Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? -Matthew 6:26, NIV
“Good evening, Miss Ruth”, the mother said.
“Um...Nothing much. I was, um, watching Letterman”, she said as she quickly wiped her moisturizing mixture of tears and eye crust so fast the parents thought to themselves if she had a nervous tick or something.
“Are you su--”
“Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm fine!”, she responded with a patronizing voice –the one bitter, poor and widowed women know how to emulate best.
“Well, I know it's too late and urgent, but--”
“Oh, you want me to take care of the bird while you go away, right?”
“Um...”
“Gimme, gimme--”
“But, Miss Ruth--”
“Okay, thank you, goodbye!”, she hurried them as she locked the door in their faces, clamoring for peace and quiet and some Italian seasoning. She was never a fan of animals, and many suspected it was from some sort of deep, dark trauma. Nevertheless, she placed the bird on the sofa and –no, she placed it on the table and gave her some expletive threats that are a blemish against her post-suicidal afterglow. And, of course, she threatened him.
And there she was. Trying to finish the deed and the bird looked at her. Oh, she had the cutest eyes! And the cutest beak! And she was hungry –who's gonna feed her? When is she gonna fly? Every time she had the dagger, the bird looked at her with compassion. He saw her cage. She saw his cage. The loneliness, that bitter, cynical feeling that leaves one's mouth sour to the touch, touched both of them. She tried and she tried and she tried...but she couldn't. The bird was too powerful.
And she cried. And he cried too. Not that pretty, novela-style cry. It was more like the voracious, depressed, kinda-ugly cry.
When she finished feeling sorry for herself, she washed her face and gave the birdie a cookie. It was more of an exorcism, of course; fifteen minutes before, a broken bird had to save her life.
But she was in a prison. So the bird.
She had to stop at #9, but she still saw Holden struggling with the coffee machine since stop #1. And even though he splattered all of his coffee in his shirt, Holden still managed to give Ruth her coffee. She said “Thank you” and she turned her head, when she saw a bird's shadow on the back of her head. Ruth quickly turned and fled. Holden looked at her, and she ran after her before the stop continued.
She kept running, running, trying to look for the bird. A bird that was now an eagle, soaring gracefully underneath her wings. It was that sense of freedom without abandon. It was the sense of freedom that gave her another chance to live.
All the while, Holden scratches his head.