Little Bird

Chapter Seven

I dump a pitcher full of water over Penny's head. She scrunches her eyes closed and covers her face with her hands.

"Okay," I say.

She rubs her eyes and gets out of the tub, hopping from foot to foot, her arms wrapped around herself. I hand her a towel, and she pulls it over herself and sits down on the bathmat.

"It's so cold..." she says, pulling the towel closer. I glance at the ceiling, a pang of guilt in my stomach. I had to turn the thermostat down earlier to save money. It was either freeze or starve. I'd rather freeze.

I coax Penny to stand up, help her dry off, and leave her to put on her pyjamas. I wander down the hall to the living room, where Mom is watching the Titanic. It's at the part where Jack is holding Rose and she has her arms out and is giggling and shouting, "I'm flying!" Mom has her eyes closed, but I know she's not sleeping. This is her least favourite part of the movie.

I glance around, pick a blanket up off the ground, fold it, and drape it over the back of the sofa. Then I spot Gabe sitting on the floor by the front window, a blanket over his shoulders. I walk softly over to him, stepping on a cheerio, and sit down next to him.

"Hey," I say.

He stares harder at the other side of the dark glass. Snow is falling softly over the dead garden, the driveway that hasn't been shoveled, the naked oak tree and tree fort.

"I'm sorry about... yesterday," I whisper.

"I didn't lose her."

"I know."

It's silent except for the voices on the TV. Penny walks into the living room and says, "Mama, I'm cold." Mom doesn't respond, but I hear her moan as Penny crawls into her lap and curls up under her chin.

Silence again.

"When do you think he'll come home?" Gabe presses his face up against the window, then looks down at his lap. "I mean... never mind."

"I don't know, Gabe," I breathe, looking at him. This always happens. No matter how many times our Father leaves a bruise on my brother, he always awaits his return like a little puppy. I wish he could see how much pain his Father has inflicted on this family; or maybe he does see it but decides to ignore it. Gabe drops his head in his hands. I glance out the window again and see a car pull up the driveway, followed by a truck. My first instincts send my heart beating against my ribcage in a fury, and when I see Peter step out of the car and pull his jacket tighter around himself, my heart starts beating faster for a completely different reason. I stand up and go to the door, and Gabe follows me. I stuff my feet in my boots and head out into the snow.

"Peter!"

He looks up and smiles at me, yanking his blue hat farther over his ears. "I had to show them where you lived because I forgot the address. We filled up your tank."

"Thanks so much," I say, stopping in front of him. Snowflakes are landing on his eyelashes, balancing there like little white ballerinas.

He opens his arms and I step into them and let them close around me. I rest my head on his chest and I feel so safe and warm that I almost forget why I'm here. Then I hear Gabe's feet crunching back and forth in the snow, and pull away, staring at the ground and wondering why I let him hold me and feeling stupid. It's silent for a moment, while the truck driver gets out, unloads my car, and drives away.

"Well," says Peter, "I have the baby in the back, so I probably shouldn't leave him for too long."

"The baby?" My words come out cloudy like car exhaust, then fade into the cold air.

"Yeah, um, Julia's baby. Not mine. He wouldn't go to sleep so I took him off her hands for a while."

"That was sweet of you. Why don't you two come inside to warm up?" I feel like kicking myself as soon as I say it.

"No, I should really go."

"Are you sure?" My voice vibrates slightly with the cold.

I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. He glances up at the house and his face goes blank. Then he looks back at me and throws on a smile. "No, no, that's fine."

"Do you want me to pay you back for the truck or the gas?"

To my relief, he refuses, and opens his car door. A blast of warm air greets me and I resist the urge to climb in there with him and take a break from the cold. I glance in the back seat where a six-month-old baby is sleeping in his car seat.

"Looks like a car drive did the trick," I say, smiling.

"Always does," says Peter.

"What's his name?"

"Teddy."

I smile. "Cute."

"Well, I should be off..."

"Oh... Yeah..." I step back and he closes the door, waves, and backs down the driveway. When he's gone, I slump into the snow and put my head in my hands. "I screwed up," I mutter to myself. "He hates me. He really does. Why do I even care? They all hate me, and I don't care about them. Why do I care about him? I shouldn't. I'm a mess. Of course he hates me. Well, they can all go die in a hole and I don't give a-"

"Who was that scum?" asks Gabe, standing over me. I feel like slugging him, but I don't.

"Something's wrong with me," I say passively, my eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

"What?"

"I'm going to go put Penny to bed," I say, and walk up the driveway and into the cold house with a pounding headache and snowflakes caught in my hair, trapped and clinging to their imminent death.