“And is there concrete proof that the horse is suffering? I don't know, the mare looks really happy to me.”
“How do you know what a happy horse looks like?” I challenge.
Fabian shrugs. “I don't. But neither do you when it comes to proof that she's suffering.”
Then he leans forward a little. “Let me ask you something. Let's say the horse is not living its best life but it's not being tortured either. Honestly it's probably in better conditions than the chickens that get slaughtered for everybody else's nutrition in New York. Even if you want to say you're vegan, plants and animal life still suffer at the hands of agriculture no matter what you're harvesting so…”
He blots the napkin to his mouth.
“…But let's say this mare was saved from being put down or used as pet food and instead this man decided to utilize the rest of her days to do this, which is more than she would have gotten rotting away in some stall. He's out here with her every single day. Fresh air, she gets exercise. And what if he's doing this to feed his struggling family as well? Do you prioritize what youdeem to be the animal suffering, under some moral compass, to make yourself feel better over that of his and his family's?”
I giggle. “Okay now you're just trying to make me into a monster.”
Fabian shrugs once more. “All I'm saying is if you're going to start bringing up the whole moral compass thing then we got to start tipping over every barrel and dotting every i. What people don't understand is that the world… is the wilderness. Just because we don't have a lot of trees here doesn't mean we're still not part of the jungle. Those rules apply. Someone's got to suffer for someone to live. The lion's got to kill and eat the antelope, and it's got to suffer the fear of being chased and eaten alive by wild dogs, or being suffocated by a lion to feed the lion. Sometimes they are necessary evils.”
“But for the little bit that you can do… I would say the little bit that you can help… youshould. Maybe it looks different for different people. Maybe for some people that's vowing never to eat meat again. Are they still destroying the environment? Sure,maybe. But they're choosing to at least sacrifice one aspect of their life in an attempt to help where they can, where they think it's feasible.”
“Is that so?” Fabian smiles.
“I'm not asking for this guy to have his horse confiscated or anything. But I'm pretty sure you can't blame me for paying the guy an extra 100 bucks to allow his horse to rest for the rest of our dinner. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite.”
I shrug, taking another bite of the pastry.
Fabian smiles. “Youreallylike that pastry.”
Moaning a little, I giggle through the bite, pointing to the pastry in my hand with the other. “If this animal suffered a shit ton for this to taste this good, then suffering is one hell of a seasoning.”
Fabian bursts out laughing. “Wow! Look at Mrs. Righteous over here.”
“It'sMiss. And I never claimed to be righteous. I just wanted the horse to rest. And our driver got an extra hundred bucks. What's the problem?” I laugh.
“Well alright then,” Fabian playfully concedes.
My heart swells because… well, Lincoln and I never talked like this. Sure, we would talk about our dreams, about his work, and we existed with each other in the moment. We went on adventures, saw different places, had new experiences, danced with each other, and told each other how much we loved one another.
A lot of the time I would read a book while he was on the computer researching his next project; back before he started working at Helion, when he had free time. That was whenever he wasn't working, which wasn't much, but it definitely was far more than the free time he has at the job he's at now.
Fabian is different. Whenever Lincoln and I disagreed on something, it would end in a fight, one that would be fixed with sex or by him walking away from the disagreement, refusing to see my side, or just straight up not even wanting to talk about it anymore. I understood the frustration, but it left me wanting tobe heard, or just wanting someone to hash it out with and still find a way back to each other despite it.
But Fabian is the first guy I've met where we could disagree on something and simultaneously see where the other is coming from; yet come away from it without it being malicious or a reason to hold a grudge.
It's refreshing.
“Thank you for this Fabian.”
“For themeat?” he laughs.
“For all of it. This is nice. Talking with you. Hanging out with you. It's been nice. Itisnice,” I smile.
He blushes, smiling shyly. “It's nice talking with you as well. You have a beautiful heart. I hope I didn't… turn you off.”
“I wouldn't say you turned meon,” I tease, eliciting laughter from both of us. “No but for real… thanks for not getting mad at me.”
“Why would I get mad at you?”
Shaking my head, I smile as we continue eating our dinner, the driver playing a game on his phone, completely oblivious, probably over the moon that he gets a break he got paid a hundred bucks to take.
-??-
