June 29th, 2009

Approximately 4:35 p.m.

"Are you crazy?"

I can tell Margalo wants to shout, but it's too soon. The tarmac is alive with a dozen humans milling about, and someone might hear us. She resorts to hissing to communicate her anger through her teeth.

And I'm just grateful it's not at me.

She's beak to nose with Colin, her usual calm demeanor long gone. "What if you were caught?! What about him?" She gestures to Sanjay.

"Oh, I've gotten myself out of tight spots, Wings." As if to demonstrate, the lanky black tomcat crawls out from the shadow of a plane wing and stretches out in a bored yawn, showing off his lanky body.

Brutus, it seems, is not the only friend we made today. Just outside the plane, the Sanjay's were waiting for us. After dodging sight of the co-pilots, they show themselves, crawling out from under the end of the downed ramp. They join us in a cautious procession back to the hangar. A number of times, they and Brutus had to duck out of sight, hiding under other unused aircraft until nearby voices and footsteps disappeared. The wait for each all-clear makes me sweat bullets. But before long, we've returned to the massive room where our day began.

"All clear! Haha!" As if he was oblivious to the angry canary on his back, Brutus ushers us into the safety of the shade. The lights inside are off, now, the only illumination comes from the windows on either side. With the excitement behind us, he sounds as old as his age. "Ah, goodness, gravy and biscuits. What a day."

"You can say that again," I say once we're settled inside although I can't help but notice how tranquil he sounds. As if nothing horribly wrong almost happened back there.

I wish my girlfriend felt some of that. I climb off of Brutus' back and hold my arms out to help her down, but she doesn't wait.

In a move that highlights just how much of an idiot I am, she flies down to the ground with no help at all, rendering the 'lift' from Brutus totally pointless, at least for her. She lands with only the smallest teeter on one of her legs, before teasingly balancing some of the weight onto the injured one.

The first thing she does once she's on the ground is yank up her goggles so that she can glare at the cats without obstruction. Even from feet away, the brown smudges under her eyes are dark and incredibly noticeable now.

I've never seen Margalo this way. I'd expect this kind of lecture out of my mother. Is this how she is with the little birds under her charge in the flock? Is this what the stress of training to become a flock leader does to a bird? Or maybe it's a culmination of things. Hunger and exhaustion, and scraping past death one too many times in her young life. She may not always have it in her to feign enthusiasm for puns and cheesy greetings, but when it comes to serious matters, Margalo has an unusual degree of patience.

But something about the boys risking their safety to make sure we get back to the hangar okay had finally worn hers out.

The late afternoon's temperature reached its peak, and her feathers look matted above her beak where the goggles sat. Just as I wonder if she's boiling under that cap, she takes the entire thing off and shoves it into my arms. "How could you be so inconsiderate if your husband? Of your mistress? What if you got caught? What if you were snagged up and shipped off to the pound? How would you get back home?"

"What was I supposed to do? Darling, we were worried."

"Well, I'm worried about you! Ugh." At once, her anger melts. She closes her eyes and wraps her wings around the calico's neck as best as she can. "Idiots."

Brutus can't help but laugh. "Now that there's something you don't see everyday!"

I don't know what to say. I don't even know what I'm watching. Six years ago, Margalo nearly freaked out when I first mentioned having a pet cat. Now she's hugging one.

"The side-eye's not necessary, mate." It's as if Colin's read my mind. "You know what team I play for. Besides, Wings saw with her own eyes how you were father of the year up there." He points to the sky with his nose.

"Father of the year? What? Oh!" Something's brushing against my leg.

I turn around to find a pair of bright green eyes, staring at me. I've become so familiar with those eyes, in this short amount of time. They might even be burned into my memory.

"Oh. Um, hey there." I put Margalo's cap under my arm and hook a thumb at the kitten. "I guess I should… introduce you guys. Margalo, Colin, Sanjay… This is… G.E."

"I like it," Brutus nods. "Rolls off the tongue better. I don't think you've met the other kits. This one here is Number Two Penway," He lets the ginger cat roll off his back with an excited cry. "And that spotted one gnawing on the tip of my ear goes by Copyright Two-Thousand-Four by Stephen Murray."

"Gosh." Brutus tips his head forward to me, and I gently work on removing the kitten's mouth from his ear. "That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?"

"That it is, but I didn't name 'em."

"Can't you just give them new names?"

"I could, but they ain't even mine to rename."

