.
    “Do you know that every time you feed these geese you increase their numbers in our vicinity? Do you know they are potential bearers of epidemic?” the little boy asked.
    “You are a child. I am a grown up. Go away,” said Julian.
    The boy shook his head and rode off.
    Julian felt wistful. He wanted to cradle something, maybe the geese, who were unwanted, rejected, and stood alone to take up combat against the world. Julian threw another fistful of bread to the misbegotten friends of the air. They had traveled far, in perfect formation, to be with him that day. No one else ever went out of the way for him. Granted, the geese had found haven for themselves, but they had found it near Julian. Could anyone else say the same? No one else had included him in anything.
    Julian went home after he finished dispensing bread crumbs. He lived alone on the ground floor of a small apartment building. He had access to his home through a private garden. His house was quiet and empty when he got there.
    Geese followed geese on painted fields where no man dreams until he has given flowers. Julian slumbered without dreams. Short winded even in sleep, he fell into waking before the sun was fully up. This was unusual, as he did not typically open his eyes before daylight. A murmur of souls was calling him. Today, he was up and out the door before the morning sun took over the sky. He arrived on the shore of the lake with a dim dawn reaching over the borders of night. He wanted to look at his life before the rest of the world did. Out of the gray and violet haze, he perceived the outline of a goose, communing with the water. It’s feathers were flounced. Then one, two, three times, it dipped its head in the lake, exacting rapid ripples on the surface. Slowly, majestically, the goose turned, beak first, to Julian. Then, with a shivering of air and a quivering of fresh water, the goose suddenly, miraculously, started to change. The bird first underwent a metamorphosis in its size, gaining height and breadth. Then, the texture of its feathers changed, smoothed out. Its shape, also, conformed to a different blueprint, to something human. To Julian’s astonishment, there was a woman where the goose had been, rising out of the water and walking toward him. The goose had somehow transformed itself into a human female. She honked, she waddled, a little. Then she cleared her throat.
    “I’m hungry,” she said.
    Julian gasped. She was naked. Not even a feather covered any part of her anatomy. Her hair brushed her shoulder blades. Her hair was long and glossy. She was altogether not bad looking, for a goose. Julian knew he was not dreaming. She smelled like a girl.
    “Don’t you have any bread crusts?” she asked him.
    Julian stood up gallantly and covered her with his shirt.
    “You can’t stay here, anymore,” he told her. “First of all, since you’ve lost your feathers, you haven’t got anything to wear. And, you can’t go around without any clothes on. You’ll have to come home with me.”
    “Are there bread crusts at home?” she asked him.
    Julian laughed.
    “Sure,” he said, “You can have all the toast and coffee you want. Let’s hurry, now, before it gets too light out. We don’t want the broad daylight to reveal us. We are both half-dressed. I don’t have another shirt with me. Come on, let’s go.”
    He took her by the hand and they both arrived unnoticed at his small, silent home.
    “What’s your name? Do you have a name?” Julian asked her, once they were safely locked inside his apartment. An assorted fragrance of blossoms wafted through an open window.
    “My name is Phil,” she said.
    “Phil?” Julian asked , “As in Phyllis?”
    “I guess so,” answered Phil.
    She turned toward the open window, stretching her neck toward the scented air. The early sunlight filtered through her hair and rested on her skin. She looked pretty in a surprising way. Julian picked up his phone and called his friend Roger.
    “Roge, I have a woman here,” said Julian.
    Roge was sleepy, but attentive.
    “At this hour?” asked Roger. “Are you inviting me over?”
    “No,” said Julian.
    “Then you shouldn’t have called before I was awake,” said Roger.
    “She’s half-goose, half woman,” said Julian.
    “What woman isn’t?” said Roger.
    “Don’t you think that’s a little sexist?” said Julian.
    “That’s the trouble with you,” said Roger, “You concern yourself with things that have nothing to do with you.”
    “I’m not going to take the time to answer that ignorant statement,” said Julian. “I knew you would never understand.”
    Julian hung up the phone. He turned back to Phil. The dusty morning fell upon her, illuminating silvery tones. Again, he was astonished by her. She shimmered in the early part of the day, a pearl he had found.
