Wide Gold Eyes

Hara kneeled low to the dirt. Her tugging and digging seemed to be futile. The blackberries were endless. It was something she had come to realize a little too late after she and Ash had moved up here to the north west a mere two months ago. “Go to the PNW! You’ll love the PNW, there are so many trees and there are others like you guys!” her parents had told her. She kind of resented how they would only call it that, as if it were some sports car. PNW, PNW.

It had taken them ages to bring everything in the U-haul, but once Hara had seen the land, the 3 acres that seemed like so much more, her heart had softened a little. Now would be her chance. With all the extra elbow room, maybe now she would finally be able to up her gardening to a new level. Rows and rows of fruits and vegetables that would sustain her and Ash, and if she was lucky, could maybe even profit from if she sold to the local groceries.

The only thing she hadn’t anticipated however; the blackberries, an invasive species it so happens, at least here in Washington. Trying to get anything to grow in the garden without sharing the bed with a few of those thorny berries seemed to be an ever-growing challenge.

She wiped sweat off her forehead using the ungloved part of her wrist, not wanting to make mud on her face. Perhaps there were others like her and Ash up here, the way her parents had said, but she hadn’t met them yet. Hara glanced at her left hand, knowing she wouldn’t see her finger under the glove, but still looked. She could feel the absence of the ring. Ash had left for work about a week ago. Sure enough, the first day she was gone, Hara had somehow managed to lose her engagement ring in the garden. That was the day she decided to get gloves.

“Stupid gloves for these stupid blackberries...” she whispered to herself. Her neighbor Eugene was working in his yard as well and she didn’t want to draw his attention.

He had been nice enough to them when they moved in. He invited them over, glanced at Ash’s long dress, and gave her a recipe for blackberry pie and Hara a little shovel as welcoming gifts. They had tried not to laugh at this in the moment. He gave them a brief history of the neighborhood. Eugene was their landlord, and they were lucky enough to have found land this cheap by agreeing to live in the small house behind his own. Eugene was old and a bit severe. In this brief introduction, he never seemed to relax the deep furrow in his brow. He was also highly superstitious. Excessively maybe.

“Watch for those damn birds. You got to watch for them. You got to...” he was aggressively shaking his head, this was after he had just welcomed them to the neighborhood, telling them of his family’s generations spent in this area. He hadn’t specified, but Hara believed his mother was killed by the luck of an owl. Or at least that’s what she believed Eugene thought. He had only muttered a few words about it, but she hadn’t felt inclined to pry further.

She had started packing up some of her tools when a smell made her almost gag. The smell of iron and flesh. A bundle of mouse, bones and decaying flesh, lay in the corner of her garden.

“What’s all this about?” Eugene was already sauntering over, her small shriek probably tipping him off.

His face went grave. He immediately started shouting, flipping his hat towards the trees. “GO. Go on now. Go!” A few birds scattered off but his eyes remained fixed to one tree. Hara saw the silhouette of a bird. An owl. From the distance it looked like such a little thing.

“Its alright, I’m fine, it was just a little.. Surprising is all. It probably just had lunch or something and I didn’t notice,” she said, patting off her pants and making her way to the house. He caught her arm.

“You need to watch for them. Get that out of your yard as soon as you can.” His eyes were a little unfocused.

“Its really alright, I don’t really mind..” but she cut herself off. She didn’t want to already start butting heads with Eugene. “You’re probably right. I’m gonna turn in now. You have a good night Eugene.” She gave a small wave and made her way inside. Through the blinds she could see him still standing there, staring up at the tree.

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There are almost the same amount of bones in an adult fish as there are in an adult human. Two-hundred-and-six, usually. At least, that’s what Hara’s podcast was telling her.

“Isn’t that something? So now, you want to make sure you season your fish while its already warming up...”

She sliced some broccoli and threw it in the pan with the fish. It seemed fine, but Ash was always the better cook. Hara felt she was better at growing the food, not preparing it. Only two more days until Ash comes home, she thought. Then things can finally be less strange. She’ll laugh about the mouse bones and Eugene then we can finally check out that antique place and maybe I'll get her something to say sorry for the ring...”

Tap tap tap. Hara looked up. It was only 7pm but it was already dark, she was unable to make out much from the window.

“Eugene?” Tap tap tap. She stood frozen. Why would he be trying to talk to me through my window, of all places... She went to raise the window and saw a flutter of dark. Her eyes widened.

Sitting on the open window sill was her engagement ring.

Through the blue-black glow of the evening she could make out the glowing gold eyes of an owl, twitching its head back and forth to see her, a warmth starting at the pit of her stomach.

The lights of Eugene’s home were on.

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People watching was probably something more people would do if it didn’t make them feel like such a weirdo. Hara remembered how she would try and sit at the parks or malls of her hometown when she was young, trying to “people watch” as her dad had told her about, but always feeling hot in the face when someone would notice or make eye-contact.

