Chapter 1

One may search for beauty and love far and wide, but it can only ever be found by happenstance and kept through relinquishment. Through crossing paths with monsters one can become more human. Gentleness is the key to inner strength. Finally, life always offers the means toward true satisfaction. This story will make these facts abundantly clear.

When I found work out west in the Colorado Rockies I eagerly took it for the change of scenery and fresh air, away from muggy plains and stifling cities. Magazines can never do the range justice. From far off on the highway I saw the forbidding peaks and vast valleys beckon to me as they issued clear streams and were bedecked with countless grand pines. One mountain was haloed by the afternoon sun, its crepuscular rays leaving every cloud aglow. At night along a lonely winding road through a steep pass, I stopped and leaned against my car to watch the bountiful night sky in all its glory. Nigh-infinite stars strewn across the glowing Milky Way displayed themselves to my restless eyes. Awe like I had never felt before stirred in my breast. I wanted nothing other to live on this very peak.

Of course, I couldn’t live in the wilderness but in Oasis City, a large and growing town with an airport. Nevertheless, once I was over the altitude sickness and done with the banalities of moving I decided to explore around when I had the chance. Nestled next to a small reservoir in a high valley a few miles away was a small town with only one road in and out, listed on the map simply as Eastwood. For all I knew, it could be a sleepy little resort town unspoiled by the droves of tourists and yuppies who usually end up swarming such places. It would be my little secret to keep.

One afternoon after an early shift at work I took my Cadillac over to see it all for myself. The sun was shining, birds were singing, flowers were blooming. I was told this part of the country was typically dry but recent rains had uncovered its full splendor. Mountain flowers painted the treacherous slopes with bees struggling overtime to collect their sweet honey. I rolled down the windows to enjoy the fresh warm air; cutting through the smell of pine was a scent I hadn’t encountered since leaving the midwest, that of corn fields. That quaint little town would be in sight very soon and I hummed a tune excitedly.

Suddenly a crack rang out as my windscreen folded in on itself and was splintered into a glittering patchwork of pieces. Knocked out of my reverie, I veered hard right onto the narrow road’s shoulder and slammed on the brakes only just in time to avoid careening into a deep gully. My eyes flashed across the cliffside to my left, struggling to spot the deadly landslide in progress. After several tense seconds, I realized all was still and with shaking hands opened the door to step out and inspect the damage.

Stuck in the middle of the glass was a small, brown, round boulder. Staring at it and scratching my head, I slowly pieced together its pecularities. What kind of rock has hair on the outside and leaks water when it breaks? I wondered out loud, “What the hell is a coconut doing all the way out here?”

The growing noise of frenzied fluttering caused me to spin around. A tall, blue monster bird flapped her wings rapidly as she touched down in her orange work boots. She had been carrying in her little beak a large grocery bag, which now clattered to the ground with several coconuts bouncing out onto the road. Still in shock, I languidly watched the offending seeds roll along.

“Oh my God, are you hurt?” The monster’s high-pitched, lilting voice snapped me out of it. Her eyes stared at me, wide as dinner plates, and her wing-arms covered her mouth. She wasn’t the first bird monster I had seen but was the first I had met up close; her head and body looked remarkably human-shaped, and she seemed to have long, deep blue hair.

“Are you alright? I’m so, so sorry, a tailwind came up and I pitched forward and….” She walked forward and grimaced as she looked over the damage to my car, panic rising in her voice. “Your car…I-I didn’t mean to drop it, honest. It looks bad but maybe we can get it fixed and I don’t have insurance but I’ll pay for it however I can somehow and I’m really sorry again and I don’t know….”

I pushed my palms out and adopted as calm a demeanor as I could muster. I had just enough presence of mind to realize that letting myself freak out wouldn’t help anyone. “Slow down. Take some deep breaths.” The last thing I needed was for her to get a heart attack out here. “It’s alright. We’re both unhurt and that’s all that matters, right? Now, what’s your name?”

She loudly inhaled and exhaled for a few seconds. I didn’t know bird-monsters could sweat, but beads were running down the feathers on her face and her polo shirt was already stained. I had the chance to read her nametag by the time she caught her breath.

“I’m Martlet. I’m sorry ‘bout your car, Mister….”

I gave her my name, and added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure insurance will cover it.” In truth, I had no idea if the policy covered “objects dropped by flying monsters” at all, and I was irritated by what had happened to my beautiful red sedan. Still, she already had enough stress for the both of us at the moment, and as she stared morosely at the shattered windscreen I started feeling almost as badly for her ill fortune as for my own.

Sighing, I asked, “Look, do you live in the town up ahead?” Martlet nodded. “I was headed that way myself. It’ll take a while for a tow truck to get here. Let me just take some pictures, and instead of waiting out here we can stop at a café or something.”

She returned a small smile and used the ends of her wings to tuck her shirt into her jeans. “There’s one in the middle of town and it’s only a few minutes away. I can take you there when you’re ready.”

It was only a short way around the bend to get there. As we passed by a sign that said “Population: 150” I realized that this place was even smaller than what maps had suggested. In fact it would be a stretch to call it a town at all, more of a hamlet with one way in and out. Nevertheless, the street was bustling with activity at this time of day. The dusty road had a number of pedestrians including a tall star-headed man in overalls, a squat squirrel monster wearing a hat and scarf despite the hot weather, and a lizard in old cowboy attire. There was nary another human in sight, and I noticed some monsters turning their heads as Martlet and I walked along.

“The café’s over this way,” she directed as we turned at an intersection. Except for a few houses we passed, most buildings could have been over a hundred years old with their frontier style architecture, but otherwise they were in good shape. On the corner of a sidestreet, and neighboring a cramped-looking jailhouse, was a comparatively modern-looking white-bricked building with large glass windows. The sign on top indicated that it indeed was a café.

A bell on the door dinged as we stepped into the cool interior. The only customer inside was a light blue bear monster wearing a suit and monocle, sipping coffee as he read the newspaper. Over the familiar hum of air conditioning I could hear the muted din of several arcade cabinets, turned down low no doubt to preserve the sanity of the proprietor and the customers. Behind the counter was a tawny, muscular monster woman with red pig-tailed hair and pointed ears on the top of her head. Her back was to us as she was focused on some sort of glass enclosure, and since she was wearing a red sleeveless top I could see some narrow segmented plates running between her shoulder-blades.

“I’ll be right with y’all,” she called out in a country drawl. She dropped something in the enclosure, a terrarium, and turned back to us, wiping her hands. Inside the terrarium I could see writhing serpents gobbling up a couple of rodents, and my skin instinctively crawled.

The woman must have noticed my stare, and with an oblique look explained, “Sorry about that. You came in right at their feedin’ time. Anyway, what can I getcha?”

“Just a black coffee for me, please. Miss Martlet, what would you like?”

“Oh, um, uh,” she stuttered as she read the menu. “I’ll try an oolong tea. That’s a fun word. Oooolong,” she sounded out.

The barista gave a coy smile. “Comin’ right up. Please make yourselves at home. Oh, and Martlet?” My companion, headed to one of the tables, paused and turned around. “I heard about the case result and wanted to congratulate ya. It’s a mighty large weight off your mind.” Martlet wordlessly returned a small smile. I thought it was an expression that suited her.

We seated ourselves near the door. The stress from the accident had left me exhausted and trembling; for the first time since then I was able to relax a little. I leaned back and studied Martlet’s features while she rested her chin on a “fist” of curled-up feathers and stared into space. Her arm-wings were covered with azure feathers, and the same shade applied to the long, unkempt plumage on her head that resembled hair. The same sort of cover encircled her neck, fanning out over her shoulders and bosom. The feathers on her round face were far shorter and of a paler blue; they accentuated her now thoughtful and sad eyes that were of a hue that came to mind as “b’dazzled blue.” Her small, yellow-orange beak resembled that of a finch and presumably served as both mouth and nose.

