Addie Snippet

We were lying in the grass, eyes closed, only the tips of our fingers and toes touching. It was Addie’s belief that this brought our energy full circle, that our auras begin to unite like yin and yang. She could feel it, she said, her eyes glowing like broken glass under a full moon. I bet she could feel it. I never felt anything out of the ordinary, but I didn’t ever mind lying in the grass with her brushing her fingertips lightly against mine. The friction between even the most innocent patches of bare skin could warm the darkest areas of my heart.

She always used to take me to the bird area of the zoo, a large outdoor cage that you pay a small fee and get to be trapped in for as long as you like. When Addie told me that’s what we were going to the zoo for, I could feel my throat closing up like a giant fist was squeezing it, wringing it like a dishwasher wrings out a wet towel. But for Addie? Birds it was. I paid my fee, but instead of paying her fee, Addie threw her arms around the neck of the older man selling tickets and kissed him on the cheek. He laughed and nodded at her, handing her some bags of birdseed and waving her inside.

“Wait, let me guess,” I said, watching her blonde waves glinting in the sunlight and mentally measuring how much I wanted to know. “You bought a season pass to the bird cage?”

Addie’s laugh was loud and clear, like someone tapping a knife against a pure crystal glass to draw attention for a toast. She shook her head and leaned over the edge of the railing to drop some of her birdseed.

“No that’s Royce… I used to collect his recycling and he told me that he was on bird cage and… well he’s just a nice guy that I know I guess.” Addie shrugged and kept walking, pulling me forward by the arm like an impatient child. She didn’t specify but I knew she meant that she was collecting his recycling for art. She had been painting bottles and broken glass for a few years now, several of her favorite pieces had been hanging on the walls of my apartment before it sold.

“What’s your favorite bird?” She asked, and I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“A parrot I suppose.” I said, thinking of the only birds I wasn’t afraid of as a child. “Oh, or a peacock.” By favorite bird I meant that at the age of nine I’d owned a bedspread embroidered with peacock feathers. Addie took it literally and nodded meaningfully.

“I like pigeons, but peacocks are my favorite here. They’re haughty and beautiful, like supermodels that strut down runways with their heads head high. The only reason a peacock would turn its head is for something spectacular.” Addie smiled and strutted down the small boardwalk, a supermodel just for me with her tangled birds nest of curls and her ripped jeans and loose tank.

I walked behind her, always a step behind Addie, and wrapped my arms around her waist, looking over the side of the fence just in time to see a peacock turning its neck in an arch that looked unnatural, a glance over the shoulder that sent blue and green glints flying everywhere like confetti flavored sunbeams. Addie gasped and I smiled, not surprised. Addie at her best, and yes even at her worst, was something spectacular. Enough to make even the most extravagant peacock take a peek over their shiny shoulder.