    “Phil,” he said, only once.
    His grin felt stretched.
    “What am I going to do with you?” he asked.
    “Hungry,” she whimpered.
    “Oh, yes,” said Julian, “Allow me to feed you, before I decide what I’m going to do with you.”
    He laughed, and she laughed with him.
    Julian opened a metal breadbox shaped like a duck. He took out a plastic package and undid the twist tie. He pulled a piece of bread from the package and held it in front of him. Julian was still grinning. Phil looked at him, expectantly. He tore the slice of bread in half and put one part of it in the woman’s mouth. Phil took it between her teeth and bit, then chewed, then swallowed.
    “Let’s continue,” said Julian.
    He put his arm around her back and laid her down. By the time the sun was up for the day, Julian felt he had found, in Phil, everything he had been looking for in his life. She was his. He bought her clothes. He took her out to look at the world through new eyes. His own eyes were those of the just born. He felt that hope was eternal, that he had been renewed.
    Men’s heads turned when Phil walked by. Julian had never experienced male envy or male surprise before. He was so proud of her, his little goose.
    Julian introduced Phil to Roger, who was awed.
    “Where did you find her?” he asked Julian.
    “In the water,” Julian responded.
    “Oohh. Swimmingly,” said Roger.
    “Actually, this is the goose I was telling you about,” said Julian.
    Roger laughed appreciatively.
    “Okay,” he said, “When you cook her for dinner, let me know. I’d love a slice of goose.” Roger continued laughing. “You’re a comedian, Jule,” he said.
    Julian smiled smoothly, grandly.
    “You think you know everything, don’t you, Roger,” said Julian.
    “I know what I know,” said Roger, “And I know that if you let me baste her in juices, she would be succulent.”
    Julian regarded Roger with frozen eyes.
    “You can look, but remember, she’s mine,” he said.
    “We’re friends, Jule,” said Roger, “I would never let a woman, or a goose, come between us.”
    The amazing creature, Phil, heard Julian’s drum and walked in time with him. She was like any other female born to be female. She had her personal quirks. She was fond of bread, especially when Julian fed it to her, one piece at a time. But one day, when a flock of geese flew overhead in a clear blue sky, Phil’s mind started to wander. She threw her lovely head back. She blinked up at the postcard-perfect, v-arrangement of feathered friends. Her soft hair settled, a crown of invitations, as she stopped her movement.
    “Julian, my love, who am I?” she asked.
    Julian followed her eyes. Then, he turned his gaze back to her.
    “You are my woman,” he answered her.
    “But who was I before I was your woman?” she questioned.
    Julian looked back at the sky.
    “You were a goofy, little bird that came and went as she pleased. You were she who I fed. You were she for whom I cared,” said Julian.
    “Is that all? What did I want? Who did I love before I loved you?” asked Phil.
    “Before you loved me, you were no one. You loved no one. You wanted nothing. You did not exist. I gave you life with your love for me. Serving me is your reason for being,” Julian said, with authority.
    Phil continued to stare into the distant blue, penetrating the valley of the horizon where her birds had disappeared.
    “Did you know that a rainbow is the color of God’s smile? Did you know that joy flies as straight as an arrow?” Phil said.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Julian, curtly.
    Phil was silent. Julian continued.
    “Some women do not appreciate salvation. I saved you from oblivion,” said Julian, severely.
    “Did I not also save you from oblivion, Julian,” said Phil. Her eyelashes quivered with crystal tears.
    Julian smiled, enigmatically.
    “I am the master. Masters do not taste oblivion,” he said.
    “Perhaps you desire a taste of my absence,” said Phil, sharply.
    Julian put his hand over her mouth.
    “I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” he said.
    “You can’t make me stay or do whatever you want,” said Phil. Her voice was muffled by Julian’s hand covering her mouth. Understanding her intention, he took his hand away to hear what she had to say. She repeated her statement. Julian put his hand back so he couldn’t hear her. Phil freed herself from his grip.
    “I need to find myself. I need to know who I am,” she said.
    Julian stopped her with an embrace.
    “Let’s go eat some bread,” he told her.
