“I know.” I slowly nod my head. “I fucking know. Rock bottom. But the only thing that’s getting me to keep moving forward is the idea that I could take a picture with Kazoo in our matching shirts. I actually giggled at one point thinking about it.”
“Giggled?” Breaker’s eyes widen. “Come on, man. We need to get you up, showered, back to the office, back to a routine.”
“I paid extra for a rush fee. I also looked into classes on how to communicate with the pigeons. You can train them to deliver messages. I was thinking about writing a love letter to Kelsey and having a pigeon deliver it to her. Isn’t that romantic?”
Breaker stares blankly at me. “No, man. No, it’s not. It’s fucking creepy. You realize pigeons are better known as the rat of the sky?”
I pop off the couch so fast, Breaker falls back on the coffee table. “You know, that’s exactly what an uneducated nitwit would say. Did you know that pigeons are actually intelligent and complex? They’re one of the only animals on the planet to pass the mirror test. Meaning, you stick a mirror in front of them and they fucking know they’re looking at their reflection. Are rats passing that test? No, they’re just sitting there, in creepy holes, gnawing at their nuts until they can find something better to chew on.”
“Okay, sorry I mentioned it.”
“Also, there’s very little scientific evidence that pigeons carry diseases. And contrary to what’s blasted all over the media, pigeons are quite clean animals.”
“I’m not sure pigeons are being blasted on the media.”
“And you know what?” Hands on my hips, irritation roaring through me, I say, “Pigeons mate for life. They meet their one and only, and they’re set.” My voice grows scratchy as I think about Kelsey. “They don’t need to second-guess their decision. They just... know.”
“JP, are you okay?”
I sniff. “They understand that the feathered beauty in front of them is for them and them alone.” I wipe at my nose. “They mate, they have two chicks, and they spend the rest of their years, feather in feather, like hand in hand, flying off into the sunset.”
“I think we need to get you out of here.”
I swipe at my eyes. “That’s what I need to do. I need to ask Kelsey to be my pigeon.” Frantically, I look around for my phone. “I need to text her.”
Breaker grips my arm. “That’s not a good idea. She won’t understand.”
“Then I’ll explain it to her,” I say, feeling my expression go slightly crazy. “I’ll send her a video, telling her all about pigeon mating rituals.”
“Dude, really bad idea, especially with the way you look right now.”
“I’ll show her a video. I found this really great one about how pigeons communicate. It made me think of her, especially since one of the pigeons it focused on had some gold feathers on its neck. It reminded me of Kelsey’s eyes. In my head, I named it Kelsey and—”
Thwap.
I’m knocked back on the couch, pain ricocheting through my face as I stare up at Breaker, who’s shaking out his hand. I slowly process the warm spot on my cheek where I was struck.
“You hit me,” I say, stating the obvious.
“I’m not even sorry. It had to be done.” He lets out a deep breath. “Look around you. You’re drowning yourself in sugar cane root beer that I can only assume tastes like a foot, you’re attempting to twin with a goddamn pigeon you’ve never met, and you’re naming fictional pigeons Kelsey. This isn’t just rock bottom, this is crossing a line, and to hell if I’m going to sit back and watch. Now get the fuck up, go take a goddamn shower, and get your shit together, because there’s no way in hell Kelsey is going to want to talk to a guy who’s attempting to crack the code on pigeon communication so he can tell her how much he loves her. Newsflash—that’s not romantic.”
I blink a few times, and even though I’ve settled into the comfort of my own—if you will—nest, I realize that he’s right. Who knows if Kelsey will come back, or when... but if she does, she can’t find me like this. No fucking way.
I scrub my hand over my face and say, “Fuck, I’m embarrassed.”
“You should be. Fuck. Now go get clean. I’m ordering dinner, and you’re going to work tomorrow.”
“You’re right.” I stand again and head toward the stairs. “You’re right, I really need to get back to work, get back into the swing of things. Who knows, maybe this was the wake-up call I needed.”
* * *
I.
Want.
To.
Die.
