Chapter 24 #3
It’s a sweet gesture but I’ve told him before… I don’t drink. I’m inclined to look past Eamon’s drunk transgressions and poor selection of apology gift, if only to spend more time with him. Even if the driving factor was to learn more about my brother, I still enjoy my time with Eamon.
Looking from the wine to the big calendar in our apartment, I’m reminded that today is the best day of the year. Halloween! I consider for a brief moment, striding over to Andrea’s door and knocking, but I didn’t want to start off my favorite holiday with an argument.
In fact, I didn’t feel like hanging around here for a moment longer than necessary. I grab my costume for this evening, a coat, something essential from the freezer; shove everything in my bag and head out.
It was the perfect day to feed the ducks in the park.
In the middle of the Public Garden is a large pond.
Most of the benches are full, but I am fortunate to find a seat in the sun on the east side of the lake.
Soon, this body of water will be mostly frozen, causing birds and other feathered friends to fly south for the winter.
Oh, how I hated the cold. The holiday season always coincides with brutal, cutting temperatures.
I sometimes wish I could leave like the wealthy do.
Go down to Florida and soak up the sun, only returning to this place once its frozen conditions have melted away.
Ducks make infinite circles, quaking merrily in the water, while some dunk their heads, kicking their legs to the sky.
I cherish this time. It’s even more enjoyable if you bring a bag of frozen peas with you.
That’s their favorite! Many park-goers have the common misconception that you should bring bread for the ducks.
When in actuality it lacks nutritional value; unnecessarily filling their belly to the point that they forgo searching for real food.
A quick internet search is all it takes.
Then everyone would have the proper “quack snack!”
I was in stitches when I learned that Andrea is petrified of anything with wings. For being someone who is incredibly resilient, I was shocked when I witnessed her take cover over a pigeon who flew too close to our campus.
Brodi wasn’t a fan of feeding the ducks either. He complained it was lame, in turn spending his time scrolling on his phone while I distributed peas alone. So, this has become a solo activity.
I started coming here after I lost my brother.
It was cathartic. I needed it. Time away from condolences and people who expected me to “talk through it.” Better than therapy.
It was here, among the ducks, that I also decided to swear off drugs and alcohol.
Even though I couldn’t fathom that Theo would ever want to take his own life, I still made the promise.
More for him than myself. “Use this as a lesson and keep going.” The words ingrained in me since I was little.
Now, whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed or depressed, I make my way to the park… frozen veg in tow.
Over the years, I started recognizing some ducks.
Even naming a few. The one with the janky wing and black feathered tail is Filber.
The two white ducks that sound like they're laughing are Betty and Wilma, and last but not least is the loudest duck. It has extra plumage around its head and is always squawking incessantly for more peas. Never fully satisfied with anything it's given. That one was dubbed, Brodi. Sometimes I ask myself if there was anything I could have done differently. He was the one that came onto me after all… but as time progressed, he just didn’t seem to want to be with me as much. Always had something better to do. Like putting in extra hours at Rick’s or meeting buddies for a drink after work.
When he started another job, I barely ever saw him!
Stupid boxing scene turned him into a different person.
I wonder if Brodi ever went to The Bay Boxing Club that Eamon runs?
It’s not like his club is the only boxing place in town. The possible parallel is laughable.
My mind just keeps folding in on itself, like an endless origami that never transforms into a swan or frog. Thinking about a solitary issue is impossible. Every painful thought eventually doubles. Soon, I’m so ensnared in a weave of thoughts; I can’t seem to navigate myself back to the beginning.
Once the bag of peas is empty and the rolling trills of ducks become distant, I head into work early.
Tonight is the bar’s bash. I’m sure there’s something I can do to prepare.
There was a time not too long ago that the idea of isolation seemed scary.
Now flying solo seems like a luxury I will never reach.
Between Eamon and my stalker, who may be one in the same, I’ve had little time to experience detachment.
I’m not trying to be bleak; in fact, I feel wanted.
Confused, yes, but I know he’s watching, and I don’t think I’m ready for it to stop.