The Illicit Affair

"I don't know, Alex," Ibis said, crinkling her nose in frustration, fingers tightening around the phone at her ear, "I think Richard's having an affair. This is the fifth night in a row he's had to work late."

Tears welled in her eyes and her heart hammered loudly, threatening to burst out of her chest. Her normally-vibrant dark skin looked pallid from all the worrying she had been doing lately and she couldn't help but feel that, given more time, her curly ringlets would start to come out at the roots.

"Ibis..." Alex sighed, her disapproval carrying through the phone, "Richard is a good man. He is a good husband and he will be a great father to your kids one day. Most importantly, he loves you. That man loves you."

"Y-you're probably right," Ibis replied hesitantly, biting down on her lower lip.

Alex laughed, a joyful and unabashed sound that had connected them instantly on their first day of college, "Yes I am. I'm always right. And if I'm not, we'll take a crowbar to his car and Jazmine Sullivan that bitch. Bust the windows out his car!"

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

After a few more minutes of exchanges, the two friends hung up and Ibis set to work, cleaning up around the house. She unloaded the dishwasher, dusted the cupboards, folded the laundry and vacuumed the living room floors, twice. By the time she made her way upstairs to her bedroom, she was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in the covers and sleep for 48 hours. She collapsed onto the mattress, not bothering to get undressed or even take her shoes off and basked in the warmth of the God-awful pink and purple floral bed set that her mother-in-law had gifted them as a wedding present.

Glancing meekly at the alarm clock on her bedside table, she heaved a sigh. 11:52AM. 2 hours after her husband said he would be home. Guiltily, she unlocked her phone and opened the Find My Friends app. A tiny voice at the back of her head screamed that what she was doing was wrong, that tracking Richard's every move was a massive invasion of his privacy but she ignored it.

"I just need to see," she whispered nervously to herself, clicking on her husband's image.

Mario's Ristorante. What was he doing there? Ibis sat up abruptly, the room spinning momentarily from the sudden movement. She placed her sweaty palms on her knees and tried to control her breathing and the running commentary that commenced, further convincing her of her husband's infidelity. Heart palpitating and jaw clenched in fear, Ibis stood and walked slowly to the open window on the opposite wall of her bedroom.

"I just need to see," she repeated again, this time more quietly, her voice shaking slightly.

Ibis looked out the window, watching as the moon bathed the identical townhouses on her street in its cool glow so that they appeared opalescent, almost mystical in their quiet beauty. The ambience of the night, silent except for the occasional chirping of crickets, always calmed her. Now, it felt stifling. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, bringing to mind the image of an owl mid-flight.

Slowly, her body began to shift and shrink, convulsing until she had shed the blue jeans and ratty baseball tee she had been wearing before. Where a moment ago had stood a tall, busty woman now stood a seemingly ordinary barn owl, no more than 1 foot in height. Sharp, beady eyes replaced her warm, chocolate-brown ones and where her flat, cute nose previously rested on her oval-shaped face now sat a hooked beak. Huge, brown and black spotted feathers covered the entire span of her body and her curly, black hair gave way to a flat, rounded head.

Cautiously, Ibis hopped up onto the window sill, adjusting to her sudden far-sightedness. With a passing glance once more at the quiet houses on her street, she breathed in fully, spread her massive wings and took flight.

She soared for some time, flying out of her quiet suburbia and headed towards Mario's. The wind whipped past her wings, the harsh temperature of the winter air biting against her feathers. As Ibis moved further away from her neighbourhood, her eyes locked on the bright lights of the French Quarter, active and dazzling in spite of the late hour. Her sensitive ears became attune to the cacophony of sound: car horns protesting traffic, saxophone music filtering out of jazz clubs where bodies were no doubt packed in like sardines, couples hailing taxi cabs, vendors peddling their wares, the distant chugging of the streetcars. The white noise gave her time to think.

All the women of her family bore this curse. Her grandmother said it was a gift, although they had no idea who had given it to them, only theories. Her great aunt, Mary, claimed they were descended from witches who had escaped persecution in Salem and migrated here to New Orleans in a bid to start a new life. She said that the owl in their bloodline was a symbol of strength and wisdom, emblematic of the magic that still flowed through their veins. Her mom believed that this magic was even older, that their family had been blessed by the Greek goddess, Athena, who had honoured their family's devotion by allowing them to shift at will into owls, her sacred symbol.

Ibis thought this was all nonsense. Whatever the origin, she had been stuck all her life with this wretched ability that served no purpose other than to make her a freak. Not that she had ever told anyone outside of her family. Not even Richard knew. I mean, what would she even say? Hi, I can tranform into an owl whenever I want to and fly but I don't know why. He would think she was crazy. She would think she was crazy if she didn't know better.

A blaring car horn jolted her back to reality and she swooped lower now, turning onto Royal Street where Mario's was located. She perched on top of a green buggy parked across the street from the restaurant and observed with dread through the restaurant’s wavy, front window panes the scene that was unfolding in front of her. There was her Richard: dimpled smile and kind, hazel eyes sitting across a table from a stunning woman. Even amidst the horror that she was enduring, she couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked in his pale brown tweed suit, his dark hair whipped to one side giving the effect that he had just rolled out of bed.

Aghast, Ibis watched as her husband leaned across the restaurant table and planted a soft, sensual kiss on the stunning woman's lips. Alex? She didn't want to believe it but there was her best friend of ten years, her ride or die. Her heart shattered into a million pieces and anger like she'd never felt before coursed through her veins. Before she could stop herself, she flew up from her perch on the car across the street and dive-bombed the glass windows of Mario's. Releasing a cross between the high-pitched screech of a barn owl and a strangled sob, she scratched at the glass, charging her body against the windows.

"What the hell?" Alex exclaimed, her sea-green eyes widening in shocked.

A flurry of activity occurred inside the restaurant, with patrons turning to see the commotion outside the windows. Ibis kept banging against the glass, beady eyes filled with malice. Finally, she locked eyes with her husband. She rammed her sharp beak against the window, trying to convey all the hatred she felt towards him in that moment in that one action. She watched helplessly as confused recognition seemed to dawn on his face, his mind grappling with a truth that at a glance appeared so completely inconceivable that you would have to be mad to even interact with it. Carefully, her husband walked towards the window, placing a palm against the glass and looked directly at her.

"H-how?" he asked, imploringly.

She flew off, moving as rapidly as her wings could carry her away from the scene. She glided aimlessly for a while, her thoughts racing. In one fell swoop, Ibis had lost both her marriage and her best friend. She experienced an all-encompassing ache in her chest, tears spilling over, her vision becoming blurred.

All too late, she sensed how low she was flying. She felt not heard the approaching streetcar. With immovable force, the car slammed into her small frame and a searing sensation spread its way throughout her body. And then there was falling. A pang of discomfort raced through her as she converted back to her human form, hitting the asphalt with a solid thud, her naked body crumpling awkwardly in the middle of the street.

Warm blood leaked from the side of her head, gluing her hair to her scalp and her lips were cracked and dry. Her breathing felt laboured as if someone were holding a ten-tonne boulder on top of her chest. She vaguely heard the screams of dread from the passengers of the streetcar, someone yelling "Call 911!".

No matter. She closed her eyes and dreamed of owls.