Sperry, Sharon

Digital Commons @ Butler University

MANUSCRIPTS 11pleasantness, she could drowse for long moments.The. fo~gotten things in the dump were arranged in piles. Itwas fascinating to her that each of these things now strewn so care-lessly about had been part of someone's life. Here was an old inkbottle, or a smashed-in coffee pot with vestiges of grounds still inthe nose. There was an old chicken incubator, with a red lisht bulb,painted with the stains of its long gone chicks. N ext to it she hadfound a broken china doll, part of a musical lamp which played a fewtinkly notes as she picked it up to hug the doll.. She always sought out a wicker baby buggy, made for twins,which had come in one of the last loads. She loved its round strawedging, furled like an Ostrich feather. It didn't daunt her that thehandle was half gone. "Poor thing," she would say. "Were yourtwins boys or girls?"In the center of the rubble heaps was a deep grown-over pondbed which her friends told her had been a lake at one time; duckshad come each summer and children could ice skate in the winter.Cautiously she would descend, with wild cherry branches snappingsmartly against her legs, blackberry vines clawing at her dress.Standing in the pond bed she would dig with her stick searching forone last puddle of water that might not have dried up, yearningsilently for the ducks and the cold, blue-white frozen surface overwhich she could skim in winter. But the shadows quickly passedfrom her face, and she climbed panting out of the pit into the hotand comforting sunshine.She sensed that time had passed, and soon Mother would becalling. Before she returned, though, she must make her rounds.With excitement pressing against her chest she made a completecircle of the grounds. She poked everything, searching in all corners,hoping that from the rusty cans and broken bottles she could findsomething growing, sending forth fresh, green tendrils of life.N early always she found it: waxy orange pumpkin blossomsspringing from seeds of some smashed Jack-O-Lantern, small hardsquash beginning to form on luxuriant green vines, a solitary zinniastanding tall among soggy, l1nre~d newspapers. Bt~t one day, bestof all, she had discovered growing out of the gapl11g mouth of afurnace pipe a pink wild rose which filled her with wonder and senther singing along the path home.The Yellow BirdSharon SperryOWEN SMITH had been a garbage man for twenty years, but hehad never had such puzzling collectiOl~s as those he had beenpicking up the past week from the brick house on the cornerof Maple and Jefferson. The house, he knew, had recently beensold by Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, who had gone to Florida, to a middle-12 MANUSCRIPTSaged couple who were strangers in Cawville. There would have beennothing particular in Owen's mind about a new customer, even anewcomer: to town, except that he found such curious items in thegarbage. Just last week he had come across two dead canariesstuffed into a milk carton. And again today, as he pulled the canup from its place in the alley, he noticed a limp wing sticking out ofa cellophane box. He frowned and looking up, saw Mrs. Paetz. tak-ing laundry off her backyard line. She was a tiny woman who musthave looked like a child until she was nearly thirty, Owen thought.As she bent to place a folded towel in the basket, her shoulder bladespointed through her dress. Her face, still pretty, was peaked andworn as though she'd been losing. sleep. Large dark eyes, slightlyringed, stood out sharply under thick, black hair that alternately fellacross her face and back behind her ears as she raised and loweredher head from the clothes line to the basket."Howdy!" he called.She made no response, but continued folding a sheet she hadjust taken from the line."Hello, there, Mrs. Paetz!" he shouted.She turned and looked at him curiously, nodded, and turnedback to her work."Like our neighborhood?" he persisted.She gathered the basket into her arms.' , ."Fine, thank you," she answered and disappeared into the house.Owen shrugged and dumped the can.* * */Rose Paetz closed the screen door behind her and took a deepbreath as she set the basket under the ironing board.' The garbageman wasn't the first this week. Yesterday a door-to-door salesman,usually easy for her to discourage, had managed to get into the liv-ing room. Julia had wandered out from the play room, attracted byhis chanting pitch. Rose remembered the jump in his voice and hisnervous cough when he saw Julia leaning against the door, the cottondress she always wore falling softly around her narrow hips, herblack hair brushing her 'cheeks, her bright eyes glistening. Therehad been an unintentional suggestiveness in Julia's slow smile thathad sent a chill through her mother. An awkward pause had fol-lowed as the salesman looked from mother to daughter for an ex-planation. Somehow Rose had ..gotten Julia back into the play roomand the salesman out without ali incident, without an explanation.