"The place where the birds die", a short story by Thomas Downey

We didn't bury the first one very deep. A few days later we returned and he was half body outside; full of ants that were walking on his feathers, all swollen. We smelled it and it made us want to vomit. The shovel was there, in the abandoned house. Now I do the wells. Castro has no strength.

In the place where the birds die there are more trees than in the rest of the forest, the branches are entangled and the sky is hardly visible. The abandoned house is the same as it was last summer, only before there were mountains of sand and bricks that are gone.

Dad comes on the weekends because he has to work. He says that adults can't take two months of vacation, that we're lucky because Mom is on maternity leave, that if it hadn't been for the baby we wouldn't have been able to settle on the coast all summer.

But it's not our fault that everything here is so boring. It's been raining for about a week, and if the sun comes out on the beach we can't go because it hurts the baby. We can't go downtown either because she cries all the time, and mom gets nervous when people watch.

We are forbidden to cross, although cars never pass. The streets are dirt and are always muddy. Besides, there is no one here, on the side of the main one there are more houses but dad says that he likes the silence. We can only escape when mom takes a nap. The place where the birds die is two blocks away, down a hill.

The baby is called Jasmine and was born less than two months ago. The name came to me, but when mom and dad decided to give it to him, he gave me a hard time. I wanted to keep it. He only knows how to do six things, with Castro we count them: take the tit, vomit, pee and poop, sleep, squeeze your hand if you put a finger on it, and cry loudly. He wakes us up almost every night. He can't even open his eyes fully, they're glued shut.

I am the older sister and Castro is the middle one. She's actually called Martina, but dad gave her that nickname. He finds it very funny, not me because I don't understand it, and Castro doesn't care about anything. I'm almost three years older than her, she's six. Sometimes she wants to tell me what to do and I have to explain to her that I am the boss. If she doesn't listen to me she will pull her hair. But she returns it to me, she has more and more strength.

We both agree that one more sister, and above all a woman, was left over.

We have always spent the summer here, except for the year we went to Peru. I was very young and I don't remember, Castro and the baby did not exist. Dad always says that they traveled the mountain range from end to end with me in a backpack. So I don't understand why we have to stay locked up all day, why we can't take the baby three blocks away, to the beach.

But no, we can't, Mom repeats with a tired face, and she sits me and Castro down in the dining room to watch the same movie for the tenth time, with the volume turned down, on a TV that's not even half the size of the one we have at home. Castro starts walking like a robot and I force myself not to laugh because I'm angry.

Dad says it's lucky that people haven't discovered this place, that the day some real estate company comes alive, the entire forest around us will be filled with houses and businesses. A country, he says, here they are going to do like a country.

Jose, my best friend, has a house in a country. They put a collar on the dog that kicks him if he leaves the garden, like the washing machine at home if you touch him barefoot. But dad says that it won't be like that, that it will be nicer and the dogs will be able to go wherever they want. She keeps talking about how we have to buy some land and she asks me and Castro if we're going to lend her our savings. Delusional, Mom tells him as she serves the noodles, if we haven't even finished paying for the car. Every day we eat noodles.

I wish there was business. Even if it is a golf course, to go looking for little balls among the trees. I and Castro love the forest, but there is nothing to do. Except where the birds die.

Mom was cooking because dad is coming today. She is lying on the couch with that horrible device that pumps her milk. I set the table. The baby is sleeping, today she cried almost all day and finally she got tired. Castro looks at her feet.

We wait, starving, and dad calls. I attend. He asks me to put him through with mom, but she tells him that she's in bed, that the baby won't let her sleep. Mom yawns, she nods and smiles with her eyes closed. Dad says there's a terrible traffic jam, that all the assholes leave for the road at the same time, that he doesn't know what time he's coming, that we shouldn't wait for him to eat. I repeat everything to Mom and Castro yells: idiots, what idiots. Mom tells her to shut up and I ask Dad if he's going to take us to the beach tomorrow. He swears to me yes.

