My beloved

The pets in all the great storybooks do extraordinary things like rescuing people, saving children, stopping fires, and so on. So you might be a little disappointed when I tell you the story of Fred. Just an extra ordinary bird living a normal life. There was just Fred. And there was just me.

Fred was a bird. My bird. I loved him, and he loved me. There was nothing heroic in the way he stupidly shoved his beak into the crevices on the wooden floor. There was just Fred. And there was just me.

But I haven't gotten to the greatest part yet; the reason why I loved him. Fred was a simple guy, he always stuck to the same routine, and so did I. Every morning he would wake at the crack of dawn, but he always waited for a few minutes before waking me with a soft peck on the cheek. He always waited through as I brushed my teeth, knowing that he'd get his food next. Every day I would bring him to work and he would hang out with my coworkers. There was just Fred. And there was just me.

By the time I graduated from college, Fred was an old bird. His energy didn't match the endless supply that I had, but I didn't mind. Some could've argued that I loved him more because of his calmness. At work, he would stop flitting to other people’s desks. If someone wanted to pet his feathers, they would have to come to me. There was just Fred. And there was just me.

By the age of thirty, I had been engaged. John, his name was, had been coming over more often. Fred clearly didn't like John because that meant I split the attention between them. Fred constantly squawked and pecked my ear whenever John was around, and I started to grow sick of it. Then one day, after John had left to go back to his house, I yelled at Fred. It was loud, ugly, and I hated myself after it. Fred's eyes were wide with alarm once I was done, but a hint of resentment still shone. But after that talk, Fred seemed to hate John even more. John appeared to not care, but I could see him internally wishing the parrot were dead. At work, Fred would interrupt my job to try to talk to me because he couldn’t do so at home. But then John and I got married a year later. There was just Fred. There was just John. And there was just me.

By the time I reached age thirty-five, John grew ill. He died five months after the doctor diagnosed him with severe cancer. He and Fred had still been having trouble with each other. Therefore, Fred didn't seem at all heartbroken when John disappeared from the house one day and never came back. There was just Fred. And there was just me.

Every single night, I would cry myself to sleep. Every single day, I would wish and pray that John might return, or that I could join him. The attention that I previously gave to Fred was now lost. Now there was nothing. Fred seemed like he felt the shift in me. It mirrored in the way I didn't sing in the shower, didn't look at my reflection for months, barely ate a meal every day, and so many more ways. I quit my job, devastating my little office pet. What I had before was now lost, and what I had now was being taken for granted. Fred included. My bird was eating less and less because I either forgot about him, or I didn't feel like getting out of bed to put food in his feeder. Fred grew older, then he fell sick. I didn’t know how, or when it started since he put on a brave face for me during my dark days, but it was bad. Finally, I began seeing symptoms in him and I rushed him to the Veterinarian. She diagnosed Fred with a disease that had been spreading through him for years, but only showed up now. But then she said something that shook me with grief. We were going to have to permanently put Fred to sleep. I broke down in the office after the Veterinarian had left. Then I started yelling at myself, yelling at the nurses, yelling at Fred. But then I had no choice. I didn’t want my bird to suffer because of my own selfish desires. The Veterinarian took him to a room before I could say goodbye, to put him down forever. The last memory I had of him was locking eyes before he was whisked away.

Now there is just me. Only me. I closed myself off from everything after that. If loved causes this much pain, this much heartbreak, I am better off alone.