PG-13; Bullying, Language

Location: Ruston, Washington

Time: 9:01 AM, December 19th, 2014

Connor Weston stared through the glass wall. He stood on the parlor side, within the 6-bedroom, 7-bathroom, ocean-view house that his late Uncle Henry had bequeathed to him, his sister, and three cousins. Each Weston had a job assigned to them after Henry’s death the day after Thanksgiving. Henry’s lawyer would evaluate their work on Christmas to determine whether the job had been completed in a manner that would’ve satisfied Henry’s wishes, whatever that meant. If they had, they would receive their share of the estate.

Henry’s big sister, Isabel, was renovating and re-opening the once-popular Marina Diner, an old haunt of Henry’s that shut down in 2008. His cousins Samantha and Timothy, Henry’s kids, were given high-ranking positions at Henry’s construction company. His cousin Burt was tasked with restoring the cars in Henry’s collection, saved from the crusher years before but not touched since. Connor’s job, however, was the oddest. The job waiting for him on the other side of the glass.

The birds. No, not the movie. The birds of Henry Weston’s aviary, a peculiar collection of exotic, yet legally obtained pet birds, of whom Connor had been made the de-facto guardian. Successful people are notorious for being quirky, but the extensive bird collection of the late Henry Weston had people talking. They wondered what would compel an army veteran-turned-construction mogul, a husband, and father of two, to adopt all those birds, much less build a dedicated extension on the house for them. One or two birds would not have turned the rumor mill, but fifty’s just weird, Connor thought.

Henry’s wife, Iris, who passed a year before Henry, had agreed with this sentiment. However, with Henry being one of the nicest people you’d ever meet, people generally kept their opinions to themselves.

***

Connor snapped out of his stare after feeling a hand smack his back. He turned around to glare at the perpetrator: his abrasive cousin Burt.

“What are you trying to do, nerd,” Burt sneered, “make them explode?”

Connor brushed his cousin off and went into the atrium to feed the birds. That’s when Horace, Joey, and Glenda, Henry’s largest macaws, started squawking obnoxiously.

“Con Man! Con Man!” Horace yelled, repeating an unfortunate nickname Burt had given Connor in middle school.

“Oh, shut up!” Connor shouted.

“Shut up! Shut Up! Con Man!” Joey yelled.

“Screw you!” Connor scolded.

Glenda then proceeded to squeal so loudly, Connor gave up and fled the room.

Conner was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome when he was five. He hated loud noises and would easily get overwhelmed by sounds like a crowd at a party, styrofoam squeaking – or the macaws’ recent outburst.

Isabel had come into the parlor before Connor had and saw him taking deep breaths against the door of the aviary.

“I’m guessing the feeding didn’t go well,” Isabel inquired.

“I didn’t even get to that!” Connor said. “Those macaws are devil spawn!”

“Connor, are you sure that you don’t want me to do this for you?”

“No, I have to do this myself!”

Before Isabel could respond, Connor braced himself and went back to the aviary, slamming the door behind him. The macaw start started squawking again, but Connor chose to ignore them this time. He walked across the room, past the colorful birds of Henry Weston’s aviary, and into the supply shed. He grabbed the giant bag of bird food he had opened after cleaning the aviary yesterday and pulled it to the center of the room. The birds went quiet. Although they usually weren’t well behaved, they knew not to bite the hand giving them food. They waited as Connor filled each bird feeder with seeds, dried fruits, and nuts. He then closed the bag after loading the last feeder and took it back into the shed.

This was the only part Connor could handle without gagging. Because after the dry goods come the insects and worms. He put on Henry’s old gardening gloves and carefully pushed the hand truck, holding containers of mealworms, potato bugs, and earthworms, out of the room.

“Oh, God,” Connor murmured to himself, bracing as he opened the mealworm drawer and put scoops into the two largest feeders. Placing the hand truck next to the feeders, he went around to the other side.

