Ch40

She waited in the parking lot outside The Aviary, fidgeting with the handmade plastic bracelet on her wrist.

Lioness.

She attempted to employ her focus on the tiny droplets falling from the sky, listening to the cold patters of water kissing her skin.

He clambered through the front gate, pocketing his apartment keys and maneuvering Stellato in the crook of his arm. He propped a cane-handle umbrella over his shoulder.

Nor admired his sharp attire from afar. Only his neck and hand tattoos were visible beneath the debonair black and white suit. It contrasted his ivory mane well, which had been groomed and wound at the scalp. A pair of dark sunglasses hung at his neck and teased at the illustrations beneath his collar. His eyelids were red and weary as though he’d done a fair share of dissociating into the morning sunrise again.

He smiled and gave her a tight side hug, resting his chin atop her dark waves. He shoved his blazer sleeve up his hairy forearm to reveal his Божевільний bracelet with a sad smile. The only color in their worlds today would be Alina’s doing.

Norah couldn’t help her eyes shifting to the faded purple bruise at his temple and his bloodied iris.

He pressed his lenses to his face and they walked to her vehicle.

It was a small funeral home at the edge of town, surrounded by rural hills and horse farms. They filed into the reception area where Alina’s ivory casket and flower arrangements lay. An “anonymous donor” had given the funds to purchase these, and every other detail needed for a little girl’s funeral, along with a generous donation to The Nest in her honor. The reception was quaint and smelled of pink and white peonies and eucalyptus. A large arrangement draped across the tiny coffin.

A nearby corkboard held drawings and poems made by the Ukrainian child. There were snapshots of Rosella and Alina enjoying makeovers, Alina braiding Dex’s hair whilst he sat on the floor. There was another of the three of them coloring, their best goofy expressions stretched for the camera.

Dex stood beside the casket, staring down at the child’s peaceful expression. He rocked from toe-to-heel as though lulling himself to a faraway place.

Norah drew near, knowing he was slipping away. She touched his shoulder and greeted him in Ukrainian.

He only wrung his inked fingers.

“You’re here now. With me,” she added beneath her breath for only him to hear.

“But she doesn’t get that chance.”

Norah reflected upon the ghosts of her past, those countless coffins she’d stood before.

“But we got to know her. We know she existed. She changed us and we changed her.”

“I’m not worthy to be one the few to know her.” His cheek twitched as he took in the room. Her hospital team and a representative from HR had come to pay their respects.

“That’s not your call to make, that was hers. And she chose you,” said Nor

“I’ll never understand why,” he whispered, eyes searching the child’s pink cheeks caked in light blush.

“I do.” She laid her head against his large arm, knowing all the words in the world would never make sense of such a travesty. The tongue could never contrive peace for the death of any, especially a child.

Having pinned many medals of survived deaths upon her chest, Norah knew its reality wouldn’t hit her until the casket lid closed. When the box’s shadow darkened their faces, a wave of realization struck her: it was the final time she’d see them ever again.

Nana Rose Starling. Papa Rufous Starling. Leonard Jay Kestrel. Brant Kestrel. Brandon. Jacob.

Alina.

They admired the child’s rose dress and matching hair ribbons. Her fingernails were painted in glittering blue and gold, matching the handcrafted bracelets on her tiny wrists. Dex eyed the plush lioness tucked beneath the child’s arm and huffed with a great sniff.

“She can finally breathe and play, and just be a child,” he muttered.

Norah stumbled amongst her beliefs in the safe confines of their friendship. “I-I’ve never been able to think about what comes next… But I… I…she must be somewhere better, right?”

Dex nodded. “She is.”

Despite her doubts, somewhere deep beneath her sternum, she trusted Dexteras. Therefore, somehow, she believed him.

The funeral home staff prepared Alina for her final travels. The braces on the coffin were unlocked and the lid began to fall.

Nor froze, struck in terror as darkness flooded the soft sandy complexion and her kind, sleeping face.

