Dead Birds

Suspended from the vaulted ceilings, ice cycle Christmas lights stretch towards the floor, illuminating Cat who looks generally artistic. She labors with needle and thread, creating broken birds who never will fly, and the symbolism grabs me, shakes me, and won’t let go. Nikki walks in, having been chased for blocks by rabid paparazzi, but remains cool and offers me a nod. My eyes drift towards the gorgeous girl working the counter, and we exchange smiles as she dutifully shuffles around and I do my best to look angelic. Stacy sneezes loudly and a chorus of bless-yous fills the room. JP, busy highlighting, tries to figure out how Dan beat him in chess. Dan reads and reads, takes a break to say, “Let’s go to Jason’s Deli sometime.” I mindlessly agree and say something like “Cool”, which is inevitably followed by “Man.” Bryson is in awe of a straw, and Lindsey continues being generally pre-med and looking beautiful in a dark black shirt, which accentuates her new dark hair color, but she’s very aware of this fact. Sean, at my suggestion, drifts into Eros hair salon next door and sinks into a sofa with Francisco, the gay hair dresser who wouldn’t let go of my hand earlier. This makes me feel like a jealous outsider, and I exclaim, “Why isn’t Francisco talking to ME?” which makes people laugh. I join the laughter, but inside could not be more hurt. Jessi informs me her brother is coming in town soon, and I let the idea of seeing Zach fall over me like a warm quilt. I consider talking to a girl in a magenta colored v-neck from J. Crew but think better of it when she notices me noticing her. Instead I give her a dirty look and hope she realizes what she’s missing. Stacie smiles and tells stories about Ninja turtles, but I can’t get past the notion that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here. These words mean nothing to me and my thoughts turn back to the flightless birds and I might be crying. Cat measures string and cuts it, but the string is a metaphor for my desire to continue, Dan walks in whistling, looks at me oddly, and I say flatly, “I’m done.”