Birdcage

Sara sighed as she assessed her own image reflected back to her in the full-length hotel mirror. She looks forward to these bi-annual work conferences; small respites from the everyday that can be viciously ordinary. She wears a sundress that flows to her ankles, black of course, but with white pinstripes. Sessions were over for the day apart from a reception at 6 – Luau themed. The idea of these things makes Sara cringe, but there are free drinks and prizes involved so she grins and bears it.

Sara smooths her hair and dress one last time before reaching for her room door, making sure to move the “Do Not Disturb” tag from the inside, out. She moves down the carpeted hallway toward the elevators, already thinking about what she will do after the reception. The city has a ton of options for dining and live music. She is sure she’ll find something.

“Oh no.” Sara thought as she stepped off the elevator and saw conference workers at the door handing out leis and artificial hibiscus flowers. “This is why I don’t go out” she thought. She opted for the single yellow bloom and put it in the hair tucked behind her ear. She entered the crowded conference space, looking first for the drink tickets, and then for her colleagues. Her free beer in hand, she scanned the room for familiar faces and landed on Jessica standing with her husband and kids. All of Sara’s coworkers brought their families with them to these conferences. Didn’t they get enough of them at home?

“Ooh don’t you look cute?” Jessica said as Sara approached. Jessica is one of those people who Sara ordinarily wouldn’t be friends with if life had not put them together. Those are the best kinds of friends, aren’t they? “We are going to Sushi King after this if you want to join” she said.

“Oh, that sounds good, but I think I am going to try to find some live music somewhere.” Sara answered.

“That sounds fun!” Jessica said.

The drinks were all drank and the prizes all won, so Sara made her way to the exterior door as the rest of the conference goers went their separate ways. She headed toward the boardwalk along the bay, enjoying the evening breeze and setting sun on her skin. She had neglected to look online beforehand for any goings-on, which was unlike her, but she felt confident she’d find what she was looking for. She’s sure she’ll find something.

From a distance she noticed what she thought were workers assembling sound equipment in the courtyard of a bayside bar and grill. She made her way toward the entrance where she had spotted an A-frame chalkboard sign. She was interrupted before she could read what was written on it.

“Now THAT is the prettiest flower I have ever seen in my life” a voice said from her left.

“Oh, thanks, it’s fake.” Sara laughed as she reached for her artificial flora. She’d forgotten it was there.

“No, keep it, it suits you” he said.

Sara looked up from her hands and met her admirer’s gaze, forgetting whatever snarky comment she was ready to respond with. Instead, her mind tried desperately to remember from where she knew these eyes.

“Hey you guys are in luck, special tonight: couples in stripes, half price” a third voice said, breaking the tension. It was the host enthusiastically waiting to seat them.

“Oh we’re not – “ Sara started to say.

“Luck, indeed?” he said at the same time, waiting for her answer.

Sara hesitated, moving her eyes from the host back to her suiter. Sure enough, his black polo with white stripes matched her dress perfectly, as if it were planned. He wasn’t the type of guy Sara normally went for, but she felt inexplicably drawn to him; the poles of two magnets reaching for each other.

Sara sighed, “Alright, why not?”

His reaction was reminiscent of a child’s who’d just secured permission for a sleepover without having to present his prepared arguments.

The host led them to a table for two in the courtyard overlooking the bay. “The music starts at 8 and our house merlot is half price until 7. Can I get you started with two glasses?”

Sara wasn’t a big wine drinker, but she agreed. Sometimes it’s best not to swim against the current.

“So what brings you here tonight…..” he asked, waiting for her to punctuate his question with her name.

“Sara.”

“Sara, I’m Ryan.”

“Ryan” she repeated. “I’m here for a few days for a work conference.”

“Oh what do you do?” Ryan asked.

“I work in finance for a local government. It’s pretty exciting stuff.” Sara answered. Ryan grinned at her sarcasm. “What about you?”

“Well I’m here for a few days before I take off to Europe again” he said.

Sara looked surprised. “Europe, huh? What’s in Europe?”

“So I travel and house and pet-sit wherever will have me. I’m basically homeless, or have lots of homes, depending on how you look at it.”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing. What made you want to do that?” Sara asked. She’d always heard of people doing things like this but never met someone actually brave enough to do it.

“I worked a couple corporate jobs for a few years and just got burnt out with it. Most people talk about wanting to go places and experience things but never actually do it because they’re waiting for retirement or some other distant milestone. I got tired of putting off living” Ryan said. She could tell this is something he’d explained to many people before, likely to mixed reactions.

