Chapter 21
Nora
BudgieFest is finally here.
And, ta-da, my list is complete. Of course, the cottage still needs work, but it’s clean and organized, I’ve found good homes for several more budgies, and the book is compiled with all Grandma’s love letters and memorabilia.
Now what?
Dread pools in the pit of my belly. I’m not sure what my future looks like, but I can’t stay at Elias’s house forever, piddling through Grandma’s things.
I need to deal with my apartment. I need to find a new job. I need to remember I have a life outside of Budgie Bay.
The icky feeling doesn’t go away. Nothing about leaving feels right.
At least I don’t have to worry about all that right now.
Today is a nostalgic one. Elias is taking me to BudgieFest. While he sells his metal cages, I’ll poke around and see what sort of trouble I can get myself into.
Mostly, I just want to find all the food trucks and pass out my grandma’s budgie care book.
Traffic is a nightmare as we approach the Plumage Expo Center. There are parking lots, but they’re backed up as people try to find a spot. Elias, used to going in slow-motion, drums his fingers on the steering wheel, singing loud and off-key to an Alan Jackson song.
Weeks ago, I might have been filled with anxiety, eager to get to my destination. But, with my bare feet propped up on the dash and my hand outside the window, I dance and sing along with him. There’s no rush. It’s kind of nice.
After an eternity, and we’re both sweating, Elias finds a spot a country mile away.
We don’t complain. I slide my feet back into my sandals, grab my crossbody purse, and then am about to climb out when the door flings open for me.
Elias offers me a hand and a grin that makes my heart beat a little too fast in this heat.
“Thanks,” I say as I slide on my purse and then take his hand.
He pulls me out of the truck but doesn’t let go. His dad is manning his booth this morning, so we have some time to peruse before he goes to give him a break.
“Is this a date?” I ask in a teasing voice.
Elias doesn’t say anything for so long, I squirm and huff. Finally, he chuckles and winks at me. “Yup.”
His grip on my hand tightens and it sends electric jolts through me. It’s strange how we’ve made it to this point. When I’d first arrived, I couldn’t stand him. Then, somewhere along the way, we got to this. Holding hands.
And I do like him.
A lot.
My hair is messy and pulled up in a bun. I’m not wearing any makeup. And the dress is one I picked up at Molt Mercantile yesterday for three bucks. It’s so far from the New Yorker I was just weeks ago. Somehow, though, it’s the most comfortable I’ve felt in my entire adult life.
BudgieFest is packed. The event grounds are covered in booths, food trucks, and endless amounts of people. I’m reminded of being a child, clutching onto Grandma’s hand, begging her to take me here and there and everywhere.
Even though my chest aches at the thought of her, I don’t let it dampen my mood. Just honoring my grandma by thinking of her.
We pass by several booths selling cool handmade items. I’m enamored by the wind chimes. Elias not-so-discreetly hands her some cash to purchase the one I was looking at. It’s one of the things I like about him. He’s observant and anticipates my needs.
My chest aches with longing. I miss my grandma so much. She’d love this budding thing between us. Grandma always wanted me to be happy and to follow my heart. I followed it to Budgie Bay and now I’m unsure where to go next.
“Want your face painted?” a woman with feathers painted on her face asks me. “Only five dollars.”
I glance over at Elias and he smirks. “It’s your face.”
After giving him an eye roll, I slide into the vacant chair in front of the woman. Before I can pull out any cash, Elias tosses her a five.
So, this really is a date.
A hot flush prickles over my skin.
“Pink feathers?” the woman asks. “You look like a pink girlie.”
Since I love pink, I nod and let her paint my face like I’m ten years old again. When she finishes some time later, I love the pink and white feathers fanning out over my cheeks.
“You next?” the woman asks Elias.
Before he can undoubtedly turn her down, a little kid shoves past him and takes the seat, thrusting money at the woman. We take that as our cue to leave. When we come up to a bird cage booth, I smile at seeing Rudy.
“Hey, Dad,” Elias says as he gives his father a hug and then stows the wind chimes behind the table. “How’s business?”
“Selling the small ones fast.” Rudy looks over at me and chuckles at my face paint. “You enjoying yourself, Nora?”
“Absolutely.” I beam at him. “And you?”
“BudgieFest never disappoints.”
We chat for a few more minutes and then we leave Rudy to deal with more customers. Elias takes my hand again like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Everything’s great until we come up to a packed booth. Panicked chirps behind excited people yapping tells me we’re at a breeder’s booth.
Grandma used to tell me not all of them are bad. She was even friends with some good ones. But the stench of bird poop that’s been hanging around for a while tells me these aren’t the good people.
“You sure you want to go look?” Elias asks, voice low and gravelly, somehow finding my ear despite all the chaotic noise.
A particularly sharp chirp has my heart rate skyrocketing. I give him a panicked nod. Then, because he’s a massive man, albeit a slow one, he plows his way through the people and makes a way for me to see the birds in distress.
The scene breaks my heart.
There are close to a hundred of them in disgustingly filthy cages, packed in like sardines, all of them stressed to the max.