"Well, you're taking care of them! Ow!" Copyright Two-Thousand something or other has let go of Brutus, and has sunk his teething now I wrestle my free arm from him. "Seems like a nice thing to do."

"Aw, but it ain't right to dishonor the mother like that. Besides, they like they're names, don't they?"

"Eegh.." There's a thin layer of kitten saliva on the top of my arm, as well as gentle teeth marks parting my fur. "Well, what about nicknames? Let's see…" I stroke the head of the ginger cat, and he starts purring. "Instead of number Two Penway, what if we just call you… Penway?"

"It's different enough," Sanjay nods.

"And you… uh…" I point to the white cat with the spotted nose. "Hey. It's already got a name in it! How about we call you Steve, for short?"

"Copyright!" the cat chirps.

"Uh… " I pat him on the cheek. "Sure. You'll go by Copyright."

"What about you?" G.E. asks. "Can we give you a new name?"

Colin nods. "Yeah, you know, that would be lovely."

"What's wrong with my name?"

"Stuart's kind of a boring name." Sanjay flicks his paw. "No offense, mate."

"Let's call him big ears!"

"Tubby!"

"Hideously mediocre kids movie from the 2000s, anyone?"

Margalo snorts.

I direct my glare at the only one I've known longer than the last six hours. "Gee, if I knew this whole trip was just a grand precursor to my Roast," I say at Margalo. When she's done brushing through the feathers on her head, she takes her cap back from me. "I would've worn my Sunday best."

"Aw, don't be like that," Brutus says. "We're only ribbing ya 'cause you're somethin' special."

"Yeah. Sure."

Margalo raises a wing and strokes G. E. Her wing touches my hand, but when I find her eyes, she still looks troubled. "So, what'll happen to these guys?"

"Precious things, they are. But there's no way our mistress will save them from the shelter." Colin pats Penway on the head. "It's hard enough moving the family back and forth for this job as it is."

I sigh. "And as much as I don't want to admit it, I don't think Snowbell would appreciate having to compete for the bed and food with three new kittens. You know how he is." I say this to Margalo.

"But we can't just leave them!"

"East there, little lady," soothes the mastiff. "No need to worry. Old Brutus already took on this burden when I found 'em a week ago, and I'm not about to let anything happen to 'em. They're safe with me until I manage to convince one of those eggheads at base to take a couple of fuzzy, loud motorboats home as pets. Heh, I'm bettin' on one of them taking all three, seeing how bonded they seem."

"You think they'll be adopted right away?" I ask.

"Sooner or later. Worst comes for worst, I'll take 'em as my own. But you know humans." He rolls his eyes. "Most predictable creatures of them all."

"I wish we could give you a ride back to wherever you're staying," I tell the cats. "But my car's sorta short on space."

"Nevermind," Sanjay tells us. "Our hotel's not too far down the road, and our old lady will be out late. We'll be back with dinner and plenty of time to spare. Cheers for the adventure, Wayne."

"My pleasure," Brutus obliges, not a beat skipped.

Colin gives Margalo a kiss on the cheek, and Sanjay tips his head cordially at me before they set off for the highway, towards the sunset. "Here's looking your way, lovebirds! Maybe we'll meet again at some other interval!"

I don't know how realistic it is to run into these cats again. Or how smart, given that, at the end of the day, we're still a mouse and bird. But despite everything, I think… yeah. How nice that would be.

"As you've probably figured, your muscles should get back to working order by tonight," Brutus tells me. "Tomorrow at the latest. Then you'll be able to Hercules carry your Mrs. wherever you please. Until then, I'd get a good night's rest, and take it easy. Well, I'd better get these kits to bed and make myself scarce, just in case the staff decides to wander through here."

"And we do have a long way to go to get back," Margalo tells him, pulling her cap back onto her head. "Thanks for everything, Brutus."

"Not at all. Like I said before we set off, it's me who owes you my thanks. And I really mean it, you two." He turns to me specifically. "I meant what I said earlier, boy. God knows you probably get your strange looks from time to time. But what you did up there, the way you showed compassion towards cats you didn't know from Adam, that was somethin' special. You got guts, kid. Don't let nobody take that away from you."

And even as we stand so dangerously close, I feel no danger in his presence anymore. My smile comes effortlessly. "Thanks Brutus. And y'know… you're a pretty great guy yourself. And the way you bring all these animals together is pretty special, too. I think I get why you do it. I just wish you didn't think we need to have a common enemy in humans in order to have common ground with each other."

