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Authors: Steve Watkins
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aunt.”
Aunt Sue glared at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Just tell her you’ll get off in a minute,” Beatrice said. “You have a right to talk on the phone.”
“I can’t, B.,” I said. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Aunt Sue grabbed my wrist and twisted until it burned. She said, “No, hell, you won’t.” Then she slammed the phone down so hard that something cracked.
I sat on my bed in the dark for a long time after that, not able to sleep, not wanting to lie down — afraid that if I did, I’d never get back up. My stomach hurt, and I realized I’d hardly eaten in days, so once I felt certain Aunt Sue must be asleep again, I slipped downstairs and rummaged through the cupboards until I found the bread and some peanut butter and honey. I brought the sandwich back up to my room, but chewing it seemed impossible. My mouth was dry, and I could barely swallow. Each bite I did manage to get down felt like a stone dropping inside me. I quit halfway through and pulled out my notebook.
Dear Dad,
Today sucked. Tonight sucked worse.
I crossed that out and started again.
Dear Dad,
It’s quiet here tonight. Gnarly’s not barking, because Aunt Sue is home and he never barks when she’s home. Everybody is asleep except me. I went to a field party. You don’t want to know about that. I had a conversation with Aunt Sue about vegetarianism, which was very interesting. I let Gnarly loose and he killed some chickens, so that didn’t turn out so great. I realize this is coming out garbled, and I’m sorry. I’m tired and I should probably just go to bed. But I’m kind of afraid of what might happen once I close my eyes.
P.S. I’m ready to come home.
Aunt Sue banged on my door first thing the next morning. I felt as if I’d just fallen asleep.
She shoved the stainless-steel bucket in my hands and said, “Goats.” Then she went back downstairs to her bedroom.
Tiny and Book still lay in the back of the truck, though Aunt Sue must have brought out a blanket, because they had one tangled around their legs, roping them together. Book lay on his side behind Tiny, who lay on his side, too. Book snored on the back of Tiny’s neck. They were practically spooning.
Gnarly jumped on me as soon as I got to the bottom step and knocked me down, but I didn’t care. I was hungry for any kind of affection, even the rough kind. I let him lick my face until he tired of it, then I scratched his belly and his ears for a while, and then we went in together to milk the goats.
The chickens flapped their wings and hopped up on the fence in the barn to stay clear of Gnarly. I never let him in there, but today I didn’t care. I wanted to be around whoever liked me, and Gnarly liked me. I let the pregnant goats in first so I could hug them and mother them. I poured grain in a couple of buckets so they could eat and wouldn’t get in the way, and I sang a Joni Mitchell song: “Both Sides Now.” Dad told me Mom used to sing Joni Mitchell songs to me when I was a baby, and I had a vague memory of her doing that when I was a little kid, too, before she left. I hated that I didn’t remember much more than that.
Patsy ignored me when I held out a handful of grain to her. She shifted her gaze over to Reba and Jo Dee, and I caught on right away. “Sorry,” I said. “I know I should have fed you first, but they’re pregnant. And they’re nicer to me than you are, to be honest about it. I just needed somebody to be nice to me this morning.”
I reached closer to Patsy with the feed. “Want this? You still get to be first on the milking stand.” She licked my hand clean, acting as if she were doing me a favor, and took her time stepping onto the stand. She gave me a long look, just to make sure I’d gotten her point, before lowering her head into the feed trough.
I aimed the first squirt from each of the goats at Gnarly, and he did somersaults trying to lick the milk off his face. One by one, once I was done with
Aunt Sue glared at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Just tell her you’ll get off in a minute,” Beatrice said. “You have a right to talk on the phone.”
“I can’t, B.,” I said. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Aunt Sue grabbed my wrist and twisted until it burned. She said, “No, hell, you won’t.” Then she slammed the phone down so hard that something cracked.
I sat on my bed in the dark for a long time after that, not able to sleep, not wanting to lie down — afraid that if I did, I’d never get back up. My stomach hurt, and I realized I’d hardly eaten in days, so once I felt certain Aunt Sue must be asleep again, I slipped downstairs and rummaged through the cupboards until I found the bread and some peanut butter and honey. I brought the sandwich back up to my room, but chewing it seemed impossible. My mouth was dry, and I could barely swallow. Each bite I did manage to get down felt like a stone dropping inside me. I quit halfway through and pulled out my notebook.
Dear Dad,
Today sucked. Tonight sucked worse.
I crossed that out and started again.
Dear Dad,
It’s quiet here tonight. Gnarly’s not barking, because Aunt Sue is home and he never barks when she’s home. Everybody is asleep except me. I went to a field party. You don’t want to know about that. I had a conversation with Aunt Sue about vegetarianism, which was very interesting. I let Gnarly loose and he killed some chickens, so that didn’t turn out so great. I realize this is coming out garbled, and I’m sorry. I’m tired and I should probably just go to bed. But I’m kind of afraid of what might happen once I close my eyes.
P.S. I’m ready to come home.
Aunt Sue banged on my door first thing the next morning. I felt as if I’d just fallen asleep.
She shoved the stainless-steel bucket in my hands and said, “Goats.” Then she went back downstairs to her bedroom.
Tiny and Book still lay in the back of the truck, though Aunt Sue must have brought out a blanket, because they had one tangled around their legs, roping them together. Book lay on his side behind Tiny, who lay on his side, too. Book snored on the back of Tiny’s neck. They were practically spooning.
Gnarly jumped on me as soon as I got to the bottom step and knocked me down, but I didn’t care. I was hungry for any kind of affection, even the rough kind. I let him lick my face until he tired of it, then I scratched his belly and his ears for a while, and then we went in together to milk the goats.
The chickens flapped their wings and hopped up on the fence in the barn to stay clear of Gnarly. I never let him in there, but today I didn’t care. I wanted to be around whoever liked me, and Gnarly liked me. I let the pregnant goats in first so I could hug them and mother them. I poured grain in a couple of buckets so they could eat and wouldn’t get in the way, and I sang a Joni Mitchell song: “Both Sides Now.” Dad told me Mom used to sing Joni Mitchell songs to me when I was a baby, and I had a vague memory of her doing that when I was a little kid, too, before she left. I hated that I didn’t remember much more than that.
Patsy ignored me when I held out a handful of grain to her. She shifted her gaze over to Reba and Jo Dee, and I caught on right away. “Sorry,” I said. “I know I should have fed you first, but they’re pregnant. And they’re nicer to me than you are, to be honest about it. I just needed somebody to be nice to me this morning.”
I reached closer to Patsy with the feed. “Want this? You still get to be first on the milking stand.” She licked my hand clean, acting as if she were doing me a favor, and took her time stepping onto the stand. She gave me a long look, just to make sure I’d gotten her point, before lowering her head into the feed trough.
I aimed the first squirt from each of the goats at Gnarly, and he did somersaults trying to lick the milk off his face. One by one, once I was done with
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