A Sparrow from Bermuda

"How sadly the bird in his cage,

watches the butterflies."

-Kobayashi Issa

When things do not go my way, I let them be. It’s common sense, really. The world won’t spin in reverse just because I don’t like the bursts of wind against my face. Time won’t take a few steps back just because I hate December twenty-fifth. And the road won’t turn left just because I want to go home and sleep everything away. 

“But I don’t want to be in that stupid party!” My sister says, but Mom just drives faster. “We do this every single year, but the Christmas Book Fest in Willy Wonka Library happens once in five years!” 

“Family tradition is not stupid, Alma. Puberty is.” Mom says. 

Alma groans and sinks in the backseat. “Life sucks.” 

“What do you know about life? You’re thirteen.” I say, and beside me, Mom laughs.

“Shut up, Alex.”

“Don’t talk to your brother like that. He’s an adult now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.” 

When we arrive at Aunt Nona’s house, the sky is still blue. Its utter clarity forces me to look down at my feet. Afternoons like this make me long for the clouds. But all of my thoughts disappear when Mom hunches over and kneads her chest in pain. 

“Maybe we should go back to the hospital,” I say. But Mom shakes her head and smiles.

“I’m fine, hon.”

“Are you sure?”

She looks away. “Of course. This is nothing.”

I decide to let this go for now. It’s Christmas, after all. 

After a few moments of punching the passenger seat, my sister comes out and slams the car’s door shut. I tell her to cheer up, but she ignores me. 

“Yeah, cheer up, Alma,” Mom says. Her face has a little bit of color now. Thank God. “You know your aunts and cousins love to spend Christmas with you.”

“Is that a euphemism for borderline bullying?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about! They always make fun of me...of my dream.”

“What about Maya? She never makes fun of you. You two are like sisters.”

Alma looks away. “Not anymore.”

Mom is about to say something, but I hold her shoulder. She gets the message and walks away. When she’s already inside, I turn to Alma. “You perfectly know that Mom is sick, right? Why don’t you just do this for her?”

“Well, I’m sorry for not being a martyr like you.” She pushes past me and runs.

I compose myself for a few minutes before I head inside. And just like last year and the years before, Aunt Nona’s house looks the same. The walls are still paneled and cream. The picture frames never left their position for the last twenty years. The giant portrait of my Mom, Aunt Nona, and Aunt Lilith still faces the door. They are triplets, but they don’t look alike. The three of them led different lives but winded up meeting each other every Christmas. To keep the family alive. Everything looks the same except for the white Christmas tree blinking in the hallway. Aunt Nona must have a little bit of free time to prepare for the holiday. Time is always running out in this family.

“Alex!” Aunt Lulu, Mom’s first cousin, emerges from upstairs, and her large body pulls me in for a hug. I hold my breath. “I can’t believe you’re twenty now, you handsome young man! Don’t tell me you’re seeing someone!”

I cough a laugh. “I’m not Auntie. It’s good to see you too.” I like to tell her that she shouldn’t kiss me anymore, but she left me with wet lipstick marks on my cheeks. I wipe them off with my handkerchief.

In the living room, my aunts and uncles are already enjoying themselves. I take my time greeting all of them while my mind is somewhere else. They all look so happy, and I clench my fist. Delicious food already fills the dining table, but I don’t have the appetite to eat. I lost it a long time ago. I hear my cousins’ distant chatters and laughter in the spare room here on the ground floor. They can’t hang out upstairs. 

In the kitchen, I find Mom chopping vegetables at the wooden table, while Aunt Nona is stirring mindlessly, her eyes lost at the window. I have to call her name three times before she snaps out of her reverie. She smiles. “Oh, hello, Alex! How are you?”

“I’m great.” I force a smile and glance at the green, swirling concoction she’s making. “I thought Aunt Lulu and Uncle Sammy are in charge of the food.”

She smiles again. “This one’s for Maya. She needs her special soup.”

“Oh. Is she...How’s she doing?”

She’s paralyzed for a moment, then looks at me, her eyes glistening. “She’s great.” Then, forces a smile.

...

I spend time sitting at the kitchen table across from Mom, who is still preoccupied with chopping vegetables even though Aunt Nona has already left the kitchen.

“Is your Aunt Lilith not here yet?”

“No.”

“She must be dancing somewhere again, pretending like a teenager.”

“Yeah...”