    “No, Julian. Eating bread won’t fix everything. I don’t like the way I feel. Who have I always been? Therefore, who am I now? I need to find myself. I need to leave,” said Phil.
    “I’ll marry you,” offered Julian, “This is a formal proposal.”
    “No!” insisted Phil. “This is not good. I am withering in the dark. My mind hurts. Who am I?”
    “You are my woman. I will not let you go. I gave you life. I will marry you and give you my name. Then you will know who you are. You will be my woman, my wife, forever.”
    “Not good! Don’t want this!” Phil said.
    She turned herself away from Julian. She stood apart in the blue and bright day. She opened her arms and felt the breeze flow under them.
    “I will fly away from you, Julian,” she said.
    Still extending her arms, Phil ran into the wind as though it would lift her, as though it would make her airborne.
    Julian laughed at her.
    “You can’t fly, Phil. You are a woman. Birds are the only creatures that can fly,” said Julian. “You are mine now. You don’t need wings.”
    “There are wings inside me, Julian. There is within me a creature of flight, a bird dying to break free. And yet, there is the woman I also need to be,” said Phil.
    “You are a little waddler that waits for me to break off bread crusts so I can put them in her mouth and she can chew on them, food for thought. Bread thoughts are the only thoughts you will have. This ‘need to fly’ is also yours only for my amusement, like when your little mouth opens and you take in my bread. You are content with me and you don’t know it,” said Julian. “Besides, where would you go if you left me? No one else likes you.”
    “I am a desirable woman,” said Phil.
    “You are as unwelcome as a goose on a landing strip,” said Julian.
    “So there is nothing any longer between us!” retorted Phil.
    “There is now between us what there has always been. I feed and keep you, and you please me, body and soul,” said Julian.
    “I am your pet, like some kind of animal. This is not what I want,” mourned Phil.
    Julian was afraid of Phil’s words. He was afraid she would leave him, so he held her, tighter and closer.
    “You want only what I want, and that’s all you want,” he told her.
    Julian had found a pearl in pond scum, and he did not want to lose her. Phil, for her part in this joint venture, was not pleased. She experienced endless disappointment. Julian did not provide her with the salvation of love. He made her think too hard, while trying to make her stop thinking altogether. She found herself looking away from him. It made her feel lost, as though she were wandering in a tangle of water weeds. Where was the fulfillment of his promise to her? When would he put his self second in favor of the manhood that was surely born to serve her? She could not find her reason for being “there” with him. So she left him and went to Roger. She did not care if Julian found out, but Roger did. He took great pains to hide their togetherness. Roger was perfect for her because he did not need her for his self-esteem. Therefore, he did not care about her when she was not satisfying him. When she was not with him, she did not exist. Roger cared more about his friendship with Julian than he did about his relationship with Phil.
    Roger did not know about Phil’s strange transformation. To him, she was just like any other woman. She even had her own quirks, like her fondness for bread and her abhorrence of eggs.
    “Why do you dislike eggs so much,” Roger asked her, one day at breakfast.
    “How can you eat the helplessly unborn? An egg needs to be protected,” she answered.
    “There are no baby birds in those eggs,” Roger told her.
    “Yet, they are the future,” she responded.
    “But, you love toast?” Roger queried.
    “Toast reminds me of Julian,” she said. The statement had finality.
    “Do you love Julian or do you love me?” asked Roger.
    “I love Julian and I love you,” was her retort.
    “But you love toast best,” said Roger, and laughed.
    Phil borrowed from Julian.
    “You and Julian both give me life,” she told Roger.
    Phil expected Roger to be flattered, but he was not. Phil sensed anger and saw an expression of disdain, or repugnance. She did not understand. She simply accepted the minor rejection because it was there. She was confident that the two men were hers. All evidence to the contrary was irrelevant.
    “You’re not serious, are you?” asked Roger.
    Phil was confused by the word “serious”. Her needs were serious. For instance, her need to be with Julian and Roger was not to be ignored. Water and sky and bread were contentious issues. The word “serious” in Roger’s mouth implied exclusive claim to either man. Whereas Phil truly felt that all men were interchangeable, as far as her own needs were concerned.
