The Master Key Keepers and the Doppelganger

Chapter 1

Would you like to have the pair of doves in the top cage? I tentatively asked my daughter’s friend Danielle, as I opened their cage so they could join the others. Anxiously awaiting their turn, they bolted out of the cage past me. Steadying herself on the edge of my waterbed, Danni watched in wide-eyed amusement as the small flock of budgies, doves, and cockatiels darted excitedly about the bedroom, enjoying their daily exercise. Her brow furrowed questioningly. Had she heard me correctly? I nodded, assuring her she had. Did she sense a set up?

She knew it was an emotionally loaded subject, one that required a lifetime commitment on her part. The offer was a sacred one, one I would not just make to anyone. I searched Danielle’s expression in hopes of finding promise of minimal future regrets. I’d grown quite fond of Willow and Lilly over the past fourteen months. Trusting their well-being to another was a challenge for me. I’d considered selling them before, and actually had. Only, the man never arrived to pick them up after paying for them. After several attempts to encourage him to pick them up as promised, I finally gave up, deciding it just wasn’t meant to be. His actions just seemed to give my easily attached nature one more reason not let them go. This attachment went deeper than the normal ones I had for all my animals; but unlike the other animals, my love for these two pierced my heart every time I looked at them. Through no fault of their own, they had become tiny-feathered gatekeepers to an invisible cell I had imprisoned myself. I knew the keys to my freedom relied on theirs.

Telepathically scanning Danielle’s surface thoughts, I mentally watched them skim her mind like skipping stones across a lake. For those who were untrained in the art of telepathy, her thoughts could have gone undetected. Yet, for one who depended on this gift to survive in a world, which did not honor its word, I found them easy to read. Behind several thoughts was a twinge of fear that her parents would disapprove of her acquiring and caring for a new pet that was unfamiliar to her. I dismissed these thoughts and tried to focus on the ones that spoke of her confidence in rising up to the challenge. Unfortunately, there weren’t any. Without her ability to believe in herself, I considered retracting my offer. I had to know they were going to be taken care of properly. Young teens were notorious for forgetting about their commitments, especially after the novelty wore off. Pets required large doses of unconditional love and daily attention. If a boy captured Danni’s eye, or some other diversion presented itself, the doves could easily end up on a shelf somewhere, forgotten and neglected.

After a brief pause, she innocently asked, They don’t bite, do they?

Her question unbalanced the somber mood. Cracking a smile, I chuckled. Even at thirteen years of age, she was still concerned with self-preservation of her appendages. No, silly. They’re not like the rest of my flock, I replied, sweeping my hand across the room. I couldn’t blame her for being worried, especially with all the evidence pointing to potential hazards soaring around our heads, which were actually the least of her worries. 

My eyes fell on the huge cage next to the closet, which took up the entire corner of the room. Inside, perched next to their chosen food bowls, a fearsome looking pair of African Grays peered down bone crushing, razor sharp beaks at us. Not long after their arrival, they’d both taken the opportunity to draw blood; namely, mine! Cookie was the first to teach me a valuable lesson about not letting down my guard. He’d tricked me by begging for more almonds, receiving each one graciously. As I handed them to him through the bars of the cage, he’d drop them in his food bowl and beg for more. It was a cute game, so I set aside my previously overcautious nature, thinking that perhaps he’d changed. The last almond was ignored. In a flash, he nailed my thumb, right down to the bone. Blood dripping from his beak, he withdrew, squealing, Oooo! in a shrill voice of mock surprise. I could just hear the little vampire thinking to himself, Hmm, tastes like chicken as I stormed silently into the bathroom to rinse off the blood that was spewing out all over the place. 

Carefully wrapping my throbbing thumb in a washcloth, I returned to the bedroom and gave him the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. How dare you? You rotten little evil pile of feathers! I took you in when no one else would have you! You should be ashamed of yourself! To his benefit, I resisted the urge to reach inside his cage and shake some sense into him; ego would not get the better of me. It would accomplish nothing. Cookie stood there, dumbfounded. In my absence, he’d found himself a cheese-puff to munch on. My unexpected reaction totally spoiled his snack. With his beak poised in mid-bite on the cheese-puff that was firmly clasped in one foot frozen in midair, he stood there blinking incredulously at me. If he’d been a three-dimensional cartoon character, the only sound effects one would hear was the blinking of his eyes. I sensed his stomach knotting up with each blow of my words. After that, we both knew he would never bite me again!

Unbelievably enough, a few days later, Java did the exact same thing! Anyone who ever worked with exotic animals eventually learned the hard way to pay attention to the warning signs. I’d been given them all along, but assumed that because of my natural ability to slip in and out of their world, that I was an exception to the rule. I should have paid better attention. The pint-sized nutcase, Cookie, was foot-long neon ‘sign’. 

With imaginary snowshoes stuck to the bottom of his feet, Cookie slinked suspiciously around the room, growling fiercely, threatening to pierce his beak into anything within range. His unprecedented escapes were usually preceded by an attempt to get away from his mischievous roommate, Java. She took great pleasure in pushing his buttons, whistling and chatting excitedly each time she sent him bouncing out the open door whenever I was cleaning the cage, which was every day. 

Cookie’s doomsday outlook on the world came from the long history of horrors he’d suffered with prior negligent owners. In effect, he had unconsciously setup Java to strengthen his twisted perception that he was nothing more than a victim of his experiences of reality. In truth, she was only innocently attempting to engage him in play. Nevertheless, he refused to see anyone’s advances as innocent, or loving. To Cookie, there was always a catch. The world was out to get him, and no one could tell him otherwise. 

In stark comparison, Java was friendly, playful, notoriously mischievous, talkative, and outgoing. She was everything we’d hoped Cookie would one day be. If I hadn’t felt so sorry for him, I would have never bought him in the first place. To justify the expense, I mentally wrote him off as a sympathy purchase, telling myself that I could rehabilitate him and then, when she was old enough, breed him to Java to offset the expense. However, after the attacks on the hand that fed them, I was beginning to question my previous plans for their future together.