As the silence was starting to get awkward I decided to break the ice. “It’s a nice little town, isn’t it? I was looking forward to stopping by and it doesn’t disappoint.”

Martlet turned her head toward me. Now that she was calmed down, the lilt in her voice was more pronounced. “Oh? Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a moment. It’s a gorgeous little place. It gets a little hot in the summer for me but otherwise it has everything I could ever want. Everybody here is so nice too and I think you’ll pick up on that quickly. I really don’t think I could have found a better place to move to.” The change in subject left her a little cheerier.

“You aren’t from here?” I asked. Small towns like this don’t usually have many newcomers, I thought. “When did you move?”

“No, I’m from Minnesota, and that was a bit over eight years ago. My folks wanted me out of the nest once I turned eighteen, and Mom kept pushing me to get a job, but it was hard to locate anything that suited me. I didn’t want to stay where I was, because it was getting more expensive and, frankly, people around were becoming less and less friendly. Out in Massachusetts I have an uncle and aunt”—she pronounced it like “awnt”—“but I don’t know them very well and it’s even pricier to live there. There were a number of places that tickled my fancy, but after weighing my options I figured out the city, and especially this town, would be the best place to go. So I moved west and ended up here, and I’m happy I did!”

I nodded along. Martlet tended to ramble, or so I thought, but the cadence of her speech resembled that of a songbird’s call which made all of it pleasant to listen to. “And how did the work thing turn out?”

She sighed. “It took me a while and in the end I wasn’t too happy with the results. Like, it’s hard to find a decent job even here. While my house was being built I had some help from Chujin—I mean, Mr. Ketsukane—and he was so kind. He took my wings under his wing and showed me how to nail boards together without them falling apart—most of the time. Anyway, his main line is fixing electronics, so I thought I could help him with that in his shop. We tried that, but I had butterfeathers”—she looked off to the side, chagrined—“so that didn’t work out, and since his wife works the front end there wasn’t any room for other employees.” She adopted a more confident expression briefly. “So, I figured I could take my carpentry skills and put them to good use in construction, but professionally. But, ehm, shortly after I was hired a crane just happened to tip over? It was an honest mistake, and nobody was hurt, but that was that. After that, I asked the Weltraums, who are from Nebraska and run a beautiful little farm on the outskirts, if I could help out. It went well, but I couldn’t resist swimming in their corn cellar and they weren’t too happy about that. Okay, that was on me, but I had no idea the food safety and inspection service was coming the next day! I tried being a cook, but that plan went up in smoke, in both the figurative and sadly literal sense. Then with not many options left I applied to work in the mines, since they’ll take on anyone, but they must have heard about everything else since the foreman told me, ‘Sorry, missy, but that would be too dangerous.’ Pfft, as if I’m afraid of a few falling rocks. Uh, no offense? Erm, after that…”

I could feel my eye twitching. I finally interjected. “What do you do now?”

“Retail. Part-time, two jobs, both in the city,” she answered with a downcast expression. She even looked a little embarrassed, as if somebody in her mid-20’s getting by in retail was atypical nowadays.

Nodding sympathetically, I replied, “That sucks.”

“It does.” She took a deep breath, then looked up at me resolutely. “But I’m blessed in many other ways. I have a home, I have friends, I have terrific neighbors, and most importantly I have—”

“Sorry to interrupt y’all.” I looked back. Dina was leaning on her arms against the countertop, a mug and a teacup steaming next to her. “Your drinks are gettin’ cold.”

I excused myself and stepped up to the counter. I noticed that the bear had left, leaving us the sole patrons now. Dina gave me a genial smile as I approached. “Having a good date?” she asked softly.

I blinked in surprise. I had heard denizens of small towns could be nosy but the question still took me aback. “No. I mean, it’s not a date. It’s a professional meeting. She hit my car.”

Her smile faded. “Well, then have a good ‘professional meeting.’ Hope your car makes it.”

I gripped the cups in my hands and returned to the table. For a moment I thought about giving this place zero stars on Yelp, but I recalled that this town didn’t have any cafés listed online. A consideration presented itself whereby I could make a listing just to give it a bad review, but I buried that thought as being so petty disgusted even me.

Marlet was again lost in thought but she looked up as I set her tea in front of her. She grasped the cup with both wings, prehensile feathers intertwined across the ceramic. “Again, I sincerely apologize for the coconuts hitting your windshield, and the terrible shock you must’ve gone through,” she told me when I took my seat.

Keeping a neutral expression, I nodded for her to keep going. “Sorry” wasn’t going to cut it, but I wanted her to reach her own conclusion first.

“Whatever I owe you, I’ll pay you back in full, someway, somehow. You have my word on that.” She stared into my eyes contritely as she said this, but then she looked away with a sigh. “Depending on how much it is it might take a month or two, but I’ll get the money to you.”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry. We don’t even know how much the bill will be yet.” I tried to be reassuring. Inwardly, I was telling myself “Damn right.” There had been a worry that getting compensation would be like pulling teeth, if bird monsters had any. Accidents, even ones where fault was clear-cut, often result in drawn-out legal cases that are agonizing to sit through. Many wouldn’t bother; for me, it was less about the money—though replacing the windshield myself would leave me stretched—and more about securing justice. Martlet almost killed me with her negligence, after all. If she felt a little bit of financial pressure as a consequence, that was all right; hell, maybe if I was feeling exceedingly generous at the end of this I could split part of the repair bill as a reward for her honesty.

She wordlessly took a sip of her tea, then another. I couldn’t tell if she felt guilt or merely sorry for herself, but her dour mood itched me the wrong way and I wanted to change the subject.

“Dina mentioned you won a case. Were you having trouble with lawyers or something?” If it had to do with personal injury or property damage arising from negligence, I had half a mind to label her as a walking, talking and flying disaster zone. I finally took a swig of my coffee, finding it cool enough to drink comfortably yet hot enough to drink the proper way.

“Well, in a sense I was,” she replied. “It was more like wrestling with CPS over custody of Cole. I was extremely close to losing him and I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

My eyes went wide as I inadvertently swallowed more coffee than I intended to, triggering a coughing fit. I grabbed some napkins and hacked drops of brown liquid into them. Martlet stood up and worriedly asked, “Are you alright?” as she patted me on the back with her wing. I nodded as I settled down and wiped tears from my eyes, and she took her seat again.

I did not want to pass judgment on this woman already, but what she had briefly said did not present a good picture of her character. A mother, even a single mother, losing custody of her child is an uncommon thing to happen in the court system to the point that just the possibility indicates something went seriously wrong. I didn’t know if she was a single mother but she mentioned nothing about being married and divorced, and also she looked too young for it. Was this related to her getting kicked out by her parents somehow? I was getting ahead of myself, but I knew that my ire had shifted and I didn’t particularly care about damage to my car or injury to myself at the moment. The thought of a kid being poorly raised infuriated me, and I had to will myself to calm down.

Martlet must have seen my unpleasant thoughts flicker across my face because she leaned back and frowned, flame seeming to leap in her eyes. “Look, I know what you must be thinking, and you have it all wrong,” she retorted. “I’ve been caring for Cole the very best I know how, and he would tell you the same. I would never, never ever, let him be neglected or mistreated in any way.”

