Nudge

You know that groggy feeling when you wake up and it’s unexpectedly dark, after you fell asleep for a too-late-in-the-day nap? That was me, blinking confused into the darkness of my dorm room.

I reached up to switch the spotlight on that was clipped to the headboard of my bed, but stopped short of the light at a grunt noise, right by my ear. I fell out of bed dramatically and might have screamed in a higher pitch than I thought my 6 foot frame possible. Mirroring my scream was an otherworldly screech. Bravely, if I do say so myself, I reached for the light and quickly turned it on.

There in the beam of the spotlight was the tiniest owl, who immediately stopped screeching. Its eyes clicked open and shut methodically, as if they were assessing the overly bright circumstance it now found itself in. I realized my eyes were also blinking in alarm. Not wanting to make any sudden startling noises, I slowly turned my head towards the huge pane of glass window overlooking the quad. Clearly this owl had inadvertently stumbled into my dorm room due to an open window. But the glass remained solidly in place, slow snow swirling over the quad, lit up like daytime, for safety sake.

I heard it … clear its throat? A tiny noise that sounded like throat clearing. I slowly turned my head back towards the owl. Its blinking was less frequent and it was staring at me forcefully. Slowly, slowly, I retrieved my phone from my back pocket. Without moving my head, I looked down at my phone and with minimal movements typed in the search bar: “owl rescue”. There were three options. My finger hovered over the “call now” button.

“You shouldn’t do that,” the owl said in a low gravelly voice, a mismatch to its size.

Startled, I dropped my phone.

“Ooooh, you shouldn’t do that either,” the owl said sympathetically.

Keys jangled in the door and my roommate, Sebastian stumbled in already pretty drunk. It was Thursday after all.

“What?!” he asked somewhat defensively, evidently responding to my facial expression, the one that looked coincidentally like the wide eyed owl’s face.

The owl fluttered up to the headboard, and perched next to the clip-on light.

The noise yanked my attention, and a swung my head quickly to see the small thick brown bird. The owl rolled its eyes.

“He can’t hear me,” the owl informed me.

“But-” I sputtered pointing.

“He can’t see me either,” he said calmly.

When I felt my mouth open and close like a guppy gulping bubbles of air, I made myself stop.

“What?!” Sebastian asked.

I gave the owl a side eye, and he shrugged.

“Nothing,” I said with a sigh and a shrug. Then, “Wait — no, do you see anything different about the room?”

Sebastian quickly scanned the room.

“Nope,” he said. He rifled through his overflowing laundry pile and retrieved a black hoodie. “It’s cold out,” he explained, “Did you see that it’s snowing?”

“Uh, yeah,” I responded somewhat numbly.

Sebastian grabbed a winter hat and disappeared back into the hallway, briefly letting its overwhelmingly bright lights shine into the room. I stared at the closed door for a moment before shaking my head to clear the sleep-fog.

Sebastian liked to party and was at risk of failing three of his classes this semester. He seemed to think that college meant showing up when classes were scheduled, and then not doing anything else academic. His parents paid his tuition in cash and he seemed to not have a care in the world. My parents were not paying for anything. They co-signed the small loan I had to take out to supplement my academic scholarships.

Walking directly to my dented wooden desk, I flipped on my shiny desk lamp, and shook the generic mouse to bring the computer monitor to life.

I turned abruptly, remembering all at once that there was a talking owl, but feeling silly for checking.

“Still here,” it said, raising his eyebrows and appearing bemused.

“What’s going on?” I asked shaking my head.

The owl shrugged with its response: “Obviously someone thought you needed a talking owl, or I wouldn’t be here.”

My head shook again, but no matter how many times I shook my head, the owl remained in front of me. “What?!” I asked, “that doesn’t make it make more sense!”

The owl chuckled. “It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” he says simply.

But I know that’s not true. There’s an explanation for everything. But I don’t have time for this. I don’t. I have to keep my grades up or I risk losing my scholarships. Ignoring the owl seems like the best option right now. I turn to my computer, and put my fingers on the keyboard as I gather my thoughts to continue writing from the place I stopped before I decided to take a “quick” power-nap.

“Wait, bu-” I say turning to the owl and get a face full of feathers before it settles on my shoulder. “Ahhh!” I leap from my seat yelling and attempting to run away from the owl that is firmly perched on my shoulder. I quickly give up. “Why are you here?!” I finally ask, exasperated.

“I already told you that,” the owl says patiently, “‘obviously someone thought you needed a talking owl, or I wouldn’t be here.’ It’s becoming more obvious why by the minute!”

My eyes rolled and even though having the thing perched on my shoulder made it more challenging, I returned to my seat, determined to get back to the business of ignoring the owl.

I gently placed my fingers back on the keyboard and took a breath to gather my thoughts. But now I needed to pee. I sighed and rose back up. I glanced around the room, trying to find a place to hide the owl.

“Remember, Sebastian can’t see me,” it gently pointed out. Apparently the thing could read my mind now too. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes again and crept into the hallway. There were several boys wrestling — literally — at the far end of the hallway. The kerfuffle was moving away from me, onto the landing and down to the third floor. No one noticed me emerging from my room and walking halfway down the hall towards the nonsense — and the bathroom. I slipped in, relieved to find the echo-prone-green-tiled space empty. I was hesitant about peeing with an owl on my shoulder, but he didn’t seem to be any less certain about his perch on my shoulder. I went to the urinal.

