Dylan and Jason chuckle between themselves before Dylan eases my concern. “Don’t worry, I think I have extra in the bathroom upstairs. You can use my toothpaste that’s in there as long as you keep the cap clean. I can’t stand messy toothpaste. That’s why Jason and I couldn’t share one growing up.”
Jason’s answering smirk makes me think he might have done that on purpose. There’s a devilish gleam in his eye.
“I have to go feed the animals in the barn,” Dylan announces. Do you want to come with me? Meet the crew?”
I perk up. “I’d love that.” I hope they have goats. I don’t know why they would, but I love goats.
After stuffing my feet back into the boots I wore last night (I’m really thankful I chose to wear them, now), Dylan leads me to the ancient looking barn where they keep their animals. The wood is bleached of all color by the sun. Under the cloudy sky, the wood looks especially gray. But the barn holds a charm to it that I’d expect in aLittle House on the Prairieepisode. It even has one of those little windows on the second level. I think it’s for loading or unloading hay, at least I think I saw that in a movie. Who knows.
The barn takes advantage of every inch of space it can. From tools that resemble torture devices hanging from the walls, to vertical storage solutions. I saw their canned goods in the pantry when I was looking for food to make lunch, but metal shelves lined against every open wall contain either more jars filled with food, canning jars and lids, or the tools necessary for it. When Dylan catches me taking it all in and trying to figure out what all the food is, he explains they canned it all themselves, most of it coming from their garden, and some of the jars being two years old, from the first time they took up the practice.
It seems like a good system, they can reuse the jars and supplies over and over again. Once you make the initial investment, it pays for itself.
Then we move onto the animals kept in the numerous stalls lining the center of the barn. They have one horse named Bessie (the irony of her being a horse instead of a cow is not lost on me), five chickens, two pigs named Forrest and Jenny, and to my absolute delight, one goat named Athena.
“Jason named Bessie and Athena,” Dylan relayed to me. “I named Forrest and Jenny.Forrest Gumpwas my favorite movie for nearly two years. I couldn’t get enough of it.”
“What took its place?”
“Breakfast Club!” Dylan answers enthusiastically. “I’m addicted to it. Don’tbe surprised if you hear it in my room every once in a while. It’s my comfort movie.”
“Thank god you have a TV. I think I would actually go crazy if I didn’t have some form of entertainment.”
“Jason has a whole library in his room. Just don’t take them without asking, he gets very protective of his books.”
I guess I knew that Jason could read since he graduated high school and all, but I’m still confused. How does one learn to read without speaking?
I look through my lashes up to Dylan with hesitation. I’ve never thought to ask this before, and now that I am, it feels impolite.
“Why doesn’t he talk?”
There it is. The words hang in the air while I wait for a reply and I wish I could take them back. I feel like I just asked about his dick size or something. Discomfort is definitely tangible, it feels like being stuck in jello unable to escape but you can move and try even if it won’t get you anywhere.
Dylan eyes me wearily. “Have you ever asked him that?” I shake my head nervously. “I think it’d be best to let him tell you, or at least give me permission to tell you. It’s personal.”
“Did he ever speak? Like has he always been silent or did he stop at some point.”
The debate in Dylan’s head is present in his expression as well. But he decides to answer me. “He stopped talking when he was ten. I was nine.”
“Why not use sign language?” It seems like the obvious answer to the communication problem.
“We all learned, except our dad. But he still doesn’t use it unless he has to. Again, he should really be the one to tell you this stuff…but he doesn’t like communicating with anyone. But if you live with him long enough, you learn to speak Jason. He communicates a lot whether he means to or not.”
I can see that. From the way he looks at me, I know he’s never forgiven me for prom night. And by the tension on his body, I know my presence bothers him. But he also lent me his mother’s clothes. So maybe he doesn’t entirely hate me. Maybe five percent of him likes me.
Or at the very least, tolerates me.
After the sun sets through the downfall of snow and the line between the treetops and the sky blurs into black, we all settle in the kitchen for dinner. Jason made beef stew and pointedly left a plate with one slice of bread on the table which he took before anyone else could. I guess we used most of it for the sandwiches earlier.
Point taken, he asked for me to make bread because it was needed, not because I’m a woman. I guess I’ll ask one of them to show me how to make it tomorrow.
“I understand why you have chickens,” I blurted to break the lack of conversation. I can’t call it silence because the two men eat like they’ve been starved for days. There is nothing but the sound of their spoons hitting the bottom of the bowl, then scraping along the sides to scoop every scrap of food into the utensil, which is just as loud as their chewing. “But why do you have the other animals?”
Jason holds a piece of beef on his spoon letting the broth drop into the bowl. He eyes the meat and then me. Then stuffs the spoonful of beef into his mouth.
They’re going to eat Bessie?
Dylan chuckles adjacent to me while giving his brother a mischievous smile that Jason meets with one of his own. These assholes have their own wordless language. I hope I’m not here long enough to learn it.
