Lit Up | Tales in Parts

The Crows Lie

Part Three: A different kind of gift…

Read Part One and Part Two of “The Crows Lie.”

Most of the crows’ gifts were smaller, less valuable fare. Pens and shoelaces, bicycle chains and broken-off bits of wind chimes. Occasionally, the birds brought spoiled food, coated in thick, blue-green mold. Trash. It was all trash, really. They didn’t know any different. Milly treated each gift with the same elevated enthusiasm, a child on Christmas morning, excited to find whatever was under her tree. At some point, she had stopped pretending; she enjoyed the exchange.

One night, Milly strung some of her favorite of their trinkets together to make a necklace. While she worked, the crows sat on the kitchen table, scarfing down a mash of seeds, nuts, and meat scraps. There were five of them now. Frankie, Crosby, Brando, Sidney, and Gable. Despite being the smallest in the murder, Frankie seemed to hold authority over the others. Milly didn’t question this. Perhaps it was only because he had found her first.

Even with poor materials, Milly’s handiwork rendered something surprisingly attractive. A piece you might find at an art-fair booth, rustic but beautiful on its own terms. She stood from her chair, homemade jewelry held to her throat, and struck her most confident pose.

“Okay, be honest. What do you think?” she asked.

The birds paused their meal to stare at the assortment of shiny, stolen parts. Sidney cawed a pleased response on the murder’s behalf. (He was the only one who ever spoke, so to speak.)

“I like it, too,” she said with a grin. “I think I’ll wear it to the store tomorrow. It might make for a good conversation starter.”

Brando snorted and began eating again.

“I know, I know,” sighed Milly. “It would make more sense to give up at this point. But Gran used to say, ‘How can someone change if you don’t give them a chance to?’ No harm in wishful thinking.”

Her wishful thinking died an early death the next morning. Alice Palmertree came into work, late as always, and barely made it around the corner before her eyes laser-guided onto Milly’s neck. Her purse slumped off her arm, landing on the ground dramatically.

“What the hell are you wearing,” Alice said. Not a question so much as an insult.

“It’s just… It’s nothing,” Milly stuttered, realizing her mistake. Alice wasn’t the kind to accept things outside of the norm, nor to miss an opportunity to humiliate someone. Maybe if she managed to remove the necklace fast enough, Alice would forget about it, move onto something else. Milly reached up to unhook the clasp, but a tremble in her hands only made the trinkets shake louder. They clinked and rattled against each other, a sound that elicited a sharp laugh from Alice.

“Oh, please keep it on,” she said. “Otherwise, Carmen won’t believe me when I say you literally wore garbage to work.”

“It’s not garbage,” Milly said defiantly.

“It abso-freakin’-lutely is, babe.”

“No, it’s jewelry. I made it myself. With gifts my friends gave me.” Milly winced at her own words. Why had she mentioned the crows? It felt like she had betrayed something unspoken.

A twinkle of darkness illuminated Alice’s eyes now. A new, more exciting target had presented itself. She moved closer. Close enough to grab hold of the necklace and drag her finger along the assortment of charms.

“Millicent. Sweetheart. Your ‘friends’ are toying with you. This is trash. This is jewelry.” Alice turned her head from one side to the other, drawing her hand to her ears to model her comparison: two earrings, made from spiny links of yellow gold. To Milly, it looked like metal centipedes had crawled up Alice’s neck and latched onto her earlobes. “Do you see the difference?”

Milly considered her response. Art is subjective, she could say, and the fact her necklace was handcrafted actually made it more unique, more valuable. Alice would say she hadn’t thought of it that way, that maybe Milly was right, that she needed to check her preconceived notions of what had value. A good moment of learning that would break down walls and bring them closer to understanding each other. But in the end, Milly only said, “Excuse me,” and walked to the dressing rooms as quickly as she could. Before the slatted door closed, Alice threw one last barb. It cut fast and deep. So deep it made Milly’s skin feel wrong.

“I mean, I knew you were thick,” said Alice, “but I didn’t realize you were also, well…”

A text message sent to Carmen’s phone at 9:18 a.m.: I need to go home. I think I’ve come down with something. — Milly

That night, when the crows arrived, she was waiting for them instead. The murder descended on the yard in a wide slice and landed in a sickle formation at Milly’s bare feet. It was cold; she’d been out there for hours. Gable, whose tail feathers splayed out in all directions like he’d been struck by lightning, was entrusted with delivering that evening’s gift. He moved into the traditional offering place between the bushes and dropped a single, dull bottle cap. He seemed pleased with this contribution. No doubt he thought Milly would be, too.

“Thank you. All of you. But I wondered if I could ask…” For a moment, the words stuck in her mouth. Caught on a second unspoken rule, about to be broken. And there would be no going back. She kneeled. The crows moved in closer. All except Frankie. He stayed deathly still, blue eyes unflinching.

“I want a different kind of gift tonight,” she said. “Would you get it for me?”

If you had asked her then, Milly Dreher would’ve said she never expected the crows to understand her request. This would be a sensible thing to say because, mostly, birds can’t comprehend human language. Birds can’t retrieve an item in the middle of the night because you asked for it. Birds can’t find a person based on a name and an image in your head. These are all fanciful ideas. But if Milly really believed those things were impossible, she wouldn’t have been so unsurprised, so satisfied, to find the gift lying beside her head the next morning.

Two gold link earrings rested on her pillow. Chunks of tan skin, splattered red, still clinging to each hook.

“Milly, where in God’s name is she?” Carmen leaned on the counter with a sigh, fingers laced together and neck bent down. It looked and sounded to Milly almost like a prayer. Not that she had much experience around those; her grandmother had some kind of falling out with the Pentecostal church down the road and never thought to try another. “One of our biggest sales of the year, and Alice is where, exactly?”

Milly bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

“Of all the days to be late.”

“Actually,” said Milly, “Alice is always late.”

“Okay, well, I’ll have to deal with that on top of finding someone who can cover women’s high fashion on a moment’s notice.” Carmen’s hands cupped to the sides of her head as if to shield her from any more bad news. “Goodness, what a mess.”

Milly had never considered herself an opportunist. But then, she’d had so few opportunities. All the same, it turned out she could spot one when it arrived. “I can do it,” she said. “I can cover her section. We only had two alteration orders in. I finished both yesterday.”

Carmen sighed and straightened her back to examine Milly more carefully. She had been making changes in recent weeks, or trying to. No more of the sherry-orange blouse that fell just a bit too close to her skin color; Milly had purchased something new, a deep green empire dress that brought out her eyes. (She bought it at another store across town so as not to give Alice more ammunition.) And now, nicer than anything else she owned: gold link earrings.

“Okay,” said Carmen. “Just until Alice shows up.”

Milly nodded and loosed the reins on her smile. “Until Alice shows up. Of course.”

A few days later, another one of the girls from cosmetics passed around a pen and a greeting card addressed to Alice. “Get well soon,” the others had written. No one said from what.

Part Four coming soon. Follow to stay updated.