The sunlight was everywhere. It bounced off the cafe tables. Caught in the leaves of the trees. It squeezed like a vice around Jeff's Italian suit. He was already sweating copiously into the underarms of his shirt and he was late. Altogether the equation's sum equaled pissing him off. Fucking Austin summers. They seemed to get worse every year.
Jack was at the appointed corner table drinking coffee. He looked okay today but that didn't always mean anything. They say besides the death of a child or a loved one nothing so shocks the human system as a divorce. In Jeff's five years as a divorce attorney he'd found that to be very true.
At least for the first divorce.
Jeff navigated the patio tables while literally wondering if he would have to wring the ball sweat out of his undies when this was all said and done. He hated being outside in the summer and normally he'd never have agreed to meet a client outside like this; but Jack was a friend and a smoker. Well, to be fair, Jack was a newly re-integrated smoker. He had quit when Sarah had Phillip, but recent events being what they were....
"Sorry I'm late. Goddamn mopac."
"Goddamn mopac indeed Jeffy. How they hanging?"
"Glued to my right thigh Jack. Glued tight to my right thigh with what I can only assume is a combination of sweat and quite possibly melted scrotum. Jesus it's hot.""
"Listen can we switch seats. I'd prefer to be downwind of that cancer cloud."
"Anyway you like it."
Jeff slid between the cafe wall and the table while deftly swinging his briefcase onto the cast iron table top. He flipped the latch and took a breath.
This particular case was not bad. Not even on the radar as far as bad was concerned, but he knew the couple. That made it suck.
That made it suck the big one.
"I met with her lawyer Jack and they're amenable to the visitation and the child support. In fact buddy they seemed almost floored at what your offering to pay per month and I have to say.....
Jack cut him off.
"Did I ever tell you about the first dead body I ever saw Jeff?"
Oh fuck.
Here it comes. Jeff mentally winced inside his head. This fucking day was too hot, the traffic was too bad and Jack had looked far to put together.
Here it comes. The inevitable freak out, the break down, the big wash, and right out in public for God and half of Austin to behold.
Jeff had hoped this wouldn't happen, but he'd figured on it. He'd seen stronger men than Jack Vincent lose their shit over women who weren't half what Sarah was.
He'd once had to jump the back fence of a suburban home to serve papers to full grown man who'd retreated beneath his child's trampoline to sob.
"Don't worry Jeff I'm not gonna go all weepy on you. I just..... I've been thinking about this a lot. About Mr. Kruger, you remember him?
"The crazy Russian guy who lived upstairs from you on Royal?"
"Armenian. But yeagh.. you remember him?"
Jeff did.
The old man had lived above Jacks last stand. That was the name the boy's had given to Jack's last apartment before he'd gotten married. It was a one room, half kitchen shit hole that Jack had set up as a life boat when he'd moved in with Sarah. The place was a basement level efficiency that was dirt cheap and perfect for storing all the bachelor shit you can't keep in the shared domicile and can't quite bear to throw away.
Your basic man stuff. Ye old box of porn, record collections, comic collections, moth eaten, dog chewed couches and chairs. All haphazardly piled up and stuffed in together, facing a television. The boys had used it as a refuge on the weekends when they wanted to get drunk, or watch the game or just fuck around.
Jeff had loved the last stand, but he barely remembered the old fart upstairs. Just that he smelled like onions, had a weird accent and a bird. A bird that would tweet all day while he hurled obscenities and threats at it in a myriad of languages.
"I remember him Jack, he was charming. Listen......did you ever look into that support group counselling I recommended?"
"Awww fuck man! Yeagh..... I looked at it Jeff. I don't need it. I don't need to sit in a circle of folding chairs constantly re-evaluating what may or may not have gone wrong. I don't want to sit around rehashing how bad all of this has hurt, or how great it was when it was great. I don't want to talk about how I feel about the new men Sarah will inevitably bring around my children.....I don't want that shit Jeff.