Yet here she was trying. She had been wanting to get out of the house, pass the time on her last day before Ash came home. She had originally came to the small market to ask about their buying process, but felt too clammed up. She instead found a seat and watched the comings and goings of the yuppie kids and the scarved elderly. Maybe eventually she’d find a potential acquaintance she guessed it wasn’t today.

She gathered up her corduroy bag and coat, glancing at the fogged sky. There had been warning for a storm that day and she was dreading having to cover up her flower bed.

By six it was already pouring. Hara was hunched on the couch in a blanket, the spoon in her mug clinking quietly as it shook in her cold hands. The house was antiquated in a charming way, but that also meant that the heating system didn’t work as well as it did in 1954. The fireplace kept her warm enough, but she worried about her plants. She couldn’t imagine hving to sleep outside in this.

She looked at the window.

Knowing it was a little foolish, she cracked the bottom of the window open, setting a towel on the sill. She turned out the lights and left a candle on, the small rumble of water hitting the roof filled the room.

After a few hours it happened.

A little dark head, shiny wet, poked itself under the window. They stared at each other. Its loafed body couched low. Slowly, it tiptoed in.

Hara watched in rapture.

Creeping farther inside, the owl never took its gold eyes off her, each step asking for her trust.

It was a beautiful bird. Dark brown, glowing eyes, speckled feathers. It looked young.

Hara felt that if she let out a breath, a rustle, all of the balance of the universe would unravel in that moment.

She slowly sank to the ground. She reached out a hand and it snapped at her. She just nodded at it.

“I’m gonna sit here,” she whispered barely above a breath at the bird. “And you can do whatever you wanna do, I won’t get in your way.”

She leaned back against the couch. “Also. Thank you for finding my ring.” She moved her hand so the stone would glint. The bird stared. It crept closer.

She began unfolding out the details of her day, starting at a whisper then to her normal volume. It seemed to like the sound. She told the bird of the market, of Ash, of the blackberries. It would tilt its head this way and that, shifting weight on its twigged legs, settling on her bunched-up scarf on the ground.

It eventually slept.

She watched it for a while, the moving candlelight bouncing bits of yellow on its dark feathers. She quietly laid a bowl of tuna next to the bird and went to her room. She saw the lights of Eugene’s home on again.

Hara thought of Ash, how enthralled she’d be to hear of this happening, how her face would probably light up in the way that it did, her dimples peeking out as she’d smile at how silly Hara had been at the market. How Ash loved the cold and how they’d sit close on the couch making smores at the fireplace. “Your parents said Washington has loads of lesbians,” she had said laughing the day before she left. “Big difference from Missouri,” Ash laying her head on Hara’s shoulder. She knew they’d both feel a lot safer here. Hara pulled the quilt up under her chin, warm from the memory.

She drifted off.

Hara woke to the sound of screeching.

It was chaos in her living room.

Eugene was stumbling around bleeding, grabbing for the owl, its feathers strewn all across the room, both of them screaming.

Hara grabbed at the old man, “Stop STOP! Leave him alone. He wasn’t doing anything!” Eugene snapped his arm back with surprising strength and she was thrown against the floor.

“I warned you! I warned you to watch for these damned animals!” He spat. He was trembling. She shook her head at him, tears prickling her eyes. The owl was flapping around the room, trying to get to the cracked window, but the old man blocked it.

“How did you get in here Eugene? You need to leave.” She swallowed. “You need to leave NOW. He wasn’t doing any harm.”

He stared at her. “I should have known you would side with wickedness. I should have known the minute you and your friend brought your perversion to this neighborhood!” He lunged for the bird, finally grabbing it, and with both hands snapped its wing.

Hara screamed at him to stop, the bird making horrible noises.

She sprang to her feet and pushed him, fighting his struggles until she finally sent a knee to his gut. He doubled over. The bird was still crying, flailing in the ground.

Her eyes bleary now, she shoved him out the door. She didn’t know what to say. He just kneeled there, hunched over. She slammed it shut and locked it.

Her mind wanted to start panicking, what would she and Ash do now, where would they go? But all she could focus on was the bird.

She cradled the creature in her scarf, it laid on its belly with its hurt wing dangling low. It had quieted down but she felt its fast heartbeat. She cried for its pain, cried that it ever had to hurt.

I’m probably the first friend you’ve had. She sniffled. Well, at least you’re the first I’ve had here.

She sat there for a moment, taking in all the feathers and the wreck of the room, softly petting its dark head.

Ash will be here soon. She’ll know what to do.

The bird made gave a choked breath. Its wing twitched.

She couldn’t wait for Ash.

Hara rose to her feet, draped her coat over her nightgown, her eyebrows knit together. She felt for her car keys in her coat pocket with her free hand.

As she slid out the driveway she realized Eugene had disappeared from her porch.

The pine trees grew taller and taller whispered, in their spiked branches, of a new garden. On the day of bones and thorned fruit, dark berries and dark feathers, a golden bead planted itself into her chest, the universe would never unravel again.