She doesn’t remember me… or maybe she doesn’t want to. I look into the bright brow eyes of the woman across from me, hoping that maybe this time I will see a gleam of recognition. It never comes. Parcheck, my partner in crime, a parakeet with more brains that half of the business lot I’m serving on their lunch break, flutters onto her shoulder.
”I think he likes you,” I say as I watch the woman’s reaction. Her luscious pink lips fold into a smile as the bird makes itself comfortable on her shoulder. The reaction to Parcheck makes what I’m about to do next all the more difficult. I remind myself that Louisa Essair is the embodiment of everything I hate- successful, smart, beautiful. When digging up information on her, I was surprised to find that we’d grown up in the same apartment complex, just doors down from one another. If things had turned out differently, if the government hadn’t snatched away my parents at the age of five, I could be working along beside her instead of shoveling out hotdogs to make a living.
”Would you like to feed him?” I ask and offer her a small can of bird seed. I’m still wearing my plastic serving gloves in an effort to make sure it’s her fingerprints, not mine that are over the small tin.
She takes the small metal can happily and pours a little bit of seed into the palm her hand. The man besides her seems impatient as he shuffles back and forth on his feet, but Louisa Essair pays him no mind. Her eyes are filled with joy as she watches Parcheck greedily gobble up the grain. As for the can of seed, the plan is simple enough. I simple have to make sure someone leaves their fingerprints on an object and then plant that object near the next explosion site. Since the building we were planning on bombing is restricted, there would be no good reason for that person to be in the vicinity in the first place. I strongly agreed with the Rebel leader’s plan. Someone working in the Office of Security would be the perfect candidate to take the fall for our next bombing having ability (thanks to their security passes) if not the motive. The government was always looking for a scape goat and it was so much easier when we simply handed them one. Yes an innocent would take the fall but we did it for the common good.
”What other kinds of foods does he eat?” Her voice is low, almost melodic.
”He like carrots and especially partial to melon.” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. ”Just take the can back and get it over with.” I remind myself.
”I’ll try to bring him a piece of cantaloupe sometime.” She replies, beaming up at me. ”Would you like that, sir bird?”
Parcheck, as if somehow sensing her question (or at least understanding the word ‘melon’) chitters at her a bit before fluttering back to my shoulder. She hands the can of birdseed back to me before waving good-bye and walking away.
I am touched by her words. I used my first paycheck to purchase Parcheck. I saw him in the window of a dirty pet shop one afternoon. He was all alone, shut away in a small rusting cage. There was something about him that reminded me of myself. Parcheck, oblivious of my reminiscing nibbles gently on my earlobe before hopping onto his perch attached to the umbrella of my stand. ”Cantaloupe, hmm?” I say to myself. ”Cantaloupe is really expensive.” As were most foods that had to be grown in biospheres. I could hardly remember the taste of the orange fruit, it’d been so long. I reach over and quickly use a nearby napkin to wipe her fingerprints off the can. I can always find someone else.