Yes, I easily understood Danni’s concern. I had no doubt that these were the two who put the most fear in her; not the doves, cockatiels, or budgies. I also understood that the Greys hadn’t bitten me out of meanness. They were ‘test’ bites to see what I’d do. Would I still love them unconditionally even after they found out I tasted like chicken? Despite those two select incidents, I’d considered Cookie and Java anything but dangerous. With a little flour and oil, I could always show them who really tasted like chicken! Besides, the doves were a lot different. They were symbols of unconditional love and peace. Snowy white reminders of God, pressed out in form. 

Ikeena, one of the two surviving baby doves that I’d managed to successfully hand raise, who was now about seven months old, suddenly took flight from his perch on the playstation and hovered over to me, fanning my face for a moment before landing on my finger. Extending my hand towards Danielle, I instructed, Hold out your finger. With a nudge from my thumb, I encouraged him to step onto her outstretched hand. Giggling, she laughed as Ikeena nibbled her fingertip, trying to swallow the digit whole in his tiny beak. See? I smiled, Like I said, they don’t bite. Danielle’s face beamed as she timidly reached out with her free hand and began stroking Ileana’s downy back.

While Ikeena entertained Danielle, I stepped gingerly inside the adjoining bathroom to finish brushing and braiding my hair that had grown considerably long over the years. With my hands awkwardly bent behind my head, weaving their way to a cooler body, I watched Danielle and Ikeena play together from the reflection in bathroom mirror, mulling over my offer to her; now wondering how I’d gracefully get out of it.

I lightly applied some makeup to offset the fact that I’d spent most of the summer indoors. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere or anyone would see me. I did it more for myself than for anything else, something to remind myself that I still had some redeeming qualities, even if I was crawling my way towards my forties, sometimes literally. I didn’t feel thirty-seven, nor did I want to admit I might look it. However, the lines across my face said otherwise. I set the mascara back into the makeup bag and returned my gaze to the mirror, studying it intently in disbelief. The doves weren’t the only things on my mind.

This was the same mirror I had just poked my head through, in an out-of-body-experience, only a week earlier. Now, each time I looked at myself in its reflection, I couldn’t help but see it differently. I had accomplished the impossible. I had stepped inside the fabled looking glass. Although, there wasn’t a white rabbit waiting on the other side to greet me. Just an empty space between the drywall and the back of the laundry room, which was admittedly a little disappointing. While I did not know what else I expected to find, I certainly had never experienced that before. At least not consciously. My mind processed the incident for the umpteenth time. 

This episode would take awhile to sink in and make sense. There was no reason to force things - - it would come to me when I was ready and not before. I willingly accepted that fact. It would not be the first time I would jokingly brace myself for the arrival of the men in white coats with the stylish straightjacket that had my name permanently embroidered on it. I had learned over the years never to question the gifts or insights into the deeper things in life that I was given, but rather to embrace them. Questioning them only made me a target for the narrow-minded Sleepers of the world who would like nothing more than to make me a contender for Cookie’s Members Only Nutcase Club. 

Following the lead of my feathered friends, I finished preening myself and stepped back into the bedroom. Danni, you know you’re going to have to ask your parents first before you can take them home with you. 

She absently nodded in agreement. Oh, I don’t think they’ll have a problem with that she chimed sweetly. They just don’t want anything like a dog or a cat right now. I’m sure they’ll let me have some birds. That was not what I wanted to hear her say. Why couldn’t she just make this easy for me and tell me she didn’t think her parents would let her have them? 

As I escorted Danielle through the bedroom door to rejoin my daughter Angel, a sickening feeling overcame me. Even though I knew the doves weren’t supposed to go with her, I couldn’t bring myself to verbalize my prior decision to retract my offer. A small lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard to force it down, trying to keep my expression steady so as not to alarm Danielle. Feeling myself losing control of my deeper feelings, I abruptly closed the door behind her with the excuse that the birds were loose and I didn’t want them to escape. The truth was, I didn’t want her to tune into my indecision and disappoint her. Like most young teenagers who’d come from a broken home, she’d had enough disappointments in her life from other adults who had not kept their word. I didn’t need to add to it.

Even after years of intense training, I was still susceptible to an occasional meltdown or moments of indecisiveness. Maybe, I really wasn’t ready to let go. Maybe, I needed more time to heal. Maybe I was just feeling overwhelmed by everything and needed a break. I began to pray, Please, God… make this easy. Give me strength to do this. My only graceful way out of this now was if her parents denied her permission. 

While I finished cleaning up the birds’ daily mess and began herding everyone back into their cages, Danielle and Angel disappeared down at the other end of our rented double-wide modular home to Angel’s bedroom, to prepare for a day trip down at the river for a swim. A few moments later, Angel appeared in the doorway clad in a bikini top, cutoffs, and sneakers. She pushed the bedroom door open and stood there, almost defiantly, watching me trying to capture the rest of the flock. Mom, we’re going now, she announced, oblivious to the fact that the birds were still loose.

I froze, poised in a snatch and grab position, and glared at her. Twinkie and Topper were playing hard to get. Close the door, I barked! The birds are loose! I felt the muscles in my jaw tense. I knew the two escapees would more than likely not fly out the door. Even if they did, I could still catch them. Still, I did not want to risk one of them falling into one of the three jaws of death that stood on the other side of the door. Roxy, Cricket, and Chilly were normally good dogs. However, they were still not permitted to play with the fragile feathered part of the family. One bite and Topper or Twinkie’s life would begin on the Other-Side. I did not want a repeat performance of the dramatic death of one of our other cockatiels. We had already found out the hard way that dogs and birds, as a rule, do not mix. I did not have to remind Angel of the incident that befell us several years ago. She knew better. I knew better, too. 