I want this over and done with, you understand?
"Of course I do man, but sometimes these.....situations....take some time and consideration"
Jack waved his arms cutting him off.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about Jeff. I have been considering it. I've been thinking about it constantly, and every time I do I come back to the bird."
"The what?"
"The bird......Nadia. She was Kruger's bird. I've been thinking about that. That and how he died. He was the first dead body I ever saw."
Jeff leaned back in his chair. He studied his friends face. He'd aged. This divorce.....this whole thing...it had aged him.
Years in months.
Dark semi-circles below the eyes. More pronounced crows feet. A widows peak that seemed more ragged than debonair these days.
The average length of a marriage, an American marriage, was seven years. Seven years to get real comfortable, to get good and set, right before they pulled the rug out from under you. Seven years to be married. The average length of a divorce involving minor children was nine months. Jack was closing in on it. In those nine months, most people aged more than in the seven years prior.
What a fucking joke.
"Your worrying me Jack."
Jack signaled the waiter, ordered more coffee. Jeff got a salad. He knew he wouldn't eat it. Didn't want it. Just.....needed something in front of him to look at besides his friend, and all his suffering.
"Listen Jeff, I want to tell you about the bird. The bird and the old man and how he died. I don't think you were here for all this, in fact I know you weren't because it was in 2002 and you were in Maryland finishing your degree. I remember it was the year after 911 and I was engaged with Sarah but I still had the life boat. Most of the guys had quit coming around. They were all, getting married or having their first kids and that was the year Mike married that whore. You remember her? The red head......what was her fucking name?"
"Carly"
"That's her! She's the one who gave him....all the warts on his junk, right."
Jeff laughed in spite of himself. "She sure was. HPV Yeagh You Know Me."
"That's right, what a whore!
Anyhoo, it was that summer right because Mike's life was totally circling the drain. You were getting esquired and I was trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to spend the rest of my life in domesticity. I spent a lot of my weekends in the life boat, getting drunk and blaring pixies forty-fives while playing playstation. It was.... well it wasn't my proudest moment.
The old man and I had never really met each other. I mean. I knew him. I knew he was Armenian, I knew his family had fled world war II and I knew his wife had died ten years ago. He was just the old guy who lived upstairs on a fixed income. I never really thought about him that much.
Well, one night I really tied one on. I mean I got way fucked up on some cheap bourbon and I tried to make a Tostinos pizza.
I ended up passing out while it was in the oven. Needless to say it burned to shit and smoked up the whole place. The fire alarm was blaring like a bastard and the old man came down and turned off the oven. He opened the windows and he cleaned up the joint while I was passed out in my boxers.
It was pretty fucking embarrassing.
He left me note. All it said was "Shit or get off the pot.", and when I came to and saw the note; I had no fucking idea what he was talking about. That's what I told myself at the time. Now, I think somewhere inside of me I knew exactly what he meant.
I knew I had to go upstairs and thank him or explain myself or else just commit hari kari right there in the shitty little apartment and save myself the shame. In the end I went upstairs and knocked on his door.
Adolphus was always tidy. His place looked like an apartment where Hummel figurines would live. There was tiny pendulum clock on the wall and dark oak coffee table in front of lazy boy. There was even a TV that looked like it came right out of 1963. The thing still had rabbit ears for chrissake. The place looked like your German grandma's house only way smaller and darker. Also it smelled like onions....onions and bird shit.
The old man was smoking a cigarette when he came to the door. It was hanging loosely out of the side of his mouth. It's filter yellowing to a hue matching the dentures that clenched it. He didn't say a word. Just opened the door wider and stepped to a side. The universal gesture of come on in for gods sake I don't got all day. In the corner of the room was a bird cage, inside was love bird; it was singing incessantly.
"Shut Up Nadia you shit eating pig whore! I will die and I will still hear you!"