Opening each container made him cringe, and he gagged with each scoop of crawlers. He quickly poured the bugs into the feeders, feeling the birds’ impatient stares around him, and closed the containers. Of course, he’d have to open it again soon, sending yet more crawlers to their avian doom.

Finally putting the containers back in the shed, he sighed in relief, taking off the gloves before leaving and locking the shed and turning on the faucet for the birds’ drinking fountain. The fountain’s small bowls filled with water, after which Connor turned it off and walked to the door. He turned towards the birds for the final step of the feeding routine:

“Bon appetit!” He called.

He flinched, despite seeing it every time, when all fifty birds flapped at the same time towards the feeders and fountain, like shoppers at a mall on Black Friday.

***

When Connor locked the door, he immediately went into the hall bathroom and thoroughly scrubbed his hands with soap and hot water. He shook his hands off afterward, a bad habit he had developed in preschool but never able to get over.

“Hey, Con Man.” Burt said from the door, making Connor jolt up and spin around.

“What do you want, jerk?” He said through his teeth.

“Your boyfriend’s he…”

Connor blew past Burt before he could finish. This was the best part of Connor’s day. Mario Flores, whom Connor had been seeing for a year now, would visit him every day after work.

Mario worked at the nearby zoo as an ornithology expert. Henry frequented the ornithology center at the zoo, where he met Mario. Hoping to get a bird expert to join the family, Henry had initially tried to set him up with Samantha. However, upon learning Mario’s gay, he refocused him towards Connor without batting an eye. Connor and Mario were both insulted at first that Henry was setting them up for selfish reasons. However, they ended up hitting it off pretty quickly.

Connor flung his arms around Mario, tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Mars,” he said. “I don’t know if I can hold out any longer. Those rude birds and their gross food… I hate it! Why would Uncle Henry make me do this? I…”

“Whoa, whoa, Connor,” Mario shushed. “what happened?”

“Nothing other than the usual. The gross worms, and those obnoxious macaws, and if that wasn’t enough, Burt keeps…”

“Connor, you’ve got to stop letting them get to you – man or birds. Be the bigger man.”

Connor pulled himself off of Mario. “Yeah, if I had $10 for every time that I’ve heard that, I wouldn’t even need the inheritance money.”

Mario sighed. “Connor, you know I could do this for you. I won’t tell anyone.”

“But I would know. And I want to get my inheritance honestly.”

“Well, at least let me come in with you tomorrow. Let me watch. I’m an ornithologist, remember?”

“Fine, but please, let me handle this.”

***

6:20 PM

That night, Mario joined the Westons for dinner. Connor helped Timothy prepare Henry’s favorite meal: Margherita pizza, oven-fried zucchini, and Shirley Temples.

“My dad would’ve been 67 today,” Timothy mused.

“I wish I could say ‘I know how you feel,’ but I don’t,” said Connor. “Losing both your parents in your late twenties must be incredibly rough.”

“It’s not just that. I feel like he left at the worst time. Katherine and I haven’t even set a date yet, and Samantha’s finishing business school. He’s going to miss some of the biggest moments in our lives.”

Connor, who was not a fan of hugging anyone other than his parents and boyfriend, hesitantly gave his cousin a side hug. “I know. But he’s up there now with grandma, grandpa, and your mother.”

It was a silent dinner, with the five Weston’s, four significant others, and the birds, watching the diners curiously through the glass wall of the aviary, past the parlor, and into the dining room.

Burt was the only one at the table without a partner. He and Connor were also the only ones who lived in the house. The others lived with their partners nearby but had access to the house through keys given at the will reading. It was likely that Connor, who was close to Henry and Iris, would get the house since Timothy and Samantha had turned it down, but Burt was competitive. Connor and Burt always had a rivalry, going back to early childhood, when the larger Burt would push Connor into closets or sit on him until an adult dragged him off. Connor truly despised Burt for his bullying, which had become less physical over the years, but still made Connor angry. Isabel, Timothy, and Samantha sided with Connor, as Burt seemed to target him.

