We Were Birds

In the end, they were drawn to the city.

They inexplicably felt the need to see the skyline over the water, they wanted to wander down street after street until they got so lost they had to ask for directions, they wanted to feel the pulse and the rythym of the people around them...they wanted the life and the energy of the city. So they drove to the city, found the cheapest apartment they could and paid two months in advance, spending the rest of the money that they had.

Fern got a job down at the hospital that was closest to their aparment. She never had a formal degree in nursing, but she'd volunteered at the local hospital for every years since she was twelve, and had more experience than they could ever want. The job didn't pay much, but then again, they didn't need much. Fern found that if she tucked some money away, eventually she would be able to go into nursing school and become a real nurse. And then Fern and Quinn's future could really start. They'd buy that house they'd been dreaming of on the Carolina coast, and they'd paint the walls blue and they'd decorate with shells, starfish and seaglass. They'd have their kids and they'd live a beautiful life. Like Edith Piaf said. La Vie En Rose.

Quinn got a job down at the harbor, doing much of the same things he'd been doing back home. This was different, though, because he had Fern with him. And he was away from the place where he was nothing more than his father's son. And nothing about this place reminded him of Pa at all. It was all new, different...but he made friends quickly enough. Most of the guys were older, with wives and children - some even had kids who were Quinn's age. Quinn told them that he'd run away from his hometown (and his ghosts, although he didn't say that) with his girl. The guys had laughed. "You'll get sicka her," they'd said. "Women...never can understand them."

Quinn didn't always understand Fern, that was sure. But it was one of the things he loved about her. Maybe it was because he was young, and maybe it was because he was idealistic...but Quinn didn't care. He didn't listen to the men. He didn't go out with them to the bars. He picked up his money and went home to Fern where they'd eat dinner and smile at each other secretley because this was it. They were a real family now.

One morning Fern woke up feeling surprisingly anxious and found that Quinn was gone. The sky was gray, the way sky is before sunrise, and Fern felt baffled and a little fearful. What had happened to him? But next to her she saw a folded piece of paper. When she opened it up, it was a hand-drawn map with directions and a red X-marks-the-spot. Laughing softly, Fern got up, got dressed, cleaned herself up a little and scampered out of their apartment. There was no elevator and they were six floors up, but Fern didn't care - she never had.

The map took a half an hour to follow, but when she finally reached the end, she was at the city park, the one that looked over the harbor. She walked through cautiously, looking at homeless people asleep on benches, a few women out running with dogs...and the scattered aimless wanderers, like herself. To her right there was a hill, and Fern spotted somebody familiar standing on it.

With a grin, Fern took off running up the hill, where Quinn stood, watching, waiting. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "I made us a picnic so we could watch the sunrise together," he said and Fern nodded, grinning.

"Why did you make me a treasure map?" she asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved it, but I never expected you to do something like that..." she told him.

Quinn shrugged, a glint in his eye. "I guess I just knew that if I did it, you'd follow it. You were always too curious for your own good."

"Oh so you were trying to teach me a lesson?" she asked. "Maybe next time I won't follow one of your maps!" she said, with mock indignance in her voice. Quinn laughed and held her close to him. Fern buried her face into his shoulder. They didn't have much in their lives, and Fern had left a comfortable life for one where she had to tuck her money away so she could go back to school. It didn't matter, though, not to her. Because not only was she with Quinn, she was having an adventure. The kind of adventure she'd always wanted to have. The kind of her adventure her mom had, back when she disappeared out of her father's life.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Fern swallowed and pushed it back. This was no time to feel guilty. Instead, she pulled Quinn down to where he had set up a blanket and a basket. Quinn was a horrible cook and the food was terrible. That didn't matter, though. What did matter was that here, she was with Quinn, and here, she was free.

They spent the winter in the city, adjusting to their new life. For Quinn, it was easy to adjust to not having much money, he always had been like this. Fern, however, learned to be frugal, something she'd never even given much thought to before. She learned how to clip coupons, how to grocery shop, furniture shop and clothes shop on a budget. She picked up a second-hand sewing machine at the consignment shop and began to sew again. Her mother had taught her when she was very young, and Fern had watched her as she had pedaled the sewing machine over and over again. This one was electric and easy to handle, she soon began to sew both her and Quinn's clothes.

Quinn tried his hand time after time at cooking and eventually he seemed to be getting better. More than that, he actually liked to cook. When they'd grocery shop, Quinn would pick up the cheap cookbooks at the ends of the aisles, and when they got back, would spend hours looking through them, thinking of more things he could make.

The summer had been filled with a carefree attitude that they had embraced and adored. This winter, however, was spent working hard, saving, so they could do something more with their lives. They loved the winter together as much as they'd loved the summer, though. In the apartment they learned how to live with each other. They didn't always get along, but they always could work out what was wrong. The temperature dropped and dropped, but they couldn't afford to turn up the heat. Instead they bought small space heaters and kept as close as they could to each other.

It was one of those bitterly cold nights when Quinn got out of work. Fern would be home, maybe cooking dinner, maybe sewing or mending, maybe paying bills. Her hours were different and sometimes could go late into the night, but Quinn knew tonight she'd be there.

