Bird After Bird (18 page)

But I didn’t want to hurt her in any way. “I have condoms,” I said.

“I want to feel you—all of you,” she breathed into my ear, echoing the sentiments of my own heart.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“I’ve always been safe.
Always
. You?”

I nodded. “I don’t want to get you pregnant, though. Not today.” I started to pull away, to grab the box of condoms from the bedside table. She pulled me back into her arms.

“I’m on the pill, Laurie. Please. I want to feel you inside me.”

“If you’re sure…”

And with that, she dropped a hand to my cock and guided me inside her. She was so tight and it had been so long since I’d been with anyone, I wasn’t sure how long I could last.

“I love you, Laurie,” she whispered, her breath hitching as I moved in her, more and more powerfully with every stroke.

And that was it for me. I tried to think about baseball, birding, the Army, anything—but the way her body moved beneath mine, the way she moaned and writhed against me was too much. I couldn’t hold out. I gave in to the power of sensation, to the sweet release of it all.

“I love you, too, Wren,” I said.

A few moments later she curled into my arms. I wanted to keep her there, safe, my precious one.

Later, I woke from a nap to the bleeping of my phone on the nightstand.

“Shut up!” I whispered.

“You shut up,” she said sleepily, turning to face me. She kissed me. “Who’re you barking at?”

“My phone, which serves no purpose when we’re together.”

She reached across me to the nightstand and retrieved the phone. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, turning the screen so I could see. “These look important to me.” Billy had texted a pic of Lynette’s chest, her tight Billy & The Boys tee cradling a hand on her cleavage. I took the phone and blew up the photo to have a closer look.

“Well, I’ll be damned. He did it.”

“Did what?” Wren rested her head on my arm, rubbing her cheek against my skin.

I showed her the phone, the pic zoomed in. “See that ring? Billy proposed to his girl.”

“That’s sweet.”

There was a text with the pic. “He wants us to go down to the Beer & Bait and have a drink.”

“The Beer & Bait?” Wren’s nose crinkled.

“I know, I know—but he’ll be on good behavior. Besides, you’d like the band. They’re pretty good.”

Wren got up and headed for the bathroom. “Are there towels in here?” I heard the shower turn on as she disappeared from view.

“You don’t mind going? It’s kind of a big deal that Billy proposed.”

“I don’t mind, as long as I don’t get upchucked on again.” She stuck her head out of the bathroom door. “Besides, I could use some beer and bait.”

“You eat worms, do ya?”

“Why do you think my parents named me Wren?” She winked and shut the door.

Be there in an hour.

As I climbed into the shower with Wren I wasn’t sure an hour would be long enough. I didn’t care, though.

She was so wet and we were both getting soapy, but nothing could put out my fire for this redhead.

When we rolled into the Beer & Bait three hours later, I’d never been so sore or so happy in my entire life.

Chapter Thirty-two

Wren

There never seemed to be a good time to tell him about the letters. The deeper I fell in love with Laurie, the more I wanted to tell him everything—including the fact I had found those little origami birds with his innermost thoughts inside.

Every time I raised the subject, though, I feared the truth would push him away.

“Do any of your friends call you Birdy?”

“A few, I guess,” he’d said. He was straightening up his living room, then putting my bag away in is bedroom. I noticed the covered canvas was gone, as well as the photo from the mantel. “Not since high school.”

“Did I ever tell you my dad called me Birdy, too?”

“Is that why you got the bird on your back?”

“I was surprised you didn’t ask about it last night.”

“I had better things to do with my mouth than ask questions.”

He gently turned me around and lifted the back of the tee. His fingers traced the tattoo on my lower back. Normally I didn’t feel the need to explain my ink to anyone. It was personal. I felt an unfamiliar desire to share everything with Laurie, though. “A tramp stamp. Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I’m not judging,” he said.

It was a swallow, Sailor Jerry style.

“I didn’t find yours last night.”

“What, a tattoo?”

“Yeah. Don’t all soldiers get tattoos?”

He shook his head. “Thought about it, when I graduated Basic. Couldn’t find anything I’d want for the rest of my life, though. Yours is nice. Suits you.”

I laughed. “You think?”

“Sure. I mean, I’d expect a wren, but the swallow is cool. Does it have a meaning?”

“The tattoo artist said it meant ‘freedom.’ That sailors used to get them before their first long voyage, and then one to match at the end.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Supposedly, the swallow would carry their souls home if they drowned.”

“Wow.” He let my tee drop. “Well, we’ll stay away from the lake tonight, just in case, okay?”

My hand in his, I felt safe. I felt happy.

As we headed out to the Beer & Bait to see his friends, I was lost in the potential of a future him. Where would we live? What would we do? Would he move to Chicago to be with me? It was too soon to ask.

I was so swept away that I didn’t even recognize my ex behind the beer tub at the bar side of the Beer & Bait.

“Well, Wren Riley,” he said, handing me a locally drafted microbrew, the cap already off. “This one’s on the house, girl.”

“Peter,” I said, raising the beer to him in salute before having a sip. “How’ve you been?”

“Never better,” he said, exchanging money and bottles with a couple before turning back to me. “Whatever you’re drinking’s on the house tonight. What brings you back to the big, old, funky Bird?”