People are thrusting money at the breeders like they can’t make the transaction quick enough.
Odds are some of the buyers will be good parents to these birds, but it’s a small number.
It’s reminiscent of people giving out goldfish as prizes at a carnival. It’s bordering on cruel.
I can’t save a hundred budgies. I’m in the middle of trying to rehome the few I have left. Helplessness claws at me. My breakfast curdles in my gut.
“Come on,” Elias growls, tugging me away from the madness.
My breaths come out short and uneven. A wave of dizziness washes over me. He all but drags me to a space between two tents. The breeze rushes though the area, instantly cooling me off.
“Stay here,” he instructs. “I’m going to find you something to drink.”
I nod and squat, trying to catch my breath.
No wonder Grandma spent all her free time trying to rescue these budgies. This is abuse and neglect. I feel so helpless.
I’m on the verge of a massive breakdown, but I breathe through it.
I may not be able to save all these budgies, but I can do other things.
Like figure out who allows these people to come to BudgieFest in the first place.
There should be permits or requirement or some sort of inspection that these people must pass first.
Who’s in charge around here?
As if I’ve summoned him on thoughts alone, a man clears his throat, his voice echoing through speakers throughout the outdoor expo area.
“Welcome to BudgieFest, my friends!” the man booms, voice so loud my eardrums hurt. “I’m your mayor, Gregory McDonald. We’re thrilled to host this annual event and are so happy you’re here. There are enough budgies for everyone, so please be courteous to your neighbors in line.”
Disgust ripples through me. At least I have a name now. Thanks, Grandma. That felt like divine timing.
“Oh, what’s that now?” Gregory’s laughter rattles through the speakers. “We have a guest that is very adamant to speak.”
For a moment, I wish it were Elias to tell all these people off. Or Grandma back from the grave to scare everyone away. The voice that comes out next is familiar, though neither of theirs.
“Nora? Nora Everhart? Are you here?”
I rise to my feet, a sick feeling washing over me. With unmasked shock, I make my way out of my hiding place and past the breeder booth.
“Nora, if you’re here, make it the… What’s it called?”
Gregory’s voice joins the mic. “Spangle Stage.”
I shake my head as I start weaving around people, trying to get to the location of my nightmare come to life.
“She’s here!” someone calls out, jabbing a finger at me. I’m pretty sure that was Huck. Little traitor.
With bile creeping up my throat, I push my way past a group of people on a pathway to the stage. When there’s a clearing and I can see Spangle Stage, I’m not at all surprised to see the face that matches the familiar voice.
Standing in chinos, a crisp white Polo, and Aviator sunglasses with perfectly gelled blond hair is Denver Locke. My ex-boyfriend. The same guy I ended it with.
Why is he here?
When he spots me, he flashes his megawatt grin that used to feel so good when aimed my way. Now, it feels fake and unwanted.
“My girlfriend missed her grandma’s funeral because of me,” he says, face pinching. “I messed up bad. I know this.”
I shake my head, mouthing for him to stop. He doesn’t.
“I think I broke her heart and she was understandably angry with me.” He points at some men nearby. “Guys, help her up here. I need to apologize to my girl.”
I’m not his girl.
Anger flares up but the humiliation I’m feeling in this moment wins out. I just want him to stop talking. If I can get up there, maybe I can end this. Four men practically manhandle me, tossing me up on the stage, chuckling at themselves.
I scramble to my feet and storm over to Denver.
The crowd cheers.
No.
Ugh.
“What are you doing?” I hiss when I’m close. “Turn that microphone off.”
He shakes his head, holding it out of reach. I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him. With a grin spreading back over his face, he brings the mic back to his mouth.
“I’m sorry, Nor-Nor,” he says, voice genuine. “Please forgive me.”
I don’t doubt he’s sorry, but this whole surprise attack thing makes me want to scream in frustration.
“Fine,” I blurt out.
More cheers from the crowd. I close my eyes, wishing I had real wings rather than the fake ones on my face, so I could fly away from this horror show.
“Nora Everhart,” Denver murmurs. “I should have asked you this a long time ago.”
The crowd goes nuts. I snap my eyes open to see Denver on one knee, holding up the most gigantic rock on a ring I’ve ever seen. It must’ve cost a fortune.
“What are you doing?” I choke out. “Get up.”
“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” he asks, hope burning in my eyes. “I’ll be the best husband. I swear.”
“Say yes, girl, or I will!” a woman hollers from the audience, roaring laughter following.
I get the distinct feeling that someone is watching me. Not all these people. Not Denver. Someone whom I actually care about. I tear my eyes from the woman who’s ready to swoop in and take my place, scanning the endless sea of people and looking for one person.
My eyes land on a familiar, grumpy bearded man. In one hand, he has a giant drink for me and in the other he has one of those filthy cages stuffed full of budgies.
He rescued some of them.
For me.
And I’m on the wrong side of the stage with the wrong man.
I burst into tears.
“I think that’s a yes!” someone shouts.
It’s most definitely not a yes.
A second later, Elias is gone.