Bird After Bird (31 page)

“You logged into Reddit tonight?” She sounded breathless.

“Nope. Why?”

“Because you’re on the front page.”

“I hardly even use Reddit. Why would I be on the front page?”

“Um, because a few people who do use it videotaped you singing, bro. You’re internet famous, kid.”

And that was how I found out our cover of “January Wedding” had gone viral.

Chapter Fifty-nine

Laurie

Generose smiled the next time I saw her.

“Well, oh well! I read in the paper that we have a new celebrity here in the roles of Dubois County.”

“Please, Sister.” I shook my head. She looked as amused by the news as I was annoyed.

“You never told me you could sing, Laurence.”

“Because it’s never been a particularly useful skill.”

“Useful? Does art have to have a
use
?”

“Well, no…but it’s not my favorite. You know what I mean?”

“Which part exactly do you dislike doing? I have to ask, because your performance in those YouTube videos was quite convincing.”

“You know that’s the song I was going to sing to Wren, right?”

She nodded. “I thought as much.” She was quiet a moment. “Have you heard from her?”

I shook my head. “Why would I?”

She grimaced, as though the answer were clear. “Laurence, I’m not what you’d call a ‘hipster,’ am I?”

I laughed, then I shrugged.

She shrugged back, and laughed herself.

“No.”

“Well, consider this…if
I’ve
heard of your video, then chances are good Wren is going to hear about it soon, if she hasn’t already. I don’t get on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and all that stuff as much as you civvies do. News has to go pretty big for me to see it online—and I did see this. Even before the paper printed a story about it, it popped up in my loops.”

The truth was, we’d gotten news that the Boys were selected for the finals in New York, and I’d been too busy praying that little Willie would be well enough to leave the hospital, so Billy could step back in and take over vocals.

“Billy wants me to go to New York for the competition, regardless of whether he can go.”

She nodded. “Billy’s a smart guy.”

I laughed. “You’re the first to say that out loud, I think.”

She shrugged. “You going?”

I shrugged. “You think I should?”

She shrugged again.

“No more shrugging,” I said. “Should I go to New York? Should I just go and look for Wren? Maybe call her, ask her to meet me? Get closure?”

I saw Generose’s shoulders start to rise, but then she dropped them, as if she realized a shrug would come off as flippant. God, I loved that nun.

“To be honest, Laurence, I think you should consider it. Really think about it. I’m not saying you should shoot for closure, even, necessarily…just think about what you want.”

“Not shoot for closure? What do you mean?”

“Laurence, it’s my role to facilitate your healing, not give you advice. All I’m saying is—think about what you want. What you
really
want. Then go for that.”

I stared at her. I knew what she meant, but I hadn’t let myself name it.

That deepest desire in the pits of my heart.

The need that filled my gut and coursed through my veins.

That broken half of me clinging for the missing piece.

I shut my eyes and rubbed them. “Maybe it’s a kind of closure,” I whispered.

“Maybe,” she said softly. “Why don’t you write about it, or paint something, and let me know if I need to rebook your appointments—if you
do
go out of town.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Sixty

Laurie

I cracked open the package of origami paper I’d picked up at the art supply store. “A thousands sheets for a thousand birds,” the label read.

I’d journaled for a couple of hours the night before, and weighed the pros ad cons very simply: should I contact Wren or not?

Pro: I can tell her how I felt when she ran out on me

Con: having my heart ripped out again

Pro: finding out if she still loves me

Con: she might not

Pro: moving on, either way—together or apart

Con: can’t make her love me

It went on like that, and then I started writing
her
a letter.

Dear Wren,

It feels weird writing you this letter, but rest assured I have no intention of ever sending it. It’s not that I don’t want you to know how I feel, it’s just that I feel like I need the chance to express myself in private before I say anything to you.

The thing is, Wren, you broke my heart. Or maybe you didn’t break it, completely. Usually when something’s broken it doesn’t work at all, and lately it feels like my heart is doing all kinds of work. Working out what happened with you and me.

Once upon a time, I had a broken heart. Once, until I met you. And I was fine with that, Wren. I felt like I deserved a broken heart. It was heavy, but I could cope with it.

Then I met you and I realized I was healing. I realized I
wanted
to heal. I realized I wanted to love again, and I fell so deeply in love with you that maybe I was blind to broken-heartedness altogether.

What I’m saying is, maybe you had a broken heart of your own, but you were so careful about not letting it show, I never realized how deeply you were scarred by loss.

