Life Advice from a Duck

This was the quiet section of the pond. There was only one bench, which Lizzie occupied all by herself, and a thick mess of trees which blocked most of the sun from reaching the snug alcove.

Lizzie was glad for it. It was her spot to come to on days like these, ducking through branches and stepping over roots to reach the backless old bench a few feet from the water. Finally, she collapsed onto the bench, forehead coming to rest in her hands.

Everything was wrong.

Ignoring the tears nipping at the backs of her eyes, Lizzie pulled out a small plastic bag of chopped grapes. Being alone was a great breather from the stresses of everyday life, but here she was never completely alone. She gazed toward the shallow water ahead. Her companion was already on his way, a plain brown duck paddling closer. With a soft quack, her friend stepped onto the dirt.

Though this was the only duck she’d ever seen in this spot, it still sent a wave of relief through her to see the familiar black splotch on the webbing of its right foot. When everything was in shambles around her, at least this duck was reliable.

“Hey buddy,” she whispered, afraid her voice would crack if she was too loud, it’d crack. “Grapes today.”

The duck stopped a few feet away, its beady black eyes trained on the bag.

Lizzie shook her head with a smirk. “Ok. I’ll hurry it up.”

She rooted through the plastic bag. Just before she pinched a small slice of grape between her fingers, a croaky voice piped up, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

Lizzie whipped her head around, expecting to see someone standing behind her. There was no one there.

She faced forward and stared down at the duck. He met her gaze with a slight tilt of his head. “Don’t freak out,” he said, beak clicking. “I keep my bilingual talents to myself.”

Lizzie laughed at the joke before she realized where it came from.

“Y-you? What?” she asked, rubbing her temple.

“I speak human and duck. Bilingual,” the duck answered. As if that was what surprised her.

Still, Lizzie nodded. “Ok…um…this isn’t just stress?”

It was all too easy to imagine. She was overwhelmed, run down, exhausted. Was hallucinating a talking duck that far-fetched at this point?

“Does it matter?” the duck asked.

Lizzie swallowed and followed his stare. Her hands shook. No, it really didn’t matter. Not while she was here, at least. When she finally dragged herself back home and straight to bed, then she could worry about her sanity. Shaking her head, Lizzie steadied herself. She grasped a grape sliver and gently tossed it.

“No,” she finally answered, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

The duck stretched its neck, snatching the fruit from the dirt and swallowing with lightning speed. Lizzie tossed another grape.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” she said, then winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound angry.”

The duck shook his head, but he could’ve just been working on a grape she hadn’t cut small enough. He cleared his throat with a dry cough. “I get it. I have those days too. They pass, and then life goes on,” he said.

“Sure,” Lizzie said, rolling her eyes. Life advice from a duck. As if he had the slightest clue about her deadlines, the phone call from earlier, the fight, or any other sharp edges to the mountain of her worries. “Then maybe I’m the loser here. This doesn’t feel like it’ll pass any time soon.”

Once she’d voiced the thought aloud, the tears spilled over. She dropped the bag as she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. A pitter-patter of webbed feet approached, the duck probably making a mad dash for the feast spilled on the dirt.

“You’re not a loser.”

She glanced up. The duck stood on the scattered grapes, his head angled up to her. “I don’t know if this will help,” he added, “but you’re my favorite person. No one else comes here except you. And you bring good stuff, not like the idiots who throw bread at us.”

Lizzie laughed. “Bread’s not good for you guys. I bring whatever’s in my fridge at the end of the week. I’m really happy you like it.” She thought the duck smiled. It made her smile as well, the corners of her mouth lifting easier than they had in the past…she’d lost count of the days.

“I do,” the duck answered, and dove down to pick at the grapes. “I’ve never talked to another human before, but you really looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

The duck’s smile was real, she was convinced now.

“So no matter what’s going on in your life,” the duck added, “I appreciate you.”

Lizzie wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, staring at her hands. The shaking from earlier had ceased, and something pleasant and calm settled in her chest. “What’s your name?” she asked.

The duck fluffed his feathers, tail wagging. “Vance,” he answered. “It was the first name I heard from humans, and it stuck.”

It was the loudest she’d laughed all week. “I like it,” she said, reaching for the plastic bag. She shook the last couple of grapes free, then pocketed the bag. “So, Vance. Now that we’re talking, do you have any requests for next time?”

“Cantaloupe,” he answered immediately. “That one time you brought cantaloupe was amazing.”

“Cantaloupe it is,” she said, standing up.

Vance snapped up the last of the grapes and gave Lizzie an appreciative quack. “Perfect,” he said. “See you soon!” With a final tail wag, he waddled back into the water, leisurely venturing out to the middle of the pond.

Lizzie watched him for a few moments before turning to go. There was still time left in the day to chip at the mountain.