"I don't reckon I know whatcha mean." I thought my words would have wiped the smile clean away. Not only does the smile tighten, along with his jowls, but his head stays rigidly still. G.E. playfully swipes at the tag dangling from his collar, the NASA symbol engraved into the collar stands out to me as the copper metal winks, and briefly, so does Brutus.

And we leave it at that.

June 29th, 2009

8:06 p.m.

"If you have any thoughts about breaking up with me, I hope you'll do it now."

Margalo looks at me like I've grown a third eye. "What?"

My achy hands finally drop from the wheel, to my lap. More than thirteen hours have come and gone since Margalo and I set out that morning. Once the excitement wound down, going a day driving across the city to the space center and back was a test of endurance. Felt like I was starving, and after a while, I had a hard time concentrating on the drive. Thankfully, Margalo was ready to admit by then that she was hungry, too, and there's just enough spare change in the trunk to buy us some desperately needed food.

Almost anything sounded good to me by then, and after splitting a small bag of Buckee's sunflower seeds and a small bottle of water, we had a quiet, uneventful ride all the way back to the motel.

It's already sunset when we pull back into the parking lot. The clouds have gone from white to rosy pink, the sky taking on a darker hue of blue. The sun hangs low in the west, ready to give up its shift to the moon. For a moment, my mind flickers to Tom and Solara, and I wonder if they will always pass through this world without seeing each other again.

Maybe I'm only thinking about this 'cause I'm overtired. It's only eight, but I'm beyond exhausted, and the comfy feeling as we drive has made me look forward to a good, long sleep even more.

So it's probably not the best time for me to construct an apology. Still, the words that need to be said can't be put off any longer, and the shame I'm feeling won't leave me until I get it over with. Besides, I don't want to have this talk in front of my family.

I rub sweat and any residual salt from the seeds from my hands onto my jeans. I can't even look at her. "I went into this today, suspicious of you. Suspicious of your plans for me, when all you were trying to do is help me live out one of my childhood dreams. I don't know how to say I'm sorry, and for it to be enough. After all this time we've been together, you've gotta think this is a massive dent in our trust. I thought being in a relationship would be easy. But today I realized, if we can't talk things out like… I dunno, grown ups, then… what even is our relationship?"

"Would you shut it?" She rolls her eyes. And then, suddenly, she reaches across the console, and grabs my face in her wingtips. Pulls my face towards her. "Stuart. Look at me."

"Mm!" I try to respond, but my cheeks are pinched in her surprisingly tight grip. I don't really have a choice to do otherwise.

"I told you. We're okay." She raises her eyebrows. "Right?"

"M'kay." It's all I can say. As her grip softens, I'm ashamed to admit I enjoy how… oddly soothing this is, her holding me like this. Gotta be because I'm so sleep deprived, but still. I blink and a tipsy grin spreads across my face.

We stay there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. After a while, she lets go of me, and I catch myself just in time so that I don't collapse onto the center console. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "Damn you for being so cute." She mutters towards the darkened screen of my phone, resting against the dash.

I back up and rest in my seat, petting down my whiskers and fur on my cheeks. "What gave you the idea to do all of this? To set this up for us?"

"Remember last year, when you told me you wanted to be an astronaut as a kid? When you said that, I thought about this thing I'd heard about animal space flights through the grapevine, and I thought 'why not?' Worst that could happen is the family didn't go to Texas, and we'd have to… you know, miss it… " She trails off long enough for me to realize she's concluded that she'd been wrong. The worst that could happen, as it turned out, was much, much worse. It almost happened to us today, if you consider that the situation wasn't as under control as Brutus led us to believe. Plus, there's the whole 'burning up in the atmosphere' thing. Yeeesh. But Margalo doesn't correct herself, and I'd sooner kick my own ass before I do. "Besides, I've… kinda been curious about it since I first heard about it, way back when. Being in zero gravity, almost flying without flying, y'know?"

Eventually, we have to leave the car behind, and Brutus isn't here to help us this time. I shut off the battery and go around the side of the car, opening the door for Margalo. I help her climb out, and as soon as she's steady, I lift her off her feet, kicking the door shut with my toe. This time, she doesn't argue with me.

I carry her to the building. Thankfully, our room is on the bottom floor-no stairs to climb. After a moment of setting her down and fumbling with my copy of the room key, (which is hard when the keyhole is feet above your head), and calling out for my brother, I manage to get the door open.

"George?" I call out once. Twice. The lights are off, and beds are still unmade, the blankets and sheets on the far bed still pulled aside from how he left them earlier today. Further down the room, the bathroom is dark, the door wide open.

