Barny

It was a rainy Spring day I recall. The sort of day that is both dull and pretty at the same time if that makes sense. The rain was soft, the air was warm, and the sky was a mix of fluffy pink and blue grey.

My best friend Nita and I had just arrived home from another dreary day of 7th grade lessons. During lunch that April day we had decided it would be great fun to steal a cigarette from her Mom’s purse and head out to the barn to become glamorous and sophisticated; cool and grown up.

Mother was napping to our delight and the sneaky deed was easily accomplished. Off we trudged down the muddy path to the barn with devious smiles and naughty intent. The old barn door protested our entry unyielding until the fourth mighty pull. Inside it was warm and sort of steamy. The smell of rotting hay, cows, and years of dust surrounded us in a comfortable cloud.

We made our way up the helter skelter ladder to the second level of the barn and climbed through the bales. “Okay, I think this is a good spot” said Nita “No one can see us here.” She looked flushed and excited as she pulled the Marlboro out of the pocket of her pink gingham shirt. I sat down on a pokey bale and caught my breath. “All right” I said, “But be so careful, if we burn this hay…” Nita’s big brown eyes widened. “Don’t even SAY that, Oh my Gawd!” We giggled nervously.

The match sounded extremely loud as it hit the striker. It smelled acrid. I’m sure my jaw dropped as Nita put the cigarette to her lips and drew in. “Bahlk, bahlk, bahlk” she went, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh! Is it awful?” I gasped. “No, no” she choked and passed the thing to me. As I gingerly reached there was a loud shuffling sound above us. We ducked and the swung the offending secret behind her back. “What was that?” I whispered.

Some dust fluttered down from high above in the rafters. “Hahahaha, it’s just Barny” Nita laughed. I followed her watering eyes to the rafter high above. There sat the most beautiful and frightening thing I had ever seen. A large owl with perfect tawny brown feathers, a white chest speckled with black spots. His face was very round a stark white. The most striking thing was his eyes. Huge, deep, and black, staring and as black as the universe, probing, judging. “My Dad loves him cause he eats the mice” said Nita as she passed me the now half spent Marlboro.

I reached for my turn of a puff. “SCREEEEEEEE”. “SCREEEEEEE” I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Jeez I thought owls said “Who, who” I said wide eyed. “Nope, not Barn Owls; they sorta scream, so annoying!” Nita said rolling her eyes. This was getting weird for me and I wanted to get the heck out of that barn. I brought the cigarette to my lips and drew. Ugh, it tasted nasty and I coughed and coughed. But I still felt kinda grown up and wicked too. “SCREEEEEE” shuffle, shuffle. “Nita, I gotta get going home.” I could not get out of there fast enough.

That was ten years ago now but still very vivid in my mind. I still smoke and curse that day. I calculate that since that day I have inhaled approximately 54,750 cigarettes. And absurd number. I am asthmatic and my Doctor has warned me that I should give up this dangerous obsession.

I am standing at the gate to Nita’s old farm, she has long since moved away and the property lies abandoned. It is a different sort of day and I am a different sort of person. It is cold and snow is falling intensifying the loneliness of the already bleak scene. I am a grown woman who no longer feels cool or sophisticated with a cigarette in her hand; I just feel stupid and out of control. I am here to take control, to go back to the beginning. Full circle.

The old barn door is no longer on its hinge and hanging at an angle. Enough room for me to slip through. It looks much the same as I recall although are not as many bales and the old green tractor is gone. There are many more resident spiders I see, and some vines have wound their way in the windows. The ladder is still intact albeit rickety. A deep breath and up I go to find our secret spot.

When I am satisfied that I am in the right place I sit crossed legged and pull the one cigarette and my lighter from out of my winter coat pocket. I will only need one, it will be my last. I close my eyes and tell myself “you can do this, this is it”. I REALLY want to believe it. I put the smoke to my lips and flick the rotor on my lighter. Shuffle. Drifting dust……I look up and have only a moment to glimpse a familiar yet unfamiliar face as it hurtles toward my own. Whoosh! Sudden pain, sparks scattering and fear as the old barn owl expertly maneuvers to grasp the cigarette from my lips flying furiously toward the barn’s baling window and out into the snow. SCREEEEEEEEEEE!

I sit stunned for a moment, unsure of the reality of what has just occurred. “Barny, was that you?’ I wonder aloud. Looking around I realize the hay is too damp to ignite from the sparks and feel a small sense of relief. Then I see the blood. Crimson spots spreading on my winter coat and speckling the hay. I feel numb now but realize that Barny has cut my cheek with his talon while engaging in his mission. I smile. I should have listened years ago. And as I climb down the ladder and the blood drip drips down my chin, I know that I will wear this scar as a badge of honor given to me by a friend. An old, wise friend. I am free.