    Phil clarified, “Not serious. Julian and you are my only pleasure. I owe you nothing and may leave you both at any time and in any manner I choose.”
    Roger pressed for an advantage.
    “Good. I feel likewise. I am glad you are casual about us,” he said.
    “You may not be casual,” said Phil, “You must be nearby always to serve me. There is the bread and the shelter for my new skin and so on. You must be ‘serious’ about me. But I do not need to be ‘serious’ about you.”
    “What?” asked Roger. He wasn’t sure if he was devastated or not.
    “There is the always ‘serious’ issue of my keeping,” answered Phil.
    “Get lost,” said Roger. “Go back to Julian and stay there. I don’t want you here ever again.”
    “Since you are so obviously not eager not thrilled to please me, the best action for me is to never have pleasure from you again,” said Phil.
    “What kind of woman are you?” demanded Roger.
    Roger had become angry. Even though he did not want her, he wanted her to want him. He enjoyed her longing and she was not giving it to him, anymore. He wanted to see a response from her. So, to get one, he threw himself on top of her. He expected a struggle, but he did not get it. Instead, Roger got a handful of feathers. Phil was undergoing some kind of unusual change. She was turning into...a pigeon? No, a goose! Her torso was filling out, her legs becoming short and stalk-like, her face flattening and elongating. Her arms were turning into wings. And all over, she was becoming feathery.
    “I’ll be free of you, at last,” were the final words Phil said. She became smaller, yet filled out some more, until Roger found a plump, sleek bird in his hands.
    “Oh, no,” he said.
    He threw “Phil” away from him. Around and around the room she flew, until Roger opened the door and let her go. She was released. Roger stood stunned in the center of his room. He wasn’t sure if he had just seen what he had seen. He thought back over his recent past. Had he encountered this woman, Phil, his friend Julian’s best effort to date? Had she been real? What was true and what was false? He needed to know, right then.
    “Julian!” he called. He spoke into the little device next to his ear. His voice traveled through the air on the persistent impulse of technology.
    “Roger!” answered Julian. “I can’t find Phil.”
    Roger felt his heart drop to his ankles.
    “Who’s Phil?” Roger answered.
    Julian paused.
    “You slept with her, didn’t you, Roger! She’s with you right now! I’m coming over there!” Julian ended the call abruptly.
    Roger stammered, “I won’t be here,” but no one heard him. Julian was on his way.
    Roger turned events over in his mind. Was he responsible for what had become of Phil? Had he driven her to feathers? Could he be sued? He was sorry he had let the bird go. He ran outside into the wind.
    “Phil, Phil,” he called
    He looked up into the sky. Maybe with a kiss he could turn her back into a woman. He had heard that this happened in fairy tales. He wondered what it might be like to kiss a goose. He did not know how or why, but before he found Phil, Julian found him. Roger found himself involved in a shocking brawl over a woman he wasn’t sure existed. He felt bad. He didn’t want to fight with Julian. Finally, the confrontation ceased.
    “Julian,” said Roger, “What are we doing? I don’t want to do this anymore. I never felt about a woman what I feel about you.”
    Julian was blinded with rage.
    “She is my woman! She was hard to come by! Where is she?” roared Julian.
    Roger felt dazed. He collected his wits.
    “She sprouted feathers and turned into a goose! She is all bird! Remember when you discussed her heritage? I should have taken you at your word,” said Roger.
    “This isn’t fair,” moaned Julian. “I finally found someone that’s perfect for me and she chooses bread crusts over me.”
    Roger nodded, though he really did not understand.
    “Too bad you don’t have any bread crusts,” said Roger.
    “I HAVE bread crusts, Roger,” said Julian, “I DO have day old, leftover crusts of bread that I may or may not throw to any flocks of birds I choose. I have bread crusts going on. I have crumbs speaking for me. I have that much on my side.”
    “I didn’t mean to insult you. If you have bread crusts, why don’t you use them?” said Roger.
    Julian gasped.
    “Phil loves bread crusts,” he said.
    “What goose doesn’t?” said Roger.