And I’m sorry for that, Wren. Maybe I’m reaching, but I’ve connected some dots since you left. Your mother had a lot of friends. So did your dad. I wish I’d known them, Wren. I wish I’d gone to their school, maybe. Maybe it would give me more insight into how much you are hurting.

And I know you want everyone to see you as strong. I know you don’t want anyone to know how much you hurt. You’ve always been this golden girl, right?

Forgive me for being biased. I am as in love with you as I ever was, but I also know how to call a bird by its name, if you get what I mean. And you are a rare bird, my Wren, my Bluebird.

So that’s the thing. I fell in love with you—all of you—as much
you
as you would let me know. But there’s so much more to you than you’ve ever shared, and call me crazy, but I still want in there, hon. I want to know the rest. The ugly parts, the secret, vulnerable places. I want to be the man who keeps you whole.

I’ve cried, I’ve kicked myself, and I’ve cursed you. I’ve had nightmares about that night in the vineyard that have bled into memories from Iraq, and grief over Sylvia.

Losing you was its own special kind of grief, but the thing is, Wren—YOU’RE NOT DEAD. I have to honor your wishes if you don’t want to see me anymore, if you’re not in love with me and if you don’t want to get married, but Wren…I still want to know you.

As long as you’re alive I
want
to love you. I’m starting to believe that once you love someone—truly love her—that love never goes away.

I really love
you
, Wren.

Please let me know you. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that if you don’t want. I just know I want you in my life. I love you too much to give up.

I sketched a small paper crane on the page.

I’m coming to New York, Wren. I’m bringing all my birds and all my wishes. This Byrd wants a Wren. I love you, girl.

Be mine again. Be mine forever.

Love,

Your Laurie

Chapter Sixty-one

Wren

“Saw your boyfriend on TV,” Janice said. She was making good on her promise to show me the best of New York in my final weeks here. We sat across the table from one another at Serendipity, sipping their famous frozen hot chocolates.

“I miss the Café Cocoa,” I said. “This is good, but it’s not the same without panini.”

“True. Don’t change the subject.”

I sighed. As much as I regretted moving to New York, I’d been trying to make the most of it while I looked for another job somewhere else. I shouldn’t have been down on the frozen drinks. It was ungrateful and belied my bad attitude—one I’d been working double-time to keep under wraps.
Fake it ‘til you make it
, Ms. Business Voice said inside my head.

“I know you’ve heard. He’s in a band now…I heard they’re coming here for the finals of whatever show is taping. Are you going to see him?”

I nearly spat my drink out. “Who’s to say he’d even want to see me?” I’d dribbled a little, and now I had chocolate splotches down the front of a new silk blouse. “Damn it.” I dabbed them dry best I could.

“No need to be so touchy, Wren, I just wondered if he’d reached out to you.”

“My phone hasn’t buzzed.” I refused to admit how many times I’d checked it since I’d heard Laurie was coming to New York.

“Maybe you should call him.”

I sighed, pushing what was left of my drink away. “Yeah, it’s an idea…but to be honest, I don’t like the thought of him thinking I only called because he suddenly got famous.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if you’ve ever been a starfucker.”

“It’s not that—it’s just…doesn’t it look a little weird if I leave him when he’s no one, but I show up when he’s got his fifteen minutes of fame?”

She shook her head. “Excuses. You love him. Don’t you see this as some kind of sign?”

“I don’t believe in signs, Janice. Or fairy tales. I don’t believe evil is punished and that everything works out in the end.” I took a breath, then continued. “I believe I screwed up big-time, and I’ve got to make it right if I ever want to be happy again. I believe I can’t live without this man and my need for him is too great to rush in without thinking and screw up what might be my last chance to work things out with him. That’s what I believe, Janice.”

“Shit.” She eyed me like she’d never seen me before. “I guess you’ve given this a lot more thought that I gave you credit for.”

“I wish I’d given it more thought to begin with—before I bolted. But, yeah. I can’t help but think it’s some kind of second chance—and I can’t be stupid this time. I’m not going to crowd him. I’m not going to distract him while he works and risk blowing this gig for him. How selfish would that be? I’ll just…I’ll just see how it goes.”

“Not really like you to sit back and let things happen.”

“Nope.”

She had a final sip of her drink. “You’re doing it right.” She said it in the same tone of voice she used to sign off on production decisions at work. For some reason that gave me more comfort than I expected.

“I hope so.”

We paid our tab and left. While we were walking, we passed a plaza where tourists fed pigeons. A group of children took turns frightening the birds, chasing them into the air and then turning to swoop on them again as they landed. Of course these were persistent, city birds, intent on making their living. Wild birds weren’t that way.