some calls and I was officially free for the next three months .
I asked Dad what he said when people got curious about Jared . He sighed and rested his face in his palms . “ I tell them he has a genetic disorder from his mom . ALS or something .”
I gazed out at the birdhouse , mostly to hide my tears . “ Why do we have to let them go ?”
“ Because they aren ’ t meant to live in a house . They wouldn ’ t be happy here .”
“ But what about us ?” I protested . “ Aren ’ t we enough to make them happy ?”
Silent tears tracked down Dad ’ s cheeks . We stared at the birdhouse , which had sheltered scores of sparrows and doves , finches and wrens , but never a mockingbird . “ I just wish she told me about this ,” Dad whispered . “ Before .” That night , screams came from Jared ’ s room , wrenching me from an uneasy sleep . I laid paralyzed under the covers , listening to his howls echo through the house . I ’ d never heard anything like it before ; when my mom started to change , Jared and I were sent outside . This time , no one could make me leave .
I padded barefoot to Jared ’ s room . Through the crack in the door I saw Grandma Jolene and Dad at his bedside , holding him down with firm hands . He was tightly wrapped in a cocoon of blankets . There was a cracking , squelching sound , and the cocoon slumped into a sudden void .
Dad and Grandma released their grip . Slowly , they peeled back the blanket to reveal the face of an albatross , blinking in the sudden light . “ Jared ,” I whispered , stepping forward . “ Max ?” my dad cried . “ You don ’ t want to see this .”
Ignoring him , I approached the trembling albatross and reached out a hand . For a moment , I thought he ’ d recognize me . He didn ’ t . The intelligence went out of his eyes like a snuffed-out candle . He squawked and shrieked , flapping his massive wings to get away from us . Toys and papers were blown across the room . Our picture shattered against the floor . Finally , Dad and Grandma threw a blanket over him and got his thrashing under control .
I felt my chest growing tight . This wasn ’ t Jared anymore . He was gone .
The next day we drove down to the coast . I sat next to a cardboard box in the backseat . Every few minutes I ’ d peek through the holes to make sure the albatross was still okay . The car ride felt it would last forever , but too soon , the Pacific Ocean came into view .
We pulled into an empty parking lot and Dad turned off the engine . Wordlessly , we climbed out of the car and stared at the box . The only sound was the rustle of feathers from inside . Dad and I shared a glance , then lifted the box into our arms . The concrete beneath our feet gave way to sand , warm and pearly in the sun . We picked a spot far from the entrance , where the last signs of humanity disappeared behind a shield of dune grass . Gulls were circling overhead , calling in their nasal voices . Take care of my brother , I prayed .
Slowly , we opened the lid of the box . The albatross squeaked in surprise . His pink feet scrabbled against the cardboard as we tipped him onto the sand . He raised his massive wingspan towards the sun . Then he lifted up into the sky , and passed out of my life forever .
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