people who pity me | zori

V A S C O

I know a place we can run (yeah)
Where everyone gonna
lay down their weapon
(Lay down their weapon)
Don't you be afraid of
love and affection

Emma convinced me to take a break from my work.

I’d spent the last few days headlong into a backlog of complaints from districters ranging from peacekeeper force to faulty irrigation lines. Last night I’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table, headfirst onto the hardwood so that when I woke, ink had smudged right across my forehead. When I’d been scrubbing my face with soap and water at the bathroom sink, I’d seen the dark circles collecting under my eyes. Gray had started to creep up my temples and through the hair on top of my head. Gone were the days of being mistaken for one of the younger Izar boys. Not that I minded, just seeing the lines starting to collect, you couldn’t help thinking about the passage of time.

The next morning with Yani’s hand in mine, we both set out for the river dressed in our bathing suits. Emma had packed a lunch for us, along with a little checkered blanket for sitting out on the shoreline. She’d told me that Emmanuel would join us for a spell, since he’d been busy with all the rows of corn he and his wife were tasked with. The boy took after Emma, I think, focused on the right amount of water, the pH of the soil, all the little measurements to build the best crop. Hardly left time for coming to call or popping in for dinner like he’d used to do. At least Sofía didn’t mind filling up our house with her laughter now and again, still young and free enough to find time to humor her father.

Yani tossed her sunglasses out on the blanket and strolled right into the river without a second thought. Each passing day seemed to press her courage, I half expected her to say by September that she wanted to set up a little house all on her own. I watched her swim out to the deeper part of the dark water before dunking down and kicking her legs. She plunged to the bottom of the river (with me watching closely the first few minutes to make sure she surfaced again) before splashing up with a collection of rocks in her hands.

“Papá!” Emmanuel’s voice carried out from the top of the hill. I turned on my side and gave a wave to have him join me. He’d gotten Emma’s dark eyes, the same smile, too. From a single look you could see his head turning a mile a minute, even when he thought he wasn’t showing much of anything at all. “Me alegro de verte.”

I put a hand flat on the blanket and steadied myself, my knees tight and careful of my balance. He put a hand in mine, and helped to bring me to my feet. I smiled, looking up at him, at how the sun shown on the man in front of me.

I wrapped both arms around him in a hug and patted him on the back until both of us began to laugh.

Yani had us playing a call and response game in the deeper part of the river, first me with my eyes closed calling out to where they might be. We floated to watch the empty blue sky above us, and took in the warm sun hanging overhead at noon.

While Yani collected old beetle carcasses along the shoreline, Emmanuel and I dripped dry next to the picnic basket. He and I opened some beers and gave a little toast. It almost felt for a moment as though the last year wasn’t sitting at the back of my mind. Almost.

Emmanuel stared at his drink for a second, inspecting the little aluminum can like his life depended on it.

“Ehm… papá, hay algo que quiero decirte…” I set my drink down and turned to Emmanuel. I tried not to let my stomach sink, or tense at the sight of how serious he’d become. “Es… que… pues, Camila?” He took a breath. “Ella está embarazada…”

***

The office gleamed that afternoon, brilliant in the glow of the sun peering from the windows. I’d been taking a rag to dust all the grime from my desk, humming along as I wiped away. I tossed a set of papers from my desk that I’d been too anxious to throw away (as much as I knew they were already out of date, but could never let go of anything). Today felt fresh, even as the heat of the afternoon had me dripping sweat from my temples. Every step was lighter, so much that even the ring of the phone didn’t send a chill down my spine.

‘Vasco… it’s Birdie. I have so much to tell you.’

“Miss Birdie! Wonderful! Oh, how are you doing?” I stepped along the side of the long wooden desk and threw myself back into the cushy leather chair. After a spin in a circle, I threw both my feet up on the tabletop. Months had passed and there’d been a letter between both of us, enough that I'd prayed a few mornings for Birdie.

“This is such a pleasant surprise. I hope you don’t find this rude, but I’m so glad it’s you that’s calling and not just Pierre.” Vasco gave a little laugh. “What do you have to tell me! Go on, I’m all ears.”