“Okay.” I knew I had to choose my words carefully lest I earn a slap to the face—or another coconut. Making enemies in a little town and not having a getaway vehicle was a bad idea. “Why exactly, then, was CPS after your son? You mentioned having to work two jobs. Don’t go after me for asking this, but if you’re away at work all day then how do you have enough time to raise a little kid, or chick or whatever? Who’s going to look after him?”

“I…” Marlet glanced around the café. Following her gaze, there was nobody else around aside from Dina, who was working on something behind the counter and was probably trying to hide her eavesdropping. I turned back to the bird and she was staring at some spot on the floor. “Cole’s not my son,” she explained quietly. “Actually, we’re not related at all. He’s legally my ward, and he’s human, not monster. Also, he’s not a little kid anymore, he’s fifteen now. But he’s family to me, sort of a son, sort of a little brother whom I’ve been caring for.”

Slowly I nodded. My earlier indignation was being replaced with curiosity. I had never heard about anything like this. “Okay…when did you adopt him?

“It was only a little under two years after I moved in. I was mostly settled; not in the best of shape, but I was getting by.” She suddenly stopped and stayed silent for what felt like a long time, blinking and occasionally sipping her tea. The air conditioning sounded louder in this pregnant silence and the arcade cabinets, even turned down low, were obnoxious.

I had not expected this turn of conversation and our discomfort was certainly mutual. Finally I decided to break the relative silence. “You don’t have to explain any more,” I soothed.

“No,” she mumbled, “but you ought to know more of this story, so I can put some of your concerns to rest.” She finished her tea and pushed the empty cup to the center of the table. She continued, “I was in the city one afternoon looking for work, passing through the seedy part of town. That’s when I saw him.”

“Poor little thing,” she sniffled, “he was dingy, having just rummaged through garbage in an alley, and emaciated with bruises all over him. And yet…he wasn’t afraid. He came up to me and just watched me wordlessly. I asked his name, he told me ‘Cole.’ I asked him where he lived, he said the orphanage. I asked him why he wasn’t there now, and he told me he didn’t like it there, so he left. Then he asked me something. Do you know what he said? He asked if I could sing, because he had seen pretty birds sing before….” She started to choke up, so I fished a wad of tissue paper out of my pocket and handed it to her. She graciously accepted it, holding it to the top of her beak and blowing noisily.

“I knew I couldn’t leave him there, but I couldn’t take him home right then and there, or I would get in trouble. I had to go through a lengthy process to get him out of there,” she concluded with a sigh.

The pit of my stomach had grown deeper as I was told Cole’s story. Her reactions were too realistic for this to be some attempt at emotional manipulation. “Right. You, uh, swear that you’ve been raising him as well as you could? I really hate to have to ask, but uh….”

She furrowed her brows but her eyes stayed glistening underneath. “I do swear,” she hissed, but then softened her face. “But I admit that you’re right: I can’t spend enough time with Cole anymore. With two jobs I’m away most of the day and when I come home at night I can’t keep my eyes open. I just collapse when I should be spending time with him, and that bothers me to no end. Still! I cook for him as best as I know how, I buy and mend his clothes, and I keep a roof over his head. He’s been getting decent grades at school, he has good friends, and he may not show it all the time, but he’s happy here. It would be so much worse if he was in different foster care, or still at the orphanage….”

Those soft blue eyes looked at me imploringly. “I know I’m a total screwup. All my life I’ve had good chances to make things better for myself only to fumble it. There aren’t any skills I’m particularly good at. I’ll probably be stuck as a cashier forever. But I don’t care ‘bout any of that as long as Cole gets to have a happier life here. That’s the one thing I won’t—I can’t—compromise on, because I love him, and he deserves to have kindness in his life. Please, tell me you understand.”

I wriggled in my seat, now feeling clammy and uncomfortable. Truthfully, I couldn’t fully understand what it was like to have someone dependent on you, especially someone rescued out of misery. What I did know was that pressing on this emotional sore spot had put a weight of guilt on my heart and I wanted to shrink away and hide. It didn’t particularly matter that not every question I had was answered, as all my curious inclinations had vanished.

“Look, I’m sorry for getting judgmental and for assuming things I shouldn’t have….” My answer came out slowly as I scratched the back of my head and wore a tense expression on my face. I wanted to tell her to forget I said anything, but how can one possibly do that after a conversation turned so personal? “From what you told me, I’m sure you’re a good mother, er…a good sister…I mean a good guardian.”

She looked at me wordlessly and shivering, blinking and sniffling softly. There had been an ongoing battle on her part to not start openly crying during this exchange, and I couldn’t forgive myself if she lost it now.

I decided to change the subject. “So, um, what were the coconuts for?” I asked, gesturing to the shopping bag that had been resting next to our table.

“Oh.” She looked down at the groceries with a sniffle. “I’m going to make a coconut cream pie for Cole. I thought I could do something special to celebrate his stay.”

“From scratch? I’m no baker but that sounds like a challenge to make.”

Martlet’s enthusiasm came roaring back. “And I’m up for a challenge!” she declared. “I read a recipe I could use and it’s not too hard, I think. It’s just flour, butter, eggs, sugar, cream, vanilla, and coconuts. It called for coconut shavings, but I didn’t want to use Cole’s razor so I also bought one for that.” She squinted. “And when it comes to opening them, a table saw should work….”

Suddenly my phone beeped. The tow truck was only fifteen minutes away; it would take most of that time to walk back to the scene of the accident. “Wow, that time certainly slid by,” I remarked, pushing the device back into my pocket. I started to arise, but an urge made me hesitate and I leaned forward. “Look, uh, I know we agreed to it and all, but…just forget about the repair bill. Whatever it is, I’m good for it.”

She covered her beak with one of her wings in disbelief. “But I hit your car! It’s only fair I pay you back for that. It’s my fault for all of it.”

“I know, I know. Everyone makes mistakes. Consider it a form of forgiveness.”

“But it wasn’t just a simple mistake. I broke your windshield and worse, I could’ve hurt you! I don’t know what I would’ve done if that happened. The least I can do is give you what’s owed.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have to worry about that,” I responded with a sigh.

Her expression turned dogged. “If you’re doing this because you think I’ll be in financial hardship, I can assure you that I can handle it just fine. I’ve gone through worse pressures before.”

“I’m sure. But, eh, I don’t have anyone else to look after. You do. I’d rather you put the money toward Cole’s education or something.”

She slouched back in her chair with a sigh. “I have to admit it, you’re right. I ought to focus on what’s important.” She looked up with an earnest smile and glimmering eyes. “Thank you. I wish we met under happier circumstances and had time to talk more. I didn’t know how to read your personality at first, but I really do think you’re a genuinely kind man.”

I scratched the back of my head and laughed awkwardly. My chest felt funny, as if I had just gotten off an intense rollercoaster. Considering the turns our meeting had taken, that was not far off from the truth. “Heh, don’t mention it. I think you’re a decent woman as well, all things considered.”

“You should get back to your car now. Do you need me there? I can pay the bill and be right over!”

Shaking my head, I rose and pushed my chair back into place. “No, I should be able to handle it. You had that pie to bake, remember? And, uh, don’t worry about the bill, it’ll be my treat. You might have to get another coconut. They’re not exactly cheap out here.”

Martlet blinked and opened her beak to say something but I was already striding towards the counter. Dina coolly scrutinized me. I had no idea what she was looking for, but I felt a little less in the way of overt hostility.

“That’ll be four dollars-fifty,” she stated. “And we accept only cash ‘ere.” As I fished around in my wallet for the money, Dina commented, “I hope your ‘professional meeting’ went well. Name’s Dina, and welcome to our little town. Sorry ‘bout the way I treated ya earlier, but I couldn’t figure if you were trouble or not. Wish we could’ve given ya a better first impression. If you do decide to come back around again, try being a bit more open and you’ll get that back in kind.”

