Bird After Bird (20 page)

Mrs. Byrd took a deep breath. “Call me Lynda,” she said, her visage softening. “And as long as you won’t be gone too long, you can pick me up some cigarettes. I picked the wrong weekend to stop smoking.” She smiled then, and I caught a glimpse of the beauty she used to be. “Do you need some money, sweetie?”

Laurie shook his head no, and walked me to the car. “Be right back, Mom,” he said.

On the way to the store he was silent. He didn’t speak until I asked him what brand his mother smoked. After a quick dash into the store while he waited in the car, he turned to face me, smiling. “I’m so sorry. I told you she was nuts.”

I smiled. “You did. You did, indeed.”

“And she has no idea how thoughtless it was of her to ask someone who lost two parents to lung cancer to go buy her cigarettes.”

“I know. But you can’t go through life expecting people to remember that.”

“I’m embarrassed,” he said, giving me a sad smile.

“Why?”

“Because my family is so dysfunctional and I let my mom scream at us like that. I wanted to tell her that if she was going to scream at me, I wasn’t going to stick around, but—“

“But what?”

“The last time I did that, she smacked my face.”

“Shit, Laurie. How old were you?”

“It was the night before I left for AIT.”

As he parked the car in front of his parents’ McMansion, he looked thoroughly exhausted. I reached up and touched his cheek with the back of my hand. His fingers closed in mine, pressing it into his flesh until his stubble tickled me and I pulled it away.

“Look, your mom is a bully. That’s obvious. I can totally understand if you don’t want to stay for dinner. I wouldn’t blame you—and I’m here for you, so if you’re ready to go, let’s go.”

He smiled, then pressed his lips together in thought. “The thing is, this is the only time I see my dad. He’s become a basement dweller. When he’s not working, he’s down there with his big screen TV and if I don’t visit him, he never comes around.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He shrugged. “I think he hears a lot of nastiness and the TV drowns it out. I think it’s his lifeline.”

I reached over and hugged him. “C’mon, sir. We can get through this together.”

“And if we just leave now and don’t come back?”

“We could do that, too, but at least this way she’ll stop bugging you about when she’s going to meet me. You can tell her that last time you brought me by, she burned the kitchen down.”

“Good one,” he said, opening his door and jaunting around to get mine for me. “Something tells me this is going to be the best dinner I’ve ever had with my parents.”

Chapter Thirty-five

Laurie

The smoke had mostly cleared while we were gone, and we sat down to dinner in the dining room, a giggling Jo giving Wren the third degree about what her Homecoming had been like, what kind of dress she’d worn, who her date had been. Wren couldn’t remember all the details, and Jo said she’d bring down one of Louisa’s yearbooks so they could look it up. Wren’s eyes pleaded for rescue.

Louisa laughed aloud. “Spare us, Jo. We did high school already. No fun doing it again.”

“I wish I were still in high school,” Jo said. “It was so much easier than college.”

My little sister was studying education at a nearby private college. “How big is your class size?” I asked.

“About 250,” she said.

“Wow. That’s twice the size of Birdseye High’s senior class, isn’t it?”

Jo shrugged.

“There were 300 people in my Library Systems 101 lecture,” Louisa added.

My mother chimed in to talk about her time as a member of the Homecoming Court—one of several runners up to Wren’s mom, as it turned out.

“Lark was always very popular,” she said. She eyed my dad, waiting for him to take the bait. Instead, he took another piece of chicken.

“So, Wren, knowing your talented parents, I’m surprised a woman of your accomplishments would be interested in a simple Army mechanic,” Mom said, as she passed a dish of charred bird to Wren.

I saw a momentary look of displeasure cross Wren’s face. She pulled out the remains of a wing and passed the bowl to Louisa on her other side.

“I think what Laurie did for our country is fantastic.”

But had I done it for our country? To be honest, it was more for myself. When I didn’t get into art school I knew I needed to learn a trade and mechanics was a good one. Plus, it was just good to get away from Birdseye.

“Oh, sure,” Mom said, her eyes dancing. “Laurie was very heroic, weren’t you, son?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Just ask Mrs. Whatshername. Rodriguez.”

I put my fork down. I wanted to tell her about what our unit had done, about how I’d worked round the clock keeping trucks running and that I’d actually earned commendations before my injury shortened my stay.

More than that, though, I didn’t want to get into a screaming match with my mother in front of Wren. And I didn’t want to ruin Dad’s birthday. Mom was doing that well enough without my help.

Wren had a drink of ice water, having turned down the wine Mom had offered. “Well, I appreciate that you value my accomplishments, Lynda,” she said, in that same commanding tone she’d used in the driveway, “but I must say, I think you have a lot to be proud of in your son.”

“Oh, yes! He changes the oil on, what? Ten cars a day, I think!” Mom gave a mean grin and sipped her wine. “Such talent!”

“I did see the mural he painted in his home,” Wren replied. The way she said “his home” visibly set my mother’s teeth on edge.

“A home he only got because he bought it from his parents! Did he tell you that?” Mom railed. She looked to Jo, who nodded her head as though buying a home from one’s parents were something to be ashamed of.

“It’s a gorgeous house,” Wren said. She took another sip of water and her eyes roamed about the dining room of Mom’s McMansion. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever have wanted to leave it, to be honest. It seems the perfect setting, and I love what Laurie has done with it.”

