How to Turn Into a Bird by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epub3
Publisher: Tin House Books

WHEN WE FINALLY arrived at the billboard, we found Ramón feeding bread crumbs to a small bird that was walking across the table. I’m not sure whether I was more impressed by how at ease the bird seemed so close to him, or by how fast the little hill of beer cans had grown—it was starting to look like the Andes.

“It arrived three days ago,” said Ramón in a soft voice, referring to the little bird, as if he were introducing a shy childhood friend. I was trying to decide whether I should respond to him or make like the man who communicates telepathically with animals when Paulina said:

“We just came by to say hello. I’m spent.”

“One of the wings is crooked,” responded Ramón.

“One of Paulina’s?” I said to be funny, but neither of them joined in.

I filled the silence that followed with an unspoken question and conclusion. The question: Was cross-species communication really possible? The conclusion: Paulina was tired, but not only from work at Superior.

Just as she had warned, it wasn’t long before she wanted to climb down. And although I knew it wasn’t wise to add more tension to the elastic band that was starting to tauten between Paulina and herself—Ramón and his new friend didn’t seem to notice anything—I said that I wanted to stay a bit longer. Instead of telling me to climb down, she said: “If that’s what you want.” And she left.

I sat down next to Ramón to look at the stars.

“Do you think anybody lives up there?” I asked.

“The night is a really big place,” he responded.

“And in that case?” I persisted.

“In that case, they could.”

“And what would they live in?”

“Coca-Cola billboards?”

“Could they really have reached such heights?” I said as a joke.

“Human beings?”

“No, Coca-Cola.”

After a while I said goodbye and walked along the edge of the canal, imagining what would happen if instead of heading back to the housing complex I kept going straight and didn’t stop for hours, days, and years. It was always possible that the road didn’t go in a straight line but in a circle that would bring me right back to where I started. Just the thought made me panicky.

Before going home, I went to see Paulina for a bit. She was still acting strange.

“Don’t worry, Ramón will come down soon,” I remember I said.

“He won’t come down.”

“Ever?”

“I don’t think so.”

I was quiet as I went home, quiet as I ate my dinner, and I stayed that way until it was time for bed.

I fell asleep and dreamed that Ramón showed up, speaking in a language nobody understood. One of the neighbors came out of his apartment dressed in red and said that he was sure the language was “Northern German.” “You’re wrong: it’s a dialect from Montevideo,” responded the cigarettes neighbor, who was observing the scene from a treetop. Ramón pointed at the sky, and the birds started flying in circles, as if they held the piece that was missing from the conversation.

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