"Didn't think he and Will would still be out fishing at this hour," she says.

"That explains why it's so dark in here." I set Margalo down, eyes shifting to the portable stove in the corner. "And why it doesn't exactly smell like wet socks and rainbow trout yet."

"Don't let Snowbell find out. Give him something to miss while Mrs. Morris's been watching him." Margalo smirked. "It was his idea to stay home."

I straighten my back, and then I watch on in stupefied silence as she flies up from the floor, landing looking back down on me from the edge of the bed.

"Wait… you…?"

"Didn't hurt my wing," she reminds me. "It's my leg that's bruised, remember?"

I lower my head. "Gosh." My brain turns back to the first time I've made this kind of oversight with her. The embarrassment should eat me alive, but the exhaustion makes it easier to forgive myself. I climb the bed skirt, and then the sheets above it, and join her on the edge of the mattress, flopping backwards until my back is horizontal. "I don't even know why you like me sometimes."

"You're not dumb." She braces for pain and scoots closer to me. Every movement of that leg makes her face contort. There's no faking this injury. "You're so afraid of making mistakes that you overcompensate. That's all."

"I know I've always been this way. But I guess I thought, when I'd become a man, I'd be… I dunno, different. More confident."

"Really? Because this is exactly how I thought you'd be." She rests her wings on my arm. It's only when she brings attention to it do I realize how tight the seam is against my upper arm. I realize I'm clenching at her touch, and the bicep retreats. "If you were any different, you wouldn't really be you." Her other wing caresses the underside of my chin. Now she's making me look her in the eyes. "This is the best version of you. The only Stuart I know. The only one I want to know."

I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face, or the burning hot blush that comes with it. "That's why you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. You wanted to plan something, didn't you?"

"You needed a motivational reset," she says each word deliberately, then she pulls me in close with her wing. "To be able to do something you've never thought you could do before. I mean, I admit, I was hoping you were gonna say something like, 'Y'know, I always wanted to drive a full sized firetruck.' Or 'Gee, Marg, I gotta know what it would be like to throw bad guys in the back of a police cruiser.'

"'Marg'?" Her impression of my voice is so weak, a snort rips from my throat. I tried out that nickname, like, once, and we both realized right away it wasn't gonna stick.

"I'm not as good at putting on characters as you." She folds her wings across her chest.

"I dunno. You're pretty good at acting out the whole damsel in distress thing."

Margalo grimaced, and I knew it was 'damsel' that made her do it. Knowing how capable this bird actually is, now, it's likely that a tiny part of her dignity hit the ground and died to create the meeker bird that I first met. "You get the picture. Something that means something to you, deep down. Something that could impact you, the way this does to me." And she curled her wing around the gem of the pin on her scarf. She'd remembered to pick it up from the tray back in the hangar before we left the space center. Until that moment, I had totally forgotten about it.

From the looks of it, she never will.

"By the way, what was the question you were gonna ask me back there?"

"Huh?"

"You remember: As the plane was about to crash, and you had a sobbing kitten sixteen claws deep in your shirt. What were you gonna say to me?"

"Oh. That. Um…" Only as she says this do I notice the faint marks on my white T where the cat used my shirt for a tissue. Can't remember the last time I needed a shower so bad. "I was gonna ask… would you…?"

Her eyes search me, trying to anticipate it. I look around our room. A near death experience made for a somewhat better excuse to whip out words of high importance. Somehow, a mid-rate motel that smells faintly of cigarettes doesn't conjure the same urge to speak those words. Not to mention being on solid ground again has suddenly brought the facts into stony reality: I'm not even a highschool senior yet. I barely started a new job, and barely have any savings. Margalo and I are still on a road with a two way fork that grows closer and closer, every day. If we had died today, it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but I can't break out the words of ultimatum, not with our lives still going, and these problems still unanswered. "I just… how do you figure my ears are gonna fit in a space helmet?"

"Poorly." I can tell she smells the bologna, but is choosing to let it go.

My eyes widen. She's gonna let it go.

Sweet lord almighty, thank you.

"So… at the risk of breaking the law, potentially getting us arrested, or eaten alive, there's no chance you'd wanna go back, huh?"

I sigh. I wish it were that simple. With only the briefest retrieval of my key and a goodbye before we departed, I tossed a glance over my shoulder at the neatly written clipboard partially buried under boxes, but decided against saying anything. Not to Brutus, and not to Margalo.