I was actually being short with her because of other matters- specifically, the doves. An issue Angel was not privy to, but should have been. I selfishly felt like she would not understand or, for that matter, care. The truth was Angel was very sensitive and caring, but more often than not, she would mask her pain and feelings of helplessness in anger or futile attacks. So much like her mother, it often scared me. I hated looking at myself through her when the reflections were less than perfect. Today, my ego had the better of me and I saw no reason to pass up the opportunity to, once again, inappropriately blow off steam in her direction. 

Angel slid thru the door and pushed it shut behind her indignantly, leaving Danielle on the other side in the living room to quietly observe the festering vocal transaction. Her presence was reason enough for Angel to demonstrate her skill in verbal war games, a way to exercise her individuality, or so the experts say. To me, it was just another reflection of how I once ignorantly and foolishly treated my own mother back in my day, years ago. Now, those memories seemed like they belonged to someone else, in some other lifetime. I couldn’t possibly have been that bad, could I? Yeah, I was. 

Angel glared at me for a moment, puzzled by my sudden outburst. Not one to back down from an opportunity to do battle, she planted her feet and fired back, God! You don’t have to bite my head off! Sorry! she said, dragging out the word sorry sarcastically. I just wanted to let you know we were leaving now. 

Oh, here we go, I thought, Miss Drama Queen has an audience so she better make her exit as memorable as possible! She rolled her eyes and retreated through the door, yelling an equally sarcastic, Bye! 

Angel’s exit left a wake of energy, charred with anger, hanging in the air. The door slammed shut, but not hard enough to knock the pictures off the wall in the living room. I heard a muffled, Come on, Danni! Let’s get the hell out of here! A moment later, the front door slammed shut, making up for the more controlled slam of the bedroom door. Heavy footsteps stomped upon the wooden stairs as they trotted to the driveway.

Glancing out the bedroom window, which offered a view of the front yard, with a heavy heart, I watched them disappear down the dirt road towards the river. Each consecutive argument dug the hole deeper, widening the generational gap between us. Not so long ago, it used to be me who got to go out and carelessly play, enjoying the long summer days exploring the world and all it had to offer. I used to be the one who rode off on my horse for hours at a time, returning only long after the sun had given way to the pressing darkness. Now, time was forcing me to surrender my innocence and youth to the next generation. I hated it. I hated the idea of growing up, growing old, and still feeling incomplete! I was tired of waiting for success to find me, or me to find it. Tired of waiting for the day when the Keys would do what they were created to do, instead of always teaching me more lessons about how to use them! 

Through clenched porcelain teeth, which only made my gums sore, I tried to blow her off. She’s at that stage, I reminded myself, just ignore her. With the swiftness of a martial artist, I snatched Twinkie off the birdie-play-station. He let out a startled squawk as I gently tossed the gray and white cockatiel into his cage. Topper was still darting around the room by the time I came back from retrieving the hand mirror from the bathroom. His favorite thing was to look at himself and sing as loud as possible at his reflection for the entire world to hear. Since all the new kids on the block had arrived and ousted him out of his position of being my one and only, he had grown sullen and resentful, and would not come to me when he was called anymore. The mirror was the only way to get him to come to me without a game of chase. 

With a deep breath to clear away the frustration, I called out to him in a teasing, singsong voice, Topper, I got the mirror. He did his version of a birdie, Huh? and flew effortlessly to my extended index finger that I had held out in front of the mirror. He promptly began whistling his rendition of the theme song from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, a song I’d taught him long ago as a joke, one that Java learned within days of her arrival, just to have one up on him. With my free hand, I flipped the latch on the old wrought iron cage and swung open the door so he could step inside. Gotcha! I exclaimed, quickly closing the door behind him. Flight time is now over I declared, trying to sound playful and light, feeling anything but.

The birds chattered amongst themselves about whatever it is birds chatter about while I put the vacuum away. When I returned to the bedroom, Willow and Lilly were bouncing unhappily in the new cage I had placed them in moments earlier in preparation for their upcoming departure. I couldn’t think of a way out of this one, and had decided I might as well follow through with my decision. To appease myself, I decided to let Danni take them home in a spare cage I’d had in the closet. The cage was much smaller than the one they were used to, with only enough room for a single perch. She can get a bigger one after she gets them home, I thought. Willow impatiently jumped up on the plastic perch, and then jumped down again, knocking over the food dish. The cage was too small for them. It’s only for a couple of days guys. Danni will get you a bigger one. My stomach tightened. I turned away, not wanting to hear their thoughts on the matter. What was I thinking? It was no use.

Let us go, Lilly whispered, snapping my attention away from the window’s view. Let us go, echoed Willow, who pounded against the bottom of the cage for the third time. It’s okay. You can do this now.

I knew what I had to do. I’d known it all along, even before I’d offered them to Danni, or had tried to sell them to that movie producer. I just didn’t think I had the courage to do it. As I contemplated the new plan, which was actually the original one I’d had when I first bought them, I oddly felt like I was stealing my own doves! 

I opened the closet door to retrieve the travel cage on the top shelf. It was a big walk-in closet, which kept certain painful memories safe from my already broken heart. I stepped inside, pausing momentarily to look up at the little black box sitting on the top left shelf, pushed far into the corner where there was no risk of my accidentally touching it. I couldn’t touch it, never again, even though it too should have been going with the doves and me. Some other time, I promised myself. I can’t do this all at once. This is hard enough as it is. I grabbed the travel cage and placed it on the center of the bed that rippled under its weight.

I waited a few more minutes, pacing the house, considering my decision. Didn’t I just decide to give them to Danielle? What would I tell her? How would I tell her? She was such a kind spirit and very mature for her age. I knew she would understand. Hopefully, when she was older, she would find it in her heart to forgive me. Besides, we had enough other birds in the house that were in need of a good home. At this point, with nearly thirty birds in the house, we had no shortage of replacements. I could always give her Woodstock, or maybe one of my roommate’s cockatiels.