After dinner, Mom asks me to help her bottle feed the baby. But she won't let me do anything, just sit with her and watch. Jasmine has red cheeks and he reminds me of a doll they gave me when she was a girl. She was my favorite until Castro gouged out her eyes with scissors.

Castro takes care of catching the birds because they don't disgust him. He picks them up by the wings or legs and throws them into the well. Whenever we go there is one, sometimes two or three. I cover them and then we jump on the ground. Castro says that the birds eat the worms, and that when the birds die, it's the other way around. He looks at me, very serious. They are enemies, he says.

After covering the well we put a stone on top. We like to know where each one was and how many there are. So far this summer we have buried eleven, and although these are deeper on hot days the smell is felt.

I dream that the birds cry because they know they are going to die, but when I wake up it is the baby. Dad holds her in his arms and walks over to my bed. It is still night. I ask him when he got here and he says shh, I slept. He kisses me on the forehead and closes the door.

Castro wakes me up early. He already has the mesh on and says we're going to the sea. I get up and we run to Mom and Dad's room, but they're still asleep. The baby too. I go to wake them up and mom asks me to leave them a while longer because they haven't rested all night. She closes her eyes and snuggles against Dad. Come on, yes? she murmurs.

No! shouts Castro. Mom and Dad wake up suddenly. The baby moves in her crib and we all lie very still, not breathing. But luckily he doesn't cry, he falls asleep again. Mom grabs Castro by the arm and covers his mouth with her hand. My sister bites her finger and Mom grabs her hair, leads her to the dining room couch. You stay here quietly, she says through clenched teeth, you don't speak or make noise or move. You too, she says to me, and goes back to his room.

We are hungry. Castro is angry because mom and dad don't get up. She turns on the TV and turns up the volume. I put him down and tell him to wait, not to bother. To calm him down, I grab a packet of cookies. But she gets heavier and heavier, she says she wants a hot chocolate. I tell her I'll make her a cold one and she yells: cold chocolate, disgusting! Shut up, I tell him, if you don't make a noise I'll make it for you.

Lighting the burner is easy, first the match and then the gas. I put the milk in a jug and put it on the fire. Castro runs here and there, drops to the floor and crawls, he loves to hide under the table and grab your feet when you walk by. I challenge her because he is wearing a white shirt that is now all dirty.

I stand on a bench and see the milk start to bubble, turn off the heat and grab two cups. Castro approaches, he wants to see. And since she can't stay still he pushes me, the pitcher slips from my hand and hot milk spills onto my arm.

Shout and Castro too. You burned, you burned!, he repeats like a parrot, and he wants to touch my arm. Dad comes running. What happens now? he asks. But he sees me and sits me down on the counter so I can put the burn under cold water. We told you not to use the kitchen!, he yells, always making a mess of you. It's the baby's fault! Castro shouts. What's up! We listen to mom from the room; and then the crying, which starts softly and suddenly stuns us all.

Dad gets dressed and gets us in the car. It burns me a lot. I ask why mom doesn't come and she tells me that she has to stay with Jasmine. In the first aid room they put a sticky bandage on me. It has fat, says the doctor, so that the skin is moist. Castro approaches and sniffs her, makes a disgusted face but does it again twice more.

They also say that I can't go to the beach for a week. She can infect me.

Mom hugs me, asks if it hurts. I tell her yes and she apologizes for not getting up to make us breakfast. Give me something! Castro yells, I'm hungry!

Calm down, says mom, if you keep yelling you'll spend the whole summer in prison. But she says it reluctantly and Castro ignores her, she gets on a chair and screams louder: The baby drinks all the milk she wants and we are starving!

Dad laughs. Don't celebrate him, says mom. Castro glares at him and jumps out of his chair, kicks him in the leg, and runs out the door. Mom and Dad look at each other. I can't believe it, he says, you fucking asshole. Come on, come on, she tells him, and while dad runs away he puts the baby in my arms. Take care of her, she says, and goes looking for them. Jasmine looks at me, opens her mouth and takes a deep breath. He slips out of my hands and I squeeze it. He starts crying loudly.