(How could she explain Julia toa stranger P) Perhaps they'd madea mistake coming to a small town where people were bound to befriendly. Rose sighed, if only . . .Julia, who had been sitting on' the stool by the stove watchingher mother, giggled suddenly and broke Rose's thought. It 'wasnearly five o'clock. Walter would be home soon, and there wassupper yet to fix and Julia to feed. Rose set some leftovers on theMANUSCRIPTS 13stove and helped Julia into her chair.She had only given her two bites when Julia closed her mouthand refused to eat anymore. Rose tried everything, but the girlstuck out her chin and crossed her arms, defiance on her face. Rosestopped pleading and looked at her. Julia's eyes were fastened onsomething across the room. Rose looked over her shoulder and sawthe empty bird cage swaying in the window."J ulia, listen to me," she started carefully. "Daddy will get abird tomorrow morning. Now you have to eat. Don't worry aboutthe bird. Let's eat supper."Julia's eyes filled."Let's go play," Rose said suddenly, wistfully determined notto spoil this evening. And Julia, although she looked back at thecage, went with her to the play room. Rose left her there with thedolls and blocks and went back to prepare Walter's supper.It was nearly six o'clock when Walter got home. Rose heardhim trudging through the living room and looked up to smile as hesank down at the table."How was it?" she asked, trying to sound bright."Better, I suppose. The car broke down again.""Oh, no.""We'll have to get a new one soon."She set the pot roast in the center of the table and slipped 111the chair beside him."Didn't anything good happen to you ?"He smiled slightly."We're invited to a company party. Dick Mills and his wifeare having all the agents' families for a picnic Sunday."Rose laid a slice of meat on his plate."You told them, no, of course.""Not yet, I thought maybe we could . . .""What? Get a babv sitter?"He dropped a spoonful of potatoes beside the meat."Yes. I suppose you're right. I'll tell them, no, tomorrow."He took a sip of coffee and asked, "Where is she, anyway?""In the play room. I fed her about five."He glanced at her over the rim of his coffee cup."She wasn't there when I came in."Rose's head jerked up. She stared blindly at Walter for aninstant and he quickly set his coffee cup down. Without a wordthey went into the front play room. It was empty. A droopingclown, oozing straw, gaped at them from the toychest. Walter spunaround and ran to the back of the house. Rose hurried to the diningroom, the front porch, back to the kitchen. She could hear Walteropening the garage door. She searched the back yard and ran intoWalter in front of the house."I'll go this way," he said, pointing up the block. "You go thatway and we'll circle back through the alley."14 MANUSCRIPTSThe block was deserted. Children who crowded the sidewalkthroughout the day were sittmg at supper. Everywhere were theremnants of them: a rusty bucket and shovel beside the walk, astray skate, a boy's bicycle sprawled against a porch. No one wason the street; particularly, there was no Julia, but Rose could hearthe quiet murmur of tabled families drifting along with the richaroma of home cooking: ham from the green shingle, hot rolls andchocolate cake from the white clapboard. An occasional burst oflaughter rippled the leaves in the trees. Sounds of friendly voicesturned to mockery in the chilly evening air. Rose turned bitterlyaway and clattered down the cobbled alley. Here the stones rattledunder her feet, and the grass lifted indignantly to shush at her. Ithad begun to get dark when Rose reached the house. Walter wasalready there, sitting on the front porch steps, his head down."No luck?" he asked tonelessly.She shook her head."I found some records when I was 111 the back bedroom," headded. "They had been chewed up."Rose shuddered as the night air crept up her arms."She was upset today, Walter. She missed the bird, I think.""Which one?" he asked drily. "Well, I'll get the car out andsee if I can find her. It's usually a pet shop or a zoo. There aren'tmany in this town. I won't be long. If I don't find her right away,I'll call the police."He pulled himself up by the porch rail."How long must this go on?" he asked, looking at the moonhanging from a twig of the maple tree. She glanced up to see whathad caught his attention, but all she could see was the roof of thehouse across the street. He reached down and pulled her up besidehim./"Go in, now. You'll catch cold out here."* * *Julia sat down on the curb. The bird she had been following, theone with the yellow biJI, was gone, flown far away over the housetop across the street. There were no birds here. The clown wascrying in her room, crying because he missed the yellow bird, and sodid she. She'd promised him she'd bring him a bird and now thebirds were all gone,A scream of fire trucks careened arouncl a corner and racedpast her. She jumped up, forgetting the bird and ran after them.They stopped two blocks away where a clump of people pushed andyelled in front of a crackling red house. J ulia ran as close as shecould, watching the men in polished hats squirting water at the house.The trees bowed and nodded and she laughed with them. The waterbegan to wash the red fire away and left the house dripping black.Julia looked at the smoking house that had been so pretty to her be-MANUSCRIPTS 15fore and began to cry. A tall boy standing near heard her sobbingand leaned over."What's the matter, honey?" he asked.Julia looked up wide-eyed at his shiny black face."T want my daddy," she sobbed.The boy's mouth dropped open."You been drinking, kid?"Julia threw her arms around his chest and cried into his shoulder."I want my daddy."Several people had turned around. The boy looked quickly atthe dark look beginning to form in the eyes of a few men on theoutskirts of the crowd and pushed Julia away."Look, kid, T don't know you fr0111nobody," he said loudly andhurried away. Julia ran after