Gene had been my best friend for nearly seven years. The first three were spent totally getting to know one another over the Internet, and the last three and a half were spent living together. The past year he spent in solitude in his own room, across the hall from Angel’s, and had been labeled the roommate by myself when I could no longer convince myself that we were meant for one another on an intimate level. It was a cold callous label; one that clearly spelled out my anger at him for having abandoned me when I needed him most. Although I loved him deeply, I wanted to punish him for not being there for me when my world was crashing down around me. It was an unmerciful sentence, one which he had endured and accepted without complaint.

At the beginning of the year, on the exact same day I had manifested Java’s arrival, Gene had been gifted an entire flock of cockatiels from a friend. Twenty-eight screaming beings entered through our doors, piercing the otherwise once normally quiet atmosphere. Over the following months, we’d managed to thin out the herd a little by selling them off, one at a time. Even after eight had found new homes, Gene was still overrun with birds, dust, feathers, and seeds. The small bedroom proved to be a poor choice in which to keep his companions, but there was no place else in the house where we could safely put them without fear of one of the dogs getting to them. Working a full time job during the day didn’t allow for much energy to spend the evening cleaning; so his room was constantly thick with feather dust that adhered itself to everything he owned. I was sure he wouldn’t mind donating one of the birds for the cause. It was a good backup plan in case Danielle was still set on getting a bird or two. 

As I proceeded rationalizing my seemingly questionable actions, I placed Lilly and Willow in the awaiting travel cage, which lightly rocked on the bed under their weight. The pair stared skeptically at me through the bars with their heads slightly cocked to one side. I took a deep breath, grabbed the cage, and promised myself I was not going to get emotional about this. Feeling themselves being lifted into the air, Willow and Lilly scrambled, trying to regain their balance. Once they found their footing, I limped my way out the front door to the van.

Willow cooed nervously as I positioned the cage on the passenger’s seat of my twenty-three year old Chevy van, and shut the door. You guys are going to be just fine, I comforted, carefully climbing in along side them in the driver’s seat, knowing the words were more for my own reassurance than theirs. Who was I kidding? There were hawks and eagles, hunters, and … and, rattlesnakes all over the place! I was terrified they were going to end up on someone’s diner plate! I shook the fears from my mind and turned the key in the ignition before I could talk myself out of it again. My mind felt like it was spinning out of control.

I have to do this! I have to let go! 

Each day that I hung on was one more day that I was losing ground. With little food to eat, no money coming in, pending eviction, the risk of losing my internet business I had worked seven years to build, and a ton of bills piling up on my office desk, the signs couldn’t be clearer. To top the record of mounting errors I had been manifesting as of late, I was still nursing a freshly broken vertebra, along with major contusions on my right leg and my lower back. These injuries had been delivered compliments of my twelve year old gelding only a week prior, at a time when the roommate and I should have been parting ways. Thankfully, Gene was kind enough to prolong the inevitable, and offered to stay another month or two, just until I could get back on my feet.

It was a standoff between the Universe and my ego’s insane desire for self-sabotage! A losing battle at best, and I knew it. If I did not get real about what was holding me back and face my fears of letting go, things were only going to get worse. At this point, there was honestly little else left to get worse. It was time to act. 

As the van’s tires crunched down the road, I felt as if I were driving Willow and Lilly down Death Row. How silly. They were only doves- two small, noisy white doves. To anyone else, they were probably little more than pretty white birds. Just something that made an annoying sound, like Angel always said. However, to my ego, they were a painful daily reminder of how, as a master I had failed my students, family, my mission, God, and myself. 

By the time I’d made my way to the riverbed, which was only two short miles from the house, reality began to sink in. It started as hot thick tar that had been in the pit of my soul for over a year. The closer I inched the van over the rocks to the river, the hotter and heavier the molten tar became. For the first time, I was acutely aware how I’d let it consume me and dictate my every move in life.

I found a quiet little spot next to the river that was visible from any treetop in the surrounding area where approaching predators could be easily seen, allowing for a safe retreat. In the past, I had ridden the horses through the area and felt confident that it was a safe place to release my friends. Cattails and tall saw-grass blades rose overhead, banking the shallow sandy shores, offering them another haven if danger were present. 

It was a beautiful place, even if the main highway that led back to civilization was just a mile downstream. In the distance, I could hear the eighteen-wheelers as they rumbled by, air-breaks echoing their protest as they roared down off the mountain pass on the six percent grade, interrupting the hypnotic lull of the river as it poured over its stony bed. Hesitantly, I put the gearshift into park and looked through the open window down the riverbed towards the highway. 

What if they panicked and flew off towards the highway in front of an oncoming truck? They could be killed! I shook the thought from my mind, chastising my overactive imagination.

Stepping nimbly out of the van, my eyes drifted towards the heavens, searching the skies the same way I’d searched Danni’s face less than an hour earlier. A crystal blue canvas stared back at me reassuringly. Not a bird-of-prey in sight. I sighed a breath of relief. At least they would have time to improve their flying skills before they would have to learn how to outmaneuver an eagle or hawk! 

As I walked around to the other side of the van, the dark tar in my soul bubbled a little. It had been weighing me down for too long. It was time to let go or risk losing myself forever. With a tug, I pulled the heavy passenger door open. Two pairs of eyes blinked questioningly at me in the blinding sunlight.

Grabbing the travel cage and the baggie full of birdseed I had filled as an afterthought before I left the house, I headed towards the river that was just a few feet ahead of us. Setting the cage down on the damp grassy shore, I assumed a kneeling position and made a ritual of pouring their last free meal out right in front of them, wanting to make sure they knew where to go if they couldn’t find food. It only made sense to put it next to the only endless supply of water in the area. God, don’t ever let this river run dry, I whispered under my breath, as the last few seeds dropped out of the bag. 

