Sheri got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Everything was not as she expected. Only two days remained before her fourteenth birthday, but the celebration already felt ruined.
To begin with, her parents still hadn’t asked her what present she wanted. She had patiently waited for over a week, hoping they’d remember on their own. To make matters worse, almost all her school friends wouldn’t be able to come to her house for the celebration. It was early July, and many had gone to summer camps or were vacationing with their parents. But the final blow came from her crush, Thomas. He had promised to join the celebration, but this morning, he sent her a message saying he was leaving tomorrow with his parents to visit his grandmother.
“Pathetic traitor,” she thought bitterly. “To leave me for a trip with his parents. He could ask to stay a few days until after my birthday and then go. He must have understood how important this is to me. Weakling. Apparently, you don’t want to see me at all! Go on all four sides! Do what you want!”
Sheri opened the messenger app on her phone, deleted all her correspondence with Thomas, and hovered her finger over the “block” button. But she hesitated. They often discussed school topics in their chats, and she hadn’t confessed her feelings to him. Although, of course, he could have guessed everything himself. Blocking him would make his importance too obvious. Instead, she simply unsubscribed from his profile updates.
Sheri felt terribly lonely and was on the verge of tears. She considered herself beautiful and smart, but life seemed to treat her cruelly. Her parents and friends had let her down when she needed their support the most. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone at home, so she went out into the backyard to her small garden with a hammock.
The hammock was tied between two old apple trees. When Sheri was younger, she used to love lying in it and dreaming about her future. She had imagined herself surrounded by many friends, having the most handsome boyfriend in school, and becoming a famous blogger or singer by the age of eighteen. But how distant and unattainable those dreams seemed now.
She lay in the hammock, thought of Thomas again, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. The garden was empty, and she could cry freely without anyone pestering her with stupid questions.
“I don’t need anyone, not my parents, not Thomas, nor friends who don’t care about me!”
She screamed loudly and waved her hand in the air as if pushing all these people away from her. Then she sank back into her thoughts.
From the hammock, she could clearly see the branches of the apple tree above her. Suddenly, Sheri noticed a large, beautiful blue owl sitting among the foliage and ripening apples. She had never seen owls in her garden before, let alone a blue one.
The owl was about twenty centimeters tall. Its bright blue head stood out against the darker blue of its body. Its wings were the most stunning feature—they shimmered with shades of purple, each feather tipped with yellow dots, giving them a speckled appearance. If not for its large yellow eyes, one might have mistaken it for a parrot from a distance.
“Why are you staring at me?” asked the owl.
Sheri looked at the owl in amazement.
“Girl, I’m talking to you. Stop looking at me so intently; it makes me uncomfortable.”
“Ordinary owls don’t talk,” Sheri thought. “It’s someone’s prank, and the microphone is hidden in a tree. Or is it an unusual owl? Maybe it escaped from a lab… or it’s a robot?”
But this garden was her parents’ private property. No one else had access to it. The prank theory didn’t fit. It had to be a robot or a rare lab escapee. But Sheri was too curious to report it just yet.
“Are you real?”
“Just as real as you are.”
“But you talk. Owls can’t talk.”
“Ordinary owls cannot speak, but our species is distinguished by intelligence and quick wit. We understand people, and we can communicate with them.”
“It’s very strange. I have never thought that these species exist.”
“You still don’t know too many things about life. You, people, are strange creatures.”
“Why?”
“You are very limited in your abilities, but everyone thinks he is God.”
“It’s not true,” said Sheri. “For example, I do not consider myself God. As well as all my surroundings.”
“Is it? Then why are you acting like you’re God?”
This expression puzzled Sheri. “Perhaps the owl has a limited vocabulary and doesn’t understand the term ‘God,'” she thought.
“When have I acted like God? Give me an example.”
“Well, if you want one,” said the owl, “let’s start with the fact that a few moments ago, you were surprised that you didn’t know about owls like me. That’s a God complex—you believe you know everything in the world. And if something is not included in your knowledge, it shouldn’t exist.”
“I agree that I was surprised, but I don’t think that’s enough to say I have a God complex.”
“Before that, you lay in the hammock and mentioned your parents, your friends, and some Thomas. And judging by your emotions, you were very offended by them all. Am I right?”