The old man made a slight gesture towards the couch.
"Sit down boy. Over there. Move the paper."
I sat down on his couch. I sat there and I didn't say shit. Somehow the whole thing had taken on a very, you're in your fathers study waiting to get punished feel and even though I was twenty-five and in no way related to this man; I couldn't quite shake it. So I sat down, and he sat down and we were both quiet for a bit.
"Listen Mr. Kruger...I wanted to thank you for last night. I..... well I drank too much and I messed up and I promise you it won't happen again. I hope I didn't frighten you..
The old man's eyes light on fire.
"Frighten me?
Frighten me?
With smoke boy? I lived through the worst war in human history. I can assure you the late night fuckery of a young man who's had too much to drink doesn't frighten me. "
"I'm sorry...
"Sorry for what?
Do you know?"
I thought about it, and found I didn't. I had no idea why I had been so drunk or why I had been spending so much time in my rat hole apartment playing hooky from the woman I loved.
And I did love her. I loved her so much.....it scared me.
And there it was.
Kruger was quiet.
He just sat there watching me.
"Mr. Kruger I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm sorry I nearly started a fire and I want to thank you for helping me out last night."
"We will not concern ourselves with that any longer. I was not terribly bothered, and therefore I am not terribly put out, but I would ask you. Did you get my note?"
"And?"
"I guess I don't really understand it."
"Don't bullshit me boy. My peoples, people were gypsies long before your nation stopped sucking Britain's teet. I am the spawn of the king's of deception, and the princes of cats. I can tell you understand. And I can tell You Know, you understand. So. Where is that beautiful girl of yours? Assuming she is still yours?"
"Sarah is home."
"Whose home?
Her home?
Your Home?"
"Well, it's our home."
"Is it?"
"I guess I see what your getting at."
"Good. Then we speak no more of this either."
And we didn't Jeff. Not the whole time I knew him.
He never asked about Sarah again. He never pried. He told me all kinds of stuff about himself, but never again did he ask about our lives together.
I think, in some way, it was kind of out of politeness; but also I think he didn't want to know.
He'd had his wife and his children and that was over. No need to dwell. Especially not on things belonging to others.
What he really wanted was a chess partner. The old guy loved the game.
He was good too, way beyond me. I never beat him. Never even challenged him, but every time I went back to the life boat I would give him a game. And somehow those games made my time there less shallow, less shameful somehow. They gave me a reason to be there beyond the simple, selfish, mindless play that I knew was quickly becoming forbidden to me.
That's what he wanted in exchange for helping me out that night and that's what we did. For the rest of that summer, until my lease finally ran out, I would play chess with him while he yelled at the bird. He told me about his wife, Katia. How she was stout, and plain. How he loved her, because her heart was an ocean. He told me about his son Michael who lived in Chicago and wasn't married. And he told me about the bird.
"My Son, he comes down from Chicago two years ago. He comes down to see me and he brings this bird. This.....this fucking screaming thing. He leaves it with me. He says to me. I don't want you to feel all alone, so I got you this bird.
Thank you son, I tell him. Instead of my wife, or the grandchildren you won't give me, I get this screeching animal to fill my days.
Why am I so Lucky? Why am I so lucky to be dying here in the Texas heat alone and without a wife. Without grandchildren and with a son who is likely a homosexual?
Remind me to ask God when I see him."
Adolphus named the bird Nadia. It was the name his wife wanted to give the daughter they never had.
Jeff's salad came. He unrolled his silverware and pushed the greens around the bowl.
"Okay Jack, So you knew the old man. He was dying alone, I get it."
"No Jeff. That's not it. Let me finish the story."
Jack leaned back and lit another cigarette. His fifth in the last hour.
"So when I finally moved in with Sarah. When I moved in for real and for good that fall. I sort of lost touch with the old man. That October, we were planning the wedding and doing all manner of other shit.
