Bird by Danielle Burke

We are gathered here. Waiting for the opportunity. The younger one thinks we are loathsome, ignorant creatures, but the old woman knows better. 

***

Ava Nash finally possessed almost everything she knew she deserved. 

She thought back to the winter, to the morning her landlord, Philip, had accosted her. 

“Don’t think I’m going to be persuaded once again by you blinking those pretty blue eyes at me, unless there’s going to be more to follow,” he leered. “Rent’s due by tomorrow at 3:00. If it’s not in my hand by then, we’re going to have to work out another arrangement.” 

Ava closed her eyes as she caught a whiff of Philip’s rancid breath, images of him gorging himself on onions and garlic festering in her mind. 

The next day, she still lacked the rent, and Philip began stopping by almost every evening. Only now, since she’d met Darren and worked quickly to get a ring on her finger, had she stopped gagging when she smelled onions or garlic.

But she’d done what she had to do, and that was all behind her now. 

The wedding was planned, but Ava knew it was a child that would ensure her future turned out how she imagined. 

***

“It’s my mother, Ava. I have to take care of her first,” Darren explained when Ava first broached the subject. “You know she had the stroke, and now it’s getting worse. The doctor thinks there’s dementia involved. Aunt Carol just took her to the appointment yesterday, and it’s pretty clear we’re going to have to get more involved. A lot more involved. Aunt Carol has done the best she can, but she can’t stay there with Mother forever.”

“What exactly do you have in mind, Darren?”

Darren moved closer and took her hand. “I think we should move in with Mother. It’s time for me to be there for her, just like she always was for me. It’s a gorgeous house, and you can stay with her during the day.” 

“You want me to take care of your mother?” Ava clenched her free hand into a fist beneath the table. 

“I told you I don’t want you to have to work. You’ll just be there, making sure Mother gets what she needs during the day, making sure she doesn’t hurt herself. From what Aunt Carol says, I don’t think she does much except tends to the bird she’s taken in, and she sleeps a lot.” 

“But, Darren, I wanted to spend my days taking care of a baby. Our baby.” Ava willed tears to her eyes. 

“There will be plenty of time for all that later on,” Darren said. She watched Darren move away from her to lean back in his chair. The warmth of his hand was gone. He was pulling away from her. 

Ava changed tactics. She leaned forward, taking Darren’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry. You’re right, sweetheart. I’ll take care of your mother. Don’t worry.”

When Darren kissed her sweetly, Ava sighed in relief.  Keeping Darren content was absolutely necessary.

“One day the house will be ours, and then we’ll talk about the baby,” Darren promised.

***

Ava shuddered the first time she laid eyes on the crow cradled in her mother-in-law’s arms. Miranda Allen didn’t acknowledge Ava’s entrance. She sat stroking the crow’s head with her thumb.

The crow, unabashed, tilted its head and studied Ava’s face before releasing a CAW.

Ava licked her lips and took a step forward. “Good morning, Ms. Allen.”

“Bird,” Miranda murmured. 

Aunt Carol had informed them of what the doctor termed Miranda’s verbal stereotypy, that “bird” was the only word she was now able to utter.

“Maybe we should put the bird down now. Get ready for your breakfast.” Ava took another step forward and narrowed her eyes at the crow. Its eye flashed as it returned Ava’s gaze. 

Miranda tightened her arms around the bird and her shrill voice rang out, “Bird, bird, bird, bird!”

Ava smiled. Oh, this will be even easier than I thought. 

***

Darren could hear his mother’s voice that afternoon as soon as he stepped out of the car. He hurried, taking the stairs two at a time, and leaping over the gate at the top that shielded his mother from venturing down the stairs. 

He entered her and found his mother standing, pointing toward the window, her wide eyes showing her distress. 

“Bird!” she shrieked. “Bird!” She fell backwards into her chair with a sob. 

Ava stood nearby, wringing her hands. “Darren! I came in to check on your mother, and she’d opened the window. The crow flew out, and she’s been inconsolable ever since.”

Darren strode to the window and threw it open. He leaned out and scanned the area before ducking back inside. 

“I don’t see the bird, Mother.” He crossed the room and took Miranda’s hands. “I think he flew away. He must be all better now.”

“Bird!” Miranda responded and pulled her hands away from her son to glare at Ava.

***

Ava bided her time. She knew she had to let a few days pass. Throwing the bird out the window had been the first step. Whether it had survived or not, she didn’t know, nor did she much care. 

It was difficult to be in the same room with Miranda; if the old woman even caught a glimpse of Ava, she screamed, “Bird!” 

But no one was alarmed by this; Miranda’s dementia kept her from being a threat to Ava.

Four days later, Ava quickly crossed Miranda’s bedroom and threw open the window. 

“Bird!” Miranda shouted.

“Yes!” Ava nodded. “The bird is out there. We’ll just let a little fresh air in. Sound good?” Without waiting for a response, she strode from the room

From the hallway where she watched, Ava saw Miranda gather herself and rise to move toward the window. At first, she slowly swiveled her head back and forth, murmuring “Bird!” every few seconds. When her beloved creature didn’t appear, Miranda leaned forward farther.

A morbid joy danced in Ava’s chest. Lean out just a little more. There’s no way you’ll survive the fall, old woman.

But then Miranda’s voice changed. It was clear, confident. “Bird!” she called. And the crow came to land on the windowsill, its insistent Caw driving Miranda back from the window.

Before Ava could step forward to intervene, a murder of crows flooded through the window, their glossy eyes trained on Ava. 

The swirling murder drove her toward the top of the stairs, tangling themselves in her hair, diving for her eyes, pushing, pushing, pushing. 

The gate at the top of the steps was no barrier for such a wave. Ava backed into it as she flailed her arms in the air. Over the gate she went, crashing down the stairs, and landing in a heap at the bottom. 

The birds flew out. Miranda’s favorite stopped at the windowsill, cawing to her, and Miranda understood its meaning. She closed the window, and the bird flew away.

Darren’s shock when he arrived home that evening was, of course, understandable. 

“I just don’t understand how this could have happened,” he said, as he led the policemen around the house and entered Miranda’s room.

His mother sat in her chair, staring at the window. “Bird,” she murmured. But no one paid the old lady any attention.

Danielle Burke