Bird Song Read Online Free PDF

it back?” Graham asked, never taking his eyes off the pink whale.   “I should have never gotten rid of it.”
    “You’re right.   You never should have gotten rid of it.   But, I’ll let you have it back under the condition that when you use the bathroom, you put the seat back down after you’re done.”
    He grinned at me, and I felt my heart skip—a faint reminder of just how much he still affected my flawed, human heart.   “I’ll try, but even Mom couldn’t get me to do that.”
    “Come on, you gotta get home and talk to your dad, let him know what’s going on.   My dad went over to talk to him, but I don’t know what happened.   He didn’t tell me anything when he came home,” I explained as I pulled him up off the bed and out of the house.
    We walked side-by-side, our steps silent on the lawn between our homes that had never been separated by fence or gates.   The snow that had fallen the night before had melted quickly and left the ground soggy and dangerously slippery.
    “Whoops!” I shouted, as I felt my footing loosen on a patch of grass that was exceptionally wet.   I grabbed onto his arm as I nearly toppled headfirst into a planter sitting beneath one of the first story windows.
    “God, Grace, you’re such a klutz!” Graham kidded, though his tone was anything but amused.   He was nervous, and I knew he was as apprehensive about this as I was.   The house smelled like old beer as we walked through the door.   That sweet, stale aroma that kind of reminds you that you need to wash your hair.
    I don’t remember the last time I had actually walked through Graham’s house, but it wasn’t like I remembered.   Of course, I don’t remember picture frames littering the ground, or beer bottles and empty liquor bottles covering every flat surface either.   This was a recycler’s dream.   I tried counting the number of empty bottles as we walked towards the kitchen, but I lost track after I hit fifty.   There were just too many and it felt like they were breeding, spawning as more appeared with each step, each movement towards the back of the house.
    “Dad?” Graham called out.   He flipped the light on and I groaned while he stood silent.   The kitchen was disturbingly void of any space—each little scrap of spare air was occupied by a bottle of some kind or another, all in varying sizes.   Bottles of varying sizes, shapes, and colors were stacked on the countertops, the kitchen table, the chairs, and the floor.   It would have made for a great art piece if the reality of it weren’t so tragic.
    Graham turned away and walked past me towards the stairs.   I started to follow him, unwilling to let him search upstairs alone, but he put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.   “I have to do this by myself, Grace.”   I opened my mouth to argue but he shook his head, and I bit my tongue to keep my words contained.   What would he find upstairs that I couldn’t see?  
    The smell in the house was starting to make me nauseas; I had to go and open a window before I lost my dinner.   The kitchen window seemed the best place to start.   I tried to raise it, but it was hopelessly stuck.   Richard had neglected the house for so long, I was amazed that the door had even opened.   How long had this been going on?   And why hadn’t Graham told me?
    “He’s not here,” his voice said behind me.   I turned around and saw the look of dismay on his face, mixed with confusion and fear.   I knew that look so well.   I had worn it myself.   And I had been wrong—it didn’t look good on anyone.
    “Where do you think he is?” I asked as he once again took in the graveyard of empty bottles before us.   He shook his head, not knowing and probably not wanting to even begin to think about it either.   “Well, let’s get your stuff then and head back to my house.   I don’t think I can stay in this funk any longer.”
    With what looked like despair and reservation,