I felt the urge to grumble about how she’s one to say that, but I had no time to do anything but grab my change and leg it. As I passed I nodded to Martlet, who exclaimed “Byeeeee!”

Everything else had to be forgotten for now as I raced out of town. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter 2

The week dragged by as hassle after hassle piled up. Even in the city, which by most standards was fairly small at under a hundred thousand residents, there wasn’t a shop willing to take my car in on the weekend. As a result, it sat around in parking being useless, and I didn’t want to pay through the nose for a taxi just to tour the place. After the rest of my weekend was spent filing my insurance claim and doing nothing else but watch videos about historical airplanes, it was time for work again. During the taxi ride the driver tried striking up a conversation, but I was too busy calculating exactly how much time it would take at work to recoup the fare. The less said about work itself, the better. After I was done with that on Monday, then Tuesday, and finally Wednesday, I hopped around the city searching for a reasonable mechanic, and yet none were willing to replace the windshield for less than six hundred dollars, not including smoothing the dent to the hood or repainting. As a capstone to all of it, at the end of the week my claim was denied with the explanation given being “objects dropped by flying monsters are not part of the coverage terms.”

It did not get much better. My weekend was spent writing and rewriting my appeal to the insurance company, distilling the letter until every trace of my intense annoyance was filtered out. Every day, exhausted from work, I came home stressing over money when I thought I could have been over that worry by this point in my life. One hot Friday afternoon, lying on my bed I had to wonder: was the honeymoon period of moving to Oasis City really over so soon? There was one reason for all of this.

Reluctantly I picked up my phone. Staring at the screen, I went over in my mind what I wanted to say and what I could say. It would be impossible to rescind my forgiveness and ask for money for car repair without being a scumbag. Yet, I knew that woman would not put up much protest, however disappointed she might be. Would it be so unfair to ask for two hundred dollars, less than half of what the windshield alone cost? It would lay most of my worries to rest, and if insurance continued to be disagreeable I could just get a new policy.

With a heavy sigh I dialed the number I had stored on my phone. It rang, and rang again, and again. I rolled my eyes, waiting for voicemail so I could leave an awkward message asking for a call back. Then the ringing stopped.

“Yeah?” The voice was not Martlet’s, instead unfamiliar, masculine and young. His accent had a western twang quite unlike Martlet’s midwest parlance. For a moment I thought I had the wrong number, but it occurred to me this had to be her adoptive son.

“Oh, hey. Is Martlet there? I’d like to talk to her,” I asked.

“Why do you want to speak with her?” His tone didn’t come across as rude, but it was questioning and wavered slightly.

“Uhhhh….” I tried to come up with anything to say that wasn’t “I’m an Indian giver who’s come to demand money that your mother needs to take care of you.” I suddenly felt self-conscious, ashamed to have called at all, but I couldn’t hang up now. “I need to talk to her about an, uh, a personal matter. Is she there right now?”

“Okay…” he replied weakly, followed by an uncomfortable silence punctuated by some quiet breaths. I temporarily forgot the reason I was calling as I wondered what sort of response he was thinking about. “I can take a message for her,” he finally replied.

“Yeah, if you could ask her to call me back, that would be good.” I gave him my name.

“I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks. Uh, have a nice day?”

He just hung up.

I put my phone down, relieved that part was over. “Was I that awkward when I was his age?” I mumbled to myself. “Probably,” I replied to myself with a nod. Now all I had to do was wait. I set my phone down and sprawled myself out for a nap.

My ringtone was blasting in my ear. I clumsily grabbed at my phone, but it fell off the bed and thumped against the carpet below. With a groan I hung myself off the side and pulled the phone up to my ear. “Yeah?” I groggily asked.

“Hiya!” a familiar voice twittered. “Cole told me you called to talk to me ‘bout something, but I was away at work. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach you sooner. I hope it wasn’t urgent!”

“Yeah, uh…” I said as I wracked my brain for what I wanted to ask. “Oh God, no,” was my thought as I realized what the now awkward reason for my call was. This wasn’t a request I could make lightly over the phone; I had to do something nice first….

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Martlet called out over the line.

“Do you want to…have dinner?” I finally asked. The clock on my phone told after six so at least I was getting the time right.

“Dinner—with me?” she asked in apparent disbelief. Her tone quickly shifted into glee. “Sure, I’d be happy to! Can Cole come with us?”

“Um.” Remembering the awkward conversation I had with him over the phone, I did not want to be the bastard asking money from them while he was present. “Can it just be, you know, the both of us? I’d prefer that, if you don’t mind, of course.”

“That’s fine,” she replied with mild disappointment. “What did ya have planned? Any sort of restaurant suits me. Where did you want to meet?”

“Any sort of restaurant…” I repeated. Right. I should have done my research beforehand, since I had no knowledge of any local places. Didn’t my coworkers mention something one time?

“Is…is…Mexican okay?” I ventured to ask. “And I can pick you up. Just need an address.” I scrounged around for a pen and pad.

“Sure, that’s sounds great.” Martlet gave her address. It was on the one road that led into Eastwood, which meant it would be trivial to find. “Just, can you give me an hour? I have to cook dinner for Cole.”

“Right, see you then.” Hanging up, I found that I was looking forward to this dinner-date/meeting. It would be the perfect setting to broach any sort of question at my leisure. Also, no matter what happened, at least I would be getting out and eating some good food. As for what to wear, I picked out some chinos and a polo shirt: when begging for money from a single mother, anything too slobbish or too fancy comes across as especially douche-y. Martlet was too sweet to ever justify leaving a bad last impression on her.

This was going to be as good a night as I could make of it.


The drive out of the city and up the mountain was thankfully uneventful compared to last time. The remote street hardly had any streetlights but I managed to arrive before the sun had fully set. Everything was immersed in a warm ruddy glow. Only a few monsters were out now, mainly loitering teenagers who turned to watch the strange human drive by. Last time I was here I didn’t have a chance to look through much of the town. Most of the houses hugging the main road were in a western style but a few stood out. One two-story building with a sign reading “Ketsukane’s Electronics,” plus some squiggles that had to be foreign words, looked transplanted straight out of the Orient.

It took no time at all to find the address, another house that looked conspicuously out of place. The wooden houses that dotted this little valley at least had their boards and siding arranged in clean lines. This house had that attempted but not very well. It was ambitious in size, featuring two stories and a balcony precariously bolted to the roof, but was rather ramshackle. Wide boards were nailed to misaligned strips of siding, presumably to cover up gaps, and the windows did not match each other or the handmade-looking front door. The bare dirt yard was similarly messy, with a workbench standing by itself and on the other side of the house was a water well. I double checked my notes and map to see if I was at the wrong place.

The door opened and a familiar figure stepped out. Martlet was wearing the same boots and jeans she had on last time with a different white blouse. A small brown fanny pack was slung around her shoulder, but what stood out the most was an absence of those long blue neck feathers, leaving her neck bare and the same color as her face. “I’ll be back soon!” she called out through the doorway before shutting the door and walking over to my car. “I hope I didn’t keep ya waiting,” she said through the open passenger side window. The corners of her mouth by her beak turned up in a smile but her eyelids drooped tiredly.

“No, not at all. Feel free to hop in,” I replied, reaching over and opening the door for her. “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” I said tersely.

“Oh, thank you for taking me,” she answered. The feathers on her wings rustled as she rubbed them against her knees. “I haven’t been to a restaurant in a long time. Your invitation came as a big surprise, and it was so nice of you to ask me out.”

