Hope is the Thing With Feathers

Chapter 7

It was on a few rare occasions that Blathers' parents would call together their not-so-little chicks for a family meal. Now that Celeste was working toward her bachelor's, and Blathers was deep into his master's program, the two older owls had gotten quite lonely with the absence of two more pairs of feet running around in the halls.

Blathers planned only to stay for dinner, as his studies required even more work from him, especially in this day and age. Celeste would be staying the weekend, as she often complained about her stuck-up roommate who liked to leave her clothes scattered around the floor, as well as leave out half-eaten food products that the ants would get into. Blathers was horrified at the mention of insects and was thankful he lived on his own, as lonely as it sometimes was.

While the sound of a frying on a kitchen stove echoed throughout the flat, Blathers quietly opened the door to his childhood bedroom. It was still in pristine shape, as his mother had left it. Blathers took a seat on his bed and began reading through some old journals of his. The days of elementary school, hot summer days spent with friends, and stargazing with Celeste came careening back to him. Those were the days in which his dreams were going to come true. Now, Blathers had all but certainly accepted his fate.

"Dinner!" His mother's voice echoed through the hallways, just as it had done every evening when they were younger.

Blathers took his familiar spot at the dining room table and dug in. The air had grown quiet, save for the sound of utensils clacking against plates that were becoming increasingly empty.

"How is school going, Celeste?" Fuzzle asked her daughter.

Celeste ran down the usual, how an astronomy degree was more difficult than she thought it would be, but she hoped it was well worth it, as well as tidbits about which guy she was dating this week, and of course, more complaints about her roommate.

"Why don't you move to a different room, then? If this girl is so much trouble?" Orbit asked. He seemed to be the most uninterested in Celeste's chatter.

"Because I shouldn't have to move out because of her," Celeste proudly retorted.

Orbit merely grumbled and turned to his son. "And how are you doing Blathers?"

"The same as ever," Blathers said.

"Getting good grades?" his father asked.

"That's not even a question at this point," Celeste said.

"Any idea what you'll be doing with that degree these days?" Orbit asked. "Still archaeology, I'm presuming."

"Actually, no," Blathers said. This came as a shock to the family. All their beaks closed in surprise. Blathers had never shared the contents of that meeting with his professor all those years ago besides Brewster, though he had hinted to Celeste about a few alternative career paths once or twice. Omitting the fact that Blathers had been told of different career paths a few years prior, he told his family how a museum curator seemed like a more promising position.

"But you loved archaeology!" Fuzzle exclaimed. "I would hide little trinkets in the sandbox all the time for you to dig up."

Blathers heart sank because he, of course, loved it too, but he did not want to tell his parents that his grades and experience were not on par with the career he had once chosen.

"It seems like the safer option," Orbit said before Blathers could conjure up a response. "I was always hesitant with the field."

"I'm thinking about becoming a professor as well," Celeste said. "I'm not really sure what else to do with the degree."

"Well, I suppose I thought your two's careers would be a bit more exciting, but ordinary and well-paying is good enough," Fuzzle said. "I am happy for you both."

Blathers smiled weakly at his parents, though he could not deny the pain he felt that his parents also thought this was the better option. Blathers was still doing his best in school, trying to somehow prove himself wrong, that he was still capable of becoming an archaeologist, but times had changed, and that conversation that day had really altered his perspective.

While his days of becoming an archaeologist were beginning to fade, he hopefully thought of becoming a curator at a museum that was well-established and known for its research. It was his second best option, and he had already heard from Professor Cornelius about the illustrious Faraway Museum. That was his next goal.

When the meal was done and dessert was served, Blathers prepared to leave for the night. His mother kindly asked again if he would stay, but Blathers told his parents that, as always, he had studying to do.

"How come you don't study that often?" Orbit asked his daughter.

"I do!" Celeste exclaimed. Her feathers were risen in annoyance. "I just have a social life too!"

Blathers could only sigh and shake his head at his little sister before he wished his parents farewell and headed home for the evening. 

It was early in the morning the next day that Blathers made his usual stop at The Roost. Brewster was slightly surprised to see his friend grab a coffee so early, especially when there were no classes on Saturdays, but Blathers wanted to relate to him the events of the night prior.

"It seems everyone thinks this is the best option for me," Blathers said, with a slight hoo of lament.

"Is it what you want to do though?" Brewster asked.

"Of course what I really want to do is become an archaeologist, but I don't think it's the best route these days. I've grown to like the idea of being a curator more so than when I was first told about it, but it's not the same," Blathers said. He took a sip of coffee and sighed.

"I suppose it is up to you whether you want to play it safe or risk it all," Brewster said. "A few years ago, I would have told you to go for your dream, but ever since going for mine, I've been in swarms of debt and have barely been able to keep this shop open month to month. Business has never been great, and I don't have much hope The Roost will last much longer."

"Do you still love what you do?" Blathers asked.

"Of course, but I'd enjoy it a lot more if the business were actually doing well," Brewster replied. 

"Achieving your dreams is hard, huh?" Blathers thought to himself out loud.

"It is," Brewster agreed. "I wish I had more advice to give you, but I'm in a bit of sticky situation myself."

"No worries," Blathers told his friend. "I'm sorry about your business though. You do make the best coffee."

"I appreciate that," Brewster said. "I know I'm no help in cheering you up but--"

"The coffee helps. Thanks," Blathers said. He finished his cup only a few minutes afterward and took his leave. As he left the shop and wandered back down the city streets toward his apartment, he took an alternative route, past some smaller businesses not as crowded by tourists.

It was relieving seeing some new sights of the city, even if Blathers had lived there for years. He walked slowly, taking in every new sight before he began to reach the familiar street of his apartment.

He turned the corner, looking back at the way he had come one last time. Then, he headed up the steps to his apartment, wondering where the next path of life would lead him.