FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks. Out of the window from the fast-moving train, I glanced again to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Sure enough, there was the boy with his parrot, dangerously close to the tracks. My mind popped up with questions regarding the boy and bird. How was the bird not flying away? Why does he have a bird? Where is he going? The questions were endless- especially since it was a sight I had never seen before, a rarity due to my older age. I had believed that I had seen just about all there is to see; until then.

          I had only known one boy to be close to birds. Birds were his life, his best friend, as opposed to the classic dog. Dogs, cats, rabbits, and fish didn’t cut it for him. His interest was lost easily. However, birds are highly intellect able, obtained the capabilities to talk, entertain, dance and were extremely cunning; as he claimed. His name was Thomas, and he was my best friend for many years. As neighbors, we always hung out. His mom and dad were barely home, so Thomas often came over to my house. Playing in my pond was a favorite past-time, getting as dirty as possible just in time for dinner. It never went over well, but what more can you expect from nine year olds.

          Once Thomas and I got cleaned up, his mom would pick him up, unaware of how he spent his time. My mom, Tracey, was very relaxed and believed that a child should be free to use their imagination as chosen. As an artist, it was clear she still favored the idea.  On the other hand, Thomas’s mom, Ellen, was the opposite. Mrs. Ellen was a straight-forward lawyer who had no time to mess around. She was so strict that Thomas’s only output was our house. Their house was one were you had to take your shoes off whenever in the house, vacuuming was a daily ritual, and there were no pets allowed. Period. I think that to be torture. Whenever I went over, it was as if I was placed in a museum. You were not able to touch anything, although it was beautiful.

          Thomas’s want for an animal was so immense, but begging his parents did no good. When my mom found out, she made a bet with him since she believed that every child deserves a pet of some sort. The bet was, if he could beat her at three games of chess in a row- she would buy him a bird that would stay at out house. Thomas would be free to see him every day, if only he helped to take care of the bird.  It was on at that moment. Thomas bought books about chess, became part of a club at school, played against the computer, and was always challenging me to a dual in order to strengthen his skills. For months, all he ever focused on was chess. Chess, not being my favorite thing, I quickly became aggravated and our time spent together vanished.

          It was a few weeks later when a soft rap at my bedroom door caught my attention. Opening it, I found Thomas grinning ear to ear.

          “I’m finally ready for the challenge. I am going to beat your mom at chess today and get my bird!” he stated.

          Doubtful of a nine year old versus a much older forty-something year old, I smirked, “Yeah, well we’ll see about that.”

          Following him skipping down the hallway, my feet trudged behind Thomas until we got to the study where a table was set up with a chess board and chairs. Yelling for my mom, she met us in the study and the dual was on. Crinkling of the forehead was evident in a result of tough thinking. Studying both mom and Thomas’ face was my escape from boredom. It seemed as if hours had ticked by, only for it to be twenty minutes. Getting restless, I started tapping my fingers on the table, hating to be the bystander doing nothing. Finally, the game came to a slow and Thomas nearly screamed, “Checkmate!” Disbelieving, I hurried to view the board and sure enough it looked as if he had beaten mom. With a flip of his wrist, he threw moms king off with a smirk on his face. One down, two more to go. I thought to myself; don’t get your hopes up. However, after another grueling three hours a scream of joy filled the house which could only mean one thing…that he had won all three in a row. I knew too well what was going to happen. A trip to the pet store, Frank-and-Pegs, would only come too soon. Before I was able to complain, mom stated, “Catherine, get ready, we are going to the pet store!”

          Sulking to the car, I slammed the door shut, once inside. A giddy Thomas sitting next to me spoke of how happy he was to finally be getting a pet. I guess you could say I was upset because my mom had never made a deal like that with me, her own daughter, although the thought had never occurred to me. I had all the pets I could stand, but jealousy continued to run through my veins. Maybe it was because I had to share my mom for once and not have all of her attention on me. Upon reaching the destination, it was evident that we were at the right place when hearing the birds squawk while in the parking lot. Entering Frank-and Pegs sent me to a dream like, although I never showed it toward mom and Thomas. Truthfully, I loved the birds, especially how they could be in all colors of the rainbow. Their ability to talk intrigued me even more so. Going up to the cages, I was attracted to a small, green bird. Putting my fingers inside the cage- disregarding the sign saying warning, I pet the bird. The owner later informed me that the breed was a Quaker parrot and led me to a box of newly hatched Quakers. Immediately I wanted one. Showing Thomas, in hope that he would pick a Quaker so I would in a sense have it, he was skeptical. Of course, Thomas was drawn towards the larger parrots. However, when he asked my mom about getting one, she replied that he would have to get a small bird or none at all. Not daring to give up the offer, Thomas nearly ran back to where I was stationed at the Quakers and asked more about them. Once he spent time with the little green birds- his heart was set on getting one.  In spite of my envy- I was too happy to believe because technically it would be my bird as well. I immediately planned on playing with the bird once Thomas had to go home for the day.     

          Going around the store, mom pushed a buggy filling it with objects such as a bird cage, food, and toys. Thomas held the Quaker in his hands, thinking of names to call it. “Catherine, isn’t he amazing! I can’t believe I finally have a pet of my own!”

          Instead of responding annoyed, I beamed, “I know, I can’t believe it! I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait until we get home so we can play with him.” Thomas, always being amicable, agreed. I knew very well that if I was in his situation, I would have kept the bird to me only and not shared him with anybody. Mad at myself for noticing how self-absorbed I was, Thomas interrupted my thoughts. “What should we name him?” Pondering a good name for a bird, I blurted out “Polly.” Being the first name to pop into my head, I took no thought to think of coming up with a boy name. Trying to come up with more names in hope that Thomas would like my ideas, he already had begun to call the bird Polly.        

