Free Kindergarten Baby: A Novel by Cricket Rohman

Lindsey wondered vaguely if it were a dream. Nothing felt real.
    The source of the mysterious noise suddenly hopped up on the end of the patio lounge chair and flapped its wings, singing with great vigor.
    “Who are you?” Lindsey asked, staring at the beautiful white bird.
    She’d never seen such an exotic bird before, and had a feeling it wasn’t a desert native. It wouldn’t do well in the snow. Lindsey sat straight up, suddenly alert. Snow? She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering convulsively.
    “You must be f-f-freezing,” she said through chattering teeth. “We’d b-better get inside.”
    The strange little bird climbed onto Lindsey’s outstretched hand, and it didn’t object at all to being carried into the warm house. The last few embers of the fire were still flickering faintly, and Lindsey went directly to its delicious heat. She had no idea what to do with the bird, which kept up with its enthusiastic singing. The little yellow head cocked to the side, and she noticed its tiny crown and orange cheeks. It gave another wolf whistle, then declared “Pretty bird!”
    “I don’t have any bird seed,” she told her visitor, “if that’s what you want. I could get you some tomorrow. How about a drink of water?” The bird scooped the water up with its curved beak then tipped back its head, obviously thirsty. “How about some banana?” He pecked at it a bit, but Lindsey wasn’t sure he actually ate any of it.
    As the bird warmed up, so did its singing. It gave her a comical sampling of little bird songs, trills, whistles, chirps, and squawks.
    “Take a breath, little guy!” Lindsey said, laughing, and it seemed to understand. For the next thirty minutes or so, her feathered friend ceased talking whenever she spoke, then resumed its twittering when she was quiet. Lindsey freshened her wine and refilled the bird’s saucer of water.
    “You know, bird, if I am going to tell you my life’s woes, you’ll need a name. How about Tweety? Nah. Already taken. Polly? Nope, too old fashioned.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “How about Malcolm? I like the sound of that. So, Malcolm, here’s the story. Just before you flew into my life, I didn’t much care if I lived or died. I actually felt like I had died already in a way.”
    The bird reacted with a shrill litany of chirps.
    “I know. Pitiful, huh? But my husband is divorcing me. He’s leaving me so he can be with a stripper.”
    “Pretty bird. Pretty bird. Pretty bird.”
    “Oh, sure. She’s pretty. So pretty she doesn’t look real. But you know what? I can’t think about her anymore. I can’t think about him anymore, either. I’ve got to think about myself‌—‌and you, of course. Don’t worry. I won’t send you out in the cold. You don’t look like a wild bird. You’re probably someone’s lost pet. And I’m sure they miss you very, very much. I’ll put out some posters in the morning.”
    Lindsey and Malcolm continued their conversation until midnight, then she found some old newspapers and placed them under the large vase on her coffee table where Malcolm perched. She hadn’t seen him fly yet, and he didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. He tucked his head to the side, almost laying it on his own shoulder, then drifted off to sleep. Lindsey still couldn’t go back to her bed, since it brought back memories of the betrayal, so she laid down on the living room sofa.
    Just before she fell asleep, she looked at Malcolm, then whispered to herself, “My very own little white bird. Cinderella would be proud.”

WINTER

CHAPTER TEN
    When Lindsey and Laura arrived at the Bright Angel Lodge, almost six inches of new fallen snow had accumulated. It was absolutely beautiful. Lindsey was relieved to see that the stone steps they were about to climb had been shoveled. She grinned up at the lodge then grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed it.
    “This is fantastic, Laura. So rustic! And I don’t think I’ve seen this much snow