We went to Washington Square Park to have our picnic, because its where we knew to go. We sat in the far Northwest corner so none of the other booksellers would see us. Malachi the drug dealer noticed me, but he just nodded, and went about his business. We spread an army blanket Id brought from the storage space, and laid out our bounty.
So Rayna,” I said. You were talking about your familys house earlier. In Boro Park? I still dont know much about you, or where you come from.”
Thats true.” Her face clouded, and she didnt say anything else for a long while. I had pushed too hard, as I had with Roman and Timur. I kept asking questions, when I needed to just wait for answers to come. It had been so nice spending time with Rayna, and Id ruined it. We chewed our food in silence. Squirrels and pigeons came too close. They were not afraid of people, and they wanted a bite of our food.
Ill tell you a story,” Rayna said, carefully. From my familys neighborhood.”
Yeah?” I asked, wanting to encourage her without pushing.
There was a boy who lived by me,” said Rayna. Who thought he was a pigeon.”
Really?” I couldnt tell if she was serious, or joking, or relating a local legend.
Yes. He was the oldest son of a family who lived down the street from my family. The father ran a nice business selling hats. The Hat King, they called him. The family hoped that the son would grow up and take over the business, but then he somehow got it into his hatless head that he was a pigeon.” I sat, enthralled. I didnt think Rayna was going to tell me anything, and now words were pouring forth. It was clear that she was repeating a story she had heardperhaps even toldmany times before. Still, I was happy that she was telling it to me.
All day long he would hang out in the park with the other pigeons, naked, pecking around. Theres these stone tables in the park there? With chessboards for tabletops? Where old men play, sometimes?” I nodded to show I understood.
There are some in this park too,” I said, pointing down to the parks Southwest corner. There were men who came and played there every day. They werent a part of my sceneI didnt come to the West side of the park very oftenbut they were part of the park life, just like the drug dealers, the street musicians, or us booksellers. Washington Square chess was not recreational. These chess hustlers played all takers, for two or three dollars a game. Al was a pretty good chess player. I wondered if he ever played those guys. He wouldnt play them unless he knew hed win.
Yes, like that. So, hed go around and around the bases of the tables, all day long. He would eat chips that children dropped on the ground. It was very embarrassing to his family. In Boro Park, everyone is always watching everyone else. Judging. His siblings were able to get him back inside at night, but only by shooing him in with a broom. Hed coo at his motherwho hed always lovedand eat the challah she baked, so long as she ripped it into little pieces and tossed them under the table.
The Hat King and his wife tried everything. They brought in the boys old friends from Yeshiva to visit, but he didnt seem to recognize them. They brought in rabbis, gypsy hypnotists, doctors with theories. What do you call them? Analysts? But none of them could convince him. He wouldnt respond but with a peck and a flapping of his wings. Arms.” Rayna paused to sip her wine. A park pigeon cocked his head, as if waiting for Rayna to resume her story.
What could the family do? They kept on in as best a manner as they could. They built a nice coop for the boy to sleep in, and threw scraps from their nice meals on the ground. They had to get rid of the family cat, because who could bear to watch their son chased around the house by a little pussycat?” Rayna looked genuinely shamed at the thought of boy being tormented by a cat.
Then, one day, a man came to the door. A stranger. He said that he just arrived in the neighborhood, but had already heard about the boy from the neighbors. He thought he could help. Sure, said the Hat King, Come on in, be my guest.” The man appeared, just like that, and no one questioned it? But then, Rayna had appeared in my life in much the same way.
So the man took off his clothes, got down on the floor, and started pecking away under the table. The son came up to him and said, What in the world are you doing? And he said, What do you mean what am I doing? Im a pigeon, like you, anyone can see that. Im pecking at crumbs, like I always do.
Well, listen pal, you dont look like any pigeon Ive ever seen.
Well, you dont look like any pigeon I ever seen either. But if you say you are, you are. I guess were both of us just a couple of pigeons.
I guess we are. The two pigeons became intimate, sharing their coop at night, walking in circles together during the day.
After a few days, though, the man appeared under the table with his clothes on. Pants, shirt, jacket. Even a hat. The Hat Kings son took special note of the hat, which was a very fine one.
Say, said the son, Ive never seen a pigeon wearing human clothes. You are sure youre a pigeon?
Coo! Said the man. You know me, friend. Of course Im a pigeon. Is there a rule that says a pigeon cant wear clothes if he wants to? Especially such a fine hat as this one? Cant we pigeons do anything we want? What kind of pigeon would be so insecure he would think that wearing clothes made him less of a pigeon? The son was skeptical, but the days grew colder, and he eventually pulled on some clothes himself. Why not? He could put on all the clothes he wanted, it wouldnt change who he was.” I sat there, in Als sweater and baseball cap, and listened to Raynas story.
Then, one morning, the man sat at the table and ate breakfast with the rest of the family. Again, the son confronted him, questioned his pigeon-ness. But again, the man argued back, saying, Is there a rule a pigeon cant sit at a table? Maybe its a more comfortable way for a pigeon to enjoy his meal. And maybe he wants to eat something more than crumbs.” The son badly wanted to eat at the table, but had convinced himself he couldnt. So now he pulled himself up into a chair for the first time in over a year. With every new action, the man convinced the Hat Kings son with the same argument. Is there a rule a pigeon cant drink wine, if he likes the taste of it? And is there a rule a pigeon cant converse with humans, if he has something to add to the conversation? And so on.”
The son was cured?” I asked He became who he was supposed to be?”
No.” Rayna shook her head. He was never cured. Some people are so damaged they can never be healed. Most people are. He never stopped believing that he was a pigeon. But he did come to believe that he was a very clever pigeon, and that it was all right for a clever pigeon to run a very successful hat company, making money off the humans. And he acted like he was supposed to.”
Was he happier?” I asked.
I dont know. I think
I think maybe he was happier in the park with the pigeons.” She smiled.
I think so to,” I said. What happened to the other man? That helped him?”
I dont know,” Rayna said. He was just gone. Sometimes people come into your life. And sometimes people go away. You are grateful, but
you dont hold too tight.” She seemed to be delivering a warning about our situation, but I wasnt clear if she was telling herself or me not to hold on too tight. Was she saying she expected me to desert her after Id grown tired of helping? Or was she warning me that shed be gone one day, with no explanation? Or was it just a story, with no lesson?