Chapter Four

When I was a kid, I begged my mother to tell me the same bedtime story. It was about a baby bird named Chick. She was the eldest of fifteen siblings. While most of them were wild and unruly, she was docile and trained. And though Mama Bird worried for her, Chick never thought she was different.

Until the second oldest learned how to fly.

"It was magnificent!" my mother would shout, and the bedroom walls creaked as if startled. I'd snuggle into bed, making myself home. And for a few minutes, I'd be transported to another world. I guess you could say that's where my love for storytelling began.

In the story, Chick didn't know babies could fly. But watching in terror as her mother pushed her sibling off the ledge, left her in awe. The way her sibling flapped their wings until they were high above the ground enthralled them all. One baby bird after another, they jumped, they fell, and they flew.

And when everyone had proven flying wasn't designated for one, but for all, Chick jumped, fell, and kept falling.

Until she hit the ground.

Determined, she got Mama Bird to hoist her up and tried again. And again. And again. And the more she tried, the more she failed.

"Something's wrong with me," Chick whispered.

She realized she was different, but more than that, she was incapable of doing something her entire family could do. So, she ran away.

But on her travels, she met a hummingbird named Cheetah. He found her at the base of a tree and asked why she was crying.

Chick whimpered, "I can't fly. I can't do it. I'm not good enough."

With a hum, he threw his head back and laughed. "Flying isn't about being good enough. It's about not being afraid."

Chick had never heard that word before, so he explained. But she was still confused. She wasn't afraid of falling. She had fallen many times that day and although it left her with a few bruises; she was okay.

"You're afraid to fly," he hummed. "Because falling is safer."

Chick still didn't understand and returned to her pity. But the feisty hummingbird wasn't finished. "If you fly expecting to fall, then you will. Because when you fall, that's it. Your journey stops there. But when you fly, your journey is just beginning. And if you're afraid of that journey because you don't know what to expect, you'd rather fall. Because falling is safer than flying."

I never understood why I loved that story so much. Maybe my mother knew it was something I needed to hear, or maybe she liked that I liked it. But when Shae started finding their way, and Zacari and Nadia came into the picture, I thought of Chick more and more.

It hadn't been a story I could recall as I got older and my mother stopped telling it, but on the bus ride home, it drummed through my mind. And I knew the reason why.

I met my hummingbird today.

And he was nothing like I expected. It was like my mother foreshadowed our meeting. Or simply guided him to me while she was sleeping. I wish I could wake her up, and tell her about him. She'd beamed like she always did when I told her about something that made me happy. Wren made me yearn for more. Something I was perfectly fine dealing with on my own. Like a secret, I tried to ignore. And now, I couldn't.

A summer. Three months chock-full of my dreams. I wanted to pretend I said yes, that I never left his side, and we got on it right away. But I was tired, and when I was tired, I didn't think straight. The same things I wanted tonight wouldn't be there in the morning. And so, that was that.

I took short strides back to Patterson's Alley. A to-do list formed in the back of my mind as I tried to remember what was important. My family, my mother, the restaurant.

But what about you?

Damn it. I'd known Wren for a day, and I could already hear his voice in my head. I could barely take Shae's questioning, now I had to deal with him.

As I sunk deeper into my internal war, I saw our restaurant's lights on. Picking up speed, I hurried to our front steps and found our restaurant filled with the store owners of Patterson's Alley. My father sat at the foot of them and tears welled up in his eyes. I pushed open the door. The bell chimed but wasn't heard. As my father clutched an envelope in his hands, he took Ashland in a hug. Shae and Zacari weaved through the sea of families. They kissed cheeks, shook hands, and offered hugs.

I interrupted the moment when I cleared my throat. "What's going on?"

My father parted from Mrs. Davidson's embrace. "It wasn't long ago we fundraised for Shae's exchange program, but they put the money together for the repairs. We can open the restaurant back up as early as next week," he said.

It was good news. I wanted to hear it, but as his announcement traveled through my mind, my reaction blundered. I got my hopes up, without realizing it. Wren believed so deeply he made me believe too. A summer without the restaurant, without my father's pressure, and without trying to keep my mother alive. It sounded terrifying and freeing at the same time.

And in a matter of seconds, all my summer commitments came back to me.

"That's great, Dad." A riptide split through my voice, and Shae caught my eye from across the room.

They pushed through the crowd and took my hand. The warm night air greeted us as we took a seat on the steps.

"You're upset," they concluded.

"No, I'm just surprised."

They slid their elbows over their knees and hunched over. As their pocket chain scraped against the concrete, I noticed an envelope crumbled in their pocket. "It's okay to not want—"

"What's that?" If there was a chance to distract them, I would take it. I didn't want another night of them quoting Tabitha Brown to me like I was moments away from an emotional breakdown.

