Page 32 of Salty Pickle

“Court?”

He looks up.

“Would it be okay if I hung onto the coolers and bottles for a while? They’ll be great for transporting the milk until I can get a better solution.”

“Sure. It’s just merch.”

“Okay.”

He’s already on his phone again.

“And, Court?”

He looks up.

“Thank you for the gifts and the shoes. They’re the nicest things I’ve had in a while.”

He grunts.

We’re back to that. It’s fine.

His phone buzzes. He frowns. “The ride’s here. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Good luck,” Kaliyah says. “If you need to wait on another one, or make other arrangements, feel free to return.”

“You’ve been so lovely,” I tell her.

I shoulder my knapsack but let Court take the shopping bag and coolers. When Matilda’s leash is securely in my hand, we head for the door.

This ride is a minivan.

Court leads me to the back door. “Just jump in and say nothing, like it’s perfectly normal to have a goat.”

I nod.

He slides the panel. “Hello,” he says to the driver, a heavyset man poking at the phone mounted to his dash.

“You Court?”

“I am.”

I duck down behind Court to climb in. There are three rows, and the second-row seat is folded down, so I move to the very back and tug Matilda in behind me.

If she doesn’t make any sounds, he might not notice she’s a goat.

“Long ride,” Court says. He returns the lowered seat to its place and sits in the middle row to block the driver’s view of the back of the van.

The man looks up. “It’ll take over an hour to get there.”

“I’ll be riding back to the city,” Court says.

“Looks like my evening is set, then.” He seems pleased.

Court closes the door, and I quietly feed Matilda bits of grain as we pull into traffic. If she stays quiet, we’ll make it.

We’re only a few minutes into the ride when I feel terribly sleepy.

It’s been a long day since I got on the subway in Queens.

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