“Glad to hear you still have nothing better to do than pester me,” I mutter under my breath as I mosey to the back of the store. Gary, the shop owner, greets me with a scraggly grin and slight belch as he sets down his grimy coffee mug.
“What do we need today, Geer?” Another belch.
“I’m out of feed.” I scan the back corner of the store, eyeing the empty crate that usually houses baby chicks, before returning my gaze back to him.
“You bought the last load three days ago. No innocent poultry to rescue today.” Gary winks at me.
“That’s not why I—”
“Whatever you say.” Another wink.
“Quit lying to yourself,” Jerry chuckles, inserting himself into the conversation. “We know why you empty the place out every two weeks.”
“Can it, old man.” I snip, rubbing my neck. Nugget chirps to join the discussion as well. “You, hush it.” I direct my attention to her, immediately softening at the runt of a chicken and scratch her on the head.
“Seriously boy, when you gonna tell her—”
“I said, can it.” I cut Jerry off before he can keep blabbing. Gary chuckles, giving Jerry an all-knowing wink before rounding the counter to the bags of chicken feed.
I’m very aware my feelings for a certain someone aren’t that secret, at least not to the people who don’t matter in the situation. But I don’t really care to be pestered about my love life by two elderly men with missing teeth. I’m pretty sure it’s been since before I was born that either of them had a serious relationship.
“You’re just wasting time, ya know?” Jerry mumbles.
“I have a plan, alright?” I heave the bags of chicken feed onto a rolling cart housed by the counter and hand Gary some cash. I wave him off to keep the change, like I always do, even if I think I should get a discount with how often they bug me about my personal life at this place.
Wheeling the cart out, with Nugget snuggled under my arm, my phone goes off. This encourages Jerry to hightail it behind me and “assist” me. Assist being code for butting deeper into mybusiness.Who could be calling Geer? Is it Kate? What gossip can I spread at Wafflin’ later?The man is the beginning and the end of the make believe phone tree around here.
My phone continues to ring and I pull it out, silencing it immediately. Not without Jerry clocking who is calling.
“You’re not—”
“I’ll call her later.” No need chatting it up with my sister in front of Uncle Jerry. He doesn’t believe she exists anyway, since he’s never met her. And I’d like to keep it that way. Jerry can be a lot for some people. And my sister is not in a place to deal with a lot.
“Aye! Boys!”
Aunt Edna, who is alsoa lot,peels into the parking lot of the hardware store, whipping into the first handicap parking spot she can find. We’ll just ignore the fact that her sticker expired three years ago and she refuses to park anywhere else. Without missing a beat, she hops out of her green station wagon and barrels over to Jerry and me.
“Are you coming to fix my sink this week or not?” She eyes me with her hands firmly on her hips. It’s as if she thinks this stance will speed the process along.
“Yes ma’am, I’ll come by tomorrow.” I heave the bag of feed into the bed of my truck, with Nugget still firmly tucked in place. “Unless you need it done sooner?”
“No, tomorrow is fine.” She waves me off as she turns back to her car, flippant and unbothered, then yells over her shoulder, “Kate will be there!”
I watch her climb back into her car, shutting the door on the hem of her long skirt—the one with dancing kittens scattered across the fabric—before she peels out of the parking lot.
“That woman is loco,” Jerry mumbles on an exhale, “so really, why don’t you talk to your sister?”
“I do talk to her, Jerry. I’m just busy.”
He eyes me, fully aware that I'm lying. Talking to my sister is hard enough, and I have no interest in explaining why to anyone, least of all Uncle Jerry, who wouldn't recognize his own business if it hit him in the face.
“Don’t give me that look. I’ll call her later.”
Mumbling under his breath as he heads back towards the store, he says, “I don’t get this generation. Avoid each other. Avoid feelings. Being stupid.”
“Bye, Jerry,” I wave over my shoulder and climb into the truck.
Much to my dismay, my mind bounces off of Jerry’s words the entire drive home, the entire time I feed the rest of the chickens, and the entire time I brush out Nugget’s feathers, who will squawk all night if I don’t. He’s right.