“Seatbelt. And, uh, don’t mention it. I figure I should try out some different places and I like dining with company. I’m still new to town and I don’t really know anybody else.” I regretted saying that last part but if Martlet was offended she didn’t show it. The road down the side of the mountain was cast in shadow and I took the turns slowly.

“You fixed the windshield,” she pointed out, leaning forward to inspect the repair work. I was focused on my driving but out of the corner of my eye I could see her frown at the dent on the hood.

The drive into the city was surprisingly pleasant. The dreadful thought of awkwardly sitting in silence never materialized, as Martlet pointed out spots she had been to and answered questions I had about the city. When conversation did slow down, I let her play with the radio. I think she was trying to keep herself awake by staying occupied.

Traffic was still pretty bad but having someone to talk to eliminated the stress I normally would be feeling. Driving through the city with someone was fun and I found myself vivaciously talking about first impressions coming here, people met and notable landmarks. Martlet didn’t come to this part of the city much and after I made a wrong turn she had to use my phone to find directions. How her feathers were able to work with the touchscreen I wasn’t sure, but at long last we found the restaurant.

It was indeed a Mexican restaurant, as typical as one could expect. I held the door open for Martlet to enter and was greeted by soft mariachi music. We were seated across from each other at a red faux leather booth under a low wood ceiling and a glass lamp. It was cozy despite there being a loud conversation in Spanish from across the restaurant. The dishes offered on the menu also looked delicious, though Martlet didn’t know most of them and I had to explain what they were.

You know what tacos are, right?  With her nod, I held up the menu so we could both see, and I pointed to different items.  Here are taquitos, theyre mini-tacosyes, its literally right there in the name.  These are quesadillas, theyre basically tacos but soft and with a cheesy interior.  Fajitas are tacos but you make your own with meat and tortillas they give you.  Burritos are tacos, but instead of a hard shell with a c-shape they have a soft wrap that goes all the way around.  Basically, tacos without lips.  Same with enchiladas, but unlike other kinds of tacos the sauce goes on the outside of the wrap.  Down here are chimichangas, theyre tacos but deep-fried.  Tamales are also tacos, but their wraps go all the way around and are completely inedible.  My eyes were drawn to a couple of booths down where a goat monster was scraping off the filling from his tamales and shoveling the leaves into his mouth.  For most people.  Right.  What were you thinking of getting?

Martlet, intimidated by the selection, kept staring at her menu for several seconds. She looked up at me and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards into a smile. “It’s certainly a lot of choices to pick from. How did you learn ‘bout all these different dishes?”

Cupping my chin in my hand, I explained, “Oh yeah. Back in college if we went clubbing or bar-hopping, I’d be dragged along to a Mexican restaurant at some point. They were the only places that would be open so late, and it’d be cheaper than bar food.”

“You went to college? That sounds fun, but what was it like?” she queried, her eyes eager with fascination.

“Oh, it was boring and a grueling amount of studying all around. I know I made it sound like I was a party animal, but that was only sometimes which was when my friends wanted me to come along for some reason. There just isn’t an appeal to meeting strangers at those kinds of places.”

“No, I mean, what did you study?” she asked, clasping the feathers on her wings together. “I thought ‘bout going to college at one point, but I wouldn’t know what to do with myself there. Plus, if I did go I think the debt would have ruined me, so maybe it’s good I didn’t. Still, I’d like Cole to study something. He’s really smart, I’m just not sure what he would want to learn or how I could finance it.”

Scratching my head, I looked away towards the napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, and the bottle of hot sauce at the end of the wall. “I took aerospace engineering, got a degree, and that was just about it. There was math involved but not every degree is going to be the same. They say the more math there is, the better your job prospects are, otherwise I don’t have any advice that would help.”

She was gawking directly at me now. “You’re an engineer? And you’re in aerospace? That means you get to build planes, helicopters, and more….”

I grimaced. Why was she asking me so many questions? Maybe it was a mistake asking her out. Yet, she divulged her life’s story to me and I had no grounds to complain when this was just talking about work. “Not exactly. I never made it that far. I’m actually just a maintenance technician. Yeah, I work on planes, but I don’t ‘build’ them. It’s nothing glamorous.”

Her continued smile was bugging me out. She looked like she wanted me to keep going, or to ask me more questions, but mercifully the waiter came to take our order. He wore a white jacket, sported an upturned mustache, and spoke with an accent.

“I hope you’re having a good time. Would you like me to take your order?” he cheerfully asked. We nodded and he got his notepad ready. “Señorita, what catches your eye today?”

The bird lady stared blankly at her menu, then glanced up at the smiling waiter. “I got a bit distracted again, sorry. There are so many kinds of tacos here and it’s all very new to me.” She shifted her gaze towards me. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, if that’s alright with you.”

For a moment I was caught aback, but a devious plan hatched in my mind. There was no excuse for mischief yet I wanted to see what would happen. Struggling to restrain my grin and keep it a normal-looking smile, it took me only a quick scan of the menu to decide what to get. “Let’s see, the enchilada volcánica looks good, with extra habaneros please.”

The waiter threw me a worried look. “Ah, Señor, I don’t know if you want that. It will be very spicy.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “All the better to taste it,” I replied with a smile and a nod.

He smiled back and wrote down the order on his paper. “And what would you two like to drink?”

“Lemonade,” I answered. It was cheap, non-alcoholic and a solid pairing with spicy meals.

“Oh, um, root beer…wait, scratch that, I’d like an orange soda!” she chirped.

With that, the waiter picked up the menus and was off. I stretched my shoulders and leaned back, self-satisfied with my plan. I could handle a little bit of spice; meanwhile, for this sheltered midwestern girl it would hit her mouth like thermite. She would be far too hot and bothered to keep pressing me with questions. My conscience was anxious about her hating me as a result of such a prank, but really it was quite harmless. I just had to keep her entertained until then.

“So what does all that entail?” she asked.

“Like I said, it’s just like a taco, wrapped up and served with sauce on top—“

“No, no, I mean your job, silly!” she giggled.

“Oh. Well, I work at the airport. Always thought planes were pretty cool, so when I saw a chance to work on them I took it. ‘S better than working with people I have to say, but of course since I’m a newbie with only a couple years of experience I’m always paired up with somebody. Usually that’s not too bad, but when that guy doesn’t know an ATR-72 from an ATR-42 I want to pull my hair out. On the flip side, if we can’t figure out what’s causing a problem in a system I can describe it to my boss and he’ll tell me the answer like that.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

“It’s so nice to have a boss like that,” she remarked. “Do you fly?” Upon seeing my quizzical expression she explained, “Like, do you fly a plane? I know humans don’t have wings. Since you work around planes all day, do you get to pilot any of them?”

Something about her question elicited a wry chuckle from me. “I’ve thought about it, but no, and I don’t think I’ll get a chance. A pilot’s license takes way more time and effort to get than a driver’s license. Owning my own plane is also far beyond my means. Yet, a man can dream, can’t he? There was one tech some years back who had had enough and just flew off in a jet, never to return. I’m not desperate like he was, but I understand why he did it, and now and again I feel that same temptation.”

Martlet looked off thoughtfully for a second, the corners of her mouth turned down. “I can understand too...flying feels liberating and peaceful, it just puts your mind at ease. The way the wind rushes by your wings as the world falls away below you is hard to put into words. It would be nice if you could get to experience the same—Cole too.” With a hopeful smile she added, “Maybe one day we could all take pilot lessons and take turns flying a plane?”

My thoughts turned toward my dented car, the coconuts, Martlet’s apologies, and her various past jobs. Droplets of sweat beaded on my brow and I gripped the edge of the table as I knew what would surely result from such an escapade. “Uh, maybe? I’m sure you’d much rather, you know, fly naturally, um….”

