One Bird's Choice by Iain Reid

Author:Iain Reid
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: House of Anansi Press Inc.
Published: 2010-09-10T21:00:00+00:00

On my way into town I’m listening to the AM oldies station. I’m driving fast, weaving in and out of traffic. I have the volume jacked up and I’m drumming my index fingers on the wheel, using the dashboard as my hi-hat. I’m singing along with the Carpenters and don’t notice the police cruiser parked along the side of the highway until it’s too late. I step on the brake and reassert my grip at ten and two. I even regulate my posture, as if sitting up straighter might garner some sympathy from the cop. I keep checking the rear-view mirror, but he never pulls out to follow me. Maybe it’s a good omen. Must be my lucky night, I think.

When I get to the pub, Steve is waiting for me. He’s ordered two pints and has made it through an inch or so of his own. I sit down, draping my coat over the back of the chair. We clink our glasses and say, “Cheers.” We chat about common friends, acquaintances, what everyone’s been up to. I’ve fallen out of the loop. I hadn’t realized how many of our old friends are engaged.

“Even Blackwell?” I say.

“Of course Blackwell. They’ve been together forever.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“So how are things at work?” Steve asks.

“Not bad,” I say, taking a swig of beer. “Not great.”

“No?”

“Well, I don’t I know. There’s just not a lot of work to speak of these days.”

“So what have you been up to?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to do a bit of writing.”

We both gulp. “What about you, though?” I ask, hiding a burp behind my hand. “What’s life like for a lawyer?”

“Good,” he says, “but busy. It’s nutty. I’m working like mad.”

Midway through our third round of beers, I notice Steve squinting in the direction of two girls putting on their coats to leave. “Who’re you looking at?” I ask.

“I know the taller one from when I used to go to camp.”

As Steve replays his camp days back in his mind, the tall girl notices him. As she walks to the table I notice she’s even taller than she appeared from across the room, and heavily made up. Her dark hair hangs loosely around her shoulders, except for her bangs, which have been clipped back. She arrives at our table open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Steve?! What are you doing here?”

“Just having a drink. How are you doing, Karen?”

“I’m great . . . We were just about to leave, but would you guys mind if I pulled up a chair?”

“Not at all,” says Steve.

“I’m Iain.” I wave.

Karen’s friend can’t be convinced to stay. It’s late and she has breakfast plans in the morning. Karen, undaunted, hugs her friend, pulls up a chair, and orders another glass of red. She immediately starts to tell us about her career, but staying focused on her sermon is impossible. I can’t stop staring at the maroon coating caked on her lips. They look like the surface of Mars. I wonder how many glasses she’s had.

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