With a deep breath, Quinn clocked out of the job and picked up his paycheck. He went to the bank and cashed the check and took out even more money from his bank account, not caring that Fern would absolutely kill him for doing this. He stuck the money deep in his wallet and put the wallet deep in his pocket and pulled his coat closer to his body. His flannel shirt had been mended so many times by Fern that it hardly resembled what it had been when he'd left their hometown on their voyage across the country. His other flannels were tossed around the apartment, all of them at some level of disrepair. Looking up, Quinn saw exactly what he'd been walking towards, the place he'd discovered a month back and since then, had been gathering the courage to go into.

The bell of the jewlery store dinged as Quinn stepped inside. The suited clerk looked up at Quinn and frowned at his ragged appearance, but the frown quickly melted into a self-satisfied smile. "Good evening, sir! Looking for anything in particular?"

Quinn stepped up to the counter and put down all his money. "I need a wedding ring. What will this buy me?" he asked.

Ten minutes later, Quinn had the perfect ring and was striding away from the jewlery store, penniless. Oh, Fern would absolutely kill him. He didn't care, though. The wind blew at him, cold and biting, and he didn't care. It was like that Frank Sinatra song: I've got my love to keep me warm.

The walk to the apartment was long, but Quinn had a skip in his step the entire time. And when he opened the door to their small, shabby apartment, he saw Fern sitting at the table reading a book while something simmered on their old, rickety stove. It filled the apartment with a delicious smell and a warm feeling and Fern smiled when she looked up at Quinn. Quinn nodded and strode up to the table. From his pocket he pulled out the box for the ring and set it down in front of her. Then he slid over to the pot on the stove, took off the cover and sniffed the stew. "Smells great, darlin'." Quinn's voice was hunger-filled. Fern didn't answer and Quinn's body went tense.

He turned around to Fern staring at the ring, her eyes shining with wetness. "Quinn," she said softly.

"Oh Fern, you didn't think I'd marry you without a ring, did you?" he asked.

Fern sighed. "No, it's just...this is too much. We can't afford anything like that right now."

"I've been saving. Well this week I used my entire paycheck but..." he trailed off at Fern's alarmed look. "Fern, it doesn't matter what we can or cannot afford. The ring isn't about money. It's about a symbol." He rarely spoke like this, spoke his feelings. He wasn't used to it and the emotional words sounded thick on his tongue, like a foreign language. "It's more than a ring. Everyday you'll look at it and you'll think about our future. And people at your work will ask you about it and you can tell them about our plans if you'd like." Fern was still quiet. "Darlin', don't look like that."

"Please believe when I say that I love it," Fern finally said. "I just wish you hadn't done it. I don't need a symbol of your love. I know I already have it."

Quinn swallowed. "Fine then. Think of it as a reminder that you need to start thinking about this wedding of course. Because I've seen you look at dresses and at magazines and I know you think about it. I just want to make it real for you."

A smile finally passed over Fern's face. "I want to become a nurse first. I real, actual nurse. And I want you to get a job doing something that you actually like doing. And then, when we're both happy, I'll think about that wedding. Quinn, you overthink things. I like looking at the dresses and the magazines, but that's just because they're pretty. I know our future isn't going to start for awhile," she replied.

Quinn sat down at the table with her and took her hands in his. "Honey, I think our future already started."

With a laugh, Fern shrugged and stood up. "Maybe you're right," she said.

It was quiet for awhile as Fern ladeled stew into ceramic bowls she'd bought at a flea market. Quinn scanned her book - Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. "Isn't this the one where he molests a young girl?" he asked Fern curiously. Fern turned to Quinn and looked at the book for a few moments.

"Yeah, but she leads him on. That's why precocious young girls are called lolitas...after the book, you know."

"Hm. I didn't know you liked this kind of stuff." Fern set down his bowl of stew and hit him lightly on the shoulder. When Quinn looked up, he saw that she was blushing and he barked a laugh. "I'm only kidding. I know it's a classic. I took European Lit, too, you know."

"But did you ever read any of the books?" she asked.

Quinn looked beyond Fern. "I read Moby Dick he said softly." Fern looked at him softly. Quinn had never had that kind of wistful look on his face before. She didn't know he'd actually read Moby Dick...and for it to have some kind of effect on him? It was out-of-character. It wasn't like Quinn hated to read, it was just that he spent his time doing other things. Reading had never been high on his list of priorities. Quinn finally looked back to Fern, who was watching him expectantly. "It reminded me of my father. He was ambitious like that...never went crazy about it, but had the determination to go after what he wanted. He was happy in his life. I mean, he was sad when Mom died but he always seemed to never feel any sort of regret that he'd never done anything more. I always felt as if he were Captain Ahab, and I was Ishmael. The one telling his life story from the side, where I watched. A secondary player in a life I didn't really want to lead."

After his soft speech, Quinn looked surprised. Fern didn't say anything for awhile, just chewed thoughtfully. "And what about now?" she asked after a few more moments.

"I don't know," Quinn replied honestly. "But I figure I have a while to figure it out."

"The rest of our lives," said Fern.

Quinn locked his eyes on Ferns and grinned. He picked up his mug of water and clinked it against Ferns, which sat on the table, an action that illicited a giggle from Fern. "Yeah," Quinn murmured, his eyes on Fern, his fiancee. "The rest of our lives."