Ptolemy

A ticket had been bought and packing had been finished, while cleaning had been completed and the tornados of dust walls had finally settled.

Miniscule particles fell from the sun filled window onto the floor becoming invisible again. Avery gripped the handle of the suitcase tighter and let her eyes dizzily take in her mother's house one more time. She wasn't going to forget it like she had everything else. The pen scribbled and scratched her note as if her hand wasn't there. Her location was never disclosed, but the message was clear that she was safe and reasonably sane. She signed it, hung it on the door, and made her way to the train station.

Fumes of fast food, moving bodies and fuel floated in the air around her. The wheels hummed and screeched as the train rolled faster and faster. The train car jostled steadily like a second hand ticked on a clock. It kept time while Avery kept watch out the window.

Farley ignored everybody after school and went straight home to avoid any punishment that might come if he was late. Their feelings were mutual as they awaited Avery's arrival: neither knew what to expect. A few cars passed, each time Arden would anticipate a doorbell. Farley wasn't as easily fooled, he sat in the same chair and let his finger glide line over line in his book for class the next morning.

Avery shyly adjusted her jacket and teased her freshly cut hair before she walked down the cracked concrete sidewalk. The déjà vu made her unsettled, something was not right, but she could not find what. The house was a drab yellow, the yard was bare and full of weeds, and the doorbell reluctantly chimed her request.

"Farley, watch him." He handed his son the black bird that was resting on his wrist. Arden briskly opened the door letting the outside flood in, "Hello, hello, hello!"

"Can I come in?" Avery nervously chuckled out.

"Of course!"

They stepped in and out of reflex Avery, clumsily set down her luggage and hugged the older, shorter and greying man. Much like the house the scent of tobacco and masculine cologne covered him. Although Avery was already getting used to it, yet the house was still perturbing her. She squeezed her eyes before letting go of the hug praying that something other than chaos would appear. It wasn't working, but Avery sensed it was because the situation was already crazy.

"You must be hungry!" Arden retracted his arms and awkwardly folded them on his chest.

"No--" The bird squawked catching her attention, "Train food…wasn't…all bad."

She looked over to see Farley for the first time, he sat with a slouch and a blank stare. He stroked the chin of the crow. He ran a single finger over it's beak taking in the difference in the luxury of the feathers to the industrial strength of it's beak. He neglected to get up right away, he knew his father was already keeping Avery to himself. Farley was going to wait to introduce himself later due to an uncharacteristic intense bout of shyness that had just overcame him. He figured she hadn't even noticed him yet anyways.

"We have fixings for sandwiches. Just in the kitchen here. You can just leave that there." Motioning to the clunky brown bag behind him, Arden flocked Avery to the back towards the kitchen.

"O-ok…" She politely gave up.

They went towards the kitchen and her gaze fell on the young Farley and morbid bird one more time. Arden placed all of the freshly cut fixings on the table and laid out two plates. Reds, various greens, and pale creams lined petite plates waiting to be chosen. Avery placed each layer precisely while she continued to chat with her father.

"So, how has life been for you?"

"Fine." He gripped a tomato by the very outer layer of the skin and held it up towards his shoulder. The dark bird flapped its wings and pecked the slimy encased seeds out, "What have you been up to? University? Jobs? Boyfriend?"

"No... No boys. None of that." Her voice was only a small hum in the kitchen and it trailed as she observed the bird without blinking.

Farley ease dropped waiting for the perfect time to collect his food and leave. He waited for the conversation to become so in depth and sentimental that he'd be barely noticed. Scratching his wrist where he still felt phantom claws, he decided to eat.

"Sorry, this old chap is Ptolemy."

"Well, hello." The crow's head twitched in her direction as if it comprehended the introduction.

"Would you like to feed him? He's very friendly." Arden gushed and began to extend his arm to give Avery the sliced vegetable.

"No thank you." She barely whispered and had lost any appetite she had left.

Avery gripped her arm waiting for him to ask more questions simply due to the fact she couldn't not think of any. His answer on life left the picture of him remained in Avery's memory a blank canvas. Teeth gritted together chewing and a few feathers descended dreamily to the floor. Farley entered silently and reached into the cabinet to pick up a plate. The clank was ignored by Arden, but acknowledged by Avery. She turned back to her food, but observed him from the corner of her peripheral vision.

His movements to most would seem graceful without a purpose to most like Avery. Yet they held a knowledge of space, distance and temperature. His had floated around the edge of the table and then grasped two pieces of bread.

"How's," Arden began, but was distracted by Farley hovering by the table. "Yes?"

"Where's the mustard?"

"Here." He answered before Avery had even spotted the mustard on the table, "Anyways…" Arden paused and his saw that the attention was no longer on him, but Farley. He was annoyed, but watched Avery's twitches and facial expressions.

A thin coating of speckled mustard went on both slices of bread, then a layer of cheese, then a layer of tomato. There was a pause between each step, then he would continue to his next step with that lazy, slow moving poise. She was struck by it in a much different way than she had been with Ptolemy. Avery held her breath watching, until the finale. One piece of bread was flipped over to the other. He poured a glass of juice in the same fashion and then left.

"Um," Her mouth was full of cotton and her tongue was sandpaper. It made her mouth a dirty, gritty wasteland of lost words. "Who-wha--"

"That was Farley. He's blind."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, he's just fine." He reassured mechanically, trying to deflect the common pity Farley's condition constantly bestowed on him, "Why aren't you in school again?"

"I had to drop out," Avery began to explain, but saw the disapproval on his face and her reason no matter how legitimate it was, seemed flimsy.

"We can fix that. I can see if you can enroll this upcoming term."

"I'd like that."

Arden covered his freshly smiling mouth with his napkin and dabbed some escaped dressing off of his thin mustache. The florescent light above flickered while the horizon engulfed the setting to the west. More vague chitchat took place. Avery excused herself and Arden led her to her old room to unpack.

The springs in the window echoed in their casing upon being pried open. Paint chipped off in patches and the smoke stained lace curtains danced inches away from the new air flow. Avery adjusted the figurines on top of the dresser across from her bed. They were the Wicked-Witch, Scarecrow, Tin-Man, Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. She crouched on her knees, leaned her arms on the dresser, and then rested her head on her forearms. The Wizard of Oz was her favorite books as a child, it was one of the first things she could remember. She thought and thought as the figurines taunted her. One of the few things she believed to have remembered about her childhood still wasn't actually complete. Rubbing a temple Avery sat back on the ground.

Farley's bed was length wise against the adjacent wall. The screech of the window opening murmured through the plaster walls. He softly clunked his head on the wall, he was embarrassed for freezing. Now, he didn't know how he was going to introduce himself, or when. The only review Farley could write for his performance at dinner was how rude and dense it was. Clicking off his bedside lamp he crawled under his sheets.

In the room next door Avery stripped down and let her face collide with the pillow. The groups silhouettes split into three on the dresser top under the overhead light. Avery concentrated on them, almost in a hypnotic state. Soon her surroundings were hazy and she was out.