Splash of Color

She looked over at him and gave a silent look of reproach. He saw the look; he asked her, “what?”

To be fair; his comment that the nautical chart they were perusing could use some color had seemingly come out of left field. Also, to be fair; the chart was pretty drab.

She shook her head ever so slightly in the negative and said, “you do realize this chart is near nine hundred years old?”

“Well I’m just saying,” had been his response as he shrugged his broad shoulders. He noticed that though she continued to nod her head slowly in a negative fashion, she did so with a furtive smile on her pretty face.

Gerald could not help but be slightly amused that he had been told basically the same thing last night by a forty-five centimeter African Grey Parrot.

The bird in question was a long-time companion of the attractive academic who was currently assisting him with some research for his boss.

An encounter with three ne’er-do-wells outside the chief librarian’s office the previous afternoon had led to the big man escorting T. Russell Davidson to her flat in a rather well to do building. This was where he had met the fine feathered individual with the given name of Toka.

Gerald had several interesting bits of conversation with the bird, mostly while T. Russell was out of the main room where the African Grey had his perch and nesting area.

At one point the bird had made the comment that Gerald was rather plain in his appearance. “You could use a splash of color big fella,” the Grey had told him. Toka had offered this after he had wondered why it was the females among humans who were so colorful. Among sensible creatures like birds, the males were usually more gaudy because they needed to attract a suitable mate.

“Hold a moment,” the Grey had said, right before he flew from his perch to the opposite side of the main room. Gerald watched as the bird had landed near a small cabinet with multiple cubbyholes. It walked back and forth atop the cabinet, bobbing its’ head slightly up and down as it apparently searched for something.

Toka made a chittering sound that Gerald assumed was laughter, and poked his head into one of the cubbyholes. He emerged with a brightly colored piece of cloth held gently in his powerful beak.

That’s not baby blue, Gerald had thought to himself. Maybe teal, or even cyan. It was certainly bright. The Grey flew from across the room to land at the table next to the big bruiser. “Here you go!” Toka had said as he laid the cloth in front of Gerald.

“My thanks to you” the big man had said to the bird after accepting the colorful token. Toka had bobbed his head up and down in approval and looked intently at Gerald. “You know,” the Grey had said, “near a decade ago, there was an assistant custodian here who could understand me.” This statement caused the big man to raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Really?” he had asked the bird.

Toka replied, “oh yes, but the young man wasn’t right in the head it seems.” Gerald nodded his head slowly up and down at this, and looking up at the big man Toka asked, “how is it that you can understand me?”

The big bruiser considered for a moment. He fingered the brightly colored fabric, it was light, maybe linen. It was smooth, clean, and smelled faintly of jasmine. Gerald tucked the gift into his breast pocket. He thought to himself, it makes a serviceable pocket square.

He looked across the main room to the hallway where he could hear T. Russell rummaging about for something that she had wanted to show him. Gerald didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t tell the bird the truth: so he did.

“Well, about sixty years ago I was helping a friend investigate something and I was killed in a back room of a fancy Italian eatery.” Toka stopped bobbing his head so that he could cock it to one side and really look at the large human. The Grey made that chittering sound that Gerald assumed was laughter, and he continued. “I was brought back by my boss; he’s a Pixie by the way, and I have been in his service ever since.”

“sure, sure,” the bird said as he resumed his slow head bobbing. Gerald kept going, “my boss shared part of himself with me; that’s how he was able to make it happen.” The big man watched the bird who was intently watching him. “After I came back, I found that I could understand every language, human and animal.” There was more soft chittering from the African Grey and Gerald told him, “I heal incredibly fast, I don’t get sick.” The bird continued to watch him, “and oh yeah! I don’t seem to age.”

The bird chittered some more and then was silent as T. Russell came back into the room with a small intricately carved box.

That same box was open and lay to the side of the large table that was on the far side of the chief librarian’s office. T. Russell had taken the strange artifact out to help them examine the nautical chart.

Gerald recalled the previous evening when she had first shown him the trinket from the small carved box. She had been surprised to see her feathered companion being so chummy with the big man she had brought home.

“Here it is,” she had said as she set the box on the kitchen table where the big man and Toka were apparently having a friendly visit.

He thought it strange that when T. Russell had opened the box, Toka had taken flight to return to his perch across the main room. He had squawked as he took flight, and as he flew to his spot, the bird muttered, “not of this earth, not of this earth.”

The last thing the bird had said as Gerald left the flat a short time later had been, “maybe he’s not right in the head.”