Bird Song (2 page)

As Robert slowed down, and the ground drew closer, I saw that the blanket of snow that covered the large field was not going to be bearing its stargazers tonight.
 
“What do we do now?”

Robert’s feet touched the ground and sank into the cold covering, and I shivered just thinking about how it must feel to him.
 
“It doesn’t feel all that different than standing on a beach, actually,” he said aloud, answering the question that I had not voiced.

I felt the line of dissatisfaction stretch across my face while I thought about that for a bit.
 
“You know, you’re not going to be winning many points with me if you keep on bragging about going to the beach when I’m stuck in Ohio during one of the worst winters in history.”

He laughed out loud, his voice echoing around me, the sound a beautiful symphony of bells and brass and strings all blending into the only sound that could erase the very chill from my body.
 
“You just say the word and you’ll have your toes dipping in warm, Pacific waters in no time.”

I shook my head.
 
This was the hardest part when it came to what Robert was—at least it was for me.
 
He wanted me to take advantage of what he was, use his abilities to help me, help my family out in ways that we both knew would be beneficial.
 
It wasn’t breaking any code, he had explained.
 
I just didn’t like the idea that by relenting, and allowing him the pleasure of doing this for me, I’d be using him.

I had argued that we had been getting along fine without him, his money, or his gifts, and we’d do well without it.
 
I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet, I told him, because there was no other way for me to exist.
 
It was why I had worked at the library.
 
It was why I rode a bike instead of driving some used clunker.
 
It was why I wore second hand clothes from thrift stores and garage sales.
 
Everything that I did, I wanted it to be done my way.

“I’ll be able to support myself,” I had explained to him one night after he had argued against the possibility of me taking a job at the mall.
 
“I don’t plan on living at home once I go to college, Robert.
 
After the baby comes, what kind of study time do you think I’ll get?”

“You don’t have to get a job, Grace.
 
I’d be more than willing to support you while you go to school,” Robert had argued.
 
“Besides, you don’t even like the mall.
 
How will you be able to be in some store you can’t stand and sell items to people you don’t like?”

I smiled sweetly at him and replied, “The same way you angels can help people you despise.”

It had been the wrong thing to do—Robert had been very sensitive as of late because of his call—but I couldn’t take it back, and I wasn’t going to either.
 
Humans and angels weren’t so different that they couldn’t be just as deceptive as the other in order to achieve set goals.

There had been no winner in that argument.
 
He couldn’t forbid me from working, and I couldn’t force him to like it.
 
We were at an impasse in that regard, and I didn’t mind it at all because the wall was on his side of the fence this time.
 
He had set up so many boundaries and rules since the very beginning of our strange relationship that it was nice being the one with the gate key for a change.

I can hear that.

Of course he could hear it.
 
I had allowed him back in.
 
And?
 
It’s true.
 
You’re the one who’s set up all of these ridiculous rules, and I’m stuck following them whether I like them or not.

He had walked over to our bench—where we had had our first real conversation, where everything began for the two of us—and used his wings like some kind of built-in broom to sweep the snow off of the seat.
 
“Why are you doing that?
 
You won’t get cold if you sit on the snow,” I commented, watching him.

“Because I don’t want to get my pants wet.
 
They’re new.”
 

I rolled my eyes.
 
Robert had discovered that being Death eased the restrictions on him that would have otherwise caused him significant harm.
 
Lying, for example, would normally cause him extreme pain and eventually result in death if he didn’t confess the truth.
 
As Death however, some of the darkness that comes with the power to extend or take away life allowed for him to lie…a little, and Robert chose to use this leniency to joke around.
 
He was like a kid with a new toy, but I knew that it wouldn’t be long before it got on my nerves.

“You’re not seriously trying to make me believe that you care about your pants?”

As he sat down, his wings retreated into the mysterious lines that crisscrossed his back, mirroring in some way the branches of a large tree with Robert as its trunk.
 
I immediately felt saddened by their disappearance.
 
I had definitely grown used to seeing them, and thought they were the most beautiful things to have ever been created.
 
It didn’t hurt that I was the reason for their existence.

“Grace, I don’t care about my pants.
 
I was just trying to get your mind off some of the trivial things.
 
Like this gate or wall notion you have in your head.
 
You know that the rules I have set up are to keep you and your family safe.”

I shrugged my shoulders, knowing what he had said, but not appreciating the reason why he had said it.
 
“Robert, you told me that I can never tell Dad about what you are.
 
I said fine.
 
You told me that Graham can never know.
 
I said fine again..
 
I’ve told no one about you; even Lark and I have never discussed it because you said it was uncomfortable for the two of you.

“But then you decide that I can’t even say your real name, like I ever had anyway, and that I cannot discuss your absences with anyone, that I should just play dumb.
 
I don’t get that.
 
It’s not like I’m telling Madame Hidani that you’re off in Swaziland ferrying souls to Heaven, Hell, and to Kosher Knishes for some lox and bagels.
 
I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, and when I have to play dumb and say I don’t know when people ask where you are, I feel like everyone is starting to feel sorry for me again.”