          For the entire car ride home, we sat in wonder of Polly. Thomas and I said things over and over again in hopes of the bird repeating us. Little did we know- it would take much longer than fifteen minutes in order to accomplish that. It must have been hours that we played with the bird until the doorbell rang- short living our bliss. While walking in, Mrs. Ellen noticed Polly at once. Seeing Thomas playing with him, she questioned if it was our new pet. Assuring her that Polly was ours, she thanked mom and took Thomas home.

          Putting Polly away in his cage, I thought that it would be better if Polly would come out only when Thomas came over, because after all, he was his pet- not mine. Sitting below the cage, I gleamed up at Polly for a while thinking of all the endless possibilities he was capable of. Also, the things Thomas and I could teach him astounded me. With Polly in the cage, Thomas and I began to think that Polly’s space was too limited.  Later, we made an atrium in the bathroom to accommodate for more space. The tub was complete with branches from top to bottom, with newspaper on the cast-iron bathtub. Sometimes, when guests came over to use the restroom, a shriek was audible. Laughing, I knew it was because of their startled reaction to the bird. It was true that my family was undeniably crazy. Who else would you know with birds in the bathtub? Polly was kept in the bathroom for quite a while until mom decided that it would give a guest a heart attack one day.

          Ever since we got the bird, Polly, for Thomas- it started a whole new addiction with my mom. Chickens became new members of our house hold, much to my dismay as well as my dads’. And my house was not in country, mind you. We lived in the heart of the city. Later, we learned that not all of our hens were in fact hens. At five o’clock in the morning, the street was awoken with a “Cock-o-doodle-do.” Thinking I must be dreaming, I continued to sleep in. However, day after day, I continued to be awoken with the same startling cry. This occurrence led many nearby residents to complain to the city counsel, causing me to get fellow neighbors to sign a petition to keep the roster. After counting all of the signatures, unfortunately there were enough to keep the damn animal. I considered whiting out some names but my mom grabbed the slip of paper before I could even get my hands on White-Out.  New family members also included bunny rabbits, iguanas, snakes, billy goats, amongst more fish and dogs. My house had literally become a zoo. Kids from all over the neighborhood would come to see the amazing sight. Many people made complaints about the noise, or even the sanity level of my parents for allowing so many animals. Yet, the city assured them that we were not disobeying the law by any means, so unfortunately for me, we got to keep all of the critters. It was not just the fact that it was embarrassing but it was very time consuming to care for all of the creatures. Thomas loved how we had some many animals because it gave him the opportunity to have more pets. Eventually, we gave all the animals away- either to farms or loving homes because of my dads’ disapproval.

For some time, whenever Thomas would come over- all we did was play with Polly since he was still Thomas’ favorite animal. However, with time, I became bored of Polly. He was no longer fascinating to me- doing to same old same old. And truthfully, I was more of a dog person. Yet, Polly continued to hold Thomas’s interest unmistakably. As we became older, Thomas and I began to hang out with new friends, becoming parts of different cliques. Thomas was classified as more of a geek- loving school, and I as a drifter who hung out with everyone.  When passing each other in the hallways, we would say hi, but otherwise, we would not utter any words to each other. Once we reached college- we lost touch all together. Whenever I came home during the breaks, I always saw Thomas through the windows of his house, with a bird on his shoulder. Cages were strewn across his house, as if they were decorations. With cages, came birds. He had so many birds; it was as if he collected them. The neighborhood knew him as the bird man, although he was still young. What a name to take on so early in his life! It was like the “cat lady” yet she  being almost always older. Newspaper articles were written about him, “A 25 year old owning 41 birds” is amongst my favorite title. 

          It was unbelievable to me how he seemed to make them appear in mid-air. Just to think of the mess that the birds would produce- that would have to be cleaned up. I doubt Thomas even really cleaned up after them. And to think of when he would have to move out of his house, how would he afford the space for all of his feathered friends, as well as the money to up hold the responsibilities towards them. Yet what struck me as most unusual was how he was wasting his life away. Thomas was undeniably brilliant. He could have easily gotten into prestigious colleges with financial scholarships.  Still, his choice was tending to his birds, even though his mother disapproved.

          After moving away after college to start a life of my own, I never saw Thomas again. I tried writing and calling only for all of my mailing to be returned and for the operator to tell me his number did not exist. When in the neighborhood, visiting my parents, I would go over to his parents’ house. Ringing the doorbell, I stood waiting antsy of learning of his whereabouts. Only, I was disappointed to find that his parents no longer lived there. A new couple now resided, claiming that the previous family had moved out a couple of months ago. Furious and heavyhearted for not being able to find my long lost best friend, I solemnly walked away thinking of all the times we had spent together. High school was my blame for years of our separation, yet I knew that there were more pressing reasons. If I would have gone over to his house, call, or talk to him in the hallways, we probably would still be friends. Being optimistic, I thought that he might even be trying to find out where I was. Now, Thomas existed only in my memories since there was no trace of him to be found. I told my children stories of our adventures together, and the lesson at end being to keep in touch always. You never know what you have until you lost it.

Suddenly awoken from my day dreaming of the past, the boy walking along the tracks was no longer in sight.  Hoping that he had a good life ahead of him was all I could hope for. Maybe, he was also known as a bird man- birds being his companions.  Thankful for the reminder of Thomas, I got off the train to visit my son…Thomas.  

 

back to Contest #5