Go on, Calliope

High amid the myriad Douglas fir, I’m perched by a wooden aerie, scanning the skies with voracious enthusiasm. In stark contrast to my heart lies the world in repose. All is still as Gaia yawns, renewed, apart from the babbling brook below and the rustling vegetation above. Cruelly ironic, Gabriel scribbles on some composition pad beside me, on the dehydrated, stained ancestors of the surrounding wood, booming with vitality. I open my mouth to scold his violent transmission of thought, but the Earth, clever as always, does so for me, with a squirrel’s unfortunate loss of breakfast as it plummets onto my colleague’s head. Before he can say a word, I grab his arm, signaling with a dart-like focus toward the nest up ahead. 

Agile is the mother of her eaglets, diving down to deliver a meal she’s carried in righteous self-denial as if to snicker at her furry neighbor’s carelessness. The fledglings stretch their downy necks toward the benefactor, eager to eat in hopes of growing those flight feathers at record speeds. Who can blame them? We tirelessly tried to experience the thrill of a trip through the clouds, long before the Wright Brothers blessed us with the plane. Da Vinci, centuries prior, painstakingly drew up revised models of wings suited to the human frame. Millennia before him came the mythical Daedalus and his unfortunate son, timeless and far from alone in their passionate plight. 

The eagle bids her kin a soft goodbye with gentle chirped notes and takes off as swiftly as she arrived, just moments before. I remark, reverently, “Ironic, isn’t it?” Gabriel replies, not taking his eyes off his paper, “Mind giving me more details, Calliope? It’s too early to decipher your riddles.” Sighing, I turn to face him, “You know how, in movies, they dub over eagles with a Red-tailed hawk’s screech?” He glances up, not seeing my point, “Sure, what about it?” 

“I just think it’s funny, that's all. I mean, people see them for the mighty creatures they are, otherwise, they wouldn’t be the symbol of our country, but there’s a weird need to keep up their illusion of power in the media.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, directors act like there can’t be strength in something without the volume. I thought actions were supposed to speak louder than words.” Gabriel, chuckles, “You’re the only scientist I’ve met who tries to make everything poetic, you know? Most of us are content to just watch and learn.”

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Hours later, I’m certain of the eagle’s strength. Whispers are far more frightening than loudly declared assertions, for we must deduce their meaning ourselves.

Golden light trickles in through the slats, which could make the sickeningly sterile room seem sacred, if not for the monitors. Specks of dust orbit Selene’s head of cascading gray locks, which lay matted in a twisted halo as she journeys in and out of consciousness. It’s a strange sight. The greatest explorer I’ve ever known is either fading into oblivion or venturing out on a plane unimaginable to those who have yet to see it for themselves. My heart hopes for the latter, of course, knowing what a joy that would be for such a wonderful friend but, selfishly, I can’t help wishing she would put her journey off for a decade or so, at the least. 

I’m tempted to pull her out of her otherworldly explorations, to tell me how the strongest woman I’ve ever met could be reduced to such a lifeless frame. My hand itches for hers, I long to be seen by those eyes that view my soul as though I were her own daughter…

Unsurprisingly, a doctor and a pair of nurses in stiff scrubs enter with pained expressions before I can breach the divide. Observing Selene, they murmur to themselves and then to one another, none of them acknowledging me until I pipe up with a voice one would think hadn’t been used in years as opposed to hours, “Is she going to—”

“We are doing all we can to assure that she will be”, replies Dr. Katz. 

“I’m sorry, she just looks so—”

“It’s the loss of fluid from vomiting spells. Malaria will do that to you, it’s normal”, chirps Nurse Ruby. “Yes, her color should flush as the medication begins to kick in”, adds Nurse Paulo. 

“I’m so confused…how could this happen? She was—”

At one point or another, Selene docked her ship on reality’s shore for a spell. She pipes up with a familiar smile, “I’m 75 years old, Callie. This happened because I went to the Amazon thinking I was a spring chicken and wasn’t careful. Don’t worry yourself sick, love. I’m sick enough for us both.” I laugh despite myself, “You don’t look a day over 40, Selene.” With a breathy, shallow laugh, she simply replies “I’ve been blessed with the gift of aging–there’s no reason to hide it.” 

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Three weeks later, some color has returned, temporarily, to my friend’s cheeks. I’ve never been so relieved to just watch someone keep down a spoonful of soup in my life, but every time she does, my heart rejoices a little. As she and I eat our dinner, we sit in comfortable silence, which is interrupted by a call from Gabriel. I step out for a moment, hesitant to leave her. She waves me out of the room, watching Steel Magnolias contentedly. 