I had to regain control of this conversation somehow! Just say something, anything. “Did you shave?” I asked.

She blinked twice, then again. I was expecting to be yelled at for my insolent question, but was met with only sheer confusion. “Huh?”

Anything but that, I thought. I cupped my hands over my eyes in embarrassment, then pulled them away with a groan. Pointing to my neck, I clarified, “Your feathers. You had long feathers around your neck last time I saw you, now you don’t.”

She touched her neck, then guffawed before cutting herself short by taking a deep, whistling breath. “Oh, you mean my scarf, hehe. I make most of my own clothes when I can, and for a scarf I found it easy to just string together some old feathers of mine. I guess you could say that grew on me, and I wear it everywhere now. Lately though it’s been much too hot and I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I left that scarf behind today.” The corners of her beak were turned up in a grin and her sentences were punctuated by brief giggles.

The waiter came by with the glasses of lemonade and soda, as well as ice water. Smiling at the good spirits we seemed to be in yet unwilling to interrupt, he left them on the table, curtly bowed and left. Martlet thanked him and took a sip of her orange soda.

As annoyed as I was at myself for being a fool, her amusement brought me relief as well as a strange sort of enjoyment. It was oddly nice to see her laugh. Maybe some other questions would go a bit more smoothly. “You were asking me what I did for a living. Pardon but where did you work again? You were a cashier or something?” I asked, looking up in the corner of my eye and wiggling a finger as I struggled to remember.

“I guess you could say that,” she answered with a fading smile. “Like, I’m assigned to where I’m needed in the store, which just happens to be checkout most of the time. Well, two stores. One is Monst-a-Mart and the other is Sansbury’s. Both are part-time and neither pays enough to support me and Cole, so I have to balance the two in my schedule every week. It’s not always easy for me, but I get by.”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach again but I couldn’t quite place why. “Why is it so bad? See, I can get that it’s not always hunky-dory, and personally I wouldn’t work there, but people say ‘retail’ like it’s some ominous thing. If you think about it, it’s air-conditioned, doesn’t take much thought to do, and you get to interact with people…okay maybe that part isn’t so great….”

Her eyes drooped, that flash of mirth forgotten. “I like interacting with people, for the most part at least. I don’t really mind if they’re humans or monsters either. It’s just, well, when you have to talk to strangers for hours and hours on end, it wears on you. And then there’s also all those who speak a different language so you can’t really have a conversation, people who are rude for no reason, the shoplifters…. Also, I want to be able to think ‘bout work. If I was building something with my wings I’d never get bored. When I’m cashiering, I have to focus just enough to not be alone with my thoughts, but the work’s also too boring to think ‘bout, if I’m making any sense. Whenever somebody says, ‘At least it makes the time go by faster,’ it ruffles my feathers, because it really doesn’t. It’s all so monotonous and leaves me exhausted almost every day.” She closed her eyes and sighed, then looked off to the side in thought. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me if I can’t take it.” Her tired eyes bore into me. “I haven’t told many people this, but…if it weren’t for Cole, I’d have given up a long time ago. All I want anymore is to get him to a happy, poverty-free adulthood. Whatever it takes, I will never let him down.”

I grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. This conversation had gone into deep personal territory much too fast again, but I could see that she hated her own job more than I did. Just her description of it was stressing me out and I felt self-conscious about my own complaints. More than that, I remembered why I took her out in the first place and now felt like the lousy jerk I was. The part of myself that still wanted some of that accident money sickened me, and if after opening herself up she learned of my ulterior motive, she would undeniably hate me.

My hand was rubbing my brow which felt slick with sweat. Chugging a few mouthfuls of cold, sweet lemonade, I brainstormed how I could possibly get out of this. “Uh…I went to Monst-a-Mart one time, but I must have missed you. There was one monster there who was quite eager to help me out. Not sure what species she was, but she was only four feet tall, had these weird glasses and was wearing galoshes.”

Martlet had been rubbing at her eyes but her expression perked up at the mention of her coworker. “Oh, ya met Bits? Isn’t she the cutest thing? I don’t always get a chance to chat with her, but when I do it brightens my day without fail. Her enthusiasm is contagious, isn’t it?”

“Yeah I guess. But, eh, is she always walking around with that sock on her hand? Maybe she’s going to ventriloquism college. She was constantly talking to that thing and it was weirding me out.”

“Do you mean Buttons? He’s not a store employee, but he’s inseparable from Bits and the manager lets him stay around since they make a good team.”

I stared back. “It’s a kneesock on a girl’s hand. She might be good at what she does, but it felt like an excuse to constantly throw wisecracks my way. Some of those insults got pretty vicious. The nerve, telling me I’m a window licker and suggesting I lick certain other objects instead. I’m not sure why she bothered to apologize.”

Martlet returned a gentle smile. “The two of them have very different personalities, you just have to get used to it. Also, Buttons doesn’t like it when people call him a sock.”

“That’s the impression I received when he was cussing me out. Maybe he should try counseling, or at least try to not look the part of an escapee from the clothing department,” I remarked, rolling my eyes.

“It’s important to try to understand another’s perspective, and not to be too harsh,” she chided.

“I am trying to understand,” I groused, “just what this ‘Mr. Buttons’ deal is. I don’t suppose he was divorced from Mrs. Buttons by the Honorable Washing Machine?”

“That’s a good question,” Marlet wondered. “I’ll have to ask.”

I sucked in a breath, feeling practically manic at this point. “In fact!” I exclaimed, waving a hand around. “The store would be better if there was a full cast, to give the proper asylum experience! We could have Candela the Scented Candle, Blowy the Wet-Dry Vac, Jackie the Jacket, Flowey the Flower….”

“Are you feeling alright?” Disarmed, I turned toward Martlet who looked at me with concern. Despite my mocking ravings, I couldn’t sense any anger in her.

She continued, “I’m sorry if you had a bad experience at my store. Sometimes things can be…unusual around this city and they take some getting used to. Still, I can’t let you talk ‘bout my colleagues like that. I know it can feel like a sanitarium at times, but we all need to get by in our own ways…even if they make you feel you’re walking into an open mic night. I can’t say I’m much better, but Bits has helped me when I was in some rough spots, so playing along is the least I can do. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “It’s not why I feel so stressed out, and even if it was it doesn’t justify being such a jackass. Now I feel even more like a prick.”

“Apology accepted. And don’t be so hard on yourself,” Martlet protested. “I haven’t had a chance to dine out with somebody in a long time. It was so nice of you to take me here. I hope you can enjoy it too.”

“Yeah….” I tugged at my collar. My mind was awhir with conflicting thoughts. I could just let the matter rest, use this as a get-out-of-free card. I couldn’t, of course, fully bury that part of me that still wanted money out of this, as guilty as it made me feel. And I also knew that this woman had been nothing but kind toward me and that this warranted honesty.

I took a deep breath. “I haven’t been on the level with you. I called you because lately I’ve been frustrated with my life, especially since my insurance has been giving me trouble. I know I forgave you when it came to that accident, but it was enough to make me reconsider and want to ask you for money….” Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she said nothing and I went on. “I didn’t want to demand anything, but I guess I always was a greedy bastard. Since I picked you up, though, the guilt of that motive has been wearing on me and I can’t go through with it. You’ve been really sweet and I can’t stand lying to you, either. It sounds weird, but I didn’t want your last impression of me to be a false one, even if you hate me. I’d actually be happy if you just forgot about me entirely.”

Martlet knitted her brow and rubbed her beak together. “I see….” An awkward silence ensued until she broke it again. “Are you struggling for money?” she asked.

