Birds of a Feather

Mark Burr 800 Words

38 Lakeview Dr.

Ocean Springs, MS 39564

Birds of a Feather

By

Mark Burr

She’s flipping through the screens on her shitty phone, the one her old man bought her to keep tabs on her, the little princess, Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair…

“You know this isn’t right.” She recites it like she means it but a grin hides in the corner of her mouth like a child with a secret.

“There ain’t nothing right in this world.” He pulls her closer. “-Nothing right at all left.”

Her entire life she felt as if she under glass. In her marriage she felt hopeless, caged, bound, desperate and alone. What she had never imagined it would be like—not for her. A girl to be put upon, to iron and fold, tuck clean shirts away as neatly as the laundry doors folded together in her house. This was a cage she wrought herself, and she danced with the thought of it being selfless. Second position then into third.

“Hey Baby-girl, what’re you doing over there?”

“Just playing PBS kids—wanna watch?”

“No baby—where’s your mama at?”

“In the bathroom.”

She spent much of the after-school day the same as usual. She fixed her daughter’s hair into a French braid (which always came undone), served up some carrots and ranch (cut julienne), read her Tuesday folder, did her homework for her. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

Of course.

Today she was blow drying her hair and fighting back the necklaces that were sliding up into her face. She held them down to her chest and finished. She looked through and tried on twelve different shirts—nothing to wear, never anything to wear—before picking one. Pink. Just like her phone. It rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I need some money for groceries. You need to put that in the bank account today, Shaun Shannon Myers. You need to feed me and your daughter.”

She never wore make up but carefully painted her eyes today.

“I just gave you money.”

“Not enough.”

“Listen,” he began.

“Baby, baby, don’t be like that. Not right now. We are starving.”

“I just sent you some money, listen, I’m out here at work, trying to pay all these bills, and I just, I just don’t feel like we’re on the same team.”

“What do you mean you feel like we’re not on the same team? Of course we’re on the same fucking team, I just don’t have the luxury like you of pondering whether or not we’re on the same team; I’m living it.”

“Okay, I don’t want to fight.” He chokes out.

“Remember, we’re birds of a feather,” she chirps.

“Okay.” He sighs. “You and me together; forever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and set her pink phone down on the counter. She fixes her smudged eye make-up.

“Mama—your boyfriend’s here!”

“Damn it,” she thought and delicately finished lining her eye and opened the door and then scooped up her little girl. “Allison Leigh, what did I tell you about using that word. That is Elaine’s boyfriend.”

“But Mama—“

“Shh.” She pressed a finger to her daughter’s lips. “That’s Elaine’s boyfriend.” She studied her face one last time before shutting the door and hitting the lights.

“Good afternoon Huntsman.” She let the words roll off her

tongue.

“Hello Darlin-.” She cuts him off before he can finish and gives him a look and he knows.

“Hello Mrs. _____,” he coughs out.

“Ally, honey, will you go play in your room sweetie?”

“But Mama there’s company,” the little girl pouts.

“Ally, please honey,” her mother commands her with a glare.

“Mama, Mama, if Daddy was here he’d let me stay for company. Please,” the little girl whines and starts to cry.

“Oh Lord,” the Huntsman whispers slowly. “Here comes the rain.”

“Don’t make me give you something to cry about,” the little girl’s mother hollers. “Aw, that’s a good girl. Thank you, baby.”

She pours herself a cup of coffee with only cream.

“You know, she’s just as stubborn as her daddy sometimes. But she’s so pretty when she’s upset, don’t you think? I want to take a picture of her crying next time, I just always

forget.”

The Huntsman watches as she stirs her coffee wistfully while she thinks aloud. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” he blurts out interrupting the moment of thought, “you are so profoundly, beautifully sad. It’s just; I’ve got diamonds in my eyes with you.”

She leans into herself and onto the kitchen counter, pours herself into the cup and then drinks. With a heavy sigh, she lifts her tired head and sings like a good canary, “You and me, we’re birds of a feather.”

“Oh aren’t we so pretty together?” He croons. “You up in your tree and me on my knees singing ‘don’t go’.”

Third position into Fourth. Allegro, détourné.

She grabs the Huntsman’s hand and locks the bedroom door.