“My pleasure. My cell number is included in my signature line on the email I just sent. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions.”
“Will do.”
“I hope, despite everything, you have a peaceful weekend, Sophie.” Damn, that was so much more convincing than HR Mindy.
“You too, Nate,” I tell him. For once, the burnout of life isn’t bleeding through, and I mean it. “Bye.”
“Bye.” He manages to make it sound like two syllables, buh-eye, and instead of grating, it’s sweet.
I log out of work and log in to Netflix for a distraction. The mess in the driveway can wait another hour.
Benji returns homedrenched in sweat because he stayed to help Mabel weed her small vegetable garden and then mowed the lawn. It’s a few minutes before noon, and he heads straight to the bathroom to shower.
I’m finally at a comfortable stopping point in my Netflix diversion. One episode ofBlack Rabbitturned into four because I got sucked in, and it felt like a healthier escape at eight o’clock in the morning than Lola’s emergency bottle of tequila that she keeps in the little cabinet above the fridge. The morning has slipped away in a fog of self-pity. I take a few minutes to pee, put a load of laundry in the washer, sweep up the deceased coffee maker, toss it in the trash can next to the garage, and make my daily PB&J.
When I sit down to eat, I pick up my cell intending to text Lola my depressing news, but an Instagram notification catches my eye.
goodguysfinishfirst_sometimestagged you in a post.
Maybe this day has decided to stop throat punching me. Without a second thought, I tap on it and take another bite of my sandwich.
The image obviously wasn’t taken with a cell phone. This was taken by someone with not only great equipment but the knowledge and creativity to use it. It’s a rooster standing inside the doorway of a barn, a chicken coop in the background. A mud puddle in front of the bird is in focus with craters left by the impact of huge raindrops and the resulting percussive rebound upward as the puddle is displaced. It’s visually stunning. In nature this happens so quickly that it can’t be captured in minute detail by the naked eye like this. The photo should be gloomy given the obvious storm, but the colors are sharp, fascinating. Everything about it is powerful: the perspective, Mother Nature, and the proud bird protectively standing guard.
In a haze of awe, and already feeling oddly comfortable with him, I type a comment without thinking. It’s the first thing that pops into my mind, and sarcasm rules me.
Nice cock.
And then I stare, thunderstruck at my screen. “Oh my God, no!” I whisper shriek. “No, no, no,” I repeat. It’s synchronized with aggressive tapping on the comment, willing it to disappear. When nothing happens, I yell, “Benji! Help!” out of desperation.
Water running in the bathroom down the hall tells me he’s still in the shower. I’m on my own. “Shitballs, this can’t be happening,” I whisper under my breath.
And then to reassure me that,yes, bitch, this is happening, a reply to my comment appears on my screen.
goodguysfinishfirst_sometimesSteve isn’t nice. He’s a narcissistic asshole, but the hens, sadly, seem to dig machismo.
I can’t help it and snort a laugh while my cheeks heat like the sun’s shining through them from the inside out.
Your hens clearly need an infusion of feminist pride and self-love.
Lola’s told me this, and it probably applies to hens who pick the wrong mates too. I open our message thread, and there’s already one waiting for me.
Good Guy
Steve’s my uncle’s rooster. And he really is a narcissistic asshole.
So, you’re a country boy?
I should be doing something productive around the house since I’ve spent all morning moping in this chair, but I can’t resist giving him a few minutes.
Good Guy
Depends on the year, I’ve moved around a lot. Currently a city boy.
Hmm… moving around a lot could indicate some age. Maybe he is forty. I want to ask him where he lives, but that seems too private. I don’t even know his name yet.
Well, the photo is stunning. The puddle and rain come alive. Capturing movement like that is tricky. You clearly have a gift.
Good Guy
