Lost Animal Club by Kevin A. Couture

Author:Kevin A. Couture
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781926455679
Publisher: NeWest Press
Published: 2016-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

THE MIMIC

WHEN I BOTHERED TO THINK about it, which wasn’t often, I imagined my father’s home as flawless and pristine. A postcard house with geometric hedges around the perimeter, a perfectly cut lawn, windows reflecting the sun in bright, musical, hallelujah rays. No tire swings in the yard, no dandelions sullying up the place, no bikes, doghouses, not a hint of peeling paint. That, I admit, was my expectation.

But the house I’m looking at now…

I pull off to the side, listening to the tick of the car’s engine. There’s a broken fence spanning one edge of the property and an overgrown spruce along the other, its lower branches hacked away to create a small, passable tunnel to the backyard. In front lies a flower bed filled with knapweeds, thistles, piles of firewood neglected so long they’ve gone to rot. And the building itself: a brown bungalow with brown trim, brown stairs, and brown curtains in every tightly-shut window. The appearance of a flophouse or an abandoned hideout, a guilty place. But I didn’t come here to judge.

“Helloo-oo! You must be Dierk’s daughter. Wait there. I’ll come over,” someone says. It’s the neighbour, Rita. I recognize her voice from the phone, the pitch high and sharp like the ping of a barcode scanner. She’s a large woman, wearing a shapeless cotton muumuu dress with Eiffel Towers and French poodles all over it. When she gets close I smell the baby powder she uses to keep her flesh from rubbing together.

“Hello,” I say. “I’m Elena Werden.”

“Pleased to meet you.” At first Rita offers a big smile along with her hand but then she remembers why I’m here and lowers her eyes. “Sorry for your loss,” she says. “I’ve got the keys right here.”

She hands them to me and stands there, breathing. Waiting for me to ask about my father’s last days. Perhaps decide on the future of the house or explain why I’ve never visited though my father’s lived here for decades.

“Thank you,” I say. “This should only take a few days. I’ll be in touch if legal arrangements require.” I put the keys in my pocket and turn to get the supplies from the car. I move slowly, giving Rita plenty of time to leave. She stays motionless though, studying me like the eyes of a painting.

“Something else?” I ask, turning to face her.

“Oh. Yes, well, there’s the matter of the bird, of course.”

I wait for more.

“Your father’s parrot. Must have slipped your mind with everything that’s been going on, you poor thing. Don’t worry. I’ll wait until you’re settled before bringing him over.”

“Fine,” I tell her. “That’ll be just fine.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER the conversation at the car, Rita brings over the parrot I knew nothing about. How could I know? I haven’t spoken to my father since the day he left, back when I was nine years old. My mother hardly mentioned him and on those limited occasions when I inquired, she told me, “His choice, Elena, not mine. Just block it out.

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