Live in the flesh, Sparrow the rock star!”
It’s been so long since I’ve been in the actual office that it seems smaller now. I sit in my seat, really her seat, and the windows seem shorter. Even Dr. K in her purple Nikes doesn’t seem quite as tall.
“It’s weird to be here. I can’t believe I’m back.”
“Do you miss camp?”
“A lot. And nothing feels normal. At home, even here. It’s like nothing is different except me and now I don’t feel like I fit into any of the places I fit into before.”
“What does it feel like here?”
“Everything seems smaller. Like the set of an office for a TV show, not the real office. This place always felt so big to me. I remember asking you to switch seats with me way back, and now even the sky looks small.”
“Follow me.”
I have no idea where we’re going, but I’m following her because—well, because why not? It can’t be worse than sitting in the used-to-be-everything-I-needed office feeling like it can’t hold me anymore.
We walk out past the lilac trim and the off-white walls, past the old New Yorkers and out the door. We walk down the yellow hall with the industrial carpet, that factory gray, past the shiny elevators, and through a heavy door to the stairwell. When we start walking up, I realize where we’re going. I can’t believe it. Seventeenth floor. This building has twenty-three. We pass eighteen, nineteen, twenty; I’m out of breath more because I’m surprised at her than because of the stairs. We pass twenty-three and come to the last step of the staircase, the one that meets with a cold metal door that says Tenants Only, and she takes out a key and here we are.
Arrived.
The roof.
“Really?” I ask.
“Why?” she says, smiling. “You got a thing about roofs or something?”
“I used to,” I say with a laugh. “Something like that. You’re not afraid I’ll jump?”
“I’ve never been afraid of that. Are you afraid you’ll jump?”
“I’ve only been afraid of that once.”
It’s beautiful. I mean, it’s a Brooklyn rooftop in August. It’s tar and cigarette butts and bird crap and not much else, but someone’s laid down some rugs. You can sit and not feel like you’re going to get stuck in the hot black tar.
“Not so small up here, is it?”
“No, this is better,” I say.
“You going to fly away on me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Fair enough. Take a seat.”
Dr. K sits cross-legged on the rug in the middle of the roof. She looks up, watching the birds come and go, maybe just watching the sky. Her hair is blowing slightly. I sit across from her like we do in the office, here in our new office with the panoramic views.
“So, what’s happening at home?” she asks.
“It’s okay. Mom can’t believe I sang. She wants me to take voice lessons this fall.”
“Do you want to?”
“Not really. But Tanasia talked about starting a band with kids at the new school. I’d like that.”
“So, you guys are going to stay in touch?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s weird. It’s not the same, but it’s good.”
“How was leaving?”
“It was hard. Spike cried a lot because she had to go back to the hellhole town she’s from. She says we’re the only friends she has.”
“Huh, that’s not what you thought when you met her.”
“I guess she means close people, like people who know her real name and what a softie she is. She has to act like she’s so tough at school, sometimes she doesn’t remember to let it down at camp either.”
I lean my head back. There’s a soft, hot breeze. The kind that doesn’t make it any cooler, but it feels sweet up here. I let my head roll all the way back on my neck so all I see are clouds, birds, planes. This is what the world looked like before I jumped from the swings with Chocolate that first time. “Lara was sad because it meant the end of the frozen-yogurt vacation. Her mom came; she looks like she’s made out of plastic surgery and Diet Coke. Tanasia rode back to the city with me and Mom. It was weird, like we were able to pretend that everything was fine and we were just talking like normal about music and school and whatever, and then we pulled up to her house and her parents were there and we couldn’t move slow enough. We stood in the middle of the sidewalk like dumb tourists; we couldn’t get out of the way. That’s when we both started crying.”
“Did you try to fly away?”
“From Tanasia? Absolutely not.”
“Well, not too long ago crying in public would have had out you out the window.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t leave her like that. I walked her to her stoop and said good-bye. It’s weird, Mom being so happy to see me, and I’m just … I didn’t really want to come home.”
“Does she understand that?”
“She’s going to work on it.”
“And what are you working on?”
“Not lying to her about having friends, not lying to her about liking camp more than home. I mean, I’m not telling her, ‘Oh, I hate it here, I like everything else more than here.’ But I told her how sad I am not to be with my friends. How it’s so nice to have friends. That it’s important to me that I see them again. She seems to get that. I’m hanging out with Tanasia on Friday. Mom says I can stay over there if I want. That’s a big deal for her. I know it’s hard for her. She’s trying.”
“Not a bad start.”
A pigeon lands on the edge of the roof. I get quiet. I’m just watching the hazy blue and listening to traffic that seems very far away.
“It’s weird being up here,” I say finally, as the pigeon picks up one foot, and then the other.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a roof. And not too long ago, this was the only place I ever wanted to be.”
“And now?”
“I like it. I mean, I really like it. I still love seeing the birds, and I like being so far above everything. It’s beautiful and calm. But it’s not … even if I could take off right now, I wouldn’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“I think … ” What do I think? “I think my life is on the ground now.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I always figured you’d live among us mortals eventually.”
“I wasn’t so sure.” I stand up. I walk over to the ledge. I stand in this place where it all started. Not this roof of course, but a roof. A snowy one, during a lunchtime winter sky break. It couldn’t seem farther away from this hot tar roof and my shrink staring at my back, waiting for me to speak. I turn around and face her, smiling. This is where I want to be. Not up, not down, but right here where my feet are.
“You seem like a girl with a song in her head,” she says, standing and coming toward the ledge.
“I am.” What she does next surprises me, but Dr. K is full of surprises today.
“I’ll take the first verse; you can take the second,” she says. Then she opens her mouth and sings.
She has a nice voice, low and worn, like she smoked a lot when she was young, but full and warm, like she means every word. My arms go out wide and strong and then fall loose and easy by my sides. I take a deep breath. My chest goes open and happy.
I wish I could be like a bird in the sky
How sweet it would be
If I found I could fly
I’d soar to the sun and look down at the sea
And I’d sing ’cause I know
How it feels to be free.