V A S C O

I know a place we can run (yeah)
Where everyone gonna
lay down their weapon
(Lay down their weapon)
Don't you be afraid of
love and affection

I tried to place the feeling as I waited for Birdie to speak. Sort of like getting a letter in the mail, a giddiness flushed through my cheeks. Not because of getting to pick up the phone for a conversation other than about business, but because she’d taken the act of thinking of me. Enough that she wanted to tell me something in her own voice, and to hear mine straight away, too. You start to treasure that as the years pass, the tender relations that last only a little while. You never know who might slip from your life, and what memories you’ll have to hold onto. Remember a voice through a phone could light up a whole evening, even if the rest were lost.

’I guess I should tell you I’m pregnant…'

Birdie spoke casually, words dripping through the receiver with every breath. A pulled my feet off the desk and leaned forward in the chair, hand over my mouth to cover the broadening smile as though there were someone else in that’d see, as there were a reason to be ashamed. Lately I’d felt as though when I were too happy it was a selfish thing. I had to keep reminding myself that an expression of joy was a protest on its own; we were conditioned to the bittersweet as though we were always to live with a long shadow cast over our shoulders.

Birdie deserved this bright spot of news, to hold onto this happiness and never let go. She spoke of this being unplanned but I’m staring at a photo of Raquel, Emmanuel, and Sofía all together, distracted by memories of when they were young enough to hold in my arms.

I had the moment of doubt when Emma had told me she was pregnant the first time. I couldn’t say it was so much unplanned as… unexpected, I suppose. Talks of a rhythm and cycles of the moon for an eighteen year-old-boy didn’t stop the nights between sheets chasing after one another. Those days when we’d had two pennies to our name but enough love to sow through the wee hours of the morning. You can’t feed a child on love. A person can grow only as much as their roots would let them.

What if we weren’t ready? Or our lives weren’t enough for her? Or that sixteen years later we had everything we’d wanted, and had to give her back to the stars once again?

Static crackles over the receiver and Birdie gets to Leland. Back together, she barrels through, the same man who’d downed me the bar. The one who’d had the same doubts and cracked under the weight. A man who’d taken her trust and spent it so that all he’d left to offer was IOUs and excuses.

I turned the black cord connecting the phone between my fingers. What to say? I thought of Elias and how he took more than he’d ever gave each day of his life. No one deserved a man that would make them feel as though their life was a shadow on the wall, ready to be blotted out as soon as he turned off the light.

But life was never black and white. Humans are complicated, messy with hearts ready to be melted down and born again. We’d never get to a new beginning if we believed a man couldn’t change his heart. It was perhaps what separated us from despair: believing that change could come to even those who’d hurt us the most. It was part of being an adult, I supposed. Learning to forgive with grace while keeping your heart whole.

‘…we’ve been good. Really good.’

I’d be lying if I didn’t have a sense of relief hearing her say it. Birdie had only ever been honest, maybe to a fault.

‘I uh, I was in the hospital recently…’

I curled the phone cord again and felt a tickle at the back of my throat. She wanted me to know first before I’d heard from anyone. I smiled.

“Oh me?” I let out a chuckle, still processing all the details she’d spilled out. I thought about Emmanuel and the news of his child. She didn’t need me stealing her thunder, not now. There’d be time enough to share with her the news.

This was about Birdie.

“A few more gray hairs. Folks asking me if I’m going to stand for election again. A few trips to talk to mayors about how we could be doing better…” I turned around in my chair to lean back, then facing my reflection in the window.

“I want to talk about you, Miss Birdie.” Gentle, I reminded myself. “It’s so lovely to hear your news. I’m honored you would tell me. I miss you very much, my friend. I wish I could be at your door tomorrow; I’d have a whole basket of baby clothes and toys for you and Mr. Leland.”

The greatest pleasure always came from giving my friends what they needed, whether it all the little material things I could spare, or just an ear for listening.

“Know what you say always matters to me,” My voice was quiet as I spoke. “You know I’ve no one to tell, I – well, I’m sorry to hear that you were in the hospital.”

Brave of her to tell me, or even want to.

“I miss you,” I said in the dimming light of my office. I wished it were simple enough to board a train to eight to see her again. “I haven’t had quite the night out since I’ve been back home, I’m afraid.”