I looked down and shook my head. “Not as bad as…. Look, when I was growing up we had difficulties too, and since then I’ve always been worried about breaking even. This has been a weird month, almost a rough one, but talking to you, I’ve realized just how good I’ve had it.” I peered into her gentle blue eyes. “Working as an airport tech pays well enough. Yeah rent in the city is a little much, but I still don’t have to sew my own clothes. What you have to go through at your jobs, to upkeep your house, to plan to send Cole to college when you don’t know how; geez, I didn’t know how bad you had it….”

She stared off to the side. “You needn’t worry ‘bout us. We’ll get through it. We always have, and we always will. I won’t be angry if you need money, and I know Cole wouldn’t be, either. He has a very strong sense of justice and would agree that if ya break something, ya gotta pay for it.”

“Not this again,” I sighed. “Listen, I forgave you earlier and it’s just as important that I keep my word about it. There’s more to it than that too. I’ve been preoccupied with money as of late and it’s left me miserable—you know how that’s like.” She nodded. “Well, this will sound corny, but the only times I’ve been truly happy in the past couple of weeks has been when I forgot about that, when I was spending time with you. Just this experience tonight has been better payment than any amount of money I could ask for. So, well, thank you for being here, and sorry for making an ass of myself. I’ll understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

The lady blinked and spoke softly. “You’re welcome. I’ll confess that all this has caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure what to make of your behavior and it left me a little puzzled, but I think I understand you better now. No, I don’t hate you, don’t worry. I’ve known since our time at the café that you are a nice and gentle soul deep down…even if you have something of a chaotic side. All I ask is that you can be upfront with me from now on. It seems to me, lying has hurt you more than it has hurt me.”

“Yeah, you have a point about that.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by the waiter bringing two large plates of enchiladas served next to heaping piles of beans and rice. Just the smell of the sauce on top made my nostrils tingle.

“Let me get more lemonade for you, Señor, and tell me if you’d like anything else.”

“We should be fine?” I answered with trepidation as the waiter left. My little prank had skipped my mind.

Turning back to Martlet, it looked like her eyes were watering as she stared at the food, prompting a gulp from me. “I-I’m sorry—” I stammered.

She looked up, beaming. “Oh. I’m just thankful to be here and to have a bountiful meal, especially with someone as nice as you. I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m famished.”

“It’s way too spicy, and I really think I ought to order something else for you,” I cautioned.

With a confident wink, she answered, “Don’tcha worry, I never shied away from adventure.” She had already gripped a fork in her wing-feathers, and before I could say anything more she cut off a piece of the enchilada, tilted her head back and put it into her beak. What could generously be classified as “chewing” was done only lightly before the piece was gulped down, followed by her clicking her beak together as she thought about what she just ate. My knuckles were white from gripping the table.

Her face lit up with delight. “That’s deeeeeelicious!” she exclaimed. “I love the cheese, the beans, shrimp, and the corn, and how they all go together so nicely. I should learn how to make this at home….” She promptly dug into another piece.

“It’s, it’s not too spicy?” I prodded. She shook her head, her beak full of enchilada again. Bemused, I looked down at my own plate. Were they going easy on us despite my specific order? I wasn’t about to complain. I had regretted attempting a cruel prank on Martlet and if it had been rectified then all the better. Plus, I was hungry too and I had a delicious meal to look forward to. I cut off a large piece and shoveled it into my mouth.

My mouth erupted into a ferocious conflagration as every tastebud was tormented by blazing heat. “Volcánica” was an apt description as it felt like I was eating a piece of molten ejecta straight from Vesuvius. I tried to breath, but the offending food was still in my mouth. After a couple of tortured tries, punching my chest, I finally managed to swallow the piece nearly whole, which in turn prompted some coughing. I downed the rest of the ice-cold lemonade, some of it spilling down my shirt, but it did little to ease the lingering burn that smoldered in my mouth.

Martlet stared, eyes wide in alarm. “Are you okay?” Behind me, I could hear people snickering at my misfortune.

“Your lemonade, Señor,” the waiter nonchalantly declared as he came up and refilled my glass. I wanted to cry out, “Curse you, you knew about this!” but I was too busy dabbing at my tears with my napkin.

“Is yours spicier than mine? Maybe we should switch….” Martlet proposed. I waved my hand in protest but before I could vocalize disagreement she had already switched the plates.

It was entirely possible that the kitchen staff guessed at my intended prank and loaded only one enchilada with peppers as a sort of vigilantist punishment. Mouth on fire as it was, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to turn the tables. I had to try Martlet’s dish.

The small piece I ate was every bit as spicy as the first bite, and I thought my tongue was about to swell and fall off. In disbelief, I watched Martlet sample my enchilada volcánica completely unfazed. She shrugged and said, “I haven’t tried a lot of spicy food before. I guess I can’t taste it very well?”

The rest of dinner was surprisingly normal. Most of what we talked about was chit-chat—I certainly wasn’t capable of carrying on a deep conversation in my present state—like favorite music and sports. I tried to eat as much of my enchilada as possible, but despite all the lemonade I guzzled it was a hopeless attempt. We agreed it would be best if Martlet was to bring home the leftovers. This prompted a dispute over who was going to pay the bill.

“I’m going to be getting most of the food and you hardly ate a thing. I think it’s only fair that I pay the bill,” she argued.

“I had a decent chunk of the enchilada and I liked the beans and rice. I was the one who ordered anyway and should have known better. I’ll foot it,” I countered.

“But you paid the last bill at the café so now it’s my turn.”

“That was nothing. I invited you here, so take it as my treat.”

“It’s very nice of you to offer, but you forgave the accident, and I’d like to show my gratitude.”

“I forgave it for a reason, remember? Just let me pay and we can go.”

In the end, we agreed to split the bill this time, but I would be paying for the next time we went out. Martlet was so excited hearing “next time” that she probably forgot to argue any further. After I used the restroom we took the car and meandered along avenues and back roads to Eastwood. Traffic was light and she closed her eyes to rest on the drive back. I thought she had fallen asleep and I was surprised when she moved her beak.

She asked, “I hope you don’t mind my asking. How many dates have you been on?”

“Uh.” I thought it was an odd question. “Well, I went on a couple in high school and college.” I thought the number was pitiable, personally, but I wasn’t about to lie.

“How did they go and did you do anything fun?”

“Uh, they were alright, I guess. Café or restaurant here, concert there, pretty much a good time. They didn’t go anywhere if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any kisses?” she asked, her eyes now looking curiously at me.

“No…didn’t get past hugs I’m afraid. Being forward was never my thing,” I replied awkwardly.

I expected to get some form of derisive laughter but none came. Instead, another question. “So, were they nice girls? Did you like them?”

“They were nice enough, I guess. More of the artsy type. Not really my thing and it wasn’t going to work out, but I’m glad I knew them. What about yourself? Got any funny dating stories?”

“I wish I had something to share, but nobody was interested in me during high school, and afterwards I never had an opportunity to date anyone,” she answered with melancholy.

Without a ready response for that, I decided to change the subject. “You know when I called your house and Cole picked up? He seemed—how do I put this—kinda quiet. Wanted to know why I was calling and it took him a while to say anything. I’ve got no idea what he’s like but I thought you should know….”

I looked over. She was nodding with her eyes closed, and the only indication that she hadn’t fallen asleep yet was that she was wiggling her feather-fingers. After a minute, I heard her quietly mutter, “He’s still getting over the custody battle. Strange people calling will put him on edge because of everything. Oh, sorry, I don’t think you’re strange…very. Just, it will take him a little while to warm to you, so please…be patient.”