Maybe I can't smell the human stink. But I can smell a liar. And Brutus, who seems entirely too involved in the process of sending animals into zero gravity to truly distrust humans, is the absolute best kind. "Brutus is a character, all right," I tell her. "And the gang was fun, but I think now that we've crossed it off the bucket list, we can move onto new adventures. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me back part of myself I didn't even know I lost. Maybe today didn't work out exactly to plan, but it still changed my world. Everything you do, everything we do together, it makes me feel like nothing's impossible."

"There's a saying in migration culture," Margalo said. "The sky's the limit, and then some. But only braver birds see 'and then some.'"

I pull her close in a hug. "I wish I could return the favor. I-" I jolt up in bed. "Wait a second."

"What?" She sits up with me, looking uncertain if she should be alarmed or not.

I stand up on the comforter, teetering on the plush surface. "Just-just hang on! I have an idea!" I dash across the bed, leap onto the floor with a grunt, and run back out the door, without bothering to close it behind me.

When I come back minutes later, Margalo's eyes go right for the object I'm carrying in my arms. "Is that a… ?"

I crawl up the mattress with one hand, which takes me longer, so I can bring the case up onto the bed. "I've been working on something." I flip the case buckles up, one by one, then produce my mini acoustic Yamaha. I hold it up to show to her. "Packed it in my trunk. Just in case."

I brought it along in the chance I'd get some alone time to practice, and now I'm glad for it. I test the chords, feeling the pressure against my callused fingers.

"Stuart!" Her words are pitched up with surprise. "I never knew you played!"

"You never asked." I strum the strings altogether once, my ear twisting to the left as one string sounds off.

Margalo watches me tune for a while in silence. "So you've just been carrying around a functional, mini guitar, and you're only showing it to me now? When'd you start playing?"

"It was Dad's idea," I say as I pull the strap over my head. "Years ago. He thought George and I should learn at least one instrument. At the time, I was still more into sports and building things down in the basement, so I never gave it much attention. Not until last year."

I can tell she wants to ask what changed. But before she can, I start the intro to the song I've practiced tirelessly into the winter. The one song I know will mean something to her.
She goes perfectly quiet as I begin To Sir, With Love.

And I sing. And I sing it badly. And my nerves combined with the awareness of how awful my voice is make me miss several notes. I lose momentum and begin the second verse several times over before finally making it to the end. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I've tried to make this perfect.

When I'm done, my right arm drops back to my side, the other tugging at a loose thread in my jacket. "Sorry. I tried. I can practice singing forever, but it won't make my voice any better."

My eyes are carefully fixed on the thread. Once again, I'm afraid to look at her. I could just see her on the verge of giggles from this desperate attempt to impress her. But when she doesn't say anything, I have to look up. "W-what's wrong?"

Her pupils are so huge that I can see my reflection in them. She looks lost for comment, and there's a wetness rising at the bottom of her lids. Any other day, she'd be quick to blame it on dust in her eyes. "Nothing."

"Oh… oh… shoot. I didn't mean for this to make you upset! Gosh, this was a stupid idea. I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop! Please… Yeah, alright, I admit it, I'm crying. But it's because… that was so beautiful." She comes closer to me, sits by my side. Resting her chin crossed over my shoulder. "You went to all that effort, to learn that stupid song, just for me?"

"Well… yeah." I wrap my one arm around her. It's only a hug, but it's still giving me a rush. "It means a lot to you."

Just when the waves of emotions could drown me, her head turns to my ear, and she whispers. "Thank you. For giving me part of myself back."

And in the following silence, I let the waves take me under. Everything is so quiet. There's no traffic outside, and the motel is relatively vacant, even for this time of year. It's starting to feel like we're the last living creatures on earth. And I'm not at all lonely.

I press myself against her, relishing in the comfort and familiarity of her touch. The way her cheek feels against mine, pushing aside my whiskers. Kissing her cheek, and her beak soon after.

Learning how to play was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Instruments demand time and practice, and I nearly gave up. I felt lame for getting into it so late, knowing kids half my age could play twice as well. But I had it in my head that this moment was gonna happen someday. I thought by then, I'd have it perfect. I guess it came a little early, but the timing felt right. And based on how she's reacted, I know it was.

But I'm still just eighteen. I haven't even finished high school. I still don't have a way to support the Littles, let alone the two of us. The question that was gonna come after the last note gets tucked away in a fold deep in my heart, for another time.

Oh well. That's okay. I embrace the simplicity of the moment for what it is, the feeling of our bodies melding, her wings enveloping me. I'll just have to find some other way to ask her to marry me.