“Hey, Gabriel, what’s up?”

“Calliope, how’s your friend holding up?”

“She seems stronger today, but I’m worried it isn’t going to last. She’s been awake all day, though, so that’s a good sign.” 

“Perfect, then I can expect you to be back Thursday to give a tour?”

I glance at Selene through the window pane in the door and it hits me: she could be doing jumping jacks, flips, or cartwheels, but I still wouldn’t feel right leaving her side, no matter what. I can’t convince myself that she’ll be okay. She has no one…her wife passed away years ago, and her son is overseas. She’s been so good to me, treated me like her own ever since I met her; I have to repay her somehow. Without thinking of the consequences, I try to explain, “I don’t think I can. It just doesn’t feel right–”

“It doesn’t feel right paying you for nothing either. How much longer is this going to take?”

“I don’t know, but she’s all I’ve got, Gabe. She needs me.”

“So do I. The difference is, I can find someone else to do your job. You’re killing me, here!”

“I understand, but–”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re brilliant and I love having you on our team but, let me put it to you this way. If you don’t come back by the end of next week, I’m going to have to start looking for a replacement. Now, I don’t want to do this, but we can’t keep you on the payroll if you never come in, Cal. You get that, right?”

Time stands still and the hospital air hangs around my head, stagnant and strong. My vision blurs and I feel my throat growing thick with salt. On the brink of a breakdown, the memories of the past 20 years with Selene in my life bombard my mind, as if to wipe the tears away, maternal and comforting. As long as I have her, I know I’ll be fine, even if I lose this job. But I have to make sure she gets better before I can do anything else in good conscience. How could I give her any less when she’s given me everything?  

“Yeah. I understand. Thanks for the heads up.” 

Hanging up before he can change my mind, I stride back into the room, putting on a brave face. Of course, nothing gets past Selene as she beckons me to her bedside, grabbing hold of my hands with a loving squeeze, “What’s the update, pumpkin? Everything alright?” I nod, “Yep, that was just work.” Her gray eyes flicker knowingly at the momentary falter I must have shown, some pause or crack in the mask I’ve donned. 

“You shouldn’t forfeit your job for me, Callie. I’m already getting better, I don’t need your constant supervision, though I appreciate your concern.” I’m not surprised that she listened in, she’s as sharp as ever. I explain, “I’m not forfeiting it, Selene. I love you and my gut is telling me to stay. You’re stronger than anyone I know, but I’m too tempted to keep an eye on you anyway. Besides, it’s been so long since we’ve spent time together. This could be nice.”

I sit in the armchair and her gaze follows my every move. There’s nothing I could hide from her if I tried. She muses, “You know what I’ve always loved about you?” I look at her, expectantly; she opens the sketchbook in her lap, filled with pages of feathered aviators so alive they seem to preen and glisten in the light. She hands me a page from the back. Expecting something like a macaw or a shoebill, I languidly hold it up to give it a look. Instead, I see myself from years ago, early signs of aging washed away with my head thrown back in laughter. I’ve got a toco toucan on my shoulder, its citrus-colored beak open slightly, kissing my ear. She smiles, “Your steadiness.” My fingers glide across the splashes of color; I wonder when she made this. The edges of the paper are creased and worn so it couldn’t have been recent…

She resumes, “You stand tall, like a mountain, which struck me the first day I met you in my ornithology class. I knew you were special from the way you carried yourself.” This makes me self-conscious, aware of being observed; my shoulders rise to my ears and I glance down sheepishly, “I don’t know about that…but thank you.” The apples of her cheeks rise in amusement, “well, I do. You’re so reliable, but…you’re also so stubborn, Calliope. I worry about you, that you don’t live fully because it's in your nature to stand still and let others flock to you when they need you. You shouldn’t waste your potential.” 

Stroking my hair, she asks, thoughtfully, “Maybe what you need is a change of scenery, after all. My team called to see how I was doing. Do you remember Alanis? She mentioned that the golden-tailed sapphires look like they’re going to start flying soon, their primary flight feathers should be strong within two weeks. I was supposed to take pictures, but, I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me…how would you like to go in my place? She asked when I mentioned you were here with me, and said she’d be happy to have you take a visit.” My eyes widen and my heart quickens at this, but I scold myself. “That’s amazing, it sounds wonderful”, I reply. 