They take a long time to come back, or it seems like a long time to me because the baby won't stop and I don't know how to calm her down. Dad enters with Castro holding one arm, she struggles with her but he drags her into the room and slams the door on her. Don't you dare go out, he yells at her. Mom takes the baby out of her arms. She tries to calm her down but she can't either, and I see tears in her eyes. Dad leaves the room, grabs Jasmine and tells Mom that nothing is wrong, that she should lie down and relax a bit. Mom says yes and looks at the floor, Dad puts a hand on her shoulder and leads her into the room. Then she turns on the TV for me, he tells me not to talk to Castro because she's grounded and she's going to take care of mom in her room.

At night, Castro shows me her arm. He has a purple bruise and he plays the ball. He didn't hurt me at all, he says, not a bit. I lift the bandage and show him my burn, which is much worse. I have yellow blisters and very red skin. It looks like pizza cheese, she says, yuck.

On Sunday at noon we are going to eat at the main one. They promised us that later we could go to the video games for a while, but mom is still and very quiet. Something happens to him. We finish lunch and dad says that he has to leave early for the road, that we'll have to wait until the next weekend.

The burn hardly burns, but when mom asks me I tell her it hurts a lot, I cry a little. She tells me to come closer and hugs me. She has the smell of baby vomit in her hair and on her clothes.

Before the baby was born I had been told that she was going to have to help. Because I'm the oldest and because I always behaved well. But now they won't even let me touch her, dad says she's very fragile and we two are very rough. Then he laughs. Mom yawns, I take offense and Castro doesn't even listen, she looks out the window with a concentrated face. You can't see it from the house, but on that side is the place where the birds die.

Mom always says that we hardly ever cried but that Castro touched everything, that when he started to walk he was dangerous. Once she was found perched on a small table, next to the open window, half leaning out and looking down. We lived on the fourth floor.

We don't know what time it is. It's been several nights that we hardly slept, that the baby won't stop crying. We get up because we can't stand the noise anymore and go to Mom's room, who is sleeping on her back with her arms open.

She has her nightgown pulled back and you can see a boob. For a moment she scared me, she seems passed out, but then she moves a little. She opens and closes her mouth as if she dreams that she is a fish. I go to cover it and I turn around because I hear a noise. Castro has Jasmine upa. I tell her to put her down, we can't pick her up without mom or dad near her. He ignores me, he cradles her slowly and the baby stops crying.

We go out to play in the woods and mom tells us not to go far. Through the window we see that she goes to bed and she looks at us, but then she falls asleep. We run fast, we have a lot of work.

There are four to bury, one is all black and has a long beak, it is the largest we have found so far. Before throwing him into the well, Castro tears out a feather from him. I tell him it's disgusting but he doesn't even listen to me, he spins it between his fingers and looks at it as if hypnotized.

Mom takes us to the living room in a remís. Castro, the baby and me. The doctor looks at me and says that it healed very well, that I can now go to the beach but that I have to put on a lot of sunscreen, until my arm is all white. Before we leave he gives me a lollipop for me and one for Castro.

We insist so much that mom takes us for a while. We've had the tights on for days. We run to the sea. Mom yells at us that enough is enough, but Castro gets in until the water reaches his neck. He jumps up and laughs, I'm afraid to go look for her. Mom calls her and my sister ignores her; she then asks a fat man for help, who gets on her and grabs her. Mom challenges her, she says that we can't do this to her, that we have to collaborate. Please, girls, she says, I can't do this anymore, I need your help. She seems about to burst into tears and I say yes, ma, I promise, we promise.

We return home and I don't speak to Castro all day, because of him we couldn't stay even five minutes. And besides, poor mom. Looks like she did it on purpose.

It's late and we haven't eaten yet. Mom is on the phone in her room. When she leaves she notices that she was crying, but she thinks that we don't realize it, she says that dad sends us his regards. She makes noodles with butter and they all come out sticky. She does not eat.