I laughed at the way he used that term. Back in high school it was common among our classmates to refer to Birdseye as “the Bird.” No good reason. Just kid stuff.

Laurie’s hands were on my shoulders. “Pete,” he said in greeting, from behind me.

“Hey! You two a thing?” Peter said, smiling. “I had no idea!” He reached out and shook Laurie’s hand. “Congrats, man. You’re coming up in the world. Not every fella in this town has had the pleasure of escorting the Homecoming Queen to the Beer & Bait!”

“Oh, Peter,” I said, turning away from him and looking for a table. Billy winked at me from on stage, pointing. His girlfriend—fiancé now—waved to me from a table nearby. We’d never met, but she seemed to know who I was. I looked around the bar for a moment. Hopefully Cindy Wiseman and her friends wouldn’t show up again.

I went and sat with Lynette, and she introduced herself. “You were the reason I tried out for cheerleading,” she whispered into my ear, so I could hear her over the music. “And the school play. I wanted to be just like you, Wren.” She smiled, and her front teeth jutted out, making her appear slightly goofier than she probably was.

“You’re too sweet,” I said.

A grief counselor tried to tell me once my “overachieving” had something to do with my mom, but I wasn’t emotionally neglected, and after a normal period of grief, I thought I was downright well-adjusted. All I’d ever done in school was my best. Birdseye just happens to be such a small community, someone who’s good at more than a few things stands out. There were people like Lynette who saw it as a good thing, then there were people like Cindy who hated you for it. The problem with high school was that I never knew which were which.

So I had been myself, and when being myself seemed to offend others, I learned to keep to myself. One of the ironies of a small town life is that although in many ways it can provide a lot more privacy than a city life, everyone who does know you seems to think they know it all. It didn’t bother my dad that much, but then, no one expected him to be the best at everything. He was a teacher in the next town. I was the girl who everyone treated like the front-runner of some kind of competition.

It was a relief to move away.

I always thought it was a shame that no one from Birdseye ever went away for college, unless it was to one of the nearby in-state universities. They missed out on finding autonomy, on discovering what life was like “out there.”

There had been no Ivy Leaguers, and I was the first of anyone I knew to attend Northwestern. There were no people of color in my high school class and four years of prom themes set to country music were four too many, as far as I was concerned. Don’t get me wrong—I like country music. It’s just that when I flipped through Vogue, I never saw anyone dressed in a formal gown and cowboy boots.

“Oh, don’t you love this song?” Lynette asked.

It was an old country favorite about seeing one’s mama again in heaven. I remembered the first time I’d heard it on the way to school, just a few months after my mom died. I remembered how I’d tried so hard not to cry on the bus, because if I cried again, they’d send me to the school counselor. He’d try to make me talk, instead of letting me go to Advanced Math where I could focus on equations and story problems.

There’s something really relieving about work like that. You just have to do it to get through it. You don’t have to feel it, acknowledge it, claim it, or heal from it. It’s just work. Back then it was just math.

“Billy’s got a great voice,” I said. “You must be so proud.”

“I hope the baby takes after him,” she said. Her eyes shone with happiness. I didn’t want what she had, but I couldn’t help but be happy for her. “Did you know we’re getting married next month? I’ve always wanted to see Gatlinburg! It’s full of wedding chapels. Just like Vegas.”

The band started an Avett Brothers tune and Laurie swept me into his arms to slow dance. I was having trouble relaxing into the rhythm. Lynette was sweet, but I worried that Cindy Wiseman would show up again and launch into me.

“What’s wrong? Is Lynette annoying you?”

I smiled. “She’s fine. Really sweet, actually.”

“So what is it? This place just too boring?”

I didn’t answer, but I tried to smile.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said. “Don’t worry, I just gotta slap Billy on the back a few times in congratulations, then we can hit the road.”

I was just about to agree with him when Peter cut in. “You don’t mind do ya, kid?”

Laurie bit his lip, then smiled. His eyes said that he minded very much, but he couldn’t answer before Peter pulled me away.

“Surprised to see you slumming it with that Byrd kid,” Peter said. His breath smelled like a brewery.

“Not half as surprised as I am to be slumming it with you right now, Pete.”

He laughed. “Touché. God, I’ve missed you, Birdy.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

Peter laughed, pulling his face away from mine to give me an appraising look. “Your boy. He’s a few years younger than you, right? Can’t handle a man your age?” He pressed his body against mine and I pushed him away, but he held me firm in his arms.

As Laurie came to my rescue, I heard laughter in the doorway leading out to the deck. Red cup in hand, Cindy Wiseman laughed as she entered the bar.

Chapter Thirty-three

Wren

Cindy hovered on the edge of the bar whispering to Pete and laughing, not even trying to hide the fact she was pointing at me. I desperately wanted to leave, but Laurie was talking to Lynette and waiting to give his best friend a congratulatory hug.

I had a raging headache, and when the band finally broke, it was at the tail end of an electric banjo solo Billy performed under the guise of covering “Purple Haze.”

“You haven’t lived until you’ve heard a drunk redneck banjo rendition of Jimi Hendrix,” said no music fan, ever.

It felt like Laurie and Billy talked forever. Billy was asking Laurie to sing and he was shaking his head no. “Not if my life depended on it, man.”

“One of these days, brother. I know you still got it. Heard you singing Sweet Home Alabama at the shop the other day.”