Birdie was the strongest, bravest, most determined girl in her neighborhood. Everyone knew it; her big sister Charlotte said so. Birdie loved her home. She loved the way the honeysuckle perfumed the sidewalk outside her apartment. She loved the plant’s delicate flowers, the tiny explosions of pink and red. She even loved the cooler months, when flowers lose their bloom and fall, and paint the ground in Technicolor. Most of all she loved her sister. Charlotte was so beautiful. Her hair curled and zig-zagged, and her eyes reminded Birdie of Momma’s homemade caramel.
Birdie couldn’t imagine a better sister than Charlotte. One time Charlotte caught Birdie wearing heels, and they both laughed when Birdie almost toppled into Momma’s crocodile fern. Another time when Birdie sprained her ankle, Charlotte put on too much makeup and sang to her like an R&B superstar. Because of Charlotte, Birdie learned when to follow the rules, and sometimes, when to break them. “You and me, we’re a team,” Charlotte told her. Charlotte was the best. Really, Birdie couldn’t imagine life without her.
Even the rain outside cheered Birdie. From her home Birdie looked out the window. She thought about those times she went exploring with her sister. Sometimes they would pass a group of boys near the street corner next to the 7-Eleven. Those boys must have liked Charlotte, Birdie thought; they were always so friendly to her.
One morning at the 7-Eleven Birdie saw a car idling. One of the boys, the oldest, sidled up to the driver’s window and removed a plastic bag from his pocket. Then he noticed Charlotte. “Hey there, pretty,” he said. “Who’s your friend?” and then he winked at Birdie. Charlotte turned away so fast Birdie had to skip to keep up. The driver sped off while the younger boys laughed and played and hid behind the dumpster. “Bang! Bang!” they said.
Sometimes Charlotte and Momma argued about those boys. “It’s getting worse, Momma. And it’s not just the dealing.”
“I’ve told you, Charlotte, ain’t nothin’ gonna change them.”
“It’s not just me, Momma. You remember what happen to that girl? It was those boys that did it. And Birdie’s getting older. They gonna notice.”
But Momma would have none of it. “You don’t want this, Charlotte. What you think’s gonna happen? They find out we called on them, it’ll get bad, quick. And not just you. For Birdie too.”
Later, Charlotte told Birdie, “You listen to me, little Bird. You pay those boys no mind, you understand? You’re stronger than them, stronger than anyone. Don’t you forget that.” And then Charlotte pinched her cheek.
Birdie liked what Charlotte told her and liked to tell it to Momma, but Momma would just tighten her mouth and say “Hush, child.” So Birdie stopped telling her.
Sometimes Birdie didn’t understand Momma. One Saturday she asked Charlotte why Momma kept quiet so much.
“She just wants to protect you, little Bird. Some things she can’t talk about. Some things she won’t talk about.
“There’s everything out there, and there’s us in here. And she don’t want those things coming into our home.”
Birdie wrinkled her nose, like she did when Momma made okra stew.
“I protect you too, little Bird. I promise, nobody ever gonna make you feel scared. Those boys … I make sure they never bother you. You understand? I’ll take care of them. Just promise me you won’t tell Momma.” Birdie nodded. And Birdie didn’t tell Momma, at least not right away, not until she saw Momma crying.
Charlotte was beautiful, even when Birdie saw her later—lying so still, painted in hues of pink and red. Like honeysuckle, Birdie thought.
Outside the apartment, the rain tap-tapped against the window like an echo of bullets from a distant street.
Image: Rain on the window looking out on a city street. From Pixabay.com
literally stories 
Jeremy
Beautiful story. The dangerous outside world never loses because it is mindless and has no feelings except anger.
The relationship between the sisters is perfect, and Birdie’s optimism and appreciation of life is moving. And yet Momma’s fears came true.
What is it about 7-11 stores anymore? A while back a guy was stabbed to death in the parking lot at the one down the street. He wasn’t the first nor will he be the last.
Great work .
Leila
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There is nothing like the love of siblings when it’s strong as the one between these characters and yet, as so much in life, it leaves the heart open to be broken. A hard story of the brutality of some culture colliding with beauty and affection and the fear of a parent. Ingredients for a super bit of fiction. This is a good read – thank you – dd
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Beautifully written with a heart-punch of an ending. Excellent!
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Jeremy
Growing up, I was part of a gang. Mostly we played stickball, street hockey. and talked to girls on the stoops. That kind of gang. Three blocks away, there was another kind of gang. We did our best to stay out of their way. I had nightmares about them. The only thing you could do to be safe was — get lucky.
“Charlotte” had that inevitable feel to it. Like real life. And done with subtly and affection. Great job. — Gerry
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Jeremy
Birdie is a wonderful character – great name too – and her relationship with Charlotte is truly touching in a non-sentimental manner, not an easy thing to accomplish in fiction at all. Their mother was also a really well-drawn character, vividly and “truly” presented in a few, well-placed strokes. The small, loving family and the wicked world outside all come through to the reader very clearly. This is a very Dickensian piece in that sense, and so, for me, an excellent story for the fifth of December. (Not all of Dickens’ work is sentimental; on the contrary, his best writing is more human in a real way than perhaps any writer except Shakespeare.)
This entire story is delicate, graceful, true, and “real” in a fictional way. It says something about the world we inhabit, without saying it – again, not an easy thing to do.
This is a tale of beauty that is not lost; where even the tragedy has a strange beauty to it, which is all rare in a world of so much seeming ugliness. It’s subtle, true, and deeply human: I’m happy to be able to applaud this piece! Bravo! Thanks for writing!
Sincerely,
Dale
PS, I love how short it is too – it does a million things in very few words. Understanding when to stop is a great virtue in writing, and too rare a thing in a world filled with far too much blab and nonsense (I don’t exempt myself from the charge!).
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Hi Jeremy,
This was very interesting.
Not sure if I’m making any sense here, this was written one way but the subject matter should have taken it another, that was clever and worked very well.
I think you were going for some sort of juxtaposition which really needs to be considered…Again, very clever and interesting!
The protection, the love and the reality of the street are traits of these types of stories and when I think on it, most stories like this follow the formula that we expect but you have managed to make this all your own!!
Hope you have more for us soon.
All the very best my fine friend.
Hugh
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The story starts with such lightness and finishes with such darkness. The relationship between the two sisters feels genuine and the looming threat in their environment is skillfully built. I hope Birdie lives a long life that does justice to her sister’s brief one.
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Thank you all for the kind words. I really appreciate it. You have a very welcoming community!
Jeremy
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I think there could be a book written about these characters and their situation so we know more about the scenario. I’m not sure, for example. what made Birdie the strongest, bravest, most determined girl in the neighborhood. I like the descriptions of the flowers and the kind of Garden of Eden the mother wanted to keep the girls in.
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A beautifully written piece, it almost has the feeling of a fairytale in some senses. You depicted the innocence of Charlotte and Birdie very well, and there growing awareness of their dangerous surroundings really well.
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