lordjeebus

A draft of a short story I'm working on...constructive criticism welcome!

The Parrot Man

Untainted by the faintest wisp of clouds, the pure cerulean sky energizes Kane, as he gazes out the unopenable window of his smoky studio apartment on the twenty-second floor. He imagines that his future is as clear and free as that endless expanse. The sky has no memories, he thinks, maybe I too can start from scratch.

Behind Kane, on the wall, is a framed and enlarged picture of him and his mother in front of a shark tank at the Honolulu Aquarium, taken when he was eleven. Although Kane's mother is not smiling – she never smiled for pictures – her eyes betray her happiness and the pride she had of her son.

But Kane has scarcely talked to his mother since his arrest years ago. He called her every week from prison, but she screened her calls and never picked up. He sent her apologetic letters, begging for her forgiveness and her help, but he never received a reply. When his three-year term ended, Kane went straight to her house in Wahiawa. She refused to let him in. "I have no reason to call you my son," she muttered bitterly before slamming the door in his face.

But now, with his newly earned money, Kane knows he has a chance for redemption. Kane turns to his left. Inside a giant brass birdcage, perched on a wooden bar, sits his magnificent red parrot, with yellow-green-blue striped wingtips and foot-long tail feathers. "Thanks to you," says Kane to the bird, "I can show Mother how successful I can be. Today is a perfect day – I'm going to talk to her."

Kane still needs a story to explain the fifteen thousand dollars stashed in his strongbox. The truth is out of the question. He sits against a wall and sorts through the details.

Where should I work? Tourist Bureau? Not enough prestige. Investment banker? How would I land a job like that? Food critic? Mother knows I'm a picky eater. Hotel concierge? Again, how would I get that job? Assistant hotel concierge! Someplace famous. Perfect.

As Kane rehearses his job description, how he got it in the first place, how much money he makes, and most importantly, how to get past his mother's answering machine, the parrot's shadow spreads across the room from the birdcage to the kitchenette, then up the refrigerator door.

Kane finally stands up, cracks his neck, and slowly exhales. He picks up the phone and slowly dials. The seven-digit melody is nostalgic and slightly sad. The tricky part's going to be getting her to pick up. Kane hopes that his success story will give her a reason to do so.

"Hi, you've reached 623-8481. Leave a message!" Kane has heard this message hundreds of times.

"Hi Mom, it's Kane. I know you don't want to talk to me, that you're ashamed of me, but I've been turning my life around and I wanted you to know about it. I've got a good job now, at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, and I'm pretty well off. If you don't want to talk now, I understand, but I just wanted to apologize for being such a disgrace, and to prove to you that it will never happen again..." Although his speech was prefabricated, Kane realizes as he recites it that he has never been so honest about his feelings. He feels a twinge of guilt for having to lie about the hotel part.

–Click–

"Kane?...Is that true?" Kane's mother's voice is slightly cynical but soft.

"Mom! Thanks for picking up!" Kane is ecstatic. "It's all true, Mom. Things are going great!"

"What are you doing at the Royal Hawaiian?"

"I'm their new Assistant Concierge! I make reservations for rich tourists and stuff like that. I started about a month ago, but I didn't tell you until now because I was working on a sort of trial basis until this week."

"Really?" Her voice is deeper now, and her skepticism obvious. "Don't lie to me. Tell me why a hotel like that would hire a fuck-up like you."

Shit, she's not buying it! Kane thinks fast. "Remember Joey from high school? The tall one with the big glasses? He's some sort of manager there now, so I gave him a call when I got out and told him I was looking for a job. Anyway, he was really nice and said that he'd see if he had a job for me...and a few days later he called me and offered me this! I couldn't believe it myself!"

"Joey did that for you?" She is less cynical now.

"Uh huh. The hours are weird, but I love what I do." Kane pauses, hoping his mother has no further questions about the job. She does not; he continues, "Listen Mom, I know you're not working now, and I've been saving a lot of money because they pay me more than I need, and I don't know if you need that kind of help, but if you do, don't hesitate to ask." Kane derives immense satisfaction from being able to offer his mother something for a change.

"Huh?" Surprised and confused, she replies, "I'm fine Kane, don't waste your money on me."

"Are you sure? Please, let me make up for all the trouble I've caused. Would you like to get laser eye surgery? How about a new car? I saw the old Dodge in the driveway. I can't get you a Cadillac, but I think you should have a better car than that old thing."

"You'd really do this for me?" She feels uneasy about accepting such a sudden and generous gift, but she would love to show off a new car to the neighbors.

"Of course! I owe you so much."

"Could you get me one of those new hybrid cars?" she asks, both to express her interest and to test Kane's financial resources.

"I don't have that much money now, but I will soon. It would be my pleasure to buy you one."

"Well, I'll get back to you about it." If he can really save that much money, I'll accept a new car, she thinks. "Kane, when can I see you?"

"How about tomorrow night? Let's meet for dinner – I'll take you to John Dominis, they have great lobster."

"Sounds wonderful," she says cheerfully, "could you pick me up?"

"Of course. How's seven o'clock?"

"That'll be fine. Anyway, Mom, I have to go to work now. Thanks for talking to me."

