Maybe. But he didn’t think so. She was danger.
“Bet you thought you were cute yesterday,” she said.
Wizard stiffened. Carefully he took another handful of popcorn from his bag and scattered it for his pigeons. He had not heard her.
“You coulda cost me my job, you know that? I don’t know why I didn’t give the whole thing away. Yes, I do. It was because I was so pissed at Booth for right away assuming it was me. And because I knew he woulda knocked you right outa your chair. He loves to show his muscles when he gets mad. Showed them to me once too often. So I showed him mine.” The quaver in her voice belied the toughness of her words.
“He came home from the night shift, and found his junk piled up on the staircase. So he comes down to where I’m working and tries to raise a fuss. So I tell him to leave my key, ‘cause the lease is in my name, and if he doesn’t, I’m calling the cops. Booth knows he can’t afford to talk to me cops about nothing. He’s got a bunch of speeding tickets in the glove compartment of his car. Oh, he still thinks he’s tough. He phoned me last night and threatened to come by and ’see‘ me.
But I told him I had told Mrs. McWhirter to call the cops if she even seen him come in the lobby. And I did, too, and she will, too. So he can blow it out his ass for all I care.“
Worse and worse. Wizard’s hands shook slightly as he scattered popcorn. Should he stand up, gather his bag, and leave?
That was admitting too much. Silence and the back of his shoulder for her. He wasn’t even listening to her monologue.
The pigeons pecked at his feet-
“I'm sposed to be working afternoon shift today. But I forgot and got here early, so I thought, what the hell, I’ll go feed me pigeons and kill a little time. Then I seen you out here already feeding them, and figured I’d let you know (hat I knew what went down. Waitresses aren’t as dumb as most people think.
You gotta really know people to be a waitress. And you gotta have a good memory, especially for thatching up faces and orders. That black one sure has a funny tail, don’t he?“
The black pigeon’s mother had been a full fan-tail, but Wizard wasn’t going to chat about it. She was a talker. So let her talk as much as she liked, and when she ran down, she’d leave. She’d have to go to her job soon, anyway. He’d never set foot in Duffy’s again, and that would be the end of this whole sorry mess.
She had already fallen silent. He saw, from the corner of one eye, a handful of popcorn pelt the ground with more than necessary force. A short moment later he heard a light gasp, as if someone had poked her with a pin. She took a husky breath and was silent again. Now she would go away. But she didn’t. He wished he could stop thinking about the waffle and me strawberries and whipped cream. It wasn’t as if he had asked for it. She had given it to him, of her own free will, and (here was no reason for him to feel guilty or obliged to her.
He intended to take only a quick peek at her, to see if she showed signs of leaving. But when he turned his head for a glimpse of her, she was already staring at him. Her eyes were too shiny; he saw her stuff a tissue back into her pocket.
“So go ahead and stare,” she said bitterly. “Stare at a stupid woman who sits on a bench and talks to some bum like he’s listening and then starts to fall apart. Go ahead and stare. See if I give a damn.”
He had snatched his eyes away as soon as their gazes met, but that was already too late. She had seen him look at her and knew she had his attention. Now she would talk until the clock made her go to work. It was through his own fault, his most grievous fault, and his penance would be to listen to it. He threw more popcorn.
“I don’t know why I keep going. Why the hell should I keep going? I get up. I go to work, I get my pay, I eat, and I sleep. What the hell kind of a life is that? You know how bad it is? It’s so bad that when some shit like Booth treats me so lousy that I throw him out, after he’s gone, I cry. You know what my sister says when I’m like this? She tells people, ‘Don’t mind Lynda, she’s just between men now.’ She says it in this bitchy, whiney voice, like someone else would say, ‘She’s on the rag.’ And she’s my own sister. She thinks it’s just terrible that I’m not married. So is that my fault? I like men. It’s not my fault I haven’t found the right one just yet. Does that mean I’ve got to live like a nun to keep her happy? Women have needs. We’re not supposed to, but we do. you know. When Booth welted on me and I called her up. do you know what she said? You know what she said to me? She said, ‘You sure can pick ’em, Lynda, can’t you? You got yourself into it with that creep, so you get yourself out of it.‘ And she hung up on me. Well, I did get myself out of it. I wasn’t asking for her goddamn help anyway. I just wanted someone to talk to. C’merc, birdie.”
He felt more than saw her abrupt movement. He kept his eyes on the ground before him. hoping she had missed. For a moment all was silence and he started to relax. Then he heard the frantic flapping of wings. It was the crisp sound of wing pinions beating against hands, of delicate flight feathers bending against a relentless grip. Wizard’s stomach turned over.
“Let him go.” He spoke before he knew he was going to, turning to confront her. She held his gaze, their knees nearly touching as they shared the bench. The pigeon she held was a young one; its beak was shell pink and looked too large for its head. Its feathers were white with gray splotches and an even shading of black across the end of its tail. It was frantic. It struggled with all its strength against Lynda’s hands, panic in its round orange eyes. Lynda had one wing pinned neatly to its body. She had partially trapped the otherwing with her hand and was trying to fold it back down. But the struggling pigeon was still trying to open it. Lynda was pushing on it, not roughly, but relentlessly. It folded beneath her strength, but not naturally.
Lynda’s face was calmly preoccupied.
“Oh, so you can talk? I thought you were pan of the bench.”
“Let the bird go. Its wing doesn’t fold like that.”
“I just want to hold it for a minute. Come on, little bird, quiet down, put your wing down.”
“You’re going to hurt it. Its heart will burst from terror.
That’s no way to handle a bird. Give it to me.“
“I’m not hurting it.”
Wizard reached, not swiftly, but efficiently, and took her right wrist between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.
He caught it right at the soft spot between the wrist and the hand itself, just past the knobby little bones. Before she knew what he was up to, he squeezed firmly. “Hey!” she exclaimed, but she had already released the pigeon. It floundered away from her in wobbly flight to the top of a tree. The rest of the flock had fled as soon as the flap had begun.
“Why’d you do that?” she demanded angrily. He dropped her wrist hastily and leaned back on the bench. He found he was breathing heavily. Terrified. He had come so close to giving the twist and jerk that would have disabled the hand completely.
He stared at her, looking deeply at himself and what he had just done. He felt sick and his hands were gray. For a long moment the world was tilting and sliding past him. His stomach squeezed acid up into the back of his throat.
“You would have killed him,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I would not. Now look what you done. Now I got to start all over again. Here, birdies!” Lynda’threw more popcorn that bounced off the cobblestones and threw a penetrating look that struck deeply into him. “You don’t look so good. You eaten today?”
Having spoken to her once, nothing was to be gained by silence. “Not much.”
“I didn’t think so. You look worse than these pigeons. Oh, look, here they come. Not too bright, are they?”
“No, they’re not,” Wizard admitted sadly. She was right.
They were coming, the hungriest ones dropping from the trees like leaves, dipping down to peck at the farthest outreaches of the popcorn she had scattered. They were stupid, but they were his. He knew what would happen. They would come, a few at first and wary, to nip up the pieces of popcorn. Then they would get greedy, and more would come, and in the competition for the feed, they would forget the danger from the feeder.
They would jostle and push, crowding ever closer to her, until some unwary one was under her squeezing, gripping hand.
He shuddered. He picked up his own bag of popcorn and reached deep into it for a large handful. He flung it with a snap of his wrist that sent the seeds and popped corn scattering far beyond Lynda’s tossed food. His flock swooped to it, feeding well outside her perimeter- Lynda dropped plump kernels right at her feet and sat perfectly still. He felt a sweat break out on the back of his neck as the birds ventured closer. He took another handful and threw it, deliberately pelting the birds that were daringly close to her. They started back, raising reproving eyes to him. He kept his face stony. Back‘ he thought at them-
Back, you fools!
“You’re doing that on purpose‘” Lynda accused him, but she laughed as she said it. She was very pretty when she laughed, all her sulkiness fuming to softness. Like a different woman. She smiled at him looking at her, and gave her head a toss that sent her hair dancing. “Look. I give up, okay? You win. If you won’t let me feed your birds, how about you? Why don’t you let me buy you some breakfast?”
“No. Thank you. I’m not that type of person.”
She didn’t understand him and laughed at what she thought a joke. “Yeah, me neither. Let’s just go grab a sandwich and some coffee or something. I was so upset this morning, I hardly ate a thing myself. I hate to eat alone. Look, we can go right inside to the Bakery. Ever been there? Right inside the doors?
Good coffee.“ She tilted her head toward the tall glass and metal doors. Her eyes had brightened, and in her red jacket she looked like a bright bird perched on the end of the bench.
“I’ve been there,” he admitted grudgingly.
“You are such a stone-face. It wasn’t so hard to get you to eat yesterday. Look, don’t feel awkward about it. It’s just the way I am with people. I like you. I don’t even know why I say that, but it’s true. Even not knowing you much, I can tell we could be friends. Guess I knew it when I came to sit down over here. Rats!” She threw a handful of popcorn. “That’s the last of mine. Share with me, okay?”
She tweaked the bag of popcorn from his grip and put her small hand into it. His heart tried to burst from his chest. She pulled out a fistful of fragments and threw them on the ground.
“Hey, look, yours was all gone, too.” She shook the little bag upside down over the cobblestones. An errant wind carried away a few fragments of popcorn from it. Wizard stared with uncomprehending eyes. He reached numbly to take me empty bag from her fingers, but she wadded it up nimbly and stuffed it into her own empty bag. She thrust both into her pocket.
“So, that’s that! No more popcorn, so no more birds. Really, you might as well come and eat with me.”
He stared at her pocket. His throat was closed tight, too tight for any words to pass.