Sara wasn’t quite sure how to react. “That’s totally understandable. I’m way too dependent on structure to do anything like that.” There was a bit of an awkward pause. “So how long will you be gone?”

“My next gig is for 4 months in Albania, so at least that long. Depends on what else I find after that.” he answered.

She wasn’t sure why, but Sara felt a pang of disappointment. She didn’t want this to be obvious, so she just sipped her wine. Sara was bad at small talk, but didn’t want to be too intrusive. After a few more awkward moments passed she asked “So you travel alone? How is that for you?” She decided the stakes were low considering she’d probably never see this guy again, so she just said what she was thinking.

“Honestly, it can be lonely sometimes.” Ryan answered, and Sara could tell he was being earnest by the look in his eyes. “I’ve seen more places and experienced more things than most people will in a lifetime, but at the end of the day what does it matter when there’s no one to share it with?”

Sara felt her heart sink a bit. His sincerity was endearing and unexpected. Most guys never express this kind of emotion, let alone within the first 20 minutes.

Ryan must have also felt the heaviness settling on the conversation, as he changed the subject entirely. “So Sara, what kind of music do you like?” he asked while gesturing toward the equipment that had been set up.

“Alternative mostly; a little bit of everything. Anything live tonight will do” she said. Sara kind of hated being asked this question. Music for her was more than something she just casually enjoyed. It was more like asking her what her very soul was made of. How do you answer that?

Ryan smiled and said “Good answer. Did you see the sign out front? 90s cover band tonight.”

“Oh thank God. I live for middle-aged white men covering TLC.” Sara said.

Ryan laughed a little too hard at this, which made Sara laugh. For the next half hour or so, they talked about the artists and records that shaped their lives so far. This spilled into books, movies, and experiences. The similarities were alarming. It was like they were the same spirit sharing two bodies. Sara didn’t think it was possible to find someone to whom she felt she really belonged. Feedback and the twangs of guitar tuning spilled through the speakers out into the courtyard. For the first time in her life, Sara didn’t want to the music to start.

The band played several of the 90s hits all 90s cover bands play: Nirvana, Sheryl Crow, Weezer, and there it is, TLC. Sara looked over at Ryan and tipped her glass, nodding to her joke earlier in the night. He returned her gesture seamlessly. This made Sara smile and hold his gaze a beat too long. She caught herself and looked down at the wine glass she was holding in her lap and couldn’t help but smile again.

The band played a few more hits before reminding the crowd who they were and announcing that they’d be playing just one more song. Ryan and Sara’s eyes locked instantly upon hearing the first few notes of Comedown by Bush, a song they’d agreed was important earlier in the night. Ryan had had enough of not being closer to Sara, so he stood and extended his palm to her. She knew exactly what he was asking but hesitated. He nodded in the direction of the dancefloor and mouthed “come on” with a smirk. Sara slid her hand into his, letting him guide her movements for the remainder of the song. She liked the feeling of his body against hers, warm and safe. Now she didn’t want the music to end.

It felt markedly colder as they strolled along the sidewalk back toward the conference hotel. Reality often introduced itself this way, bitter and brash. They walked intentionally sluggishly, prolonging the inevitable. They crawled to a stop outside of the hotel doors, both looking anywhere but to each other.

“Well this timing is just stupid, isn’t it?” Sara finally said, breaking the melancholy silence.

“More like punishing I would say.” Ryan answered, smiling sadly. “You could always come with me you know, leave the career you’ve spent years building for a degenerate you met at a bayside bar?”

Sara chuckled dejectedly at the thought of this, knowing all too well who would win the chess game between her head and her heart. “Well, Ryan, I guess I have to let you go now.” Sara hadn’t noticed that their hands had entwined, suddenly dreading the absence of it. Ryan lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them where her knuckles met before withdrawing down the street uncertainly. Sara floated back to her guest room, questioning how she’d be able to absorb anything from the remainder of this conference, or even to think clearly ever again.

Months later, Sara sat in the sand gazing absently out at the alternating tide. She and Ryan stayed connected over social media, some weeks more intensely than others. Time zones, distance, and heartache standing between them. Fate is a cruel master.

Movement close by to her hand pulled her stare from the waves. She met the eyes of a small finch who’d found the same mound of sand appealing. Instead of startling at this, Sara felt an odd sense of comfort seeing this bird.

You see, some spirits are built of bones, tendons, and feathers, with others wood, steel and clasps. One often sentenced to a lifetime of longing for the other to return home.