What Gabriel Saw

            “Can you keep a secret?” The parrot squawked at Peter again as he passed it with the box filled with his mother’s things to put into storage, since his father hadn’t the heart to keep them in the house with him. The bird, a gigantic African gray with his right foot ending in a stub, belonged to his mother as well and was the only piece of Mom that Dad was reluctantly choosing to retain. Peter ignored it, just as he had the other ten times Gabriel, the ridiculous moniker his mother had given to it, had screeched at him. 

            “If the secret is the one where I plot avian murder, than yeah, I can.” Peter muttered as he exited through the front door, heading to his rusted truck that used to be red and depositing  his armload into the bed. On the way, he nearly ran headlong into his pop, Walter.

            “Whoa, there, son! You about caused me to join your poor mother in the grave.” Walter said, heartily clapping Peter across the left shoulder and nearly causing him to lose the box. Peter, a little perturbed by his word choice but deciding not to comment on it because that’s just how his father had always been, chuckled as lightheartedly as he could; hefting the box back upwards.

            “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t notice ya.’ Gabriel’s been annoying me all day with that phrase he insists on harping about.” He said, side-stepping Walter to get rid of what he had in his hands. Once that was done, Peter turned back and saw his dad screwing his face up in an unrecognizable expression before looking through the still-open front door — presumably at Gabriel.

            “Yeah, Shannon really treated that little shit like he was a gift from above and it seemed to worship her right back. Imagine how much I wanted to strangle her when she started teaching it to speak.” Walter chuckled and shook his head, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. Peter took this time to really look at his father just then. The old man genuinely seemed to be handling this whole matter pretty well, considering mom had been found with a broken neck at the bottom of the basement stairs. No one was entirely sure how exactly she got there or why because the stairs were not steep or slippery. The washing machine for the clothes was down there, but she hadn’t a laundry basket with her and she had no other reason to go, so the only explanation would be that she had simply needed something and had unfortunately tripped to her demise. 

            “Pop, I know you’ve most likely been asked this to death, but are you doing okay with…everything? I’m aware you and Mom weren’t at a good place when it happened, but you seemed pretty distraught over it.” He questioned cautiously, not sure how his dad would react. Walter went quiet for a moment, hands shifting in his pocket. 

Both of them heard Gabriel once more hiss inside the house, “Can you keep a secret?” 

“Well, son, I will admit something to you but I want you to promise that it won’t change your good opinion on your mother. You’re right, we weren’t in a good place. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was planning on leaving me — caught her flirting with other men a couple of times. Honestly made me angry, but I never wished anything like this upon her. What she wanted to get downstairs she couldn’t have asked me to grab for her, I’ll never know. Her poor legs were going out on her.” The old man shook his head solemnly and said nothing more. Peter stood there with his arms crossed, pondering on what he’d just heard. He had spoken with his mother, Shannon, occasionally about the problems between her and his father and there had been several time when she mentioned possible divorce but she never followed through. It had been a sad situation all around. He loved both of his parents, but if they weren’t happy together anymore, then there wasn’t much to be done for the situation except to get out or die trying, and his mother had beautifully, tragically committed to the last act.

“Can you keep a secret?” The parrot purred.

“THAT DAMN BIRD, I SWEAR TO GOD IF IT HADN’T BELONGED TO HER, IT WOULD BE ROLLING UNDER THE GROUND WITH HER!!” Peter jumped badly when Walter shouted like that, as if he were unhinged, and then his father stomped inside, turning immediately right towards the living room. “SHUT YOUR FUCKIN’ BEAK BEFORE I BREAK IT!” The screaming continued and filtered out of doors, accompanied by something metallic being thrashed and a hysterical cackle of, “Mayday! Mayday!” 

Peter winced, cognizant that his father just threw around Gabriel’s bird cage in a fit of agitated rage. He waited a few minutes until he could see the sliver of Walter’s left side stomping up the carpeted staircase to the second floor before he deemed it safe to go in to grab more junk. As he crossed the living room, he took a look at Gabriel who looked thoroughly put out as it pouted on the midair perch. It was kind of sad to see, but Peter did suppose it shut the bird up for a bit — a welcome relief. He returned to the kitchen for the box of his mother’s many recipe books. 

He was on his third trip through the living room back to his truck when he detected what sounded like his father speaking: 

“Can you keep a secret…?” It growled that damned phrase ominously. Peter glanced around, expecting to see Walter at the top of the stairs, but there wasn’t a sign of him. So Peter glanced back at Gabriel, to which he gave another start when saw that the parrot was glaring directly at him with what seemed to be malice; its little brow furrowed in a serious manner Peter didn’t think animals could manage. His pupils, normally little, black circles, were now slitted like a snake’s. The sight transfixed Peter and slowly he put down the box as if in a trance, walking up to the bars of the cage to peer into the bird quizzically. 

He suddenly felt willing to hear a secret…

“What is it, Little Gabe? What secrets do you lock up in your tiny brain?” He asked softly, encouraging the parrot to get it to trust him. Gabriel preservedhis mean-mug, but it seemed to understand that Peter was all ears now and relaxed its little shoulders a bit.

“Can you keep. A seeeeaaa-cret?” It began again, dragging the  words out creakily akin to an old window, which sounded even more horrible in his dad’s voice, “You can’t tell a soooouuuulll, okaaayy? Of course, whose gonna listen to a dumbass bird anyway?” It paused, shifting in place so that it now faced Peter fully; fleshly leg stump flailing out to the side a bit. “Listen, here, you flying rat. I just threw my wife of forty years down the staaaaaiiiirrrrsss… You’ll never see her again now. Course, I can’t get rid of you still since it’ll just create suspicion. Cooount yourself luuuuccckkkyyy…” There is where Gabriel trailed off and this is where Peter’s blood ran cold. He knew parrots mimicked words and sentences they heard. There was really no other way he could think the animal would have learned that unless his mom taught all of that to it for some God awful reason. And neither his father, nor mother were renowned for pulling pranks of this gross caliber. 

The only other justification would be…that his dad had said it directly to Gabriel and the parrot had burned the confession to memory. A last act of love for its slayed owner. 

            Floored could even begin to describe how Peter was feeling right now.

            “Whatcha doin’, messing with the bird, son?” Peter flinched for the third time in the span of forty-five minutes and he spun on his heel to face his father who was standing in the middle of the staircase coming back down to the first floor. Walter’s expression was curious, obviously having not heard Gabriel’s chatty mouth. Peter couldn’t speak for a moment. After a bit, Walter chuckled around a, “Cat got your tongue?” 

            Peter had a split second to make a hurried decision.

            “Um… I was just…telling Gabe to keep quiet, Pop. He still won’t shut up about secrets.” He half-truthed hesitantly, hoping for all that was holy that his father believed him. Walter just stood there for a minute, as if assessing the situation before deciding that whatever was going on probably wasn’t worth prying into because he just chortled under his breath and shook his head.

            “Perhaps it’s a mistake to hold on to the flying rat, too. After all, he never liked me. Might be happier with another family. Anyway, I’ve got to run to the supermarket real quick, wanna come with?” He motioned his thumb to the still-open door. Peter waffled a bit before quickly shaking his head a little, too quickly, bewildering his dad again. They stared at each other. 

            “Well, alright. See ya’ in a few.” He finally said and walked down the rest of the stairs to cross the threshold out. And Peter waited.

            He waited until he could hear his dad start his vehicle.

            He waited until he heard the crunch of the wheels leaving the driveway.

            He waited until the telltale sound of the engine disappeared down the road.

            When all was quiet for several minutes, he returned a look back to Gabriel who watched carefully back.

            “Your recording equipment better damn fantastic, you pigeon, or I am going to being making a fucking right fool of myself to the police and my father.” Peter said, standing at the window overlooking the front yard to have an eye out for when his dad showed up again as he fished his old flip phone out of his shirt pocket and uncertainly dialed the cops.