“Eavesdropping isn’t good. But you’re right; they didn’t behave as I wanted,” admitted Sheri.
“I was sitting in the tree enjoying the silence when you came and started crying and screaming. It can hardly be called eavesdropping,” the owl continued. “But your resentment is another manifestation of the God complex. You are offended because people didn’t behave the way you wanted them to, as if you wrote their roles in a play. It’s hard for people to imagine that others behave according to their own will. Even if you express your wishes, others can accept or refuse them. Both scenarios are valid. The problem begins when you resent them for not meeting your unspoken expectations.”
The owl’s words pierced Sheri’s heart. She realized she hadn’t told her parents what gift she wanted, nor had she told Thomas how important his presence was to her birthday. Maybe they simply didn’t understand.
“Okay, you might be partly right. People often expect others to act a certain way and get offended when they don’t. But that’s because we put ourselves in their place and predict their actions. I don’t classify that as a God complex.”
“Are you interested in hearing other manifestations of your sense of omnipotence?” asked the owl.
“Of course, I’m interested in your thoughts.”
“Okay, then I’ll continue:
You live as if you have a contract with the Universe. Otherwise, I can’t explain why you scream, ‘It’s not fair!’ when something bad happens to you, as if the Universe has violated its part of the contract and you demand to call it to account. The world doesn’t owe you anything, and bad things happen to you just as they happen to everyone else in the world.
You provide warranties for things for which you are not responsible. You guarantee to always be together in marriage, as if you can see the future and exclude the possibility that love might fade, your interests might change, and a separate life might become more pleasant. You guarantee at a job interview that you will work hard, as if there’s no chance that in a year, you’ll grow sick of the job. You so easily give guarantees in friendship, love, career, and many other areas as if you are gods who see the future—not realizing how much a person is actually limited and how little depends on them.
You are adults but act like children. You think you’re like the god of the sun, and the world revolves around you. You believe your words hurt someone or make someone happy, that your parents are sad because of your actions, and that the country isn’t as good as it could be because of your inaction. In reality, your words often do not hold as much weight in others’ lives as you think. Parents may feel sad not because of you but because they realize their mistakes from youth and know that nothing can be undone. The country doesn’t care whether you act or remain passive. You greatly overestimate your importance and capabilities.”
With each sentence the owl spoke, Shirley recognized people from her environment and realized on how much importance she had given to herself and her influence over things she couldn’t control. She realized the full depth of the owl’s words about the God complex. Her thoughts accidentally turned into words, and she interrupted the owl.
“I haven’t looked at things from that angle until now. You’re right. We really do often consider ourselves gods. But a person can also admit their mistakes, learn, and change. Therefore, we will leave this complex behind, and I will start with myself. I will stop resenting people for not behaving the way I want and expecting them to guess what I desire. Whatever I want from them, I will speak directly. And if I face refusal, I won’t be offended, since I am a simple mortal person who considers the desires and capabilities of others, not just my own. I’m sorry I interrupted you. Can you continue with how we humans behave?”
Suddenly, the familiar melody of Take Me To Church began to play, growing louder with each passing second.
Shirley opened her eyes. She was lying in a hammock. Apparently, she had been crying and hadn’t noticed when she fell asleep. Her phone vibrated in her side pocket, and the tune by Hozier could be heard. The branch where the owl had been was empty. She took out her phone and looked at the screen.
Her father was calling.
“Yes, Dad.”
“Shirl, your mother and I just realized we hadn’t asked about your preferences for a gift. Can you think it over this evening and share your ideas at dinner?”
“Yes, of course, with pleasure. I already have something in mind.”
“Great. See you this evening, then. Remember, even though we are forgetful parents, we love you.”
“See you this evening, Dad. I love you too.”
The whole monologue with the owl was just a dream, thought Shirley. But how alive and meaningful it was.
Even though she had made a promise in her dream, she decided to follow it in real life.
I am not God, but just a human. But because I am human, I can let go of expectations and admit my mistakes. To begin with, I should write to Thomas and ask if he can visit me after he returns.
Also, Shirley realized she was hungry.
“I can’t wait until dinner. To the refrigerator, then!” she said aloud.
With that, Shirley jumped off the hammock and slowly walked home.
The garden was quiet again. A gentle breeze rocked the hammock. In the grass beneath the old apple tree lay two purple feathers with yellow dots.
