"Hey Dad,
I'm writing to you,
Not to tell you that I hate you.
Just to ask you how you feel
And how we fell apart,
How this fell apart.
Are you happy out there in this great wide world?
Do you think about your wife?
Do you miss your little girl?
When you lay your head down,
How do you sleep at night?
Do you even wonder if we're alright?"
I bowed my head, letting it hang down, my forehead finally coming to rest on my guitar. I wish you were here…
The fluttering of wings caught my attention, my head jerking up. A beautiful red bird perched on my windowsill. Awestruck, I laid my guitar on the bed and opened the window. The bird flew in and steadied itself on my guitar, its talons curled around its teal neck. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Its neck was slender, it's eyes calm and wise, it's dazzlingly red feathers traced with gold. That's when I realized it was carrying a letter.
I inched forward, unsure whether or not the beautiful creature would let me near it, or if it was safe. The bird held my gaze; it's head tilting slightly with curiosity. I reached slowly for the letter, and to my surprise, it let me take it. In fact, it was almost like it wanted me to. Could it be for me? I glanced up at it, and it waited patiently, as if giving me permission. I turned the letter over to see it was sealed with a logo, some sort of company?
Dear Miss Bennett,
Woah, it was for me!
…you have been accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry…
My face fell. This was only a prank. Witchcraft? Yeah, right.
"What are you? Some sort of witch's familiar?" I asked the bird, suddenly irritated. I had been hoping for something else, something that could help me escape from this nightmare. Mom, I wish you were here.
Ever since my mom- passed away, I had been staying with my neighbor, Mrs. Wilde. I had no remaining family, but Mrs. Wilde and my mother had been fairly close and she had officially adopted me, though I doubted she could ever love me like a mother could. Mrs. Wilde was against foster homes, she was too well informed on how damaging they could be to a child, so she insisted on taking me in and raising me properly, but it wasn't the same. She had talked to her about public school, suggesting it to me because her job was too demanding to spend that much time with me. We had agreed on it, though she had never spoken to me about it after that conversation, about how I would get there, what it would be like, not a word.
"Who's your owner?" I asked the bird, searching for a tag, but finding none. The bird gazed into my eyes, somehow communicating through them. "Is this for real?" I asked, staring at the letter. Could it be? It seems authentic, and this bird is definitely exotic.
"Karen?" I called, hoping she would come up and make sense of things. Maybe I shouldn't tell her. She'd think I'm crazy!
The bird squawked, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was more of a cry; a mourning sound. Karen walked into the room, her brown curls bouncing behind her, the streaks of gray catching the morning light from the window.
"Oh, Fawx, you've come earlier than I thought you would," she held out her arm and the bird flew from my guitar to rest on her, speaking to her through its eyes. The guitar strings thrummed from Fawx's absence.
"You know him?" I asked, wondering suddenly if she knew about the letter as well.
"Yes, my dear. I know Fawx, I have sent letters to his owner for quite some time, about your situation"
"So do you know about this?" I held the letter up.
"Yes, I was expecting you to have gotten it when you were eleven, but your mother must have requested you stay here. But now, you have no reason to stay"
"You mean it's real? This magic school"
"Yes, it is as real as you are a witch"
"A witch?" I scoffed, unintentionally. I didn't mean to offend her, she has only been kind to me, but she was speaking madness. Magic and witchcraft, pah!
"Your father was one as well. I believe he lives in England, quite near this school"
"My… father?" I looked down at the letter. This could be my chance to meet him. Maybe he's missed me as much as I long to meet him.
"How are we going to get there?" I asked. She smiled knowingly and clicked her tongue. Fawx cried out and took off, landing on the windowsill again.
"Come with me," she led me down the stairs and to the garage, her velvet lavender dress trailing behind her. She held her arm out, her long sleeve hanging from her arm, and unlocked the door. Inside, the lights turned on automatically. There, in the middle of the clustered room, was her green Volkswagen beetle. I assumed it was left over from her hippie days. She circled around the car and got into the passenger seat.
"Aren't you driving?" I asked, slightly confused.
"Of course dear," she smiled at me through the window. I opened the door and realized the steering wheel was on the right side of the car, like the European cars were fashioned. She turned the key and started the car.
"We're leaving now? What about my stuff?" I hesitated, looking back towards the house, as if I could see through the walls into my room.
"Your trunk is right here, dear," she said, motioning to the backseat. I turned and, surprisingly, there was a suitcase back there. It wasn't my suitcase, however, it was bigger and made of different material. What had she called it- a trunk?
"What about my guitar?" I asked worriedly, I couldn't leave it behind.
"It's right next to it, in it's case as it should be," she backed up out of the garage and drove down the street to a dead-end.
"Karen, this is a dead-end," I said, raising a brow. Is a magical gate going to appear? Or maybe there's an invisible building here! I thought sarcastically.
"Don't be ridiculous," she chuckled at my callowness, as if I had just asked why the sky was green. She pulled a knob out from the dashboard, which I could have sworn wasn't meant to come out that far. She revved the engine and tilted the wheel up. Tilted? I gripped the seat as my stomach lurched. We were in the air.
"We're flying!" I felt I had to say it, because only then would I hear how ridiculous it sounded, but even I could hear the truth in my words. We're flying to England, via Volkswagen beetle.