Flesh and Feathers (9 page)

He knew who I was
. I tried shouting out to him, but I didn’t know his name. “
Hey wait!” However, he was gone.

***

The next night I left work around seven o’clock. I was rushing home. It was getting dark, not from the late hour, but because it was getting ready to pour down rain. I heard ripples of thunder off in the distance, and with each flash of lightening; it pushed my feet to move at a faster pace. I hated thunderstorms–they always made me nervous.
  

When I finally made it to my apartment, I was relieved. I went in and changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. After the accident, my apartment seemed so strange to me, like I was out of place there. It was dreary and isolated. Nothing on the surface had changed, but internally I felt like this was a dark and sad former part of my life.

I straightened up a few things and figured I would go to check on Mr. Parker. His first name was Earl. However, I couldn't call him by it. It was too casual, and since he was much like the
Dad I never had,
I liked calling him by a more formal name.
 

Once I reached his door, I knocked softly, not wanting to startle him. “Mr. Parker?” I called but didn’t receive an answer. “Mr. Parker, it’s Azaleigh.” I waited a second and then called again. “Mr. Parker, are you there?” I placed a hand on the doorknob and tried turning it. It was unlocked. I opened the door just enough to fit my head inside. “Mr. Parker, it’s Azaleigh. I was just checking in to see if you were okay.” I opened the door wider and stepped inside to look around. His apartment was smaller than mine with even less furnishing. I walked through the living room and then into the kitchen where a plate full of food sat, half eaten. Flies were hovering over it, and the stench was overwhelming, causing me to cover my nose with the inside of my shirt. I choked back a gag as I shooed the flies away from attempting to take up residence on me. “Mr. Parker?” I called one more time, hoping and praying that he would answer.

 
Just then I heard a ticking coming from the back bedroom, and I followed the sound down the hall, carefully walking in quiet steps on the hardwood floor. I approached a door that was cracked open, and I could tell the sound was coming from behind it. Slowly pushing it open, a foul smell hit me and I stood staring in horror. Mr. Parker was lying on the floor, pale and not moving. In his hand, he was holding a phone. The cord was stretched out and hitting the side of his nightstand caused by a light gust of wind that was blowing through the open window. He must have been there for days because the lobes of his ears had begun to blacken.

With tears welling up in my eyes and my heart beating rapidly, I stood there in disbelief.

When the police arrived, I gave my statement and watched the coroner haul Mr. Parker out in a black body bag. I felt dizzy and everything seemed so surreal. Hearing my name called over and over brought me out of my reverie. Jen came rushing through a crowd of people that were wearing uniforms. She grabbed me, hugging me tightly, but I couldn’t quite return the embrace.

“Oh my gosh, Az, are you okay?” She brushed her hand repeatedly over my face, wiping away tears and make-up that had painted it. “What happened?”

I was so lost. I had no idea what had happened and didn’t know how to explain it to her. “I’m… I’m… not sure.”

“I heard someone had passed away in your apartment building and rushed over here. Who was it?” Her voice sounded like she was relieved it wasn’t me.

“Mr. Parker..., he was my friend. I found him lying on the floor holding the phone,” I said, glancing down at my hands while they shook in my lap. I looked up at her with tears streaming down my face where she had just wiped clean. “He had no family. There’s no one to notify.” When I said it, I realized how sad it sounded or how sad it really
was
for that matter.
 

“Az, come stay with me tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.” She stroked my hair from my face while more tears fell to the ground, soaking in the dirt and disappearing.

“Okay, just let me grab a few things.” I said.

Once we made it to Jen’s place, I all but passed out on the couch. Lying there with my eyes closed and my head throbbing, I was on the verge of
incoherence.
I could hear Jen moving about the apartment, and then I heard her go back to her bedroom and shut the door. My throat was dry and constricted, so I pulled myself up and went to the kitchen to find something to drink. Opening the refrigerator door, I was not surprised by the organization of it. Bottles of water were neatly lined on the bottom shelf, all with their labels facing the same direction. I just shook my head in amusement, grabbing one of the bottles and twisting the cap. I had tilted it back to take a sip when I heard Jen talking in a hushed voice. I moved slowly down the hall trying to hear better. Then I realized that she was on the phone. I pressed my ear against the door, and I heard her say, “Yeah, she’s with me…. No, no everything is fine…. I know that…. I will get her to stay here for a couple of days until he can get settled in…. Wait… I think I hear something.” That was my queue to get my ass back in the living room. I tip toed down the hall in a hurry and slipped into the bathroom just seconds before she opened the door. When I heard the door shut again, I rushed over to the couch and lay down. It wasn’t long before the effects of the evening had taken their toll on me, and I fell asleep.
 

The next morning I awoke to the warm smell of coffee. Jen was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. I really didn’t see Jen as a newspaper kind of girl–I thought of her as more of a
Cosmopolitan
kind of girl.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked.

Rubbing my eyes I replied, “I’m okay, I guess.”

“You’ve had a rough night.”

“Do think I could stay here for a few days? I just can’t bear to go home.” The fact was–it was the truth.

She smiled at me. “Of course, you can stay as long as you’d like.”

I stayed with her for almost a week, not wanting to leave. Jen kept me busy, which helped me keep my mind off of things. Finally, when the time came to return home, I was reluctant to say the least.
 