I avoided mentioning the main arguing point, that neither of us had made any headway with…or concessions.
 
Intimacy on a mental level was one thing.
 
Intimacy on a physical level was something entirely different, and he had cut me off.

Robert’s angelic lack of awareness when it came to feeling the physical touch that so many humans took for granted had made him ignorant to the simple pleasures of experiencing things, like a holding a hand, or kissing.
 
As Robert’s mother had explained, juveniles—angels without wings or a call—were more prone to experience physical pleasure through those of the humans they were with because that’s the only way they could feel them.

And now
 
that Robert had his call, his wings, now that he could feel, could enjoy the wonders of soft lips and smooth skin himself, he had chosen to abstain.
 
And in doing so, had forced me to abstain as well.
 

“It’s too much for me to deal with, Grace,” he had explained when I had been particularly angry and hurt at being rejected yet again.
 
He refused to go into it any further, and I was feeling too dejected to push it.
 
Rejection was my forte, so I knew I could handle it quite well.
 
He, on the other hand, couldn’t.
 
He just wasn’t used to it.

Fifteen hundred years of living with the gift to charm people into doing what you want, to will them to bend to your whims had made him arrogant and cocky in some ways, and it took a simple seventeen year old girl like me to bring him down a peg.
 
I admit that among all of my achievements in life—and there really aren’t many—this was one of my finest.
 
Even Lark, Robert’s sister appreciated my doing so.

“What are you thinking about now?”

“Ugh,” I groaned, realizing that once again, my train of thought had unknowingly left him behind.
 
“I was thinking about your ridiculous inability to control yourself and how I’m being made to suffer for it.”

Seeing his confused expression was almost enough to make me forget that his sudden vow of kissing chastity had also become mine by proxy.
 
Almost.
 
“Ugh,” I groaned again, and shook my head at the impossibility of it all.
 
How could I stare at such beautiful, mercury eyes and an impossibly perfect face and not want to attack it in a primal, feminine way?

“Ahh.”
 

Well hooray.
 
He’d finally gotten into my mind.
 

“You’re thinking about that again?
 
Why?
 
I’ve made some concessions about this, Grace-“

I cut him off.
 
“Yes.
 
You agreed that while you wouldn’t kiss me like a boyfriend would, you’d kiss me like my dad does.
 
How utterly romantic of you, and how selfish of me to want otherwise.”
 
I felt my bottom lip slip out of its grimace, forming the pout that seemed to be ever-present now.

“Grace,” he began, “You’re being ridiculous, you know that?
 
I’m trying to protect you.
 
It’s difficult for me to deny myself the same things that you want, but you have to be patient and understanding.”

I threw my hands up, exasperated with his patience and understanding mantra.
 
“It is ex-
haus
-ting, being so
patient
and
understanding
,” I snapped, but immediately felt contrite when I saw the hurt spread across his face.
 
“Robert, I’m not asking for you to make love to me in the snow, or anything even remotely similar.
 
Although if you want to, I’m not going to object.
 
I’m only asking that you not take away the only real form of physical intimacy we share.”

I hadn’t meant for it to sound like I was pleading with him, but that’s exactly how it came out, and I hated it.
 
I didn’t think I was truly that desperate until the words were out of my mouth.

Robert sighed; the sound was sad and troubled, the same way he sounded after returning from answering his call.
 
“Grace, please.
 
Let’s talk about this later, okay?
 
I wanted to discuss something with you.”

So he was changing the subject.
 
Fine.
 
I made a mental note that when we finally did discuss this, he’d be unable to discuss anything but.

“What is it?”

Holding onto my chin, he forced me to look towards the Gazebo that was nestled between two large trees.
 
The last time we were here, a newlywed bride dipped her husband in an unconventional sealing of her wedding vows.
 
That was the night I met the bride’s grandmother, a kind woman named Ellie who had not only been an Electus Patronus, but also one of the few women who knew Robert in a more intimate way, a way that I never had.
 
And with the way things were going, never would either.

“So what am I looking at?” I asked, taking note that the gazebo was shrouded in the white cloak of snow.

Robert grinned.
 
“I’m going to set up a spot over there for us to celebrate the New Year.
 
I’ve already spoken to your father and Lark is going to bring you here to meet me.
 
I want you to wear the green dress again, if you don’t mind.”

“Why do I have to wear a dress?” I grumbled, not exactly enjoying the idea of being in the cold winter air in a dress that had only been barely tolerable when the ground still had some green to it.
 
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the dress—the dress had been beautiful—it was more that it was…a dress.
 
It had taken Robert actually purchasing it himself in order for me to put it on.
 
It was the same night that I had told Robert that I loved him.
 

It was the same night that I had met Sam…

“Don’t think about him, Grace.
 
That’s not how I want you to remember our first date.”

“I don’t think I can think about that night without thinking about him, Robert,” I argued.
 
“I’m not going to pretend that he didn’t exist, that what happened…didn’t.
 
It did, and I can’t forget it.
 
The only thing I can do is hope things are better for us in the future.”

Robert sighed before finally releasing my chin and wrapping his arms around me.
 
He whispered into my ear, “So do you want to hear what I have planned?”