We drove in silence the rest of the way. I thought about Martlet’s words while she was curled up in the passenger seat. Despite not knowing the full story about that custody battle, I could sympathize with what Cole had to go through. Nearly losing one’s “mom” and only caretaker would make anyone paranoid, especially a teen with a rough childhood. I hoped he didn’t think poorly of me for taking her to dinner out of the blue.

We rounded the bend around the mountain and coasted through town. Within a couple of minutes Martlet’s house loomed on our right. On such a dark night and with the lights off it did not look nearly so dilapidated. I parked the car on the road’s shoulder.

“We’re here,” I announced, giving her a gentle shake on the shoulder. Her feathers felt soft and warm, but she was out like a light. Sighing, I turned off the car, got out and circled over to open her door. “Martlet, we’re at your house, wake up,” I asked with another gentle shake, but to no avail. I shrugged; she looked serene sleeping there, but I couldn’t leave her. Unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing the leftovers with my other hand, I hooked my arm under her wings and slowly pulled her out. Despite being my size she was far lighter than I expected, a quirk of avian biology.

“Let’s get you inside. There are no vacancies at my car tonight,” I quipped as I tried to walk her through her yard. Suddenly she chirped and lifted her head, blinking as she looked around.

“Oh, we’re here already!” she exclaimed, surprised as she found herself held next to me. A yawn, a low and whistling tremolo, escaped her beak. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep without realizing.”

“Don’t be. You weren’t the one driving,” I replied with a smirk. “Are you, uh, okay on your feet now?” With her nod I let my arm down and walked her over to the front door. She turned the handle, which was unlocked, and stepped into the dark interior.

“Cole? I’m home!” she called out. No response. As she fumbled for a light switch she mentioned, “He might still be out with his friends. Usually he’s home by now, but it’s a Friday night so he’ll be out later. Didn’t you want to come inside?”

I nodded and stepped across the threshold as the lights came on, illuminating a large living space with a few overhead lamps. I bit my still-sore tongue to avoid voicing my immediate thought, which was “Damn girl, you live like this?”

It looked like a poorly-run warehouse, what with wooden crates and boxes stacked in odd places around the room. Ahead and to the left, behind a crudely constructed arch, was the kitchen that held an electric stove and other old appliances. At the back was a stairway to the second floor; to the right of that, along the flat wall were a couple of doorways, though getting in and out would be a hassle owing to the stacks of boxes. The corner to my right seemed most fitting for human habitation: crowded around a pot-belly stove was a plain rug, an old green couch and armchair, and an even older television set with a VCR. At least it wasn’t terribly dusty, but smatterings of blue feathers were strewn across the floor. Nor did it smell as bad as it looked, aside from a burnt scent emanating from the kitchen. Every surface was put together from unpainted, varnished planks.

An old, scratched vintage table stood to my immediate left and held a small stack of unopened letters along with a landline phone and a framed photo of Martlet and a boy in a cowboy hat. He could have been no older than ten. His mouth was flat and he held a placid expression overall but with eyes gleaming with joy.

A few beads of sweat trickled down Marlet’s face as she rubbed one wing with another. “I wasn’t expecting company today—I’m very sorry ‘bout the mess,” she mumbled. Forcing a smile, she asked, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

Perambulating to the middle of the room, I noticed that the armchair had a sort of bowl made of wicker on it. It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t a bowl but an actual nest. Looking back, I stammered, “Oh, no that’s o-okay. Um, it’s a bit late to have coffee, isn’t it? You look like you could use some rest after all.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” she replied, stepping over to me. “Goodness knows my heart beats fast enough as it is.” She added in a barely audible whisper to herself, “…especially right now.” With a hopeful smile she intoned, “I just hope you had a good time on this date.”

It finally clicked for me. “Oh yeah, it was a date,” I acknowledged, more to myself than to her. Somewhere along the line it had stopped being a dinner with ulterior motives and became a bona fide date with a girl. I felt my heart leap in my chest and my face flush despite this being such an obvious revelation. “Uh, it was nice. Erm, you know, I think I will actually take you out on another one….”

“Will ya?” she asked with eyes sparkling with glee. Before I could process it, she wrapped her wings around me and pulled me close. Gingerly I reciprocated and let my hands rest on her back. Her body felt unbelievably soft beneath her shirt, like a quilt stuffed with feathers and stitched with love.

Every moment seemed to stretch on for an ecstatic aeon. Martlet’s eyes were inches from my own and seemed to peer into my very soul while her beak hung open. Anticipation, potential, desire, belonging: these all flitted through my mind faster than I could even conceptualize any of them. I simply knew I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Hesitantly, I pursed my lips and pressed them against the tip of her stubby beak. She smiled, but the corners of her eyes drooped; I had the urge to hit myself for being so milquetoast.

Pulling back for a moment, I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. Turning my head sideways, I pressed in anew, pushing my mouth directly into her beak. The two hard halves poked into the corners of my mouth but not enough to hurt. Her eyes twinkled while she quivered against me, and for an anxious moment I dreaded having committed a grievous offense. Yet she did not pull away and instead pressed her pliable curves against me, smothering me in warm softness. I suddenly remembered I had hands and let one fall to the small of her back while the other stroked the long, azure feathers of her crest above her shoulderblades. My face felt fresh heat from her cheeks, now showing crimson through her pale blue feathers. A muffled moan reverberated into my mouth; her thin tongue, pressed against my lips with nowhere to go, snaked through my open lips and traced my teeth.

We stayed like this for an indefinite length of time, only slightly moving our heads while murmuring nonsensities into each other. As the rush of emotion slowly faded, I realized what I was doing and self-consciously pulled away. A thin line of drool hung between her beak and my lips. My pants felt tight and I spun away, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“That was certainly something, huh?” she exclaimed, panting and still beet-red. She looked equally likely to either burst into laughter or fall into a panic. “Did you…do you want to do it again?” she asked in a tiny voice, twiddling her feathers together.

I giggled at the suggestion but shook my head, cheeks feeling like they were roasting. “No, haha, let’s save that for later. Isn’t that the rule, um, one kiss per date? Yeah, I think that’s what it is. I should be going now.” I started walking to the door.

Martlet called my name, prompting me to turn my head back again. She had calmed down a little and was leaning against the kitchen entry, beaming with a tired yet brilliant smile. “You will call again, won’t you?” Despite the question no doubt had crossed her face.

“Yeah. Sometime next week, maybe. Just let me know when you’re free. Uh, have a good night.”

As I stepped outside she called out once more, “Thank you again! Drive safe!”

My head was swimming as I started my car and I took the road slowly to give myself a chance to think. I had kissed somebody, and wow was it an experience! Yet, I had kissed a bird, so did that count? Was I weird for actually liking it? Once I had abandoned my selfish motives, everything after that fell into place on its own and that thought disturbed me. I had no idea of what I was getting myself into. Not only was I dating a bird monster woman, but one who barely had her life together. Besides being overworked, impoverished, and living in messy surroundings, she was a single mother to a kid who seemed at least a little troubled. I certainly did not feel prepared to be a father figure for somebody more than half my age; it was a struggle just to fix my own issues. An even worse concern surfaced: with how isolated Martlet was, did she truly hold affection for me, or was she just clinging to the first man who showed her the least bit of attention?

As I traversed the tranquil streets of the city I shook my head to dismiss my worries. No matter what, I came out of this with more accomplishment and less self-loathing than I had going into it, and Martlet was the only one to thank. I had to trust, just as she seemed to, that everything would turn out alright. Maybe, after all this time, I could learn to be happy.

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Pub: 11 Feb 2026 18:02 UTC

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