Willow looked at me suspiciously from the cage, cocking his head to the left, and then to the right, as if he were trying to figure out what I was up to. Our eyes sadly locked for the last time at close range. Yes, Willow. I’m serious. Today’s your day. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Trying to harness my emotions, I broke eye contact and turned my gaze to the river that gently lapped the shore, just inches from my moccasins. They’re going to be all right, I reminded myself. Trust. This is all about trust.

The sun began its slow decent in the fading mid-afternoon, beginning the cycle of casting long shadows upon the green valley. Still trying to get things under control, I purposely looked away from the cage and scanned the length of the river, half-expecting to see Angel and Danielle; almost hoping I would. They could have talked me out of this, which is probably why they were nowhere to be found. I took a deep breath, reached over, and popped the latch on the cage. The steal-meshed door swung open, unlocking a wave of silent prayers in my mind. Please don’t leave. Stay with me a little longer. Just stay inside the cage and I’ll take it as a sign you want to stay with me. I expected them both to come bolting out of the cage and was surprised when they laid down on the bottom of the cage in the streaming sunlight, flipped up a wing, and began sunning their underbellies. I couldn’t help but laugh.

You silly birds! I’m serious! You’re free. You can go now! Enjoying their day at the spa, they looked up at me from their awkward positions as if I were crazy. 

Maybe they wanted to stay after all. Maybe I just needed to give them a choice. Maybe God did not want this sacrifice from me and they were saying, Thanks, but no thanks! We enjoy the free meals, warm home and living with you! 

I decided the only way I would know for sure is if I reached in, pulled them out of their sunroom, and held them up to the sky to let them see what the world really looked like without bars or walls. If they stayed on my hands, then I would know they wanted to go home with me. If they didn’t, then I’d have to honor their choice and let them go.

I slid my hand inside the cage and gently grabbed Willow. His body tensed under my grip, but relaxed as soon as I set him down on top of the cage. Wide-eyed, he blinked in awe of the world, which spread out before him. He quietly took it all in, drinking in the expansiveness of the world, obviously savoring the moment. Not wanting to appear selfish, he snapped his attention on his mate who was staring up timidly at him from the safety of the cage, and began cooing for Lilly to join him, Lilly! You have got to see this, he seemed to say. She appeared on her own, and clumsily flew to the top of the open door. 

I stepped back a little to give them room to make a decision, envisioning a dramatic and beautiful ending to our relationship, with them flying up into the heavens, and me wiping a single tear which would stream slowly down my cheek as I stood there watching them disappear into God’s world. It would have made a beautiful ending to a good movie. However, this wasn’t a movie. It was real life. Besides, in real life, when you’re about to do some real releasing, solitary tears do not just gracefully trickle down one’s cheek.

Suddenly, the doves made their decision. 

Willow leapt off the cage and flew directly into the tall weeds and saplings that stood behind us. It was a feeble attempt, at best. I laughed. So much for dramatic endings! He called encouragingly to Lilly, who nervously joined him, landing unceremoniously on a weak limb, which bent beneath her weight. Oh yeah, this was going to take some time, I shook my head and smiled. They would have to learn things they never needed to know before. Flying without worrying about having to navigate walls and cages was obviously the first thing on the list. Landings, especially on branches that would support their weight, would be the next.

They bounced around, fluttering from one poor choice to the next. It seemed Mother Nature was helping them understand that the higher they went, the more secure some of the branches would be. The illusion was that the lower they stayed to the ground, the safer they were. A paradox unfolded before my eyes. In some respects, it was just like life itself.

What takes most a lifetime to figure out, took the doves a matter of a few moments. They made their way up the sapling and caught their breaths near the top, which was just a few feet over my head, and stayed there panting, studying the land below.

Minutes clicked by. Emotionally, I was fine while they stayed close. After all, if I reconsidered, I could more than likely snatch one out of the tree and the other would follow. I clenched my jaw and fought the urge to retract my offer of freedom to them, as I had already done to Danni. No. This is like giving birth. Once you commit, you don’t go back on your word. I decided to wait. The bubbling tar in the pit of my stomach began to boil.

After a few minutes, Willow decided he’d had enough of the unstable perch by the river. He spotted the tall patch of older cottonwood trees just across the wash and made a dash for it. My eyes followed him as he haphazardly made his way over the van, across the rocky wash to a stronger, more dependable perch. I held my breath; sure he would tumble from the sky and hurt himself on the rocks below. To my surprise, he made it in one piece! It wasn’t a graceful maiden voyage, but it was a means to an end. 

He’ll have to learn how to navigate wind currents, I reminded myself. After all, in the bedroom, the greatest wind current he’d ever encountered was one of the dogs passing gas in front of his cage. He didn’t know that the wind was what would carry him thru life. Today, he was about to learn. Poor bird, I whispered to the sky, all your life you’ve been flying into walls, beds, windows, and doors. You’ve never had the luxury of learning how to fly in a straight line before. You’ll learn, Willow! Just keep practicing! It’ll all come to you! I felt a bittersweet pride for his accomplishment, but struggled to hold onto it. They were stepping out into the world on their own; yet, a part of me felt selfishly sad that they were leaving my life. 

Once Willow found a perch that could bear his weight, he immediately began calling Lilly. She looked at me as if to ask, Is it okay? Can I go now? I nodded at her encouragingly, You can go now. I’ll always love you, Lilly! With my final approval, she stepped off the branch and leapt into the sky. To her credit, her maiden voyage across the wash was a little more graceful than Willow’s. She always had been better at flying than Willow. Willow erratically darted and dashed everywhere he went, oblivious to potential dangers that awaited his untrained wings. 

Like a little child racing after a kite which had unexpectedly broken free from its string, forgetting my pain, I ran, half limping, across the rocky wash after them. You take damn good care of each other! I hollered thru uncontrollable sobs. Don’t leave each other! Watch out for hawks, rattlesnakes, stupid kids with b-b guns, and eagles! There’s water right there at the river. So stay close to the river! And, there’s the seed… I started to choke on my words, losing the volume I had first started out with. There’s the seed… I left for you by the river bank. Eat that till you find more food. 