Placing my key in the lock, I felt a sudden overwhelming sadness. After opening the door I stood there, looking inside. A small gust of air came from down the hall, bringing with it an all too familiar scent. Mr. Parker’s apartment carried the fragrance of jasmine down the hall. It was almost like he wasn’t really gone. A loud noise of something breaking made me jump. I looked down towards his apartment and noticed there were boxes sitting outside the door. I moved quickly down the hall, bracing myself for whatever it was that I was about to see. I peered around the corner and saw two men packing up Mr. Parker’s things. One of them was cursing at a lamp, which had fallen and broken.
  

“Excuse me,” I said.

A man in dark blue coveralls acknowledged me. “Can I help you, Miss?”

I paused and looked around. Almost all of Mr. Parker’s things were gone. “Um… where are you taking all of this stuff?”

“Back to our warehouse. Someone is coming to claim it,” he answered.

“Really? Do you know who?”

“No ma’am. We were just hired to pack it and move it.”

“Oh. Okay. It’s just that I was a friend of the man who lived here. I didn’t realize he had any family.”

The man looked at me and didn’t respond.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” I hung my head down and turned to leave.

“Miss, wait… by any chance, are you Azaleigh?”

I turned to him. “Yes.”

“Well, I found this box, and it has your name on it. I guess–whatever it is–he must have wanted you to have it.” The man handed me a small box that had my name beautifully written on it in Mr. Parker’s handwriting.

“Thank you,” I said and walked back to my apartment.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I stared at the box. I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it, but that would not have pleased Mr. Parker. I popped the tape on the ends and very carefully pulled the brown packaging paper off. Inside was a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I opened the note gently and began to read it.

My Dearest Azaleigh,

I am sure if you are reading this, then my life here has ended, and I have moved on to the next. Please don’t be sad, my angel, for I’ve been waiting to reunite with my beloved Lilly. Knowing my Lilly, she has been even less patient than I in our reunion.
 

I’ve never told you our story, but it was one of great love and devotion. We were barely nineteen when we married. I had been discharged from the military on account of an injury I sustained during a training drill. Lilly had waited for me, and once I had made it home, I knew I would never leave her again. I couldn’t bear the thought of her not knowing if I would return. I suppose that is why she left this life first. Unable to see me every day, would not have been easy for her.

We were twenty-five when Lilly told me that she was with child. I had never been so nervous in my life. I surely would not have been a good parent I thought. Had I known I would never get the chance, I would have thought differently. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, the baby stopped moving. When we made it to the hospital, we learned that we had lost the baby and to my dismay, Lilly was dying too. She remained strong, but in her final hours, she began hallucinating. Lilly had told me that our baby had come to her in a dream
–
our baby girl. She called her Angelica. She said that Angelica could not enter this life because she was greatly needed in the next, and that she felt terrible about leaving two wonderful people abandon with no infant to embrace. However, Angelica swore an oath to my dear Lilly that she would come back in her next life to revisit, and her presence would be much like the child we had lost. Lilly gave me a stone necklace that I had never seen before, telling me that it was Angelica who had given it to her. She pressed it into my fingers with what little strength she had and made me swear to give it back to our beloved daughter when she returned.

I had kept every promise I’ve ever made to my beloved Lilly, and now I have made good on my very last promise to her. Azaleigh, I know that I may have been only your neighbor down the hall, but to me, you were much more. And if life after death is true, like my Lilly said, then Angelica made good on her promise too. You, Azaleigh, were like my daughter.

Love Always, Mr. Parker

I clutched my chest, trying to keep my heart from beating through it. Sadness filled me but with it came a sense of rejoice. I had not known everything about Mr. Parker’s life before but knowing that he had someone waiting for him on the other side filled my heart with hope. Although I knew I was not the daughter he had spoken of, it made me feel good to know that I was able to give him something that he had lost.

I folded the paper back into its neat little square, and emptied the rest of the contents from the box onto the table. Inside was a unique stone necklace. It had a braided silver chain, and an elegant silver brace that held the stone in place. The stone itself was white with an inscription written in a language I didn’t recognize.
 

I sat there holding the letter and necklace, and in my mind, I sifted through my memories of Mr. Parker. I guess it is common to regret things you should have done. It was apparent that he was closer to me than I was to him. I should have been a better friend.

Chapter 8

Changes

T
he next two weeks went by rather quickly. I wasn’t over all that had happened, but I was able to keep myself busy enough so that I didn’t dwell on it. Jen had been as supportive as anyone could be, and Tannah had added hours to my schedule in hopes that it would help keep me occupied. I don’t think that was the only reason. Our newest waitress, Charlotte, seemed to be a little on the absent minded side. She hardly made it to work on time, and when she was there, she hardly ever got any order right and usually ended up spilling something by the day's end.

It was a busy day at the diner. The special for today was meatloaf, and as gross as it may have sounded, it smelled delicious. Charlotte was waiting tables with me–and to be honest–I needed a break from her. Even though she was an extremely nice person, she had a way to pluck every nerve I had. I asked her politely to cover my tables while I took the trash out.
  

I gathered up the trash–which equaled two bags–and started out back. I met, Jackson, our cook at the back door, who had snuck out for a quick cigarette. Jackson was a little on the heavy side with grayish colored hair that was thinning on top. He was kind enough to hold the door for me while I lugged the bags out. He must have thought I was struggling because he asked if I needed some help. I smiled and shook my head; I just needed a few minutes to myself, and he was smart enough to figure that out. He proceeded back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The back alley smelled like rotting food, and the heat from the sun only made it worse. However, the smell didn’t bother me enough to make me retreat back inside. I just felt
off
and couldn’t understand why. I was hoping some fresh air would do me some good–no matter how bad it smelled. Ever since my accident, I felt like I couldn’t get myself together–like I was lost and out of place.