Shae laid back on the steps, looking up at the buildings. I felt their heavy sigh travel up my spine. "It's my letter from the exchange program," they said.

I dove for it and they launched to their feet. Like a couple of kids in the midst of a game of tag, I ran after them as they screamed for a timeout. Instantly, the tense air shifted when they slipped on their baggy slacks.

Falling onto their butt, I cackled before I collapsed onto the street. We laid side by side as we caught our breath. "Why haven't you opened it yet?" I asked.

"We were waiting for you. Then everybody and their mama showed up and now, Dad's saying he wants me to open it in front of Momma."

I smiled. We hadn't visited her in a while. It would be good to see her, but would this become our thing? Only seeing her when we had good news.

"What if I didn't get in?" Shae whispered. "Everybody fundraised so hard for me. You worked so hard. I just...don't want to let anyone down."

Sitting up, I took their hands and pushed us to our feet. "You could never let me down. We just believe in you. No one would think any less of you if you didn't get it. But I know you did. They'd be crazy not to let you in. You're meant to be a designer, Shae."

"Look at you." Their smile radiated as they pushed me in the shoulder. "You sounded like Dad."

I could find a million ways to deny that. As if he heard my thoughts, my father bustled outside and announced his plans to leave for the hospital.

Something about the smell of the hospital room and the hollow of our mother's face made it real. Oftentimes, it didn't feel like it until I saw her. Maybe that's why we stayed away.

The ride was short, and visitation hours would be up soon. Her room was chillier than usual. The television hummed reruns of A Different World in the background as Nadia tried to give her a reading.

I fluffed the back of my mother's pillow, taking in her sullen skin. She didn't look any better, but I couldn't say she looked worse. At least her hair was growing back.

A soft knock came from the door, and Doctor Simmons welcomed herself in. Her big brown eyes were heavy as she pushed herself to the middle of the floor. Dressed in her clean white lab coat, her hand rested on her belly. "How's everyone doing this evening?"

A mumbled answer passed through the room. Shae, my father, and I gathered around her.

"How she doing, Doc?" my father asked.

With tightened lips, she brushed the hem of her coat. "The same, sir. No signs of awareness."

Though he always waited for her answer, he never believed her. Always forcing her to say something different. "But you think she gonna get better soon? It's almost been a month. She gon' come out of it."

But she never gave him what he wanted. "Sir, unfortunately, if a patient doesn't come out of a coma after a week, it's highly unlikely they will later, and it's been a month."

The room fell silent. I could almost hear my mother's heart stop beating. The thing we feared. And the thing I'd been telling myself would happen because no one else would. It was finally on the table. He couldn't ignore it anymore.

My father stepped back with a look in his eyes I knew too well. "Shae showed me this study." Today, he brought evidence.

Shae dug through their slacks for an article plastered on their screen. "See. It say the patient came out of a coma after 45 days. So, it's unlikely, but not impossible." He smiled. Proud and stoic.

Hope. There it was. He believed he was special enough to achieve the impossible. It was what put our mother in this situation. It was the reason for everything. Hope that things would get easier. We could never give up or move on because if there was a chance we didn't have to do either, it was worth the wait.

And in waiting, you start to believe your desire matters more than anyone else's. My father believed his desire was big enough to do the impossible. And that was the problem. It wasn't because he wasn't.

So, as much as I wanted my mother to wake up, resume her life, and live well, I wanted to not believe in hope. Because you can't believe anyone or anything into changing if it was never meant to.

"No, it's not impossible," Doctor Simmons relented. "But I want to be clear that is it unlikely, and though we can't force you to take her off life support, we can—"

"Wait!" Shae snapped. "You want to take my momma off life support?!"

"We have to be—"

"No." My father's features tightened, putting an end to Doctor Simmons's helpful opinion.

"Sir—"

As he turned his back to her, and Shae practically burst into tears, I pulled her into the hallway. She leaned her shoulder against the wall. Her eyes were wide, but she looked tired.

"So, it's ideal to take her off life support? So soon?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, Nora. I know I told you I would do everything in my power to help her but—"

"You're human, and can only do so much. Don't blame yourself. You've done so much for us. If it weren't for you..." I'm not going to finish that sentence. "We appreciate you, even if they're acting like they don't right now."

I collapsed into the wall and slid down to the floor. Warmth flourished through my body when she placed her hand on my back. "Are you okay? I think you're taking this too well. Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy for anyone," she said.

"I'm not bottling up my emotions, I'm trying to think of the next step."

