Love, Birdie

Finding Birdie

Thoughts raced through Cyrus’ head. His mother knew he was potentially a father and said nothing? And her a grandmother? Is the child alive? Does the child know who he is? The betrayal he felt from his mother made him sick to his core. He questioned whether he ever really knew her at all. But Cyrus needed to know the answers, whatever it would take. Knowing Birdie could be anywhere in the world meant he needed to act urgently. He straightened his tie and brushed down his Navy suit as he stood in front of the employees of his firm. “I’ll be going away for a while, I need someone to step up and take my place in my absence while my father is grieving” he said sternly. “I have what it takes Mr Brooks” said Michael, one of his longest serving employees. Cyrus stood quiet for a moment. The entire room fell into radio silence as they awaited Cyrus’ response. Cyrus was visibly thinking this over. “No.” He said. “Victor, you’ll be in charge. You know what to do”. Victor grinned. “Yes sir, I do” he responded. Cyrus never dreamed of the day that he would let anyone else have the reins for his firm, but finding Birdie meant everything to him. He spent the next two hours packing up some belongings. The unread letters lay scattered on his bed, but he didn’t take them, whatever words were printed on the discoloured paper didn’t matter anymore. He was going to hear everything she had to say in the flesh. He jumped onto the first flight that was heading to London, it would be in the early hours of the morning that he would arrive, but it felt like days away. He hadn’t been back to England since that gut wrenching day he left, and being on a plane heading back there resurfaced so many heartbreaking memories. He recalled the day under Lovers Tunnel. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could feel the weight of her head on his chest once again. He was confused. He had spent so many years recovering from the heartbreak of Birdie, and here he was, loving her all over again. But not just love, he felt intense, burning love as if they had never spent a day apart. Cyrus had been seeing someone back in New York, Thalia Stuart was her name. Thalia hadn’t been on the scene for very long. He met her at a party when they were introduced to one another by a mutual friend. Cyrus had convinced himself he could love someone again, so he went along with it. Though, he felt nothing for her. No love. No connection. Even he often wondered why he was doing it. Cyrus didn’t bother announcing to Thalia that he was leaving, he didn’t really care, as he knew that if he ever found Birdie, he’d do anything to get her back and Thalia would be irrelevant. Out of the picture. The hours that would follow would kill Cyrus. Time passed agonisingly slow and all he could do was count the clouds out of the plane window. Eventually, the plane jolted and bounced off of the runway, startling Cyrus awake after he finally succumbed to sleep. The hairs on his arms stood instantly on end. “England” he whispered. His heart pounded in his chest as his body filled with anxiety. Quite frankly, he was terrified. He was terrified of what he would, or perhaps, would not find. After collecting his luggage and exiting the airport, it didn’t take long for him to wave down a taxi. “Gardenia Drive in Oxford please” Cyrus said as he sunk down into his seat in the back of the taxi. Cyrus didn’t think he missed England anymore, until acres of greenery passed him by on the drive home. Life seemed much simpler in England. Although years ago he would have chewed off his own arm to return to England, he’d become accustomed to the busy and bustling lifestyle he had in New York. But being back reminded him just how wonderful England was. “You alright jumping out here mate?” The taxi driver said. “Fine by me” Cyrus responded. He stepped outside and stretched his legs and arms out as he scanned the street. He stuck out like a sore thumb on Gardenia Drive - attired in a silky navy suit, a golden watch, brown leather shoes, his beard perfectly trimmed and groomed, and his hair styled perfectly. Not much had changed on Gardenia Drive, much of it was the same. Including the initials of Cyrus and Birdie deeply engraved into the low brick wall that surrounded her childhood home. The pathway leading to her front door was still cracked and worn too, just as Cyrus remembered it. He took a deep breath and found the courage to knock. Panic overcome him. “What am I doing here. This is madness”, “Nope. Pull yourself together Cyrus, this is for Birdie and my baby”. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the front door swung open. Cyrus struggled to see the figure that stood on the other side through the thick cloud of cigarette smoke that emerged. “Who the bloody hell are you” snarked a deep, croaky voice. “I’m looking for Birdie Chapman, her family used to live here, do you know where they are?”. The figure fought through the cigarette smoke, revealing his scarred, scruffy face. “You’re looking at em”. Cyrus realised it was John Chapman, Birdie’s scum bag father. “Glad to see he hasn’t changed” Cyrus thought to himself. “Now I’ll ask again, who the hell are you” John hissed with his face screwed up. “Cyrus. Cyrus Brooks”. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man who broke my poor daughters heart!” John responded while seemingly laughing. Cyrus clenched his fists. Cyrus could see clearly the enjoyment in John’s face. His look was menacing as he stood there in an ill-fitted, discoloured white vest and just his underwear. “Charming” Cyrus thought. “Do you know where Birdie is John?”. “I do. But I can’t say you’ll be seeing her anytime soon” John said, messily swigging his bottle of beer. “Oh, she must be married by now I guess. All moved on.” Cyrus replied. John’s face turned from a menacing grin to a deep, serious stare. “Birdie is dead” John shouted while slamming the door shut in Cyrus’ face. In that moment, time stood still. Cyrus’ body began to feel numb and cold, and it wasn’t long until he was bending over and vomiting in the rose bush that sit messily next to the front door. Confused, shocked and angry, Cyrus started running and didn’t stop. Rain poured down from the harsh grey skies, battering his face and drenching his suit. He ran to the only place that was sacred to him and Birdie. Lovers Tunnel. Here, he sat by the edge of the canal, watching his tears fall into the rippling water below. Birdie was dead. His life felt over.