Birdy

into the flight cage to eat, then they come in to sleep at night. A few of them, like Alfonso, still sleep out in the tree, but most times they all come in. I know the time is coming when my father will close the door and lock them in.
    In my dream I go to the birds. I tell them it is time to leave. I tell them if they go into the cage to sleep they will be closed in the cage and put into small cages. At first, they do not understand me, then they do not believe me. Alfonso speaks; he says he knows what I say is true, that I have never lied to the birds. It is time to leave. He says he knows how to go, that it is a long flight and some will die, but he is going, so is Birdie, and they are leaving in the early morning. I listen and I’m sad. The birds are excited.
    At dawn, all are ready; we go up in a single movement. Alfonso is at the head of the flock. We fly straight south, over the top of the gas tank, over Landsdowne, down over Chester and I am with them. I’m wondering what is happening with my life. Will I ever wake up in my own bed again?
    Then, somehow I am not with them. I am in the sky, flying, watching them go. I cannot keep up; they are leaving me. I see myself as bird, with them, flying, up behind Alfonso and Birdie. I know I will be with them wherever they go. I watch from my place in the sky as they, we, become small spots getting smaller until there is only sky. I find myself getting heavier, falling, gliding downto the earth only a little slower than I fell off the gas tank. I flap my arms as I fall and I just manage to get back into my sleep under the empty sky.
     
    In the morning there are no birds. My father is angry. I feel very lonesome. We wait all day for the birds to come back. It is Saturday and I spend the day watching the sky, trying to keep it empty.
    The next day I go out and take apart the aviary. I store the wood behind the garage. I do it quietly so no one will know what I’m doing. Things come apart much easier than they go together. The aviary is down and gone when I go inside to bed.
    That night I do not dream.
    The days pass slowly. I feel terribly alone. I’m worried about telling my father I’m not going to college. I’m also worried about being drafted. All this works itself out; it’s decided for me.
    In September, I get a letter from the army saying I’ve been selected to study engineering with the ASTP, the Army Specialized Training Program. They’ve assigned me to the University of Florida in Gainsville. I’d taken the test for the ASTP at school in February and forgotten about it completely.
    It seems like the perfect solution. I can get away from everything and it’s something I can live with. They tell us we’re being trained as engineers to help with the rebuilding of Europe and Japan after the war. My parents are happy, they think I’m going to be an officer, and that impresses them.
    I enlist at the end of the month. I’m sent to Florida for a semester, then they dissolve the ASTP. I’m sent to Fort Benning for basic training, then to the South Pacific as an infantry replacement.
    I think of ten about the birds, about Perta, and my children, but I don’t dream about them.

The next day, when I go see Birdy, I swear he smiles at me. I fit the chair between the doors and wait till Renaldi is gone.
    ‘Hi, Birdy, this is your old pal, Al. How about it? You ready to talk yet? Remember who I am?’
    He’s squatting and watching me. His arms are crossed over his knees; his chin is resting on his arms. His eyes are on me but there’s no answer in them. He’s watching me the way he used to watch birds. His eyes are flitting back and forth but somehow staying concentrated on me. It’s a creepy feeling but I know for sure that he’s there.
    I begin talking some more about the old things we did but I’m boring myself. Birdy and I spent a lot of time together, walking on Sixty-ninth Street or going to the Municipal Library for books on Friday night, but those things aren’t worth talking about. I start with the old high school and the crummy little locker we lived out of, but that doesn’t go anywhere either. I’m getting the feeling he knows all that stuff and doesn’t want to hear it anymore. I know he wants to hear about me but can’t ask.
    I’m ready to talk, to tell him. I didn’t know how much I needed to tell somebody. If not Birdy, who else?
    After basic they send me to Europe as a replacement with the Eighty-seventh Division. I start