Page 104 of Salty Pickle

Me: We had a fight.

April: What kind of fight?

Summer: Screaming? Yelling? DID THAT SALTY BASTARD LAY A HAND ON YOU?

Me: No, no. He thinks Matilda can stay here, and I know she can’t. He doesn’t want to give up his place. I think Matilda and I aren’t worth it.

Summer. SALTY BASTARD.

April: Oh, honey. Are you sure? Go talk to him. Maybe he’s upset too.

Summer: AND CARRY A BAT.

Me: Matilda likes him better, to boot.

Summer: Uggh, the pregnancy flip. Shoot. Will she let you touch her?

Me: She wouldn’t earlier. I will try again.

Summer: Bring her an apple. She can’t resist an apple.

Me: Let me see what’s happening in the apartment.

I quietly open the door and listen.

There are no sounds in the apartment.

I pass the open door of the green room, crowded with boxes and baby things.

I tiptoe to the living room, not sure what I’ll find.

But no one’s there.

Matilda’s on the balcony. There’s a new wire mesh liner attached to the railing to prevent anything from falling beyond the edge.

So that’s what he’s been up to.

I stand at the glass door, watching Matilda sleep. This is a real problem. She needs to forage, to get a variety of leaves and sticks and nutrients. She can’t give birth here. And where could we find a vet for a goat in the city if there’s an emergency? We need to be near farms, places with the support we might need.

I turn away and head to Court’s bedroom. But when I get to his door, it’s clear he isn’t there.

Where did he go?

I head to my phone and realize there’s a sticky note taped to the outside of the guest room door.

Off to play basketball with my cousin.

I text Summer and April.

Me: He left to play basketball.

Summer: That salty bastard!

April: That’s good. You both need a moment to think things over.

Summer: You should go home. What do your parents think about you shacking up with a salty bastard?

April: She doesn’t talk to them.

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