Landed Wings

chapter 28: GROOMING



ASHLYNN

The gala is coming up, and I still have to get the dye and makeup. I have forgiven Mocha, mainly for convenience. I can’t go into this without a friend at my side. He doesn’t know. But I don’t feel like what I’m doing is right anymore. I’m not a killer and there’s never an excuse for taking life. I wake, for once, before Mocha does, and stretch. I open and close my wings, trying to get the circulation going. I rustle them, and a couple fall to the floor. I grimace. I haven’t groomed my wings for a couple of weeks, I sigh and sit on the floor with them stretched out. This will be hard, it’s a two person job because I can’t really reach. I don’t want to wake Mocha up, but I realize that I can’t do this myself. Usually Ivory did it, or my mother, but they’re both not here so…

“I need help.”

I talk to Mocha even though he’s sleeping.

“I can’t groom myself.”

He wakes up so quickly, I’m not sure he was really sleeping. He goes into the bathroom and comes out with a grooming brush. It’s sort of like a large tooth comb, only the spines are soft, because it just needs enough force to take out any loose feathers. He comes back and kneels beside me. I lay on the floor, wings spread out, and he starts to brush softly.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“You won’t.”

He continues brushing and I feel the loose feathers giving way. There’s also oil within the spines that comes out onto your feathers. It makes them shinier and sleeker, but also helps you fly better.

“Mocha, we have to get the stuff for the gala today. The hair/wing dye, and the makeup.”

“I know.”

I feel really tired and pampered. Grooming always does this to me.

“Well then, what color do you want? You could just be an anomaly, you know, with red hair. You’ll look exotic.”

“Ok…”

My voice trails off.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yeah….”

“You have to do my wings too.”

“Later.”

I murmur and close my eyes. I guess he really wanted his wings groomed, because he put down the brush and starting touching mine the way he had in the park. My wings quiver and rustle. They rise up a little then back down.

“Hey, quit that.”

“Not until you get up.”

“Fine, fine. Gah I hate you.”

“Mmhmm. Sure. Ash. Sure.”

He doesn’t stop. So I get up and he is forced to move away.

“Lay down, honeybuns.”

He looks at me with genuine horror on his face. I laugh so hard that I fall back on my newly groomed wings.

“Ash…if you ever want to get me to shut up, just call me

honeybuns. I have never been more horrified in my life.”

I giggle, and he lays down muttering honeybuns under his breath. I pick up the brush and start grooming him. I’m not sure if I am supposed to groom over his scars, or around them. I don’t want to ask, because I’m afraid he might be sensitive to it. I decide not to ask and just go with instinct. I notice that the feathers surrounding his scars are very small and almost downy.

“Mocha…how did you groom your wings all these years?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you do it by yourself?”

“Ginger did for me.”

“Ginger?”

I can’t see that woman doing anything like that. The only

person I know tougher than Ginger is my mom and that’s not really a good thing.

“Yeah, Ginger. She’s like my secondary mom.”

I thought about something that should have occurred to me long ago, lots of people at the meeting were wearing coats.

“Mocha, do the others have wings?”

“A few…Razz, Sloe, Custard, Cappuccino all do.”

“I can’t believe that her name is Custard.”

“She can’t believe it either.”

He looks at me sideways and we laugh.

“Can I come with you?”

“Where?”

“To wherever you’re getting the dye.”

He turns his head back around.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea Ash. People around here know me, but they don’t know you.”

“I’m restless Mocha. The only places I’ve been are this house and the meeting place. I want to go somewhere, do

something.”

“I know you’re restless Ash. It’s such an integral part of your character that it’s hard to forget.”

His voice sounds funny. It’s emotionless, dead. I stop

grooming.

“What’s hard to forget, Mocha?”

“What?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s the matter.”

He’s lying, and I push towards him, trying to figure it out. I only get impressions and feelings, no words because he’s trying to block me. But I get the feeling that he thinks that because I’m so restless, that one day my itchy wings will carry me away from him. I don’t know what to tell him. Because I do get itchy wings. But I just don’t ever see me leaving without him.

“Mocha. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mocha still isn’t moving.

“How can you live like that Ash? Never grounded, always

moving on. Are you only here until the adventure runs out?”

“I don’t see this as an adventure, Mocha, you know that. Or at least I hope you know that.”

“What about the future? You know…I mean I know we’re young, and we don’t even know if we’ll survive Friday, but what about later? What if, if we’re still together, what if we want a family? Hmm? Are you going to get bored and skip out on them too?”

Whoa. Wait, what? Family?

“Mocha, I’m seventeen, I’m not ready to talk about or even think about a family. If I had a family, I would never leave them, you should know that. Right now it’s just you and me and I would never leave you -why do you keep thinking I would?”

“Because I know how you are Ash. If something doesn’t

interest you…well then to you it’s not worth sticking with.”

“You’re wrong, I promise you. What do you want me to say?”

“There’s nothing you can say. Because you’ll still be who you are.”

He stands up and looks down at me kneeling on the floor,

holding the brush limply in my right hand. I am crestfallen. He leans down and kisses my forehead.

“But Mocha, I’m not done…”

“I have to got get the stuff early Princess.”

He walks out of the door and doesn’t look back. I think we just had an argument, but I don’t know. I don’t understand him. Is he trying to push me away so I don’t get attached? There’s something he’s not telling me but I can’t figure out what it is. I get up and put the comb back in the bathroom. I set it down slowly on the counter and stare at my reflection, trying to picture how I’ll look with red hair. When Mocha comes back, I’m just going to act normally. I don’t know what to say, so I’m not going to say anything. I hope he’ll listen to my thoughts and see that even though the restless part is there, so is a love that is sometimes so irrational it scares me.