Troika by Adam Pelzman

and as I get near her, Chico moves behind her, slides across the branch and positions himself between me and her, real chivalrous. I hold out the carrots and the two birds move away together along the branch, sliding their claws real quick. Pepe places his hand on my arm, says hold right there. So I stand with my arms out and the carrots just a few inches from the birds. Chica looks at Chico, and Chico looks me in the eyes, takes a couple of steps toward me and opens his beak. He sticks his tongue out, which is plump and cracked and looks like a piece of old leather that’s been out in the sun for days.
    Just when I think he’s gonna take the carrot, the two of them shimmy a few inches away so they’re at the end of the branch with nowhere to go. I’m so nervous ’cause Chico and Chica are mine now. Pepe just gave them to me—even though they need to be free and I understand that—but I love them and I’m afraid they’ll reject me. I turn and look at Pepe, and his hat is on his head now and he pulls the brim down and makes a motion with his hands. Go, girl, go.
    Chico gives a little squeak and takes a couple of steps back in mydirection, but this time Chica doesn’t follow. He opens his beak wide, sticks out his leathery tongue and I place the carrot on it. His beak snaps shut like a mean turtle and he nods, turns to Chica. She opens her beak and looks up to the sun and seems to enjoy the warmth. Slow and careful, Chico places the carrot in Chica’s mouth and she clasps it tight and looks straight ahead. Chico turns back to me and opens his beak. I place the other carrot on his tongue, and the two birds crunch away, strong and fast, and in no more than a few seconds the carrots are all gone.
    I turn to Pepe, excited and feeling real connected to the birds, to
my
birds, and so happy that they ate my carrots and hoping that they trust me now. Pepe lifts the brim of his hat so he can see me better, so I can get a better look at his face. He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks at me the way a grandfather looks at his granddaughter when he wants to say something important. And then he says you see that? He looks over at the birds then back to me. Remember, lovely Perlita, remember what you just saw. And I shrug ’cause I know I just saw something sweet but I don’t know exactly what Pepe means.
    Pepe gives a little playful pinch on my shoulder and he says remember, Perlita, when you get older, you look for a man like that, someone who protects you, who feeds you first, who won’t take a bite of anything, won’t take a single piece of food or clothing or firewood until you’ve had enough first. Firewood? I ask, ’cause why would I need firewood in Miami, and besides, we have an electric heater that we plug into the wall if it ever gets chilly. Yes, firewood, Old Pepe says, firewood. You promise me, Perlita? Yes, I say.
    Pepe picks a feather off my shoulder, a little puff of white like a cotton ball, not the kind of feather that’s long and thin and full of colors. He holds it to the sky and says here, Perlita, make a wish. And I close my eyes and turn my face to the sky. I can feel mycheeks roasting in the sun, and I make a wish, the same wish I always make, even to this day. And then I open my eyes and the feather’s on his palm. I blow real hard and it bounces across his hand like a tumbleweed, then catches a breeze and floats high, high up over the mango tree where Chico and Chica sit, and they watch it fly too, their heads swinging together like they share one brain, then up over the fence and out east, over the bay and toward the ocean.
    I turn to Pepe. Want to know my wish? I ask. Pepe shields his eyes from the sun and watches the feather drift until we can’t see it anymore. And then he smiles and shakes his head and says no, Perlita, no. That’s for you, just you. And your god.

SCARCITY. NEED. KNOWLEDGE.
    I n the corner table of a popular restaurant that Frankmann operated, Julian sat with Kira and