Mom huffed into her napkin and picked at her food. She shrugged, but said no more. I could almost hear the gears grinding in her mind. She’d thought Wren would be on
her
side. She didn’t comprehend that in Wren’s world, there shouldn’t be “sides” between mothers and sons. My mother seemed to think she was owed some kind of ongoing adoration from the children she hated, even though she poured all her love into Jo.

It was no wonder Jo was such a brat. If Louisa and I took after Dad, Jo was the spitting image of Mom, and you know what they say about birds of a feather.

“I like you, Miss Riley,” Dad said.

Wren smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Byrd.”

“Call me Leonard—or Lenny if you’d like. Never could get Laurence to go by ‘Larry,’ though God knows I tried. Was my brother’s name, but Lynda got on this
Little Women
kick.” He rolled his eyes. “Would have loved to have my own Larry Bird.”

“Hey, I played ball,” I said.

“He was good at it, too,” Louisa added. “
Really
good center, with those long legs.”

“Not, like,
Larry Bird
good, though. The nickname would have been wasted on me.” Why did I sound so pathetic around my mother?

Mom had a drink of her wine and cleared her throat. “It might interest you to know, Miss Riley, that I named my children after characters from my favorite book.”

“
Little Women
,” Wren said.

“Yes,
Little Women
. Laurie and Jo for my two favorite characters, and Louisa after the author. All proper names for proper lords and ladies.” She said it without a shred of irony, and Wren smiled in response.

“I should have been named ‘Amy,’ though,” Jo said, “since I’m the youngest and the prettiest.”

Louisa stuck out her tongue at Jo.

“And Laurie should have been named Beth, since he’s the quiet one,” Jo added, her eyes darting to her brother’s face.

Mom laughed in response, and looked as though she were about to let loose another nasty comment when Wren spoke up.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Jo. I can’t imagine a more perfect name for your brother than Laurie. It’s classic. It’s hot. It’s dreamy, for those of us who loved the book as a child. I think your mother chose very well, actually.” And she forked a big bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, winking at me.

Mom was silent the rest of the night, but not in her usual hostile way. If I had to guess, I’d say she was trying to figure Wren Riley out—what made her tick, and whether or not she was a friend or a foe.

As hesitant as I’d been to bring Wren to meet my parents, I was proud of her, and strengthened by her presence. I wondered if I could put that into words. My mind was filled with emotion, and I realized I would have to draw it. I hoped I could funnel it into my art.

Chapter Thirty-six

Wren

I wanted to comfort him, but how? “I had no idea it was that bad,” I said.

I watched him as he drove. It was a pleasure watching Laurie’s handsome profile in person under any circumstances, but seeing his steely reserve melt away the further we got from his mother, I was touched by how much he endured for family’s sake.

“You don’t think I’m weak for letting her talk to me that way?”

“Not at all. It takes a lot of grace to let someone so obviously abusive spit at you like that. I’m not sure I could do it, myself.” He reached out to hold my hand, so I continued. “I could understand why you’d never want to go back to that house. Has she always been that way?”

“Always,” he said. “I don’t know why Dad stays. Too helpless to take care of himself, I guess. And old-fashioned. That’s what Louisa calls him.”

“My parents would have loved you, you know.” I knew it was true. “I wish I could have introduced you to them.”

“I’m just glad my mother didn’t rattle on about yours. She never has anything nice to say about anyone—the fact she knew your mom just means you can brace yourself for some kind of slander in the future.” He reached over and rubbed my shoulder with his right hand. “I’m sorry she was so rude. You deserve a better welcome than that.”

I shrugged, patting his hand. “I’d rather have an honest enemy any day than a lying friend.”

“Me, too.”

As we pulled into his driveway, he asked “So, are you sure you can put up with my crazy family to be with me?”

I laughed. “Maybe I won’t have to.”

 “What do you mean, maybe you won’t have to? I don’t particularly like the way my mom treats us, but I’m not ready to walk away from my family forever, Wren.”

“I just thought…you know, if you moved to Chicago, we wouldn’t have to see your mother that much.”

Laurie unlocked the door and dropped his keys, missing the table in the entryway. He bent to pick them up, and I crossed the room to turn on a lamp. Even in the dim light, I could see his face was red.

Hap came barreling out of the back bedroom, and immediately jumped on Laurie. Laurie’s eyes were on me, though, and he didn’t look happy.

“Move? To Chicago?”

Outside, the sun was setting through the trees. The fading light was reflected and enhanced by the color of paint on the opposite wall—sustaining the sunset. I knew in my gut Laurie had painted the room that way on purpose, bringing more of the outdoors in. The late shift of wild birds attacked the feeders, and a pair of baby deer chased their mother in the woods beyond.

Had I really just asked him to leave this place so I wouldn’t have to talk to his mother again?

“I’m sorry, Laurie. I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life. I just thought, since you could be a mechanic and an artist anywhere…” I shrugged.

His shoulders fell. I was going about this all wrong.

My headache returned.

“I’m sorry, Laurie. I’m not thinking. I need to take something for this headache. Can we talk about it in the morning?”

He agreed, but it obviously ate at him. We didn’t have sex that night, and although he still spooned me, he felt several degrees cooler than he had the previous night.