Samantha broke the silence. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Everyone raised their glasses.

“To Henry,” she said. “He’s finally flying with the birds.”

The others laughed.

“Hear, hear,” added Connor. “Happy birthday, Uncle Henry.”

“Happy birthday,” everyone said as they clinked their glasses.

***

9:57 PM

After dinner had concluded, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away, the guests started to filter out until it was just Burt, Connor, and Mario remaining.

Burt went upstairs to his room, blasting music at an obnoxious volume. Mario sat on the parlor couch with Connor, staring at the birds through the glass wall.

“They’re gorgeous,” Mario remarked. “Your Uncle had great taste in birds.”

“Agreed,” said Connor, “but you have to admit it is strange for one person to keep fifty for a personal collection.”

“When did he even start?”

“Henry’s had a parrot ever since he was little. When he hit it big in the construction business, I guess he just started investing more in his Ornithophilia.”

“Hmm. And what did Iris say about the birds?”

“She and everyone in the family thought the flock was getting to a weird point,” Connor chuckled. “She put up with it, though. Uncle always made sure she was his top priority, anyways.”

They were rudely interrupted by the feeling of a wet finger in Connor’s ear.

“Burt!” he shouted.

Burt laughed. “Don’t mind me, just getting a beer before bed.”

He wobbled towards the kitchen.

“You’ve had enough, don’t you think?” asked Connor.

Burt turned on his heel, glaring at Connor.

“And who made you the boss, punk?”

“Watch your tone, Burt. You’re an asshole when you’re not pixelated, so lay off the glug-glug, okay?”

Burt stepped menacingly toward Connor. “Listen to me, you little reta—HURK!”

“Walk it off, Burt,” said Mario, as he pulled Burt to the door by his collar. “Come back when you’re ready to apologize.” Mario yanked Burt onto the porch and slammed the door.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Connor said.

“Beleive me,” said Mario as he locked the door, “It was necessary. And you need to get over this stubbornness. You can’t do everything yourself.”

Connor sighed. “Fine.”

Connor got up and yawned. “Thank you for spending the night tonight, by the way.”

Mario followed Connor up the stairs, turning the light off behind him.

***

9:15 AM, December 20th, 2014

Mario sat on the bench, watching his boyfriend fill each feeder, as the birds perched silently around him. Earlier, the birds had caused a ruckus, as they were not familiar with Mario. However, Mario was able to show Connor how to calm them down. Mario also offered to scoop the worms for Connor, but Connor reiterated his point about having to do this by himself.

Connor then turned on the faucet to fill the drinking fountain.

“So Connor,” said Mario, in an attempt to change the topic, “have you decided what you’re going to major in?”

Connor paused for a moment to consider this. “I haven’t even been thinking about it,” he responded. “I know it’ll be in the computer science area, but I’m still torn between programming and engineering. I’m taking enough classes next quarter to really…”

Connor suddenly felt something cold on his feet. He looked down, and there was water all over the ground.

“Crap!” he exclaimed.

Connor turned off the water and went to get rags from the shed. As he stooped down to wipe up the water, Horace suddenly chimed in.

“Con Man! Con Man!” he shouted.

Connor snapped his head towards the offending parrot. Before Mario could stop him, Connor shouted:

“I’ve had it! I’ve had it with you, you damn featherbrain!”

Horace glared before swooping down toward Connor. Connor ducked, avoiding Horace. Unfortunately for Horace, Connor was standing right in front of the fountain. Horace bonked right into the side, falling right on the floor.

“Horace!” Connor shouted.

Mario ran over to examine the bird.

“What was I thinking?” Connor continued. “I know better than this. I’ve been taking care of these birds for a month! How could I be so-”

Mario put his finger on Connor’s lips.

“Panicking won’t help. Look, it wasn’t that hard of a hit. He’s still breathing. Get a blanket, wrap him up, and get in the car.”

