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The Summer Tanager

A short story

By Natalie BlackPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 8 min read
14

The Summer Tanager

I can recall the day it perched on my window sill. It was long after Daryl had died. I was sitting out on the front porch filled with attempted determination. I could not decide whether today would be the day I remove his clothes from the closet. It wasn’t just his clothes. I questioned when to get rid of it all. Toothbrush, shoes, tools, his favorite mug. Do I even need to get rid of them? My sister said that this shit is weird, to keep a dead man’s clothes in the house. Niya was giving a bit more than sisterly advice when it came to this topic. Solely because she witnessed her share of arguments, vases being thrown, confrontations with women, the make-ups and break-ups, and the transfer of words as sharp as new knives that can never be taken back. If it were up to her she would burn all of it. I am not as audacious. Not has theatrical. Consequently I simply have several internal meltdowns whenever I try to decide if today was finally the day.

There it was.

Perched…

…The way I guess all birds perch. Eyes shifty and head sturdy. It stayed just as long as the sun that day. So we sat. The bird and I. Looking out towards Mrs. Morison’s house. Over the years I am sure Mrs. Morison has also been privy to her share of the turmoil Daryl and I called a marriage. She was the first person to come by when he got sick. She shared comforting words through questioning eyes. I recall being short with her. I wanted nothing to do with anyone during those times-I still don’t!

It was scarlet with wings as black as midnight. Poised and stunning. Then there was me, slouched and feeling less than. I babysat my spiked uptown still deciding if today would be the day. Once I saw the bottom of the glass, my mind was made up.

Today was the day.

I somberly made my way up to what is now my room. I walked into the closet and was instantly whisked into a tornado of his scent. The instant headache pleaded for me to turn around and lay in bed, but instead I started with his shirts. One by one. Shirt to box. Shirt to box. I stood up to stretch my aching back and there the bird was again. Now on the outside of the closet window, glaring in intensely and the singular witness to my distraught state of being. As I gazed at you through that window the memory of how excited I was to have the window built flooded my mind. I recall going on and on about all the natural light the closet needed. And just as streams of water flow and connect with one another, so did this memory flow quickly into another. I was sitting at this same window when I got the call from the hospital…”Daryl was in the accident.” Nothing was ever the same after that. Not that I ever wanted them to be.

I returned to packing the rest of his clothes in the box and brought the box downstairs. What does one do with a dead man’s clothes? That decision was for another day.

That night the bird kept me company while I cooked dinner. Perched outside the kitchen window. The bird head chef, me sous cook. By this point I thought this must be Daryl reincarnated. Watching and making sure I didn’t over cook the shrimp. The thought of that made me let out a shaky laugh. I continued to cook and sip on a glass of Riesling. By the end of dinner you were gone. I felt silly for even looking for the bird. I cried myself to sleep once again that night. I was dreading another day of having to face my new normal.

I woke the next day determined to get all of his clothes out of the house. I headed to the kitchen for my daily fuel. And there it was! Red and gleaming. It also seemed ready for the day. I greet it with a good morning. I know it sounds crazy but…why not? We both sit together on the porch while I enjoy my caffeine. I sip. It watches. From the bedroom window it watches as I take his items from dresser to box. It watches until the last garment is packed away. It stayed through lunch and dinner. I told my sister about the bird and she is convinced it is Daryl reincarnated. A shady little bird she says. Even tells me to shoot it with a BB-gun. We laugh!! A good laugh! The kind of laugh that makes you chuckle even after the joke has ended. The kind of laugh a weary soul thrives on. I needed a good laugh. After the car accident, Daryl went back to work. Overtime his production at work declined and he was let go. Then my world became a real life roller coaster. I was on a in a real life “Leap-The-Dips.” The type of roller coaster you promise you would never get on.

Buckle up! The ride started with depression. Now glide into aggression. Then the other women arrived. Hold on tight! Yes! Women! A twisty, gut wrenching ride of denial, forgiveness, tears and more tears. Ohh big drop coming! Cancer rocked us both. The ordeal left me most days wondering whether I was coming or going. I was constantly trying to find my footing. I went to bed on an endless daze. After all of the betrayal I still toughed it out with him… till his last breath. I know what family and friends must have thought. My answer? No marriage is perfect. I took the highs and the lows. I took care of a dying man because when it counted, he took care of me. He died without me ever knowing the true reasons behind his betrayal. I often wonder whether knowing the reasons would feel like a band-aid being ripped from the skin. Quick and painful then left with relief. I wonder how long this ghastly, ghostly memory of unanswered questions will linger. Sheltering and hanging about in my mind like heavy clouds before the rain. I want to be free of them…and for whatever reason I tell myself it begins with getting rid of his clothes first. The more I packed, the more I felt lighter. The lighter I felt, the freer I thought I became.

I ended that day with a glass of Amarone

The red bird vanished just as subtle as it appeared

Morning came. I approached this day with vigor. I found myself waiting for the bird to reappear. In between packing, I glanced out several windows to see if in fact it would be perched and waiting for me. I packed the last of everything. I felt good. I felt calm. No tears. Just peace. By late afternoon I was exhausted and decided tomorrow I would donate everything to a clothing pick-up. It never came around.

Tomorrow arrived and somehow I wished it hadn’t. I was up at about 6am. Way too early if you ask me. The mere thought of finally getting rid of Daryl’s clothes circled my brain like a hungry vulture. I went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and then I sat in my usual spot on the porch. So many memories continued to swarm. I whisked them away like pesky gnats. I wondered about the bird. What made it hang around for those few days then never come back?

By 8:15 I showered, dressed and placed the last box of clothes in the car. I drove in a daze to the clothing drive. When I arrived, three sluggish men rid the backseat and trunk of all the boxes. A heavyset woman thanked me for my donation and asked me if I would like to volunteer sometime. I declined…respectfully.

I drove home numb.

And just like that Daryl was out of my life…well kinda. I already knew that every memory I hold of him will forever be fossilized in my mind. I accepted this as his wife. As soon as I got home I opened a bottle of wine. I figured it may be too early for my neighbors to see me drinking, so I took my weary body and bottle of wine to the backyard. I have been ignoring the urge to sit back there because the patio furniture was the last big purchase we made together. This would be our spot on Saturday mornings. We would actually enjoy each other’s company over coffee and buttered toast. Reluctantly, I opened the sliding door and was invited by the cool, late morning air to go further. As soon as I sat down I was embraced by a welcoming sight. There it was! Like it knew where to find me. Could this be the same bird? The brightest red with the blackest wings. It was sitting on a branch of our pear tree. Daryl insisted on planting that silly tree. I hated pears, but we planted it any way. It didn’t bare much fruit and I grew to enjoy the little shade it chose to give.

I watched you as you watched me. My little red bird sitting in our pear tree. Had my little friend been here all along?

I spent the rest of the morning admiring its beauty. Over a few days, I lured it closer to the patio with a cracker. Then I ultimately purchased bird food. And each morning we would sit and enjoy each other’s company. Overtime, there were days that went by that I never thought about Daryl. On other days the pain of losing him held me hostage in my bedroom. On those days, I could still see the bird sitting outside the window as though it was keeping me company. For as long as I could remember the bird continued to come around and I found enjoyment in visits from my little red bird.

marriage
14

About the Creator

Natalie Black

Lover of beautiful poetic lines and stories that take you away from it all.

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