4. More #2
Pam didn’t eat yesterday at all. She’s dropping weight quickly, her fur doesn’t look shiny and healthy like usual, and she’s taken to laying in the pasture rather than hanging out with the rest of the girls.
On a normal day, I’d stay at her side, hand feed her, and do whatever I could to get Pamela back to her normal, regal self.
I checked in on her a few times today, but since I’m one farmhand short now, and I’m the sole proprietor and single operator—emphasis on single—of a forty-acre lavender farm, I didn’t have the luxury of spending as much time with Pam as I would have liked.
In fact, I was forced to isolate her in the barn, for the sake of the herd’s health, and run through as many farm chores as I could accomplish in a workday before visiting my sister and returning to mom duties.
And though there’s a checklist of things to do on a constant loop in my brain, I needed this afternoon with my sister.
Even if she doesn’t have all the details of what’s happening in my life right now, Dinah’s friendship is the closest one I have. A simple hour of her presence, her pretzel bites, her family… are a balm to my soul.
Now, it’s time to get back to reality. For a brief and scary thirty seconds, I contemplate giving PTA Trey a call to see if he’s still enthusiastic about adding his man hands to my farm. But the thought of uttering those semi-suggestive words to You’ve Got Trey makes me gag.
I don’t want to worry Dinah, though. Not when she’s got so much in her life to celebrate.
Her family, her business, and her life are all blossoming.
I know she’d share this burden with me, but I fear I’d only drag her down if I allowed it.
So I say goodbye without adding the nitty-gritty details about bankruptcy, selling land, and sick alpacas, and I jot over to the elementary school to pick up my favorite person in the world.
The Honey Hill Elementary School pick-up line has to be the most unhinged detail of living in this small town.
Cars are not permitted, so parents are forced to stand on the pavement outside the school, rain or shine, to wait for their kids’ dismissal.
Meaning, as soon as I arrive and park, the wolves are already in their respective packs, pacing the pavement as they hunt for weaker prey.
“Well, hello there, Ms. President,” Bree greets me with a sneer that says she’s been planning this conversation since our last encounter or… she’s suffering from debilitating constipation and can’t fix her face. Could be both.
“Hey, y’all.” I wave both arms out at my side, acknowledging the entire pack. “TGIF! Am I right?”
The documentaries always say that when feeling threatened, smaller prey should make themselves appear larger and more intimidating with deimatic displays.
Which I think I’m doing, but for whatever reason, I also look like I’m opening myself up for a giant bear hug to each and every predator here.
Regardless, it seems to work. The women produce pinched, albeit, reluctant smiles then carry on with their previous conversations and various murmured renditions of, “I can’t believe she was voted in. ”
Me either, ladies.
“Did you hear about the new vet?” a tiny one says. I think her name is Tiffany, but all I really know about her is that she’s married to an airline pilot, has a kid named Rory, and always wears glittery tennis shoes.
“Girl, yes! And no wedding ring.” Her friend gasps and covers her mouth like she’s telling a secret but says loud enough for the group to hear, “I’d trade it all for that one.”
There’s quite a bit of agreement in the group, which is shocking and would make for a great case study on collusion in the animal kingdom, but I am unfortunately dragged into the conversation before I can observe their strange behaviors from a safe distance.
“You surely have met him, right Emory? You, having all those… pets,” Simone says with her pert nose pointed towards the sky.
“Livestock, yes. I do have many, but I can’t say that I’ve seen any new vets running around.” I shrug and, for the life of me, do not know why I add, “I have to run by there after school, though, so maybe I’ll get a quick peek at the new guy.”
Essentially, I just lit their primal curiosities aflame, volunteering myself as tribute to get the lowdown on whoever this poor man is.
“Uh, Emory’s so lucky she’s single,” one of Bree’s goons sighs, crossing her arms. “Y’all know I love my husband, but it is unfair how hot that doc is.”
I would normally brush these comments off, but as the newly elected leader of this formidably oppressive group, I feel some misplaced responsibility to make every moment a teachable moment. Not all heroes wear capes, ladies. Sometimes we’ve got to do the dirty work of verbal education on our own.
“Yeah,” I say with so much sarcasm, I feel it stick between my teeth, “it’s such a shame that your husband is alive and well and here for you to go home to at the end of the night, but mine isn’t.
So, if I wanted to stalk the new vet down the road like a crazed animal, I could do so without shame or the sting of infidelity because I’m so ridiculously single. Life’s. So. Very. Unfair.”
The fake smiles of the surrounding women quickly dim into something like pity, which I hate more than their ungrateful ignorance.
A sudden crowd of students emerges, with Molly running through the group towards me at the most perfect of times.
She throws herself into my body in what she calls an “airport hug” and greets me like she hasn’t seen me in months.
“I missed you.” She nuzzles into my shoulder.
“Missed you, Red.” I kiss her cheek with dramatic flair, loving that she isn’t quite cool enough to care, before I set her on her feet and turn us towards the car without a backward glance at the vipers I’m leaving behind.
“Can we get a Be Enlightened today?” Molly asks, hand swinging in mine.
The kid knows exactly what she’s doing, because the way her strawberry blonde buns are loose but adorable, bobbing slightly as we walk towards the car, mixed with her lightly freckled cheeks, crooked smile, and the dimples she got from James, I will quite literally give her whatever she wants.
“As long as you promise not to tell Charlie.”
She snickers, locks her lips, and throws the imaginary key over her shoulder with a smile that fills my half-empty cup, twice over.
“But first,” I say, opening the car door and taking her bag so she can slide in, “we have to stop at the vet’s office.”