I stood below the towering tree they had selected for their landing and looked up at them, my leg and back throbbing from the sprint over the rocks. Lilly was out of breath again. Probably due more to panic and fear than actual lack of being out of shape. She panted, but seemed to smile down at me, proud of herself that she had made it. Willow was a little higher up and harder to see. Before long, he started his mating call to Lilly, who returned his call. 

Satisfied they were stable, through blurry eyes and a runny nose, I returned to the van for some tissues. The molten tar was erupting uncontrollably. I stopped fighting the tears and slumped to the van’s floor in the back, leaning my head against the door that I’d opened so I could keep an eye on them. A searing pain raced across the muscles covering my right kidney; reminding me that I was foolish for thinking I could heal this error within a week. I winced, holding my breath through the sobs, until the pain subsided. 

In the distance, I could hear Willow’s cries faintly echoing throughout the valley. 

You can sing all you want now, Willow! I called to him, unexpectedly feeling guilty for having ever told him to shut up all those times he went off on a solo in the middle of the night, waking me up from a sound sleep. No one’s ever going to tell you to shut up again! No one! I whispered.

With that guilt-ridden epiphany, another wave of agonizing tears burst forth, forcing me to exhaust my supply of tissues. All that I’d been holding on to, the pain, the excruciating death, which was still fresh with the sting of grief and loss, the sudden downward spiral of my business and income, the fear, the anger, the rejection, abandonment; all came to the surface for release. It felt good to let it go, yet, an insane part of me wanted to keep clinging to the lower branches of life. 

I drew a deep breath, sighing heavily, and watched a final tear splash across the backside of one of the Keys. At the moment, they felt more like handcuffs, which chained me to some unseen force that drove me to overcome extreme odds, rather than tools that were designed to unlock the most sought after biblical artifact in the history of humanity. For the first time since I began the journey, I contemplated taking them off, quitting the mission, and walking away from it altogether. It was an awesome responsibility that weighed heavily on my shoulders. At times, it was just too much.

I could just quit, I lied to myself. I could bury them, disappear somewhere, and forget the whole thing! 

A flicker of fading afternoon sunlight danced across the other Key which had been spared my tears, briefly blinding me in its reflection. I began to question whether it was all worth it. I had given up my life in the name of this work. Wasn’t that enough? Why was I still being kicked around? Hadn’t I done everything that was asked of me? What more did I need to do? 

As I toyed with the cool metal on my arm, I tried to picture what my life would have been like without them. Would I have experienced all the magic and miracles that most only read about in literary works of fiction, or the ones commonly seen in movies? No. I was sure I would not. Quitting wasn’t an option. I knew that. I’d always known that. But, if I’d known back then about all the hell I’d have to go through to get where I was now, wherever that was, I’m sure I wouldn’t have agreed to it.

While watching Lilly and Willow adjust to their new environment, I mentally retraced the events that brought me to this place and time in my life…

Chapter 2

God, I sighed, I’m so lonely. 

I let my gaze fall blankly out my home office window towards the highway, watching the endless flow of traffic; a habit I’d adopted when my eyes could no longer stare at the computer screen. I’d give anything for someone to talk to over a cup of coffee and a cigarette. 

Are you okay? asked my concerned feathered companion.

Yeah, I’m fine, Java. Thanks for asking. 

Java was terrific company who filled an empty void. However, right now she just didn’t have that same human connection my soul was craving. I needed more than she was capable of giving. Facing the computer once again, I dismissed the thought with another sigh while Java nuzzled my cheek compassionately with her beak. I reached over and scratched her head. Want some coffee, she stated. I extended my fingers just below her feathered belly. Step up, I commanded. Java stepped up and then stepped down on the desk where she waddled over to help herself to my coffee. Hot? she asked, eyeing me suspiciously, knowing better than to dive into a steaming cup of coffee.

No, Java, it’s not hot. It’s warm, I assured her. Satisfied she wasn’t going to burn her croup, she took a deep gulp then asked to be placed back upon my shoulder where she could wipe her beak on my shirt. Over the past six months, I’d been reluctantly transformed into a human napkin and, when Java forgot to mention she had to go, I doubled as an animated diaper too. I mumbled a caustic, Thanks!, and requested she step up again so I could set her down on the playstation where she could entertain herself without getting into trouble, or becoming too much of a nuisance while I worked.

Most of the time Java was a welcomed diversion. Today, I needed human diversion. However, no one was going to come out to visit. No one was going to call, or even email me to see how I was doing. There was no one left to call anymore when I needed a friend. And, no matter how lonely I felt inside, no one would mysteriously appear out of thin air, either. The only ones who understood me, that really meant the most to me, were either in the black box on the shelf, on the other side, or too busy with their own experiences in reality to worry about me. 

Why should they? My issues weren’t their problems. They had enough problems of their own to deal with. I was the one they usually came to when their lives were falling apart. It wasn’t written in the script that I was allowed the luxury of crashing and burning. I was supposed to be the tough one. As a teacher of masters, I had an image to uphold. I was supposed to be able to handle anything that came along. The fearless leader who looked at life’s challenges and laughed them into the nothingness from whence they came! At least that was the neat little lie I hid behind to protect myself from unnecessary hurt or disappointment. Truth be told, the tough exterior was nothing more than a reflection proportionate to the depth of my overly sensitive interior that, at the moment, was busy nuking my exterior in an all-out-meltdown!

The painkillers I’d been taking for the broken back weren’t helping matters any, toying with my emotions, forcing me into a downward spiral of overwhelming depression. Being small in stature, I could barely handle the half doses I’d cut myself back to once a day. 

I fought off the urge to cry, again. 

It’d only been a couple of days since I’d said goodbye to my gatekeepers. I was expecting too much of myself, irrationally thinking that the grieving process should have long since been over by now. 

