Page 4 of A Fowl Match

I peek out the barn doors, the sky is bright red with wisps of orange and purple. Cows graze the field surrounding me, goats on the other side. The landscape is never ending. Nothing in sight but the barns, pastures, and trees. My A-Frame and the farmhouse are a blip in the grand scheme of things.

I missed the slow pace of this life.

I walk in the back door of my grandparents’ farmhouse. After scrubbing my skin raw for the past hour, I’m ready for dinner. I don’t have the energy to make myself something. But why would I? My grandma makes the best food.

“Oh, my dear!” My grandmother places her palm over her heart. “I still can’t believe you're here.” She pulls me into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I saw you yesterday, we’ve already done this.” She holds onto me for what feels like hours. “You can let go now. I can’t breathe.”

“I know. But it still doesn’t feel real. I don’t want to let go. I’m afraid you’ll disappear again.”

“Oh grandma, I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her. At least not for the next couple of months. Until I decide on whether I want to stay here permanently.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” My grandfather grunts under his breath.

“I missed you too Grandpa. Haven’t I shown you that I’m serious about staying for a while. Look what I accomplished today.”

“If you did then you would have come back here sooner. It was one day of work. We’ll see after you spend a week working.” I can tell my grandfather still holds a grudge for my not returning. I can’t blame him. He’s been holding it through yesterday and today. And he will for weeks to come. He doesn’t let things go easily.

A knock on the door sounds.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“That’s Mason, he was coming by to buy some goat’s cheese,” my grandma says.

“I’ll get it.” The door creaks on its hinges as I open it.

“Dustin. It’s good to see you man.” Mason claps me on the shoulder in greeting.

“What’s it been? Twelve years?”

“Feels more like twenty, but who’s counting?” He chuckles. “I heard you were back in town, but I didn’t believe it. Now that I’m seeing you with my own two eyes, the whispers must be true. Unless I need a new prescription for these damn glasses.”

“You better believe it’s me.”

“Last I heard you were living in the city. In some high-rise apartment making the big bucks.”

I amiably elbow him in the arm. “Last I heard you took over Rooster’s Bar and were making the big bucks.”

“Fair Point.” Mason’s cheeks rise in a grin. “It’s good to see you back on the farm again. I remember the days when I used to help out in high school while you were here for the summers.” We both walk to his F-150 truck. Mason releases the tailgate to reveal a large cooler.

“How could I forget? We were always getting in trouble.” I chuckle at the thought. “So, what’s the cheese for?”

“For the big night; the special is goat’s cheeseburgers.”

“What does this big night entail?” My eyebrows absent-mindedly rise in question.

“The Thornwood Valley Heartbreakers of course.”

“They’re still a thing?” I ask, reminiscing on the nights my grandparents used to take me to listen to the band play cover songs. My parents would have been so pissed off if they knew I used to go to the bar when I was younger. It was the highlight of my summer—the live music, chitter-chatter, and thrill of doing something I wasn’t allowed.

“Yep. And they are better than ever. Everyone is coming out tomorrow so I’m hoping for a successful night of sales. You should stop by to have a drink and a burger, on me. Listen to them for old time’s sake.”

“God, we sound like two codgers reminiscing.”

“That’s because we are.”

“We’re thirty, not senile,” I say as I follow Mason to the industrial fridge to help carry the cheese. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ve got nothing else better to do.”

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