Dad arrives Friday night and very early on Saturday he takes us to the beach for a while. He teaches us to drill, although I already knew. We return to the house for lunch and he promises us that in the afternoon we will go again, but he gets cloudy and in the end we stay at home sleeping. I sleep with dad on the couch, he smells of sun and sea. When she was little she would always nap in her bed while he read her diary.

At night we gather pineapples and branches for the fire. Dad teaches us how to build the coal pile, you have to leave space for air to enter. He tells me to turn it on but Castro complains. Then he gives each of us a match.

On Sunday afternoon he leaves. It seems that she had just arrived, that she was not even a whole day. Mom doesn't get up to say goodbye, she has a little fever. We wave at him until the car disappears behind the trees.

I am digging a hole, the bird is on the ground and suddenly moves a wing. Castro is there, he looks among the trees if there are no others. He calls to her and picks it up by the legs, he shakes it. He is light brown and he moves his head, tries to flap his free wing, opens and closes his beak. I throw the shovel and say we are going to cure him. Castro says no, that he is almost dead. He throws it into the well.

I push her and she falls to the floor. I kneel down to remove the bird but Castro grabs the shovel and plunges it into its neck. The body remains on one side and the head on the other. There is a little blood on the edge. I start to cry and Castro covers the well alone.

The trees are filled with caterpillars. They are green, almost phosphorescent, and when we step on them they release a little blue toy that sticks to our flip flops.

Castro goes to our room and returns with the black pen. Mom fell asleep sitting on the couch, with the baby next to her; she grabs her with one arm but her eyes are closed and her head falls back. The baby is calm, she looks at us. Castro takes out the black pen and shows it to him. She tickles her nose until she cries. We count the time on Mom's clock, which takes three minutes and twelve seconds to open her eyes.

Dad comes at night and says we'll be back tomorrow. That mom is too tired and she can't take care of us. It could be that the baby is sick, you have to take her to the doctor because it is not normal for her to cry so much. Castro says that we already knew that it was not normal, that it will be the same at home, that we want to stay. Dad tells her that he's sick of her answering and sends her to our room. It's an injustice! she shouts. Dad grabs her by the arm and Castro lets go, looks at him angrily and goes to the room alone. He slams the door shut, shaking the windows.

Castro wakes me up, it's night. He tells me that the birds are going to die there because they are sick. I'm half asleep and I don't understand what he's talking about. She leaves the room and I get up and follow her to Mom and Dad's room. I see her pick up the baby and ask her quietly what she's doing. She does not answer me. Jasmine smiles and looks at us with his big eyes. Castro starts walking towards the dining room with her upa and I tell her enough, I'm going to tell dad. But he ignores me, he opens the door and goes out into the woods.

I follow her, I'm scared. I tell her to go back and try to stop her; I grab her but I don't want to use too much force, she could drop the baby on the floor. Castro lets go, walks fast.

We arrive and he tells me to dig a well. She replied that she is crazy, that she give me Jasmine, that she is very young and she can hurt herself with anything. We had never come at night. It is very dark and we are barefoot, on the floor there are branches that prick. Castro says no and she looks at me, very serious. Then we hear a noise and see that the branches are full of birds. Dark, black, but they also seem to shine. Although they scare me, I can't stop looking at them. There are so many more than I can count. You can't see the moon or the stars. It is like a black ceiling that moves.

Suddenly they start making noises, screeching and flapping their wings. I yell that we have to go. Castro doesn't answer me, I don't know if she listens to me, he puts the baby down on the floor. I'm going to raise it but all the birds come down at the same time. I kneel down and cover my head with my arms, I feel the wings touching me and I fall to the ground, I have mud and dry leaves in my mouth.

The noise is very strong, it stuns me, until it suddenly stops. I'm afraid to get up because it's too quiet now. I stand still and cover my eyes until I hear Dad's voice calling out to us from afar. I see him through the trees with a flashlight, running to our side. Castro is covered in mud, kneeling on the floor; she looks up and smiles with her eyes, her mouth wide open, as if she has seen the most incredible thing in the world. The baby is gone, neither are the birds.

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