The Wings of Birds and Other Unreliable Sources
Bronwyn Roper
Something strange is happening at the Rosewood Apartments on Bourke Street. First there was the dead flying fox hanging from the power line, and then it had fallen and was lying face up on the dead grass rotting and decaying. Hours later someone placed it on top of the wheelie bin left on the footpath since a bin collection night at least six months ago. The bin complete with dead animal was standing next to the driveway reminiscent of a lion watching over the entrance to an estate. Except this was a half-decayed flying fox on a smelly wheelie bin in front of a 1980s brick apartment block. Instead of a protective lion's glare warning passers-by to keep out, the charcoal face had a look of pure terror with the mouth wide open mid-scream. What message did this convey to passers-by instead? That horror lies within and not grandeur worth protecting? Perhaps the flying fox was protecting the passers-by instead of the inhabitants. By all appearances all it was guarding was the quick-fix cement lines flowing down the steep driveway. The cement was a knee-jerk solution to fill in cracks and keep the insurer off the body corporate's back. Now at night the driveway looks like a retro 70s feature with smooth squiggly lines flowing down it. It will not last long as the gardener did a bad job, probably on par with how much the body corporate paid him. With each fall of rain the cement slowly flakes away. The gardener removes the dead flying fox and puts the wheelie bin away. Now the block and the passers-by are not being protected by anything.
Jo slouches against the kitchen bench in Unit 1 waiting for the kettle to boil for her morning caffeine. She looks out the window at the huge gum tree that stands not far from where the flying fox had lain and notices something sitting in the fork not moving. It is a small, dark grey, fury ball and a butcherbird is swooping down pecking at it. The possum does not move. Like the flying fox it too must be dead. Eventually more birds come and fight with each other over the small grey ball sitting in the fork of the gum. They squawk and squawk with a high pitched piercing sound. Eventually enough birds dive and peck making the possum fall onto the dead grass below. The gardener is there to pick it up and throw it away. Jo wonders if it is in the same wheelie bin as the flying fox. Jo wonders if any more dead animals will be placed in the same wheelie bin before the next collection. The birds fly away except one which can still be heard as she moves to sit by the bedroom window to study. It is not the first time she has heard this particular bird. This one often hangs around to torment her with its high pitched squawking. It chirps when she sleeps, it chirps when she studies, it chirps when all she craves is silence. And then there is another gardener at the apartment block two doors down hammering, and sawing, and grinding. And from her bedroom in Unit 1 at the Rosewood Apartments on Bourke Street, Jo thinks she can smell the decaying animals in the wheelie bin. At least it is not quite summer yet.
Jo does not know why these animals have died but believes it has something to do with the return of Cale O'Connor. He left before she moved into the apartment block and all that remains are decaying plants on the end balcony where he and his parents lived. Rumours fly around the apartment block on the wings of the birds. Has he returned? What will happen upon his return?
* * *
Standing on the balcony looking out at the lights of the city Jo hears someone moving down the street. The person walks lazily scraping each foot rhythmically along the cement footpath. The sound ceases near the bushes separating the Rosewood Apartments from the identical block next door and Jo makes out a dark figure. After a moment the figure moves around the back of the building and eventually comes out at the top of the retro driveway. The end garage door opens and a man led by a large beer-gut slips inside dragging his feet the entire way. Jo watches for awhile but he never comes back out. She now knows the whispers are true.
Later that same evening Jo finds herself hosting an impromptu Rosewood party. In attendance are her housemate, a truth-bending crowd pleaser, the brother and sister from Unit 3, a quiet science student and a loud opera singer whose beautiful voice often resounds throughout the building, and the brothers from Unit 6, a pharmacy student not happy studying pharmacy and a drug dealer who answers the questions meant for his brother in a deep patriarchal voice.
Not surprisingly, the conversation continually returns to Cale O'Connor and what will happen now he has returned. Having not yet met him, Jo remains mute on the subject, instead listening and learning. She learns that he steals anything he can, even the wheelie bins. She learns he lived in the garage until both his parents died. She learns there is no electricity or running water in Unit 5. She learns he has knocked out walls and this has caused the building to shift and the driveway to crack. She does not believe all she hears as most is spoken by the crowd pleaser as he slowly adds more to his flock of intolerance.
* * *
Is Jo somehow responsible for the flying fox and the possum? Does she deserve to be tormented by the squawking bird? The guilt pulls at her neck and shoulders making them taught and tenser. Cale O'Connor ran a hose from his second floor balcony to the tap in the driveway getting water from the body corporate. When she mentions it to the crowd pleaser he grabs a pair of scissors and severs the nozzle. He brings it back and lays it on the floor near the bathroom like a shameful trophy. If anyone asks, Jo will say she was just joking when she suggested he do it. But she feels guilt over her actions towards a man she has never met. The stories she hears are from the wings of birds and other unreliable sources. And here she is inciting spitefulness and creating more ill feeling amongst the flock. To what harm? Jo feels the pain of guilt slowly rise up the back of her neck and rest in her head where it will stay awhile. Maybe another animal will die. Maybe another bird will come to torment her. Maybe she will deserve it.
Cale O'Connor still tries to revive the dead plants. He finds a new nozzle but does not leave it dangling any more. He never turns the tap all the way off and it drips constantly. When he waters the plants it becomes a waterfall onto the balcony below. The quiet Asians living there do not complain. Instead they remove everything from their balcony and do not dry their clothes outside anymore. This water, plus the deluge caused by storms over the past few days, has caused the retro cement lines to chip away leaving the cracks exposed. Now, instead of hiding the cracks, the cement lines highlight them.
The pharmacy student moans to Jo about Cale O'Connor. While he is squawking she notices his pointed nose is much bigger than she first thought. The deep throated drug dealer is strangely mute but continues to open the door to dark figures at odd hours. The crowd pleaser gets drunk and breaks a chair. He slurs "I got rid of him once, I'll do it again". The science student and opera singer say they will be moving soon. They are sick of Cale O'Connor, the body corporate, the smell of pot that wafts up through their bathroom drain and the cracks in their ceiling and walls that grow bigger every day.
* * *
The pharmacy student and drug dealer visit Jo and the crowd pleaser. They make themselves at home on the sofa in Unit 1 and drink beer. A parcel has gone missing from their stoop. The crowd pleaser offers up the name Cale O'Connor but this is not a new idea to the brothers. Their heads bob up and down slowly in agreement as a course of action is discussed and Jo turns a blind eye. Instead she watches a trail of ants crawling up the wall. More and more ants come followed by the rain. The cracks become rivulets sweeping down the driveway, past the wheelie bin and into the street beyond.
A skip is parked at the top of the driveway at the Rosewood Apartments on Bourke Street and the O'Connor unit is violently emptied by two tattooed men lobbing furniture over the balcony. The decaying plants disappear and the stolen wheelie bins are returned. Jo moves on carrying her guilt laden luggage with her wherever she goes. The cracked walls drive out the science student and opera singer, business goes badly for the pharmacy student and deep throated drug dealer, and the crowd pleaser has another drink. In his nightly stupor he plots more ways to rid his world of Cale O'Connor. In his nightly stupor he watches over the balcony searching out new recruits. To survive he must create new strategies and unite a bigger, stronger, smarter flock of intolerance. But for now he will pour another drink because he does not know yet how to fight the demon within.