    Julian and Roger went hunting for Phil. They were looking for a goose that recognized them. They were armed with two loaves of bread. They scouted the property outside of Roger’s place. They could not find her. They thought together, as men. Surely, she would wind up, sooner or later, at the lake. There they repaired. And there she was. Julian recognized her immediately, plumper and sleeker than the rest. She floated serenely atop the water’s mirror surface.
    “Phil! Phil! I’m sorry!” cried Julian. He peeled off a crust of bread and threw it in the lake.
    “We want you back,” echoed Roger.
    “We?” quizzed Julian.
    Eyes and ears along the shoreline took notice of Roger and Julian. Most noteworthy was the white haired woman with her own bag of bread crusts. She stared at them, vengefully.
    “You ought to be feeding ALL the birds, not just your favorites,” she shouted.
    “Not ‘we’, Roger, just me,” said Julian.
    “No, me, too,” said Roger, “All of this has changed me. I’m in love.”
    “Not with my woman!” said Julian.
    “Just because she’s your ‘pet’ doesn’t mean she’s your ‘woman’,” said Roger, peevishly.
    “Look, Roger, I found Phil in a puddle. I made her whatever she was. She belongs with me,” said Julian.
    “No,” said Roger. “As she changed herself for me, so I have changed myself for her. I am different, now. I claim her as part of my soul.”
    “Phil! Phil!” called Julian, again. He looked out over the lake at the birds gliding on the water. Phil was ignoring him.
    “Phil, you little fox! Stop ignoring me!” shouted Julian.
    “Stop that!” said the white haired woman. “You are upsetting the geese!”
    Sure enough, the birds on the lake were gliding out of sight behind Phil-the-goose. They sailed calmly around a bend and were gone. Julian and Roger ran around the shore following in fast pursuit. They were disappointed, for they did not find Phil. They hung around the lake for a few hours, waiting for something that did not happen. Phil never reappeared.
    “We should never have let her go,” said Roger.
    The two lonely men went home to Julian’s place. There, they watered down the ache of their loss with some beers.
    “I would have married her,” said Julian.
    “You would never have married her,” said Roger.
    Right before twilight someone knocked on Julian’s door. He threw open the portal. There stood before him a woman dressed in a skirt and blazer. Her business attire caught Julian off guard. She was not bad looking. Her hair was swept off her shoulders in an efficient knot.
    “Hello?” said Julian.
    “Hi, there, I am your neighbor and I am a representative of International Breads. We specialize in homemade domestic and imported baked goods. We are offering free trial membership in our bread-of-month association. Give us a try, and for three months one of our products will be sent right here to your home for you to enjoy, free of charge. After that....” The woman started her spiel, but Roger interrupted.
    “After that?” Roger said.
    “After that you’ll go back to the lake?” interposed Julian.
    “Excuse me, sir?” the woman queried.
    “Look,” said Julian, “I don’t like standing here at the door. I’m letting in flies. Either come in and tell us about yourself and your product or you will have to leave.”
    The woman stepped inside the house.
    “I can come in for awhile,” she said, “I just want you to know that my company gave me a cell phone with a GPS. I have it on my person at all times.”
    “You won’t need your cell phone,” said Roger, “We want your product.”
    “I happen to have some of our braided sun-dried tomato and garlic bread,” she said. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a brown paper bag. The smell of garlic wafted among them.
    “Here it is,” she said, and pulled out a golden brown loaf in clear plastic. The fragrance intensified.
    Julian took the loaf from her hand and unwrapped it. He broke off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth. Roger did the same, tasting it, also. Then Julian broke off a piece of bread and put it in the woman’s mouth.
    She said, “I’ve had it before. It’s very good. You will enjoy it.”
    Julian said, “We can see that. We were about to have dinner. If you stay and eat with us , we can discuss membership and sign up.”
    “Yes,” said Roger, “We don’t want to put off having dinner any longer. We’re starving.” He uncorked a bottle of wine taken from Julian’s closet.
    “Okay,” said the woman, “As long as I’m not intruding.
    “Not intruding,” said Julian and Roger.
    “By the way,” said Julian, “I’m Julian and that’s Roger. What’s your name?”
    “My name is Toni,” said the woman.
    “Toni it is,” said Julian.
    And then they sat down to dinner.

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