***

9:51 AM

Connor sat nervously outside the lab. The zoo didn’t open for their winter light show for another eight hours, so the entire place was eerily empty. This made Connor more nervous. What if he had killed Horace? Never mind the inheritance. Connor would not be able to live with that amount of guilt. Horace was a favorite of Henry’s. Horace was the first bird born in his aviary. Henry raised him into the large, beautiful scarlet macaw he was today.

‘God,’ thought Connor. ‘What if I killed him?’

He turned his head as soon as he heard the door open.

“He’s okay,” said Mario. “Minor head trauma. He should rest for a few days, maybe outside the aviary, and I have medicine for him.”

“Can I see him?” asked Connor.

Mario nodded and held the door open for Connor. In the lab, Connor saw Horace in a cage, shivering and scared. This was new to Connor. Horace had always been menacing, brutish, and almost as much of a bully as Burt. But now, he was vulnerable and nervous, just as Connor had been the first time he was in the aviary. Like Connor was every first day of school, or when he had to meet new people.

Connor walked up to the shaking macaw and reached out his hand. Horace flinched at first, not knowing what was happening- whether or not Connor was going to hit him.

“It’s okay, Horace,” Connor cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me stroke you.”

Horace stepped towards Connor’s hand, and Connor started stroking him. After some time, Horace eventually calmed down and nuzzled up to Connor. Connor was starting to tear up.

“Are you okay?” Mario asked.

“I am,” he said.

Horace cooed as Connor continued stroking him. They had finally started to understand each other.

***

4:20 PM, December 25th, 2014

Mrs. D’Angelo, Henry’s lawyer, watched as Connor released Horace from the cage and let him fly back onto his favorite perch. Horace stayed in a cage in Connor’s room, so he and Mario could keep an eye on him. Now, Horace was playing around like he was a little chick again.

“I’m impressed,” said Mrs. D’Angelo. “You’ve done an excellent job with these birds.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. D’Angelo. I can’t say it was easy.”

“I’d say I believe you. Fifty birds is a lot.”

Connor lead Mrs. D’Angelo out of the aviary, closing the door behind them.

“Connor,” Mrs. D’Angelo continued, “You’ve definitely earned your share of the estate.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. D’Angelo,” he said gratefully. “I promise to put Henry’s money to good use.”

Connor tried not to get ahead of himself, but his thoughts immediately went to buying Mario’s engagement ring.

“Well,” said Mrs. D’Angelo, “come by with Isabel, Timothy, and Samantha on the 5th, and we’ll get the details worked out.” She started to leave.

“Wait,” said Connor, “what about Burt?”

“Unfortunately, he didn’t finish the cars, so he didn’t earn his share. But that means you and the others get larger shares. Now go, rejoin your family in the TV room. Merry Christmas.”

However, after she left, Connor didn’t go to the TV room. He headed to the car collection. He opened the door and saw Burt sitting on the stool, face in his palms.

Burt looked up when he saw Connor. His face was red from tears.

“What do you want?” he said.

Connor hesitated for a second before he said:

“I heard.”

“Go away. You’re just here to rub it in my face.”

Connor looked over at the cars. They looked better than they did when Uncle Henry died, but they still had a long way to go.

“One month wasn’t enough, was it?” he said.

“Piss off!”

Burt slammed his hand down onto the worktable as he shouted, rattling every tool hanging above. Connor came into the garage. He shut the door.

“I’m not here to make you feel bad,” he stated.

“Why not?!” Burt said. “I deserve it! I had it coming! I’ve been an asshole for years, and now I’m paying for it! I was going to use that money to go back to school! Now I’m not going anywhere! I’m going to be stuck…”

Connor suddenly stepped forward and hugged his cousin. Burt, initially surprised by the hug, hugged back and started crying into Connor’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” said Burt. “I’m such a jerk, and I failed Uncle Henry.”

Connor stayed silent. As much as he hated hugging Burt, he continued comforting his cousin.

Based on the prompt “Write about someone who is given a bird for the holidays but doesn’t know how to take care of it,” from the 73rd Weekly Reedsy Prompts contest.