"Okay, so, ignoring your emotions isn't healthy."

"Doctor Simmons—"

"I'm serious. You were so worried about your mom's health. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have understood how bad things had gotten—"

"I was still too late."

She pressed her hand in deeper, and I closed my eyes. For a moment, I wanted to pretend it was my mother comforting me. But nothing could match her touch and nurturing voice.

"You did the best you could. It was us who failed. Don't blame yourself. You can be upset with me. Yell at me, throw water in my face. Hell, threaten to sue, but don't keep it in like this. You're breaking my heart."

I wanted to yell, throw a fit, and threaten to sue. But I wasn't upset with her. She at least tried. I didn't have time to be angry, no matter how much I was. "I can't be emotional when everyone else already is. One of us needs to think about this critically." I raked my braids into a ponytail and shot to my feet. "What happens now? Is she legally dead?"

"No, she's not brain dead." She straightened up. "She's still alive. We do tests to see if she has brain function, and she does, but in normal cases, when someone doesn't wake up from a coma, after a certain point, we have to think of other options. If she can't make a recovery—"

"Then, that's it." I swallowed the whimper wrestling in my throat. "Okay."

"Nora. I'll talk to your father—"

"He's not going to listen to you."

She knew this, but always set aside time to answer my questions. Our conversations helped me understand what was happening to my mother. I needed them.

"But your father makes the decision on whether she's on life support or not unless we determine she's legally dead."

"So, now what? We just wait?" I took a deep breath and released the burning in my chest. "Keep her hooked up to that machine because he doesn't want to feel guilty. She's not even here. They're waiting on the 45-day mark, and then they'll find another study and wait more. Meanwhile, she's rotting away, not being able to fully pass and we fall further into debt."

She became a pillar in my path, digging her fingers into my shoulders. "Nora, slow down."

"All this is going to do is give them hope for something that won't happen, then I'll be left to pick up the pieces when everything falls apart." They needed to understand. To remember our mother in the middle of all this. She wouldn't want us going through all of this, especially if she was ready to go.

"Nora—"

I made my decision. I would make myself an enemy in our household, but it didn't matter. They had to hear me out. If I called a family meeting, they couldn't simply dismiss me like they dismissed Doctor Simmons.

I marched back into the room. Shae stood at the foot of our mother's bed and everyone gathered around.

"Dad—"

"No, enough of that." He denied me the chance to state my side of things. Everyone else was talking, but no one wanted to hear me.

"We being positive, here on out. No more of that stuff about pulling the plug on yo Ma', making her suffer. We manifesting, like Shae always saying."

Making her suffer? She already was. She was before she got here, but he pretended not to know until he had no choice but to confront it. I was trying to stop her suffering, not his.

Ramming my foot into the ground, he spun around. And I snapped. "You can't just—"

"Okay, I'm opening my letter." Shae waved the envelope in the air. Every eye in the room centered on us, but we didn't relent. Though unspoken, we dared one another to say what was really on our minds.

But when Shae ripped the envelope open, our moment collapsed and my anger found its way back in its cage.

Shae unfolded the paper with shaking hands, and within the first line, they shouted, "I got in! Momma, I got in!"

Commotion filled the room as my father puffed out his chest and looked down at me.

One, after another, we hugged Shae. "Congratulations," I said.

My father paced, all his thoughts coming out at once. "This great. We can get everything ready by fall. I gotta hire more people. Zacari can do his social media thing and get more people interested in the restaurant. Nora can work more hours to help with money." He wrapped his arms around Shae. "And by the time you start yo first semester, yo Ma' gon' wake up."

He was already expecting me to work more. Now, I wouldn't just be keeping his dreams alive, but Shae's. And then it would Zacari, then Nadia. I would always be here because I didn't have a dream. I was meant to make their dreams come true. Or maybe that's what he really believed I wanted. Maybe I even told myself that's what I wanted, but it hurt. I didn't want to watch my siblings reach goals I never tried to reach myself.

When we returned home, I stood in the mirror and realized I didn't like who I saw. I really didn't know who I was. Regina was right, but would chasing my dreams really tell me who I was? Did I just feel like I was missing out, or would this struggle become my new normal?

The dial tone sounded, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. "Nora?"

I fumbled for the right words. Turning my back to the mirror, I whispered, "I'm in."

"What's that?" Wren shouted over blaring music before it faded into the background.

"I said, I'm in."

I could feel my heart drum to the beat when he fell silent. A breathy chuckle hit my ears. "Come to Main and 5th. The Racks."

"What?" I looked at the clock. It was after ten. "Right now?"

"From this moment on, your summer is mine, Songbird. I want to show you what achieving your dreams looks like."

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