Dex whipped a fresh handkerchief from his breast pocket and tucked it into Norah’s grip as the small alabaster lid thudded into place. He squeezed her scarred palm. He kissed the top of her head again before falling into line beside the casket. A shimmering pink satin pall was draped across the wood and the floral menagerie was collected for the commute. He rolled up his sleeves and lifted one of the casket’s gold handles. He slid his shades onto his face with a weak smile to her and proceeded to the hearse.

The burial site was a brief drive to a gorgeous green cemetery designated for Ukrainian believers. A local pastor shared an invitation to God’s presence amidst their pain. Both him and Dexteras offered prayers in Alina’s native tongue. Dex’s voice wobbled and pitched with his quiet farewell. Though he remained steadfast, Norah saw streams slip beneath his lenses. Every few moments, he’d cough and wipe them aside.

The pastor squeezed Dex’s shoulder and asked him to offer a closing song.

Nor’s old friend cleared his throat and flipped the latches on the hard case, returning Stellato to the sun again. She yearned to know the full details of Stellato’s life and the eternity she’d lived at Dex’s side.

Dex attempted to domesticate his wild beard hairs to best position his chin. He then sniffed with a smile to Nor behind his sunglasses and began to play.

She’d never heard the song his instrument wept. It was mournful and thick with ballad-like mountains and valleys of emotion. The stringed machine spoke as though it were his translator. The tremble of each string resonated within each person who knew Alina, connecting their hurts like a power line.

A final note echoed on the breeze until all was silent but for the fresh weeping of those listening. Even passersby from neighboring graves had wandered close, stopping in reverence of the melody.

a+2

They rode the rickety elevator up to his apartment. Once in the door of room 7B, Dex hurried about, picking up strewn boxing wraps and mild clutter.

This time, Norah took the time to pore over his belongings. He’d deemed some things essential like a squat coffee table and a solitary chair. His cabinets and humming fridge were unoccupied but his countertop was adorned with polished coffee instruments like a barista-grade espresso machine, coffee pots with gold hardware, tea kettles, French presses, pour-overs, and elaborate devices Nor had ever seen. Her mouth fell open at the gleaming inventions.

He laughed, leaning against the doorway with red-rimmed eyes.

She pointed to a towering copper contraption that looked like an hourglass attached to a small burner.

“What is that?”

“Old coffee siphon.” His fingers petted its brass fittings, much like those embedded in the pale flesh of Solus. “Heat drives water up through the grounds and then as the temperature lowers, the water falls back through them. It makes a deep, robust brew that’s doubly steeped. Lovely machine.” Youthful spirit stretched across his wrinkles.

Norah was warmed by his passion.

She eyed an engraved brass pot hanging on the wall with a long handle encrusted with mother-of-pearl and metal filigrees. An ornate set of matching saucers and cups gleamed below on the counter, shining as though hand-crafted for royalty.

He followed her gaze. “Turkish pot. You take the finest coffee grounds you can muster. So fine they should fall into the crevices of your fingerprint.” He rubbed his fingers excitedly. “Add spices, raw sugar. Then boil it on the stove until it makes a thick foam.”

“Have you always liked coffee?”

His smile fell. “Human habits make me feel…normal. Would you like some?” He nodded to the intricate coffee set.

“I’d love that very much.”

He beamed like a child.

She observed his bustling a moment before journeying about the cozy space. Across the hall was a master bedroom with no bed, lined wall-to-wall with bookshelves stuffed full with spines of all colors, sizes, and ages. Glossy titles and torn, crusty ones. She allowed her fingers to flutter across them, recognizing some languages and titles, but not others.

In the center of the room was a worn, blue leather armchair emblazoned with brass studs and tufted cushioning.

Nor sat within it, smelling the aftershave and vanilla-laced tobacco in its seams. She felt solace in her bones as she took in the view he’d been taking in for decades. She could feel Dexteras beating his wings against these walls in isolated fever.

He had a simple view of Corvid and its unremarkable gloom. An occasional Norway Maple tree would worship the sun with black leaves. Tufts of Black Lace Elderberry bushes and Black Magic Colocasia bent with the winds. In the distance, the chapel’s iron crosses, and the hospital’s incinerator chimneys towered against the sky. Everything bled of color, drab and dreary.

