Rap, rap, rap…

The sound rattles my brain. Any thoughts I form ricochet around my skull and die.

Rap, rap, rap…

The salesperson said the mirrored window tint would lower my cooling bills, but the unrelenting, mid-July Texas sun laughs at the idea. At this rate, it will take a decade to recoup the cost. Worse than my gullibility is the new neighbor it brought to my home office window. Not a Peeping Tom, but an offender I can’t call the police about.

A male cardinal.

He sits in the magnolia tree about ten feet from the house and dive-bombs his reflection from sunrise to sunset. I know it’s always the same one—he is strikingly red except for the pale patch on his left breast. Does he fight his imaginary foe, considering his rival’s imperfection too hideous to allow him near any females in his territory? Or is he self-aware and angry that he was born with a deformity?

Rap, rap, rap…

Whatever the reason, the thrashing of beak against glass has turned to torture. The constant banging has become the soundtrack to my dreams, creating a disquiet that curtails any rest I might attain.

With my nose inches from the glass, I examine him. He pauses for a moment, sitting on the window frame, his chest heaving. A few minuscule specks of blood freckle the edge of his beak.

My mother once told me that cardinals are monogamous. She also told me I was too fat and lazy, like my bad eye. She would describe me with one word—homely. Did the cardinal’s mom tweet the bird-speak translation of that word about him and his pale patch? Had he done a little mating dance for a potential partner and been rejected? Isn’t there someone for everyone in the bird world? My annoyance migrates to sadness for him, for his bitterness with his life. Several tears escape down my cheeks.

He cocks his head as if the scrutiny is mutual; then his eyes grow fierce.

Rap, rap, rap…

I leave him to his agitation and enter the bathroom to wash my face. After turning on the taps, I stare at myself. At the asymmetry of every feature. At the exaggerated overbite. At the mole on my left cheek.

Rap, rap, rap…

My chest heaves.

Rap, rap, rap…

I pull my head back, then launch my face forward.