The constant din of birds in the house made it difficult for visitors to distinguish each individual voice. Yet, for those of us who lived there, we’d personally come to know each of our beloved feathered friend’s skillfully orchestrated songs, chirps, whistles, and calls. Two voices were notably missing. Two voices which had begged me to follow through with my promise of freedom, and had burst forth into the world overjoyed at the prospect of flying as high as their hearts’ desired without fear of ever slamming into a low ceiling again. They were free now! I should be happy for them. However, a new prison of guilt unexpectedly shot up overnight, invading my dreams. The sun arose to find me feebly attempting to try to locate Willow and Lilly with a remote view. Unfortunately, despite my normal level of accuracy, my emotions blurred the results. 

I leaned back against the clothed covered office chair and stared out the window, again, scanning the turquoise heavens. Maybe, by some miracle, two white specks would fly haphazardly across the endless blue sky. 

Yeah, right! I scoffed.

Well Java, at least Danni wasn’t upset with me. She took the retraction of my offer with the grace and understanding of an earthbound angel. In fact, she took the renunciation too well, serving to compound my burden.

The phone rang, momentarily silencing the birds. Java mimicked the ring and then answered the phone as I put it up to my ear, Hello? she greeted in my voice, in unison with me. It was like having a feathered tape recorder on two legs that operated on seeds and coffee. While Java went on to have her own conversation with an imaginary caller, I proceeded to have a real conversation.

Hello, a strange voice greeted into the receiver. I’m calling about your ad in the paper about a sweat lodge? 

My heart wedged in my throat. Oh no! Not again, I thought.

Gene and I had built a traditional sweat lodge for a small group of women who were led by Julie, a long time friend, avid supporter and student from the Academy; who’d come out to visit from California a month earlier. The lodge had been so much work to create that we figured we’d leave it up and offer to run lodges for the public, a mistake that invoked the wrath of a few local Natives who did not feel that we were qualified to run because of our skin color. The last call I’d gotten about the lodge was a threatening one. This caller didn’t put off the same intimidating vibes as the last one. Still, I carefully chose my words, just in case. Clearing my throat, I apologized for the lengthy delay in response. I’m sorry, but the lodge is closed at the moment. I broke my back last week and I can neither get in nor out of it right now. If she were one of them, she’d have reason to be smug at the moment.

Oh my. the caller said sympathetically, genuine concern coating her voice. That’s a shame. I’m sorry to hear that. My name is Elsie and I came out here from Long Island on a spiritual quest, mostly to get away from my family. I was really hoping for an opportunity to do a lodge but they’re so hard to find. The sincere tone of disappointment in her voice led me to believe she was wasn’t out to trick me into telling her where we lived so she could come over and torch our place in the middle of the night; as was the previous caller’s threat. 

I relaxed a little. 

Thank God, you’re not calling to tell me you’re declaring war on me for running this lodge.

I’m sorry? she uttered, perplexed. War? What’s going on?

I explained the last caller’s intentions and had a good laugh. We chatted pleasantly with one another for about fifteen minutes about spirituality, men and her quest, before I ended the call with, Well, if you’re still in town by the time my back’s healed up enough to run a lodge for you, I’ll give you a call. She thanked me for the offer and left her hotel number. I didn’t expect to hear back from her again and honestly didn’t think anything of the call until the next day when she called back.

Virginia, I know you can’t do a lodge and that’s okay. I really don’t want to do one right now anyway. However, I would like to get together for a cup of coffee and a cigarette, if that’s all right? Just to talk. I have this strong urge to meet you for some reason.

I sat there, unnerved. I had never mentioned my previous mental conversation to God about being lonely to anyone, including her. Nor had I ever mentioned that I wanted nothing more than to have someone to talk to over a cup of coffee. How could she have known? Besides, how did she know I smoked and loved coffee, nearly as much as Java did? Lucky guess? No. Not in this part of the world. There were no such things as lucky guesses around a city full of highly intuitive people. 

I mulled her request over, with some trepidation. I was a little leery of meeting with total strangers at my home and rarely ever invited anyone over, let alone a stranger. It wasn’t because I was antisocial either. No. More like the result of shame for not having gotten my act together a lot sooner in life, or rather the act of having gotten it together and having lost it all due to egotistical stupidity.

I hesitantly gave her directions to our place and agreed to meet with her on Friday, thinking my schedule would be cleared and Angel would be out of the house so we could talk in private for an hour or so. When Friday rolled around my nerves were frayed. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was about meeting her. Had I had grown too used to being alone, too used to not being around people or strangers? Something wasn’t right. I got up early and scrambled to clean the house. I was unreasonably concerned that it wouldn’t be clean enough, or presentable enough to someone who obviously had been accustomed to a much more abundant lifestyle than the one I had been experiencing.

At the designated time of our appointment, Elsie had still not arrived. As the minutes ticked by I felt myself growing impatient and a little worried that perhaps she had gotten lost. She didn’t have a cell phone with her that I knew of, and the closest pay phone was about three miles away. If she were too seriously lost, she’d have to drive into town to find a payphone, which would mean I would probably have to wait another half hour for her arrival.

Ten minutes later a red SUV pulled into our driveway. Outside, a truck door slammed shut, followed by a gentle rapping on the door. 

Mom! Angel hollered at me from the living room, That lady’s here! My plans to have Angel gone for the day hadn’t panned out, seemingly on purpose, for reasons which were about to unfold. We were both meant to meet Elsie.

I’ll be right there, I replied from the bedroom where I’d been pacing the floor. I opened the door.

Hi! You made it, I greeted, forcing my eyes to adjust in the blinding sunlight. When I finally cleared my vision, I had to blink again, just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Oh, my god! I gasped quietly, throwing a hand up to catch my words before she heard them. 

The resemblance was uncanny. Eerie even.

Elsie greeted us with breath of relief, Virginia? I nodded.

