Jonathan looked at me, considering. “Something tells me Kaira’s not one to shy from the darker sides of life. It’s healthy. It reminds us of the power of beauty and light.”
“Did . . . did she finish all this herself?” I asked, gesturing to the birds. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of their lover’s quarrel, and I both agreed and disagreed with Helen. It didn’t seem right to talk about Mandy’s suicide in terms of art, but then . . . maybe it helped place it in a larger context. Maybe it put meaning to something that seemed so terrible. Or maybe thinking about it like that was disrespectful. I didn’t know her well enough to say.
“She did,” Helen replied. She cast one last disapproving look at Jonathan. “Was in here all weekend working on it. I brought her coffee a few times.”
“And she never mentioned anything?”
Helen shook her head. Jonathan wrapped an arm around her.
“Are you doing okay, Kaira?” he asked. His voice wasn’t the reserved, aloof tone of the teachers I’d had back in public high; he sounded like he actually cared, and the look in his eyes said the same.
“Yeah. Just still in shock, I think.”
“Understandable. It’ll be a while before life returns to normal. Or, well, its new version of normal.” He looked down at his feet, then to me. “If you need to talk, ever, you know how to find me. I don’t know if us advisers are also supposed to work as counselors, but I’ll always be here if you need someone to listen. And I promise not to bring up the Egyptian afterlife again.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Same goes for me,” Helen replied. “You know I’m always here for you, espresso machine and all. And seriously, if you need extra time to get your thesis done, don’t stress, okay? You can always put it off. We understand this is a trying time.”
“Thanks,” I said again. The real thankful part came when they walked by me. As great as they were, I didn’t want to be talking about death or homework or mythology, which felt like some strange mix of the two. I wanted to have a few moments with Mandy’s work. Jonathan put a hand on my shoulder as he passed.
“I’ve put together a little study group,” he said. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to think about right now, but I’d love for you to join. They’re a good group, very supportive—you might find having a group of like-minded peers helpful in these rough times.”
I looked from the cranes to him, wondering why in the world he’d mention studying right now.
“You don’t need to decide now. Just think of it is a second family opening its doors. Standing offer.”
Then, with one more glance to the birds, the two of them walked out into the night, hands held and coats flapping in the snow. I turned back to the display and let the rest of the world fall away.
Thoughts of Jonathan’s offer vanished into clay dust. I felt like I was floating, surrounded by clouds of paper and ceramics. It didn’t make sense. None of this. It was all one giant knot on the verge of unraveling, but there was nothing I could do or say to make it happen any faster. All I knew was that Mandy was dead and Munin was back and Brad wouldn’t shut up and my life—so carefully constructed, so perfect in its detail—was derailing. I wasn’t supposed to be falling for someone. I wasn’t supposed to remember how Brad’s hands felt, how the blade felt. I was supposed to be past this. I had moved on.
I fell to my knees.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know if I was talking to Mandy or myself.
The birds turned slowly. Maybe it was the breeze, maybe it was her ba drifting on to the land of the dead. Or maybe, like me, she was stuck here, mingling in the shadows, tethered to a past that wouldn’t quite let go.
The rest of the week passed by in a fugue. Everything seemed muted—the colors, the conversations, the weather. It snowed fitfully every night, and every morning I’d wake up from blank dreams to bird feet imprinted on the windowsill. If Elisa ever noticed the watcher, she said nothing, though she did start closing the curtains at night. I was completely fine with that. The farther I was from the birds, the better. If only I could have gotten them to leave me alone during the day.
As for the dreams, well . . . I never took the crystal from under my pillow, and if I did dream, I didn’t remember. It felt like staring in the other direction while a train barreled down the rails, but I was oddly okay with it. I didn’t want to know when it was going to hit. I’d avoided the dreams and the shadows before. I could do it again.
I didn’t have any other choice.