She noted her black fingernails tapping across the window and her black makeup and clothes reflected in the glass. Had she steeped herself so long in this town, she’d camouflaged to blend in?

But she snorted. Can’t blame everything on this fucking town, Kestrel.

She’d always loved black garments, flowy button-downs, clinging dress pants, tall Chelsea boots, cropped hoodies, round sunglasses. A flash of gold might shine from her grandmother’s rings and the hoops and studs in her ears. The color scheme made her think of the breathtaking Solus. She shivered, turning from the view.

A book on the floor beside Dex’s chair was marked with Ukrainian chocolate wrappers. Norah smiled, recalling some of these in Alina’s room and picked up the tome. The canvas-bound book was crumbling with loose fibers. Its dark cover was stamped in shimmering silver text and foil stars.

“Sidereus Nuncius,” came a soft voice from the doorway. “It’s a piece published by Galileo in the sixteen-hundreds.”

Nor pivoted to him from the massive chair, draping her legs over its stuffed arm.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s his observations of celestial bodies. His descriptions of the sky and the stars are like none other I’ve read.”

She ran a finger across the metallic text. “Is this Latin?”

He nodded, scratching at his white beard.

“It wasn’t kindly received because he made observations about the imperfections of the heavens. Like how the moon has craters and valleys despite her perfect appearance to the mortal eye. Or how the entire universe did not in fact bow to the revolutions of the earth.” His eyes sparkled. “He wasn’t afraid to suggest that there were bigger things going on outside of ourselves. Humans are made uncomfortable by it I think, the idea there is something beyond them.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“It brings me peace.”

She ran her fingers across the engraved title and returned it to its home beside his seat, considering this concept for the first time.

“Coffee’s ready,” he sang.

A rich, Christmasy aroma wafted about the kitchen, laden with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom.

He tilted the golden coffee pot over two embellished cups. Thick foaming mounds of chocolaty froth dumped into each with satisfying crackles. He topped them with their metal lids and filled another brass vessel with raw sugar and dark chocolate bricks. He hoisted the platter against his shoulder and beckoned her to the hall. They rode the elevator up, dainty metals clinking in his arms.

The doors opened to a concrete rooftop where the wind bustled their hair about their faces.

They sat atop the ledge of a western-facing wall where the sky was erupting with cerulean and violet in preparation for the evening.

He passed her an engraved cup and saucer, dropping chunks of dark chocolate alongside it with a set of tongs.

She giggled at his tedious dedication.

They toasted and sipped with tired smiles.

“To Alina,” she offered.

“To Alina, bud’mo,” he replied in Ukrainian.

Nor rolled the thick liquid amongst her taste buds like a caramel candy. The coffee foam bubbled against her lips, leaving her nodding in approval before she could find worthy words.

“Dex you are a wonder.”

He bowed his head as pink cheeks rounded above his beard. “Pardon the theatrics. I’ve never gotten to use this set before.”

“Oh, being served gourmet coffee is so burdensome,” she jested, brandishing her cup with pretentious fanciness.

He chuckled into his drink.

They spent a pleasant moment watching the colors weave and wane like a palette of watery paints. She scooted closer to the ledge to better take in the somber view below. And as she stared down at the black street, that nauseating thought struck her again.

“…you jumped…”

She leaned across the ledge. That had to be over one hundred and twenty feet to the asphalt.

Dex squeezed her shoulder, driving a warmth down her spine. “Please don’t.”

She settled beside him, “Don’t you ever wonder how…?”

His bushy silver brows lifted high as he took a sip. “It’s why I don’t stay up here for long. Or even come home sometimes,” he mused, rotating the cup in his palm.

Its gold called her back to the rails of the fighting ring. A deep cramping in her gut feared she’d be likely clinging to its chains again before long. z

But for now, Norah leaned into his shoulder. “You’re doing beautifully. You’re here right now, with me.”

“Thanks love. I needed that.”