"Short" Story Four: Blackbird

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 I watched the blackbird fly away. The aged wicker sun lounger felt rough beneath my skin and often caused my clothes to snag over the tiniest movement. Eyes watering slightly as the smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, I observed as the blackbird almost faded to nothing against the endless blue zircon sky.

 Heat tickled my skin as I laid in the sunlight. Other birds calling to each other could be heard, as could the sizzling of food on a nearby barbecue, high-pitched chattering in thick accents, and slowly the beginning notes of a song coming from inside my house. Normally I would have turned towards the sound, but for some reason I didn’t quite have the energy.

 There was no reason for me to feel as awful as I did. It was the hottest afternoon in the summer so far, appearing on the surface to create an above average day to remember. Somehow even though others were filled with childish excitement and took great relish in the warmth, I remained consumed with apathy. The last few weeks had seen me housebound and uninspired.

 I knew he was coming for me even before the footsteps echoed down the hall. Over the last few seconds the music had slowly grown louder and louder, and it didn’t take long for Tom to appear by my side and offer me his hand.

 My husband smiled as he pulled me to my feet, and within a few moments we were inches apart and swaying side to side. He knew exactly what song I wanted to hear- “The Fear” by Pulp.

 The plan had always been for me to work alone, travel alone, eat alone, sleep alone, and eventually die alone. The divorce of my parents shortly after my seventh birthday had left me convinced that there was no way in hell love existed and I definitely never cared to test this. Until I met Tom, that is. Even I couldn’t deny myself Tom.

 In a strange way he was everything I’d never been searching for. Incredibly skinnier than me and ten times as intelligent, I probably should have hated him. Elbows, cheekbones and ribs that could cut glass managed to slice their way through my defences and leave me needing his slightly uncomfortable, narrow-wristed embrace. Tempestuous and incessant at times yet thoughtful and gentle at others, I admired every aspect of his personality. Tom was deeply interested in politics, a lifetime of vegetarianism made him a strong advocate for animal rights and his childhood ruled by strict Catholicism had left him a bitter atheist.

 He was the perfect imperfect man.

 My cheek was starting to numb slightly as it rested on its hard collarbone pillow, and I sighed with relief as Jarvis Cocker continued to croon in the distance. Tom sang along only slightly out of time and for a second I felt an actual emotion.

 “Oh baby, here comes the fear again…”

 The louder the song got, the more vigorously we danced, and it didn’t take long for both of us to start laughing. I couldn’t remember feeling so happy in a long time- but then the song began to slow down and we went back to standard swaying. After it ended, he kissed me on the forehead and looked at me with a confused expression on his face.

 “Callie, why are you crying?” he asked me.

 “Because this isn’t real…” I whispered. His frown deepened and a trembling hand rose up to wipe a tear from my cheek.

 “What are you talking about?”

 “This isn’t real!” I screamed suddenly, surprising both of us. “You’re dead!”

 I awoke drenched in a cold sweat. My clothes and thin bed sheet were soaked through and stuck to me, making it difficult to escape. After rubbing my eyes blearily I looked out of the window to see it was just starting to get light outside.

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