I was busy and I didn't get back over to see Adolphus until after thanksgiving. I went by late one afternoon to see him. When he came to the door, he looked bad. Real bad.
He'd lost a lot of weight and his hair was falling out and he was chain smoking which wasn't unusual but there was something desperate and off putting about it. I asked him what was wrong and he said Nadia had stopped singing.
I said, well thank god for small favors right, but he was really put out by it. It was like he was in a panic.
"She don't sing now Jack. I don't know why? I thought she was sick, so I take her to a vet but he says she's fine.
Still she doesn't make a sound."
We played a game that night.
I stalemated him.
That's when I knew something was really wrong. He was distracted and fidgety. During the game he would look at the bird and make these pathetic bird whistles but she wouldn't sing.
I have to say it was the damnedest thing. In all my time in that apartment that bird never shut up; but now.....now it just hopped around it's cage and pecked at it's food in silence.
When I left that night he asked me if I would pick up some rose water from the pharmacy, and bring it by next week. He wanted to put it in her water.
He said it would fill her with life.
It would help her sing.
I told him I would.
I bought the rose water a couple of days later and I meant to get back over there in the next week, but well....you know how shit is. When your young, and getting married.
It's a wonder I got back over there at all, but I made a point of it and I headed over there about two weeks later.
I remember every second of that trip.
The car ride over.
The music I was listening to.
The sun peaking out of autumn clouds.
I mean I remember all of it. I was almost skipping up the stairs with his water. I had the thought that it would cheer him up, and who knew, maybe the bird would start singing again; but halfway up the stairs I stopped. He wasn't going to need the water. I could hear Nadia's song from the stairs.
It was just bird song but it was beautiful. It was ringing out in the cold sunshine, like tiny chimes. It sounded like a return of normalcy and I think in some ways, for us humans, that's the best thing there is.
When I got to the door it was cracked slightly open which was weird, but I knocked anyway. My only answer was more birdsong. So I went in and...... I mean right away I could feel that something was wrong. I didn't smell, but it felt wrong. It felt cloying and bleak, and suddenly that bird song didn't seem like an angelic choir.
It seemed like a dirge.
A sick joke of a funeral march.
Adolphus was in the corner. He kneeling like he was in prayer. He'd opened his wrists with jagged edge of a tin can. It was a bumblebee tuna can. I don't know why I fucking remember that, but I do.
He was pressed up underneath the bird cage. His congealed blood had long ago gone black around his feet and knees. He had tilted over at an angle and it looked almost as if he was in supplication. Like he was asking: Is this it? Will this do it? Is this what you need from me?
The whole thing was a horror show."
Jeff put his fork down. He wasn't feeling in the least bit hungry now.
"What's the point of all this Jack?
What are you getting at? Are you trying to tell me your suicidal?"
"No Jeff.
Fuck no man.
Don't you see? To all the outside world he hated that bird. He couldn't stand it's constant singing. He cursed it. Daily. He called it a filthy pig whore and little shit face, but when push came to shove......when it finally came down to it.
He needed it.
Even though it wasn't what he really wanted. Even though it was a pale excuse for love or for companionship.
For all it's bullshit routine and all it's petty, ceaseless annoyances.
The bird stopped the silence in his world.
See that's the truth of our existence. That's the truth of all this meandering around trying to find comfort. You have to fill in the silence. You have to fill it with the same song every day even if one day you wake up and decide you fucking hate it. You'll still wish you had it once it's gone."
Jeff sat back.
The horizon had begun to blacken and cloud. The clouds ominous. They would surely bring rain, but the rain at least would stop the heat.
He reached across the table and took a cigarette from jacks pack of Lucky's. He fumbled with the matches, finally getting it lit, he inhaled all its' little death like a man coming up for air.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"Oh I called 911 and waited on the ambulance....
"No" said Jeff. "What did you do with the bird?"
"Ohhh........ Well, I opened up all the windows and the door; and then I opened the cage."
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