him, but she lost him at the end of theblock. The tears on her face were dry and itchy. She couldn't re-member why she had cried or where she was, but she could feel thedarkness setting in. Bushes and trees that had wrapped theirshadows up in settled shapes in the day now spread them out. Theblack sky had blotted out the houses and streets. Things that wouldhave looked cozy to her in the daylight, were hissing strange soundsin the unfamiliar night. The happy cry of birds, a sound she longedto chase, was gone. She stood alone beneath a street light and cried.A passing truck stopped at the corner and the driver, looking downat the girl with the glistening eyes, smiled and drove 011.Julia thought it was her father and she ran screaming after thetruck until it roared away and left her standing on brightly lit MainStreet. To her right lay the center of town with the attractive glintof neon signs. Bright reds and blues flickered from the store frontsand drew her toward them. She wandered aimlessly, gazing at thedisplays in the windows, smiling at a strangely familiar face thatsmiled back at her from the windows, until she came to one wherea barking puppy leaped in his cage. Beyond him, crowded amongother cages, was a wire coop Iull of yellow birds. Julia ran to thedoor of the shop and pushed it open. She didn't notice an ol?erwoman at the back of the room or the shopkeeper who was showinghis customer some cats.The birds were dancing a song on the perches. One climbed un-der the top of the cage and sang to her upside down. She laughedsoftly and they sang louder. Their wings spread open and fluttel:edsoft air acainst her face. They nodded their heads and the finefeathers around their necks rippled with color like silk in the light.Julia pushed open the cage door and grabbed a tiny yellow bird.The others flew away. She held him against her cheek and wastickled by the warm beat of him. She held him to her ear andlistened to the gurgling twitter of his voice. She held him in herhand and felt the lumpy softness of his body between her fingers,his satin bones slipping upon each other.The shopkeeper wrapped a chubby hand around her arm.16 MANUSCRIPTS"What'd you think. . . . Here, what have you done?"He pried her hand open and the red-stained bird fell to the floor."What did you do that for?" he yelled at her.julia didn't hear him. Her eyes were on the birds who werebouncmg along the ceiling."You'll pay for this!"He let go of her arm and hurried to the phone on the wall. Be-fore he could lift the receiver the shop door tinkled open <l;nda gau~tman stepped in. The man looked immediately at the gIrl and hISstrained mouth relaxed. The shopkeeper eyed them both."You know her?"The man nodded."You know what she done here?""I can imagine," Walter Paetz answered. "How much do I oweyou for the damage?"· The shopkeeper hesitated and looked again at the dreamy-eyedgirl and at Walter Paetz's narrow, tired face."If you'll leave your name, I'll send a bill."Paetz looked quickly at the little man, but all he could see weregently upturned eyes."You don't know me," Paetz said simply."That's all right," the shopkeeper answered. "You live here,don't you?"Paetz nodded."Well, then, that settles it. I'll send a bill.""Oh," Paetz added quickly. "Would you sell me one of those?"· The shopkeeper turned back, frowned slightly, and looked at thegirl again."If you help me catch 'em."* * */ · ~ll the way home Julia leaned across the front seat to watch the.bird 111 the cage sitting on the floor of the back seat. When he hadparked the car in the garage, Walter hoisted the cage high on hisshoulder and pushed Julia into the house in front of him. Roselooked up, bleary-eyed, as they came in."I thought you'd never come," she said."She was in a pet shop when I found her.""All this time?""I didn't ask," Walter answered and carried the cage to the playroom. Julia and Rose both followed."Her clothes are so mussed. What could have happened to mussher clothes so much?" Rose begged at his heels.Walter set the cage in the window and guided Rose out of theplay room, closing the door behind them. Julia leaned over the toychest and picked up the one-legged clown. She stood him againstthe chest where he could see her and the bird and sat down on thebraid rug. The clown winked an eye at her. looked down at yester-MANUSCRIPTS 17day's cereal lump 'on the end of his ndse, and sighed happily. juliawhere she could see the reflection of the yellow bird, could hear thestuck a fist under her chin and, stared into the clown's button eyesrush of its voice fr0111the window. .THE PASSING YEARThe table of men from River Charlesno longer will meet: the King is dead.vVe still have the lovely Guinevere,the prince and the princess romp and play.The crown is no longer worn by them-one year has passed: Camelot is gone.A charge had been made to Bedivereso people won't let it be forgotthat' magic was what he gave to them,and through the year Bedivere was true., ,We know the new order must beginand we now accept its leadership.Yet still we can long for that new daywhen ours will be Camelot once more.-STAN PATTONACOUSTICSNoisemakers drown out the sounds of now,prolonging the asking of how and whyyellow, not red, black, not white,denim of blue and not purple.Ouestions mark discovery:Inothers are' hueless.The din of sin blatantly sounds.-NANCY NELL WILSON

The Yellow Bird

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The Yellow Bird

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