“Are you okay?” Mom’s world is on me now. 

I open and close my mouth. I’m about to tell her the thing I’ve been rehearsing for months, but then an image of her at the hospital flashed in my mind, followed by the countless memories of her hand holding desperately to my arm and the other to her chest. The past is all it takes for me to give up and say, “it’s nothing.”

I look at the window Aunt Nona was staring at. And my eyes don’t move for a while.

...

Outside, I find Alma sitting on the rusty swing that faces an array of evergreens. When she sees me, she looks down at her feet and mumbles, “hey.”

“Hey.” I greet back. “Did they make fun of you again?”

“Nope. They just called me a psycho freak because I like writing about monsters and headless fairies, then threw pillows at my face.” She buries her face with her arms. “They all suck.”

“You know if you want to be a writer, you have to be creative with your words. You say suck all the time.” 

“Do you think I can be a writer someday?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry about what I said a while ago. I know Mom’s not doing okay. But is she...is she…”

“She’s going to be fine,” I say, but my sister knows better.

“You know those protagonists in movies that have to escape from the bad guys but find themselves in a dead-end, then a portal just appears out of nowhere to save them?” I nod. Then she stands up and tremblingly holds onto my arms. “I want to get out of here…”

Me too. But I can’t tell her that. 

A familiar car pulls up the driveway. Aunt Lilith comes out and waves at us. We wave back.

“I bet she’s going to give us weird presents she got from her trips again.”

“Please kill me now.” My sister says.

If Mom and Aunt Nona both live in conventional lifestyles, Aunt Lilith is a psychic and an impulsive traveler. As we make our way to her, I squint my eyes at her indigo hair that glints against the sunlight. She is the most bizarre, the one who always wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s also the luckiest. Because she rarely gets sick, even if she smokes and gets high. And she doesn’t have a sick daughter or mother she has to take care of. 

If Mom has Alma and me and Aunt Nona has Maya, Aunt Lilith has her adventures. She’s still happily single and openly admits she has flings here and there, but we all secretly want her for ourselves. Aunt Lilith gives flair to the family. 

She both pull us in for a hug. “I miss you, my darlings.” Her voice is raspy like sandpaper. “Now, are you excited about your presents?”

 We reluctantly nod.

She lights a cigarette on her mouth before pulling out a small box and two paper bags (a yellow and a red one) from the trunk of her car. 

“The box is for Alex, the paper bag is for Alma, and this yellow one is for Maya.” Maya’s gift in Aunt Lilith’s hand suddenly jerks and makes a sound. 

“Whoa, what’s in there?” My sister asks.

“Why don’t you open your presents first before I tell you?”

Alma opens hers first. But her grumpy face that she usually saves at times like this eases into a genuine smile.

“That’s a quill pen.” Aunt Lilith says, “I heard you want to be a writer.”

“I do...thank you, Auntie.”

Alma always thinks that she is Aunt Lilith’s least favorite, but the truth is, Aunt Lilith adores her like a real daughter. Mom always tells me that Alma is just like her oddball sister growing up, and now looking at them, I finally understand. Both of them have this longing to escape, to be somewhere.

“Open yours too, Alex.” 

“Okay, I think it’s…” I pull out the ribbon, open the box, and frown, “a deck of tarot cards?”

Alma snorts beside me.

“A vintage one. It’s originally owned by a powerful witch in the 1500s. ” Aunt Lilith winks. “Your energy tells me that you’re going to be a psychic like me someday.”

I sigh. She’s been telling that to me ever since I was four. “Psychics don’t necessarily talk to ghosts,” she would say, “They help guide sad and lost people to where they should be.”

“Now, what’s in there, Auntie?” Alma presses.

“Well, it will be unfair to Maya if you kids know first, right? Why don’t you guys come upstairs with me and give this to her?”

Alma looks at me with a troubled expression, and I sigh. “I’ll come with you, auntie,” I volunteer.

...

As we reach the doorstep of Maya’s bedroom, Aunt Lilith pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath. I find myself doing the same.

I knock, and Maya tells us to come in. We find her staring outside the window, and I realize she was watching us the entire time.

“Hello,” Unlike her mother, she doesn't smile.

Five years ago, her hair still flowed past her shoulder. Last year, the strands that barely survived still managed to make it before her ears. But now, she lost all of them from her chemotherapy last week. Her face is almost translucent, ghost-like. This is not the girl I used to watch growing up. This is not the girl that played endless games with my sister. This is not Maya, the girl who chased the sunlight and leaped from the windows.

