A Long Needed Rest
Todd Altman

He carefully walks up the three flights of stairs to his upper-west end apartment, stopping to rest at every landing. The pain in his legs has been getting worse over the past few months, but the doctors refused to give him any more medication.

“You are taking more now than I can legally prescribe a patient,” one had explained, “if you take any more, I’m afraid it would stop your heart.” The doctor didn’t even know what was causing the pain. The man was told he has arthritis, but that is in his hands, not his legs. Another doctor has actually said to him that the pain is just old age catching up to him. And, at 89, the man supposed he was right.

At last, he arrives at number 301. The building Superintendent had kindly given him the unit at the top of the stairs, commenting that it was not as far to walk. How could a 20-minute trudge up three flights of stairs be “not as far to walk”? If he lived on the first floor, he would have gladly walked the length of the entire hall to reach his room. But, the man smiled and shook the Super’s hand as he took the keys.

He opens the unlocked door into a small empty kitchen. It’s too much of a nuisance to keep the door locked anymore; besides, the door to get in the building is always locked. He takes the tiny bottle out of his coat pocket and places it on the table by the window, then sits in one of the chairs to rest. What he really wants is a nice long nap, but he has something to take care of first.

“Good afternoon, Tawny,” The man says with a smile. There is a birdcage hanging in the corner next to the table with a yellow canary sitting on its perch. Tawny gives a hearty chirp in response. The man opens the cage door and places a long bony finger just below the tiny bird’s chest. Tawny steps onto his perch of flesh, and a claw pierces the delicate skin. The man grimaces and grabs a napkin from the holder on the table. Tawny, chirping almost apologetically, moves further down the man’s finger.

The man wipes the drop of blood from the tip of his finger, and gently strokes the bird’s head. “It’s ok, Tawny. It’s only a scratch.” He smiles at the bird again, and places it on his shoulder.

The man remembers the bright and sunny day that he found Tawny. He was leaving the hospital his wife was in, and passed by a pet shop. He had passed by here perhaps a thousand times and had never even looked in the window. Today he did. I should go in, if only to look around, he thought to himself. There was an older woman cleaning birdcages, maybe not as old as him, but gray and wrinkled nonetheless, and she had a small yellow bird on top of her head.

“Be right with you,” the woman said. The man laughed at the sight. He laughed deep and loud. He laughed until there were tears coming out of his eyes, and then he laughed some more. He apologized to the woman when he was able to speak again. “That’s ok,” she said, “I know how silly I must look, but this little one likes to watch what a person is doing.” As if in response, the bird flitters off the woman’s head, and over to land on the man’s shoulder.

“I’ll take him,” he said, and that was that.

The man then stands to open the window, letting in the fresh afternoon air. He remembers to put on the battered leather glove this time, before getting Tawny from his shoulder. “You have been my dearest friend for the last two years, and I thank you,” he says to the bird. “Maybe you’ll find a new person who will read Dickens and Bronte to you.” The man had tried newer authors several times, but Tawny would flitter about the room during John Grisham, and fly right back into his cage when the man would open a Stephen King novel.

The man places his gloved hand with Tawny on it just outside the window. The bird steps sideways back towards the man’s wrist, stopping at the edge of the glove. He cocks his head sideways, staring at the man, as if to ask, “What’s the big idea, putting me outside?”

“Go on, Tawny, you’re free now,” says the man. He flicks his hand gently, and the bird takes flight. He flies about two inches from the man’s hand, then right back in the window, and onto its cage. “You are a silly bird sometimes.” The man reaches for the bird to place back into its cage. He leaves the door open, and removes the cage from the hook hanging from the ceiling. He then places the cage on the table, with the door facing the window. “I guess you’ll leave when you’re good and ready.”

The Man picks up the tiny bottle, and goes to the cupboard for a glass. He runs water from the tap until it is cool, and then places the glass in the stream, turning the faucet off when the glass is half full. He then opens the bottle, and removes two yellow tablets. The Man looks back at the bird, and makes a toast; “To a long-needed rest.” He lifts his glass and places the tablets on his tongue. He then takes a dink, letting the water take the pills down his throat.

The young man he bought the pills from said they would be very effective, and would take about twenty minutes to “kick in”. The Man went to his small bedroom and lay down on the bed.

He had wanted to sit in his favorite chair, but it would be easier for them to remove his body if he were lying down. The man takes a picture off the nightstand. It is of him and his wife, taken many years ago, when they were on one of their summer trips, apparently. They are sitting on foldout chairs on some beach, holding up drinks with little umbrellas in them. His wife said she just liked the umbrella, but didn’t care much for the drink itself. She must have been about 20 years old in this picture. They had gone on vacations every year while she was still with him. Even when they got too old to be sitting on beaches and too old to be drinking drinks with umbrellas in them, they would still have gone somewhere.

He felt a tugging on his earlobe, and opened his eyes. He didn’t even remember closing them; the pills must be working. Tawny had flown into the room, and was now chirping in his ear. The man turned his head to look at the tiny bird. Tawny hops back and flaps his wings. He is raised into the air, and comes to land on the Man’s chest. “Why don’t you go free, Tawny? Don’t you know that I won’t be here much longer?”

The man lovingly pets the bird’s head for the final time, and smiles. He is getting very sleepy now, and can barely keep his eyes open. He is surprised to realize that, for the first time in years, he feels no pain.