chapter 55

ZAVION

Up on a ladder, Papa was painting one of the living room walls. Zavion needed to tell Papa that they should go to Vermont with Henry and Jake. He ran his hand down Tiger’s wing feathers, felt the muscles under them, felt how strong his wings were and imagined just how high he could fly. He tried to soak in some of Tiger’s strength through his fingertips.

“What are you going to paint?” said Zavion.

“This is it,” said Papa.

“No jazz band?”

“Nope.”

“No fishing boat?”

“Nope. Just this green and then wait for it to dry and then another coat of green. Like a professional painter, right?” Papa looked happy. He was comfortable, way up there, balanced on a rung. He was comfortable anywhere if he had a paintbrush in his hand. “I spoke with your uncle Gabe yesterday. He says he has room for us.”

“No!” said Zavion. Tiger squawked and flapped his wings. The no had more force than Zavion expected such a tiny word to have.

“Room for us for what?” he said quietly.

“To live with him.”

“To live with him? I don’t even want to visit him! Papa—” he said, trying to calm his voice as he scrambled inside his head for something to say. “It looks like you’re painting another mountain on a wall.”

“It’s a green wall.”

“Well, mountains are green.”

“Enough with the broken-record mountain song over and over again, okay?”

Zavion watched Papa paint some more. He tried not to speak. He tried to keep the words from rising up like a wave and crashing over the levee. But sometimes waves have a pull and a push and a force that one single person can’t hope to control.

“But it’s true,” Zavion blurted out. “They are green. Especially Vermont mountains.”

“I’ve never seen a Vermont mountain, Zav. So I don’t know if this looks like one or not.”

“I doubt they’re that awful minty color,” piped up Ms. Cyn. She and Skeet came in from the kitchen.

“Morning,” said Papa.

“I brought you some breakfast,” she said, putting down a tray. “And I’ll have you know that I made a personal visit to the kitchen to get it.”

“Be impressed,” said Skeet.

“I am,” said Papa.

“I am too,” said Skeet. “With both Ms. Cyn and you. Your painting job is excellent. Thanks for agreeing to repaint this room for me….” His voice trailed off. “You know what? I bet I could find you more painting work—for pay. Would you want that?”

Skeet was distracting Papa. Zavion had to keep him focused.

“Work is good,” agreed Papa.

“I wonder…,” Skeet mumbled. “I have an idea….” And then he was gone.

“You’ve seen a North Carolina mountain, right, Papa?” Zavion jumped in. “Isn’t this the same color as Mama’s mountain?” The paintbrush in Papa’s hand shook the tiniest bit. “After Mama traveled to New Orleans and found you, didn’t she take you back to North Carolina? To Grandmother Mountain? Didn’t you get to see Mama’s mountain?”

“Quiet, Zavion!”

The door slammed just as Papa yelled.

“Quiet!” squawked Tiger, directly into Zavion’s ear.

Osprey ran through the room. Henry sauntered in behind her.

“Watch out for the wet paint,” said Ms. Cyn.

“I told Gabe we would go to Kansas right away,” said Papa, his voice quiet again. “There’s no reason not to.”

“You should come to Vermont first,” said Henry. “That’s a reason right there.”