“Maya, honey…” Aunt Lilith walks forward and embraces her. “Merry Christmas.” She hands Maya her gift.

She opens the paper bag, and both of us widen our eyes. A brown bird curiously watches us inside a small, golden cage. 

 Aunt Lilith smiles. “It’s a sparrow from Bermuda.”

“Really?”

“Really. It followed me all the way here. Birds that follow you home are magical, don’t you know that? That’s why I decided to give this to you as a Christmas present. It might take you somewhere you want to go.”

“I always like Bermuda,” Maya says.

“Well, do you like this gift?” Aunt Lilith asks.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry. You’ll love it before the day ends.” She kisses Maya on the cheek, then leaves.

Maya puts the bird on her desk and looks at me. I wait for her to ask me to leave, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tells me to sit down and asks me, “Do you know how to take care of birds?”

“Not really.”

She sits down and stares at the bird, but it just turns its back to her. “I don’t think it likes me.” 

“Well, maybe it’s just thirsty or something.”

Maya stands up and walks over to the small cabinet beside her bed. She opens a water bottle and carefully pours some into the lid. She places it in front of the bird and waits. “It doesn’t like to drink either.”

 “Maybe we should just wait. It will come around, eventually.”

The bird doesn’t move or make a sound. It's just gazing at the window the entire time that we find ourselves staring outside too.

“Do you know that birds can commit suicide?”

“Really?”

She nods. “Especially when they’re trapped in cages.”

“Oh.”

“Life sucks, doesn’t it?” 

Unlike my sister, I can’t tell Maya that she’s twelve, that she should stop saying that. She knows more about life than I do. Maya had already grown up a long time ago. 

I change the conversation. “So you like Bermuda.”

“I do. They have very blue skies. I like blue skies. I know you like them too.” 

“How do you know?”

“Because you were staring at it all the time.”

“I like overcast skies more,” I say.

“Everyone likes blue skies.”

“I don’t.” I can’t.

“Why?”

Because my mother’s sick. “Because I’m sentimental.”

“Liar.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Great. I just threw up blood two hours ago.”

We grow quiet when we hear the music blasting from downstairs. The chatters, the laughter, burns my ears until the sun finally sets, and they all drive home. 

I take a deep breath. “Maybe it’s hungry.”

I go downstairs, and all the guests are gone. I find Alma sitting on the couch watching TV. I head over to the kitchen, but I stop when I hear Aunt Nona’s screams. I’ve never heard her like this before. 

“BUT I DON’T WANT TO LET HER GO!” She wails. 

“But you have to, Nona.” My aunt Lilith says, “You have to...”

I sigh and go back upstairs. Maya is still staring at the bird. “No food,” I say.

She opens her cabinet again and pulls out a pack of crackers. She takes one piece, crushes it with her hands, then sprinkles it in the cage. “It’s not hungry either.” She says. 

“I’m sorry about Alma. You know she just can’t handle change very much. She likes to avoid it as much as possible.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you go downstairs? Everyone’s gone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m caged. I'm stuck here...forever.”

I look at her for a long time and sigh.

“Let’s set it free then,” I say.

“What?”

“The bird. Let’s set it free.” 

I open the cage, and the bird regains its vigor and flies around the room.

“I think Aunt Lilith’s right. The bird could be really magical.”

I tell Maya to follow me as the bird dashes away outside. We chase it downstairs, past the living room, across the hall until it stops and hovers above the rusty swing. And before our eyes, the bird glows and erupts into a vortex of swirling colors.

Maya looks at me, her eyes shining. “What is this?”

“It must be for you.” I say, “This must be your last present from Aunt Lilith.”

Running footsteps approach us. Mom, Aunt Nona, and Aunt Lilith all take turns to say their goodbyes. But Alma hugs her the longest. “I’m so happy for you.” She whispers.

Aunt Nona, with tears in her eyes, walks forward and gives her daughter one last hug. “Go,” she says.

“I’ll be back,” Maya promises. 

But we know she never will.

The portal increasingly luminesces as she steps inside until there’s so much light we have to close our eyes. When we open them, she’s gone.

I feel Mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go home.” She says.

I smile. 

When things don’t go my way. I let them be.