I checked the time on my phone as I exited the bathroom. The cafeteria was already closed, but there were a few eateries that were opened late into the night on campus. I decided to grab hot food now, before it got any later and those options became overwhelmed with drunk frat boys. Remembering the wintry mix outside, I returned to my room to grab a coat and trade my slippers for boots. Before leaving my room, I craned my neck to look pointedly at the owl.

“What?!” it asked. Clearly not a mind reader, after all.

“Maybe you should stay here,” I suggested, not confident that it was invisible to others, and never one to desire attention — especially from strangers.

“Certainly not,” the owl said firmly. In response to my questioning look he said more gently: “‘Obviously someone thought you needed a talking owl, or I wouldn’t be here.’ Who knows if it’s out there — getting food — that you need me most??!”

Okay, so maybe this thing could read my mind. I sighed and as I put on my coat, the owl fluttered up to my head.

“Seriously?” I asked, miffed.

“Well, I can’t risk being suffocated underneath that behemoth coat, now can I?” he asked reasonably. When my overstuffed coat was neatly zipped up to my chin, the owl fluttered back down to my shoulder, but struggled to gain purchase.

“Nope,” he said under his breath and with a shake of his head, and returned to the top of my head.

I sighed. It was clear there was no point in wasting my breath. My hair had a mind of its own and was plenty thick. It was probably more nest-like or whatever up there anyway. I could feel it moving around and settling in, and even though I looked up with my eyes, I obviously couldn’t see the owl. I glanced in the mirror. The owl’s brown feathers blended in with my hair color.

“Camouflage,” I said under my breath. In case the owl was wrong, it probably was the least obvious place for the little beast to hide.

The halls were now completely barren. I took the stairs two at a time and was out on the blustery quad in no time. I walked swiftly down the path out of the quad, down a long flight of stairs that had already been salted to prevent slipping, and into the overwhelming warmth of Dudley; the building that housed student government offices, the career center, and the book store as well as the less popular cafe. I could feel the owl lift itself onto its impossibly thin legs and shake out its feathers. I rolled my eyes, relieved that there wasn’t another soul in sight.

The lights were dim, considering the hour, as all of the primary offices were closed with lights off. I walked swiftly down the hall to the right, down a flight of stairs, and into the cafe that filled half of the walk out basement level. There were a smattering of students about, mostly bookish types like me, all consumed with their own device or book as they blindly consumed necessary sustenance.

After ordering food, I debated returning immediately to my room, and then I spotted Morgan sitting with a book. He’d been meaning to ask her what she thought of Professor Reid. We were both in his German class and he was … out there. I made my way towards her and then felt the owl moved and awkwardly turned away … only to have her spot me.

“Malachi!” she called out. I groaned inwardly.

“She can’t see or hear me,” the owl whispered.

“Then why are you whispering?” I said, making it hard to keep my smile normal looking as it stretched across clenched teeth.

“Hey,” Morgan said warmly as I approached her. “Are you just getting food now?”

“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.

“He was napping!” the owl accused, “During the day! … Oh!” it said, presumably realizing it was nocturnal. I glowered.

“What?” she asked, “Why the face?”

“Oh!” I said surprised. Perhaps She didn’t hear the mouthy bird roosting in my hair after all. “Uh, just thinking of my workload.” I disengaged myself from my coat, suddenly feeling prickly with heat.

“Yeah, it’s brutal, isn’t it,” Morgan responded.

“Almost done though,” I assured her, “that’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Are you majoring in German?”

“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “Just getting my language requirement over with,” I smiled sheepishly when I realized she may be majoring in German. “You?” I asked.

She laughed. “You must be even worse at German than me! There’s no way I could major in German.”

I joined her laughter quietly, then pealed the paper away from my veggie wrap. I didn’t realize I was so hungry, until my mouth was full of this delectable combination.

“She likes you,” I heard the owl whisper.

“What?” I hissed back.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, nothing, sorry” I said quickly. Could the owl be right? It hadn’t occurred to me. She was nice enough, but I didn’t think I knew her well enough to like her like that. I took another bite thoughtfully, trying to subtly watch Morgan.

“She’ll work,” the owl whispered. I stopped myself from responding. I didn’t have to. The owl knew what I was asking. “I mean,” the owl continued, “she’ll work with your life. You two will mesh well together.” I was still perplexed. Finally the owl exhaled, clearly exasperated. “Your life-partner. She’ll be an excellent partner for you in life and from what I can tell, you’ll be good for her too.” I nodded, hopefully imperceptibly. I wanted the owl to shut up because my face felt red and hot.

“Well, I should get over to the library,” Morgan said gathering her things and folding herself into her pink furry coat and wrapping a fuzzy scarf around her neck a dizzying number of times.

“Oh, yeah,” said numbly.

“Do you want to have lunch after German tomorrow?” Morgan asked shyly.

“Sure,” responded someone absently. I always wanted lunch after German.

“I mean together,” Morgan clarified more boldly.

“Oh!” I said surprised. “Yeah, that sounds great,” I confirmed, grinning stupidly.

“Great!” she responded. “Nice bird,” she said lightly as she walked away.