He deserves to be happy and in love and saying volumes with grunts that his wife replies to with laughter and orders to her dog that the pup answers with whines and reluctant obedience.
I want that.
Not because I’ve ever felt like my life is lacking.
But because I want to laugh and have private jokes with Emma and learn how to give her chicken commands that it’ll listen to.
“Need a ride?” Hayes asks me.
“Nah, I’m gonna figure out what else I need here. Thanks.”
Hayes gives Emma a shoulder-hug, which is almost as startling as if he’d picked her up and swung her around in an impromptu square dance. “Thank you for dinner.”
Emma smiles at him. “My pleasure. Thank you for coming.”
And then my brother and his wife and their dog depart, leaving me alone with Emma and Yolko Ono.
She settles into the folding chair close to me, pulling the chicken into her lap and petting it like it’s a purse dog. “Jack said to tell you to call him if you want help with the hot tub.”
“Will he help, or will he pretend to help?”
She smiles. “He’ll help. He’s actually incapable of doing a project wrong, even to make a point. If Decker or Lucky or Zen had offered to help, though, I’d advise against taking them up on it.”
Not much else I can do tonight. Not without the replacement parts.
And a fence to keep the chickens out of the hot tub area.
So instead, I open up the other chair and take a seat next to Emma.
“How was camping?” she asks me.
“Everything I expected it to be and more.”
“Oh, god, what did Theo do?”
I smile. Can’t help it. “Nothing I didn’t respect.”
“That is not the right answer.”
“I’m not bloodied and bruised, so this is an improvement.” Don’t, ah, ask me about my intestinal tract though.
Camp food, man. It isnotwhat I’ve been served the few times I’ve visited Razzle Dazzle’s camps. And the pain didn’t stop with the fire in my mouth, if you know what I mean.
Emma eyes me but doesn’t press for more details.
The truth here is the one thing I won’t share with her.
That’s a step too far.
I’d honestly hope Hayes wouldn’t share details with Begonia either if the same ever happened to him.
“It was fun too,” I tell her. “Would probably bemorefun the next time.”
She pulls her knees up to her chest in the chair, cradling the chicken in one arm beside her knees while the bird makes a noise that sounds strangely similar to a purr. “You’d go again?”
“Sure.”
“Sure, if I had nothing else going on, orsure, I hope they invite me again?”