"Thank you, Kane...I'm really proud of you. I know you made some mistakes, and maybe I didn't respond to them like a perfect mother. But I'm happy now, and I can't wait to see you again. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Kane puts down the phone. Yes! Perfect!

It is now evening; time to get ready for work. As he shaves, he imagines his mother happily driving a Prius past the neighborhood houses and down the highway, between the pineapple and sugar cane fields of central Oahu. Kane greases back his dark brown hair, and puts on a red aloha shirt. He also dons a pair of black-framed sunglasses, with narrow lenses that conceal his eyes but not the fury of his thick eyebrows. Kane grins at his face in the mirror – he is confident and sharp. He grabs his Polaroid camera, perches the parrot on his shoulder, and leaves the room, bending his knees so that the bird's head does not hit the door frame.

Underneath the salmon twilight, the wide sidewalks of Waikiki are busy with tourists – tall college students from the mainland, stylish pale Europeans, and most notably, small herds of East Asians, laden with bulky paper bags from Prada and Hermes as they wander from store to store. As a teenager Kane despised them and their extravagances, but he now appreciates these rich and exploitable visitors from Asia. To him, they are fat wallets with legs. Easy money. As he strolls through the crowd, under the palm trees, people turn to look at the parrot, sitting silently next to her owner's head. Kane scans the masses for his target – lost and wealthy-looking Japanese tourists.

In front of an ABC Store, Kane spies a pair of young Asian women. The shorter one is flipping through a guidebook and carrying a red leather purse emblazoned with the entwined "C's" of the Chanel logo. Kane slides up to her and smoothly places the parrot on her shoulder. Stunned, she looks up to see Kane's camera focused on her.

"Say 'Aloha!'"

The two women smile and stand next to each other. As they flash peace signs, Kane snaps their picture with the bird.

As Kane replaces the parrot on his shoulder, the women bow repeatedly. "Thank you very much," they stammer, with a strong accent.

"That will be 40 dollars," Kane says as he hands them the still-blurry Polaroid. The women's smiles turn to frowns, and they look at each other confusedly.

"That's the fee. It costs a lot to feed a parrot, you know."

The women shake their heads. "No thank you, no thank you," they plead.

"Please don't make my job difficult." Kane's well-tanned face is stern. "If you didn't want this, you should have told me before I took the picture. Please...I don't want to get the police involved."

Picking up on the word "police," the women cringe. Reaching into her red leather purse, the short one quickly pulls out a matching wallet and extracts two $20 bills. Kane plucks them from her fingers, adds them to his money clip, and silently continues down the street. It's a shame, he thinks, that Mom can't see how good I am at this.

At around 4 AM, Kane returns to his apartment building. Walking down the long, dark hallway, he pulls out his thick wad of tens and twenties and counts them with satisfaction. It has been a successful night; he has netted over six hundred dollars. He whistles as he unlocks and opens the door to his room.

But before he can step inside, Kane is pulled back by the neck of his shirt and flung sideways onto the floor. The parrot panics and quickly hops into the room. Looking up, he sees two tall Japanese men wearing black suits and ties. The bald man on Kane's left has broad shoulders, thick arms, and is carrying a metal baseball bat. Behind him, glaring at Kane, are the two women from the ABC Store. The other man is tall and has a narrow triangular face, like a fox. Kane notices that he is missing his left pinkie finger, and trembles in terror. The man bends down, yanks the sunglasses off of Kane's face, drops them on the floor, and crushes them with his shiny black Cole-Haans. Looking back at the women, he asks them something in Japanese. They nod, and he turns back to Kane.

"Fuck you, parrot man." He spits on Kane's face. He then turns around and leads the women down the corridor. Mouth agape and shaking, Kane watches the three figures fade into the darkness. The saliva on his cheek feels cold and thick.

Kane looks up at the remaining thug. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he pleads. The burly man pretends not to understand as he raises the bat behind his head.

Late in the afternoon, Kane wakes up. His pulse throbs in the back of his head. Pain radiates from the wound like knives into his eyes. His mouth is filled with the metallic taste of blood. Lying on his back in the middle of his room, he remembers what happened the night before. He struggles to get up as the room spins. The window is broken, as if blasted out by a cannon, and the TV's screen is smashed. A long red feather is caught on a sharp edge of the hole in the window. Clothes are strewn around the room, concealing the carpet, and the drawers have been pulled out of the dresser. The photo of him with his mother at the aquarium is at his feet – the glass is shattered. Leaving the shards in the frame, Kane picks it up and hangs it on the wall.

The money!

Forgetting his pain, Kane grabs the dresser drawers in a frenzy. The strongbox is missing. He digs through the clothing on the floor, flinging shirts into the air. He checks the drawers again. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! He looks in the oven, the fridge. They must've taken it!

Kane's dread rises from his gut and chokes his throat. His trembling arms are tense as he pulls them to his chest. Kane goes to the window for fresh air and inhales short, deliberate breaths. As his muscles gradually relax, he looks out at the sky.

Lonely and faint, a small crescent moon floats in the pure pastel blue. The phone rings, but Kane does not leave his view.

As the sky fades from blue to orange to black, the moon brightens, and is joined by thousands of lost, scattered stars.

J.R.V.A.

Great story, I was so into it. Took me away for a moment, So sad but true. Thanks for sharing

__________________
And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart