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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Question Everything” cc&d, v280 (the February 2018 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:  |
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Bird Island, Chapter 13: The Abortion
Patrick Fealey
“Your crow is on your new mast,” Jim says.
“He’s not my crow,” Wawp says.
“He seems to think otherwise. He sleeps in our cedar tree. He likes you.”
“He’s just waiting for me to die,” Wawp says.
“In the meantime, he steals Sue’s clothespins. And he’s going to shit on your hard work.”
“Let him.”
“Sue’s getting tired of him. He brings her more clothespins than she knows what to do with, meanwhile he steals ours off the line and drops our clothes on the ground.”
“I fucking told her to stop feeding him,” Wawp says.
“You know women. She thinks he’s cute.”
“He’s not cute.”
“Okay, okay.”
“She shouldn’t be messing with him, that’s all,” Wawp says.
“I think it started innocently enough,” Jim says.
“I know. People get on one another’s nerves. He stole my keys once. Right out of my hand. He’d been eyeing them for months.”
“You get them back?”
“After I chased his ass around the neighborhood. It was futile. He’s in the sky with my keys dangling out of his mouth . . . I’m running . . . Can barely breathe . . . Just praying he doesn’t drop them . . . Or take take them into the woods . . . But I met him at the wood pile behind my house. That was his spot. He was always flying back there. As soon as he hid them, I grabbed them. I found a rookery of treasures. Screws. Dice. Golf balls. Some bullet shells. Tin foil and junk. Fishing lures. Lots of change, nickels, dimes, quarters, broken glass. Shiny stuff. He’s insane. I left it all because there was no telling what he’d do.”
“File a police report.”
Wawp and Jim are sitting on the steps of Wawp’s house with the bottles. Bird is walking the tree Wawp has been making. The tree is fallen and has no branches or bark. It is smooth and narrow and Bird’s feet slip.
The sun goes out under a high fog. Wawp and the neighbor Jim sit with the bottle, laughing more and more. Bird flies to the roof. Bird can see Wawp and Jim below on the steps. Wawp and Jim cannot see Bird, but Wawp knows Bird is here.
“How can fog be so pronounced?” Wawp says.
“I don’t know. It’s the same fog,” Jim says.
“Jess is gonna give me hell about this bottle,” Wawp says.
“I drank a bottle last night. Almost a bottle. Sue asked me to save her some ‘cause the last time I didn’t. She got mad. Last night she says, ‘Can you save me a little?’ and so I saved her some, saved her a glass. This morning she wakes up and sees I saved her some and know what she says? ‘Thanks. You can drink it now if you want.’ Women.”
“It’s not the wine they care about.”
“She’s the same way with toilet paper. She can’t relax unless we have six rolls in reserve.”
“They’re jealous of the bottle,” Wawp said. “For some damn reason or another. We’re not jealous of toilet paper, are we?”
“They say they’re worried about you, but they should only be worried if it’s a problem.”
“The problem is they know we’re escaping them,” Wawp says. Wawp goes inside his house. Wawp comes out with a big bottle.
“Brandy,” Wawp says.
“Just a little,” Jim says. “I want to stay with the wine. Go to the store.”
“Good idea.”
From the roof Bird sees Wawp’s mate Jess’s red car rolling on the street. Wawp and the neighbor stop talking. It stops and Jess gets out. Wawp stands. Jess walks toward the house, smiling. Jess sees the bottle and walks past Wawp and Jim and into the house. Jess says nothing, Wawp follows Jess. Bird flies to the window.
“I’m glad one of us is enjoying this,” Jess says. Wawp and Jess are in the sleeping room.
“We’re celebrating the mast. It’s done. It’s sold.”
Jess goes into the water room. Jess closes the door. “What am I supposed to do? What can I do?” Wawp says.
The door opens.
“I just want to get it over with!” Jess cries.
“I know. So do I. But it’s too small. They said it was too soon.”
“They set the date,” Jess says. “I don’t even understand why they even had me come in.”
“They made a mistake.” Or were we supposed to keep it?
“They put me through that. They’re putting me through it again. They were supposed to do it.”
“They’re going to do it.”
“In two weeks.”
“I know,” Wawp says.
“I have to go back there.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Drunk.”
“This wasn’t an easy decision,” Wawp says. “We’ve been together, but what are we doing?”
“We have no money.”
“No . . .and we haven’t even talked about . . .” Wawp says.
“It was supposed to be done yesterday. Two weeks!”
“For two more weeks we’re carrying out a death sentence.”
“I’m carrying it. You’re carrying a buzz!”
Wawp comes out on the front porch. Jim is looking at Wawp.
“She had a bad day at work,” Wawp says.
The neighbor nods. “I’m going to the liquor store. Wanna come?”
“More wine?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh jeez. I guess.” Wawp opens the front door. “Jess, I’m going for a walk with Jim.”
“What for?”
“Wine.”
“You guys are a bunch of selfish alcoholics.”
Wawp and Jim laugh.
The yellowhead, Sue, is walking, walking toward Wawp and Jim, home. Sue feeds Bird. Sue yells at Bird. Bird takes Sue’s things and bites her.
Wawp and Jim meet Sue in the street.
“HELLO!” Sue says.
Sue puts her arms around Jim.
“You guys are in a good mood,” Sue says. “Where you going?”
“To the store,” Jim says.
“Good. Can you get me some toilet paper?”
“I guess. We need some?”
“We only have eight rolls,” Sue says.
“Oh.”
“What are you going to get?” Sue asks. Then: “You guys are drinking, aren’t you?”
“Just some wine,” Jim says.
“I don’t want to deal with you!” Sue walks away.
“And stop feeding fucking Bird!” Wawp shouts.
Sue turns and looks at Wawp, says, “I’m going to kill that goddamn bird!”
Wawp and the neighbor are talking and making noise with the bottle. Bird is in Bird’s branches nodding on the laughter and talk, until Bird hears glass striking glass and outbursts of laughter. It is dark, but for the blue glow on the steps where Wawp’s and Jim’s legs and feet move in the mist.
“Look at her,” Jim says.
“That’s Kate Moss,” Wawp says. “I’m a lichen/Kate Moss.”
Wawp and Jim laugh.
“How about that bottle?” Jim says.
“Empty.”
“What time is it?”
“Brandy time,” Wawp says.
“I’m a lichen/Kate Moss better.”
“I am too, but we ran out of her before she got here.”
“When are you gonna make me a mast?” Jim asks.
“As soon as you get a boat.”
“How about I get a mast first?”
“Start from the top down.”
“Let’s have a vote on Kate Moss,” Jim says.
“Okay. All in favor of building a mast for Kate Moss, say ‘aye’.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