She smirks, “I agree, I wish I could be there myself. I know you do too, you’re not fooling anyone.” I’ve always dreamed of working with hummingbirds, they’re such fascinating creatures…no one knows my obsession like Selene, she played her cards right. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime! Suddenly, reality takes hold of my shoulders, shaking me awake with the sight of IVs, tubes, and monitors. This isn’t the time for me to chase a fantasy. I should stay here. That’s what I have to do…Who knows what could happen if I left for too long? What if they couldn’t contact me and I never got to say goodbye?

“We both know I won’t heal any faster with you here,” she watches my face for a hint of surrender, lightly tapping my head “and don’t pick your face. That isn’t going to help anyone either.” I pull my hands from my skin, resisting the habit for her sake. As she shuts the sketchbook, I notice just how tired she’s become from being awake all day–from being alive, truly alive, all these years–I’ve forgotten what a feat that can be. Perhaps I’ve never known it myself because I’ve only tried to survive. She yawns, sleepily closes her eyes, and settles back into the bed,

“Just think about it,” she sighs. 

For some reason, I flip the sketch over, surprised a second time by this deliberate gift that seemed to have been crafted ages ago, yet suits my current situation perfectly. There on the back, scrawled in Selene’s handwriting is a quote by the naturalist, John Muir: “The world is big, and I want to get a good look at it before it gets dark.” I glance over, ever-impressed by her wisdom. 

The ascent and descent of her chest.

The growth and loss of feathers. 

The highs and lows of life

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Patches of peach stain the sky, bathing the world in rose-colored tint in the early hours. The March air stings my lungs as I huff uphill to the parking lot, arms laden with a box full of the junk I’ve kept in my office these last few years. I’m in awe of myself. Surely, this bold decision can’t be mine. Who knows? Maybe I’m just imitating Selene…Or maybe I’ve been imitating someone else until now. All I can be sure of is that I deserve to feel fulfilled and, if I’m so easily replaceable, there’s no reason I should keep them from finding someone else. She’s right, I’ve outgrown this place. 

Azure and cream have replaced the pink and orange hues just an hour later. After packing up my car, I take a ramble on one of the trails that overlook those firs, the aeries with for sale signs at this point. I clamber up the ladder we’ve attached to one of the trees, perfect for a lookout, knowing this will be the last time I do so. Coming here, I expected to feel a twinge of nostalgia, perhaps regret about leaving it all behind; the firs, the aeries, and this faithful, wooden companion of mine…instead, I feel complete. 

In all honesty, I long to try something new. I dream of hearing some new cries off in the distance, smelling tropical air, with hints of exotic fruit wafting through the atmosphere, and meeting new creatures who chitter around me. The best thing about this place is the eagles. Now with most of them above the clouds, out of view, everything feels empty, just like the nests that once held them. 

I close my eyes, feeling Persephone's verdant air and the warmth of the sun on my freckled cheeks. I bathe in solitude and learn to live within it instead of running from it. Sometime during my musings, I feel a quick gust and hear something whir past my face. I search, worried it might’ve been a hornet, wondering if I have my EpiPen within reach. It dashes past again. I squint in vain, trying to see something other than the newly sprouted leaves. 

By the third passage, I see what the dilemma is. No wonder I couldn’t distinguish this little guy, he’s green himself! Him being the smallest bird on the continent, doesn’t help much either! I’m mesmerized by his majesty, the vibrancy of that tuft of magenta on his crest! I’ve never seen a Calliope hummingbird in person, but I’ve always dreamed I’d get to. I fell in love with these birds as a kid, thinking they were named after me. Of course, I eventually learned the truth, but my mother let me believe my fantasy to feel special for a while. 

I try not to stir, barely breathing as he hovers above my leg. Miraculously, he decides to plop down for a repose. By the time I get to Brazil, the sapphire hummingbirds will be just about ready to take flight and once they’re off, man, they are off. Selene taught me to handle hummingbirds with delicacy. They’re so fragile and their bodies are practically made up of air sacs. Their bones, so hollow and brittle, can shatter with the slightest pressure. Each talon is the size of a toothpick, but even those are harder to snap. That being said, this breed is far more intimidating because of its size. And yet, he’s unafraid of this gargantuan being sitting in a tree, as though she’s one of his kind.

I hope he senses my admiration. He puffs up his purple crest in pride and looks directly into my eyes as if to dare me: “Go on, Calliope, if I can fly without shattering, so can you.” 

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