By the sound of her voice, I gathered she wasn’t quite sure she’d found the right place or not. I smiled awkwardly, still taken aback by her image and waved her inside. As she stepped through the doorway she explained her joy at locating our house, I missed the turn onto your road, went straight instead, and found another house just down the road from here with the same address as yours. You’re also never going to believe this! The lady that lived there was also named ‘Virginia’! 

Thankfully, she politely ignored my stares. No kidding? I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice my expression, half wondering what the chances were of another person with the same name as mine, with the same street number, only on a different road, a block away. The other half of me was too caught up in our guest’s appearance to be overly concerned with a neighbor. Well, I’m glad you found us! Come on in. How weird, I thought, closing the door behind her. 

Once Elsie was out of the blinding sunlight, I got a better look at her and so did Angel.

Mom, Angel excitedly whispered over my shoulder, in my ear, Elsie looks just like…

Shh, I know, don’t say anything, I warned under my breath, painting a smile across my face. I was just as shocked as Angel was. This woman was full of surprises. Elsie finally caught our expressions and could no longer contain her curiosity, Is everything okay? she queried, cocking her head to one side.

Oh, it’s nothing. Really. It’s just that you look just like someone we knew, I replied, ribbing Angel with my elbow, a reminder not to say anything. I was having a hard enough time trying to control myself. Elsie’s uncanny similarity suddenly flooded me with heart-wrenching memories that I’d locked away on the top shelf in the closet inside that black box. I inhaled deeply. Come on in. I repeated, obviously at a loss for words. Clearing her throat to get my attention, I absently introduced Angel, Sorry, kid. This is my daughter, Angel Light.

Elsie graciously let our shocked expressions slide, and with open arms gave Angel a warm embrace. My, you really are a wonderful Angel, aren’t you? Angel unexpectedly returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. I also received a hugged, and nearly cried. It was as if we’d known each other all our lives.

Chapter 3

Her curiosity satisfied, Angel excused herself to go for a horseback ride, leaving Elsie and I alone to talk. As she waltzed through the house announcing her plans, I couldn’t help but notice it was just a little past noon, the hottest time of the day in the middle of summer. She won’t be long, I mused. Returning my attention to my guest, we quickly lost ourselves in the exchange of pleasantries and anecdotes. It was easy talking to her, almost too easy. However, I still couldn’t figure out why this woman was here, or what she wanted. I needed a moment to myself to think about what was taking place here. This was no ordinary woman!

Sensing my need for diversion, Java called to me from the bedroom. Hey! Hey! Wanna go outside? Perfect timing! 

I’ll be right back, I apologized to Elsie, darting into the bedroom. 

I reached into the cage, Thanks Java, I whispered. She beamed, knowing I’d respond to her commands and requests like any good master would do. Wanna go outside? she repeated.

Yes, we’re going outside, but you’ve gotta do your business first! I reminded her, as we quickly stopped in the bathroom. Seeing the toilet below her, she exclaimed, Gotta go poopie! While she worked up a good one, she chanted, Poopie, poopie, POOPY! 

Touch Down! The crowd goes wild! 

Java peered at the green goo floating in the toilet, Eww, poopie!

You’re too much, Java!

Returning to the kitchen, still no more sure of Elsie now than I was five minutes ago, I set Java down on the empty chair between us so she could visit, too. Animals always had a way of breaking the ice. At least for me, anyway. Being alone so much had made personal conversations nerve wracking.

Elsie’s eyes lit up! Oh my, who’s this?

This is Java. Java, can you say ‘hi’ to Elsie?

Hello, Java, Elsie greeted sweetly with a slight pitch to her voice, one that was reserved for animals and small children. Java’s eyes narrowed sharply. At first glance, one was convinced they were getting the evil eye, or at least the once over. However, the pin-eyed stare was really just Java’s way of studying something or someone new. She was merely formulating an opinion of our guest. 

She’s shy, I explained. Give her a few moments to warm up to you. She’ll start talking soon.

After I finished the formal introductions, I took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. So, I began, intending on asking Elsie what her plans were for the rest of her trip. Before I could finish my sentence, upon seeing the coffee, Java promptly broke her silence, interrupting me. Java wants some coffee, she stated, waiting for me to oblige her again. 

Elsie took the bird’s request in stride. I moved the coffee cup over to Java, reminding her to mind her manners, Java, please don’t interrupt people when they’re talking. That’s rude! I had taken to talking to Java as if she were human; for in many ways, she was. 

As Java gulped the warm liquid, Elsie laughed. I see how she got her name! 

Java finished wiping her beak on the back of the chair and did her version of a long-winded human burp; a vocal we’d all been teaching her. Naturally, it broke us up in laughter. Java joined in the laughter with her own version of my laugh. The spotlight was all hers! I reached over and playfully grabbed Java’s beak and gave it a shake, You’re a nut, Java! Eyes beaming mischievously, dodging my advances, she exclaimed, Hey!

The African Gray is supposed to be the only mammal in the world that can communicate with humans in their language, I stated matter-of-factly. They have the intelligence of a six year old child and the emotions of a three year old. It’s a dangerous combination, especially considering how quickly they learn. 

Don’t they mimic like other parrots?

In a way they do, but not really. To me, it’s not really a mimic. It’s more like what a child who’s learning to talk will do. They’ll hear a sound, word, or even a phrase that captures their attention, and then repeat it for days until they say it right. Then, they start using it in a sentence and, later, in a short paragraph. They even know how to associate words with results, or objects. Once Java learned how to call the dogs by name and used a whistle afterwards, she drove them absolutely nuts! I laughed, remembering how Cricket, Roxy, and Chilly would come running through the house convinced I’d called them and had a treat waiting. For the longest time Chilly was certain Java was some sort of demigod. Now, after six months of listening to a bird telling them what to do, they just ignore her. Each morning she starts by practicing all the words and sounds she can think of. She’s quite talented, 

Bored