no?”
“Handy-work.” Rachael tried not to laugh at his inadvertent, near-erotic mix up. “What chickens?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
He repeated himself. “The chickens. Did you see it?” He motioned for her to get up from his lap. “Come…”
In the kitchen, they stood gawking at the carcass.
Rachael was appalled. “That’s disgusting…” She shivered. “Oh my God! I feel like we’re eating the family pet.”
Julien scoffed, “Oh, but this is not the family pets.”
“Jules … we feed these things. They’re out there … alive … wondering where their friend is.”
Julien laughed, “Do you know, my grandfather raised one pig every year. I would play with it and watch it grow, even name it, and then… Whack! We would ‘ave fresh bacon one day.”
Rachael grimaced. “That’s cruel,” she whined, her eyes instantly glassy, as if she might actually cry.
“Ah, but it is how it is on the farms.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Cook it,” he offered. “I bet it’s the best chickens you ever eat.”
Rachael looked down at the plump bird, tiny hairs poking from its dimpled pale flesh. “But, at the grocery store we said—”
He cut her words short. “That was when I thought I would have to kill it. This is already dead. Why waste it? That would be cruel, no?” He poked her in the ribs playfully. “Do you want for me to do it?”
She glared at him. “I’ll cook it. I can’t promise I’ll eat it, but I’ll cook it.” She grabbed the pepper mill, her nose crinkled in disgust; she seasoned the bird.
“Good girl. When you are done, come with me to the loft. I need to shut down the computer and close up for the night.”
“ You’re quitting work early?” She asked while slicing a lemon.
“Well, I thought maybe you want for me to stay in the house with you for the rest of the day.”
Rachael stopped slicing to face him. “Go work, Jules. I promise you, there will not be another incident.” She turned her attention back to the bird.
Julien watched her cook for a moment. He did have work to finish and she seemed surprisingly well-recovered from the incident. He had watched her swallow the Xanax, which would keep her on an even keel for the rest of the day, regardless.
He grabbed an apple from a basket on the table. “I won’t be long,” he assured her. “A few hours at the most.” He motioned to the chicken. “Call me when that thing is ready.” He kissed her forehead and left her to prepare dinner on her own.
* * * *
Once again, Julien looked up to find the sun setting behind the mountains. Awestruck by the picturesque beauty of the panoramic view and the serene soundtrack of chirping crickets and leaves rustling in the warm breeze.
How lucky are we to find this place?
A gift from God, perhaps.
For what we have been through…in exchange.
He thought about the scare Rachael had given him earlier. How she had both crumbled and recovered so quickly. Part of him wanted to continue to urge her back into therapy, but another part of him relished the idea of sweeping the incident under the rug, to live a normal life without constant reminders like pill bottles and psych appointments. He questioned if he could ever truly believe her recovery would be one of permanence.
Too good to be true, no?
That’s not nice.
Don’t think in this way.
He glanced at his watch. Rachael had not called him in for dinner, but he had been gone longer than he suggested he would. He shut down the computer, closing up shop to spend the rest of the evening with his wife.
Julien came over the loft’s edge onto the ladder just as the coop’s door slammed shut behind him. Holding on tight, he looked back over his shoulder down at the coop. Once again, there was nothing to see and no sign of Sarah. The door to the coop seemed untouched and the chickens inside were silent.
She’s in there now.
She must be.
Still clutching the top of the ladder and
“Handy-work.” Rachael tried not to laugh at his inadvertent, near-erotic mix up. “What chickens?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
He repeated himself. “The chickens. Did you see it?” He motioned for her to get up from his lap. “Come…”
In the kitchen, they stood gawking at the carcass.
Rachael was appalled. “That’s disgusting…” She shivered. “Oh my God! I feel like we’re eating the family pet.”
Julien scoffed, “Oh, but this is not the family pets.”
“Jules … we feed these things. They’re out there … alive … wondering where their friend is.”
Julien laughed, “Do you know, my grandfather raised one pig every year. I would play with it and watch it grow, even name it, and then… Whack! We would ‘ave fresh bacon one day.”
Rachael grimaced. “That’s cruel,” she whined, her eyes instantly glassy, as if she might actually cry.
“Ah, but it is how it is on the farms.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Cook it,” he offered. “I bet it’s the best chickens you ever eat.”
Rachael looked down at the plump bird, tiny hairs poking from its dimpled pale flesh. “But, at the grocery store we said—”
He cut her words short. “That was when I thought I would have to kill it. This is already dead. Why waste it? That would be cruel, no?” He poked her in the ribs playfully. “Do you want for me to do it?”
She glared at him. “I’ll cook it. I can’t promise I’ll eat it, but I’ll cook it.” She grabbed the pepper mill, her nose crinkled in disgust; she seasoned the bird.
“Good girl. When you are done, come with me to the loft. I need to shut down the computer and close up for the night.”
“ You’re quitting work early?” She asked while slicing a lemon.
“Well, I thought maybe you want for me to stay in the house with you for the rest of the day.”
Rachael stopped slicing to face him. “Go work, Jules. I promise you, there will not be another incident.” She turned her attention back to the bird.
Julien watched her cook for a moment. He did have work to finish and she seemed surprisingly well-recovered from the incident. He had watched her swallow the Xanax, which would keep her on an even keel for the rest of the day, regardless.
He grabbed an apple from a basket on the table. “I won’t be long,” he assured her. “A few hours at the most.” He motioned to the chicken. “Call me when that thing is ready.” He kissed her forehead and left her to prepare dinner on her own.
* * * *
Once again, Julien looked up to find the sun setting behind the mountains. Awestruck by the picturesque beauty of the panoramic view and the serene soundtrack of chirping crickets and leaves rustling in the warm breeze.
How lucky are we to find this place?
A gift from God, perhaps.
For what we have been through…in exchange.
He thought about the scare Rachael had given him earlier. How she had both crumbled and recovered so quickly. Part of him wanted to continue to urge her back into therapy, but another part of him relished the idea of sweeping the incident under the rug, to live a normal life without constant reminders like pill bottles and psych appointments. He questioned if he could ever truly believe her recovery would be one of permanence.
Too good to be true, no?
That’s not nice.
Don’t think in this way.
He glanced at his watch. Rachael had not called him in for dinner, but he had been gone longer than he suggested he would. He shut down the computer, closing up shop to spend the rest of the evening with his wife.
Julien came over the loft’s edge onto the ladder just as the coop’s door slammed shut behind him. Holding on tight, he looked back over his shoulder down at the coop. Once again, there was nothing to see and no sign of Sarah. The door to the coop seemed untouched and the chickens inside were silent.
She’s in there now.
She must be.
Still clutching the top of the ladder and
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