birds

     Betsy opened the door of her split-level house and let us in. “Hey guys, I just put the baby down.” She has the brightest smile of the three Eastman sisters—big nordic women, the once risqué teenagers to deaf parents.
              “We wouldn’t have found the place if not for Derick.” I say, looking around inside for him, but he is not there. “Yeah he was right out front as we drove by.”

        “Nicks out back. You can see the baby if you want to?” Down the hall a little six month year old boy lays out on his back, his legs and arms outstretched like a monkey in a barrel. Darcy and I smiled at each other and watched his tiny chest move up and down on the blue comforter. Back in the living room D. told Betsy how big he was although this is the first time we have seen him.

        Nick and Betsy invited us over the night before, at a party. We were back in town for a wedding, just five months after we left. Outside on a friend’s porch, Nick said, “We have to leave, but you should stop by and smoke one.” He didn’t give me an address, only that they lived on Joliet street.
     
      Nick, Nicky I used to call him, is a good looking man. He taught me how to play guitar and for two years we spent every Thursday together writing songs and getting high. Eventually that ended and there were accusations-- some true: That I was using him as a pot connection and some not: that I treated him like he was younger than me—even though him saying it, confirmed a belief I didn’t know existed.

         We sat in the living room. D. said “Scotts has been dragging me all over Olathe, taking pictures of his old nieghborhood.”

          Betsy laughs that big wail, “Did you go to the lake?”

          We both answer, “no.”

      The glass door in the kitchen slid open and Nick’s big voice led his little girl in, “Lets see what mommy’s doing.” I saw his brown hair and felt the distance and unspoken words. “Hey guys.” He said. He hugged D. and took my hand and introduced us to his little girl, “This Scott and D.”

      He sat and the couch, little girl is on his lap, “Did you guys go to the lake?”

     After a few minutes Nick pulled a tray from under our legs and handed it to Betsy. He carried his daughter into the kitchen. I heard him pour a bowl of Fruitloops and set it on the kitchen table on the other side of the wall behind us. He whispered something and returned. D. and I hadn’t been high since we left—doctors orders—and it didn’t take much to return to that familiar feeling. Nick talked about his job—that him and Betsy were both out of work, collecting unemployment. Derick, Christy and his two kids were living in the basement—a mutually beneficial arrangement. I said, “You’ve paid for it.”

      I had quit smoking a few months before and when all of us went outside to smoke I watched Nick and Betsy pull from their cigarettes. I sat next to D. and saw a Robin in the tree behind her pulling twigs, one at a time up into a popular tree. It seemed to be doing his work meticulously, building a quiet nest. I stared down at the wooden deck and noticed it in need of a new stain and looked at D. She winked. I was finally high again, but it was undercut with sadness. I knew it was the day. Something about the wind blowing through trees always reminded me of the past.

      Nick’s little girl stood in a shadow in the kitchen, looking out at us. Betsy opened the door and asked her, “Do you want to come out with us?” The little girl didn’t answer so Betsy slid the door shut. I stared at the little girl, dressed in a purple coat, she started to cry. She’s high I should have thought, but I didn’t.
Betsy opened the door and passed her child to Nick.
      She said “Ever since she turned two, I do not know what the fuck is going on.” Nick took the girl down into the yard and pushed her around in a plastic bus. He talked loud and I feel it’s for our benefit.

      After some time had passed I took Nicks picture with his little girl in his arms, smashing his nose with a big kiss onto her smiling smooth skin and framed Betsy in front of a big green Oak Tree. I took several pics, and her smile frozen grimaced, “okay now.” I told her that this is a moment; I am capturing her in time. I promised to email her the shots and then we left.

     Out in the car I looked at D’s lap as she stretched her seatbelt across it and we’re both stoned. Her eyes are glassy and I smiled at her. She looks beautiful even though I know were both aging. This whole trip has confirmed it—we are all older now. I start the car and think of Nicky’s handsome face. I imagine putting my arms up to his shoulders and then my short hands around his neck and I start squeezing as hard as I can. “You don’t deserve this,” I think, “You don’t deserve any of this”.