Chapter Eight
Mickey
After dinner Aster came with me to check on the herd.
The alpacas had learned already that Aster usually brought carrot sticks so they swarmed around him. The way they fawned was adorable — almost as adorable as his delight at how unafraid they were of him.
People usually know only two things about alpacas: that they’re like llamas, and that they spit. But alpaca only spit when provoked. They’re gentle creatures, who love their herd and anyone who treats them kindly.
The alpacas adored Aster.
Maybe they got that from me?
It was hard to remember that I wasn’t supposed to be into him when I watched him with the herd.
The sun was beginning to set, heading into the golden hour, and I could see the way Aster’s shoulders and arms were beginning to fill out.
He wore an oversized T-shirt with a frog on the front of it, and he was laughing, talking gently to the herd the same way I did.
Why couldn’t I have him?
We had a history. Did that make it weird or creepy?
He was my little sister’s best friend, but we’re all adults now. The age gap was a consideration, but... did it really matter?
Aster caught sight of me looking and raised his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” I looked away and saw movement on the far side of the furthest field. Close to the base of the foothills, stood a group of three or four people. From the shapes of their shoulders, they were wearing suits.
Suits? Out here? “Who’s that?”
Aster followed my gaze and frowned. “We should go check.”
I nodded.
I don’t like confrontation. I don’t like yelling or shouting, or accusing people of things but... Whoever they were, they were sneaking around. My herd were relaxed right then, but they could get agitated if these strangers came much closer.
I started walking towards them, climbing stiles to cross the fields in the most direct route. Aster followed. When I glanced back, I saw the herd was watching as well, curious about what had upset me.
They could pick up on emotions, I was sure of that. I always tried to be as calm and loving as I could with them.
The second I got annoyed, they knew about it, and they knew I was their protector. If I was upset, I’m sure they interpreted it as danger. And for all I knew, this was true. These men could very well be a threat to their well-being.
I got more and more het up as I approached the men.
Getting closer, I saw they weren’t paying any attention to me.
One of them held a clip board, and another a measuring tape.
Their dark grey suits and boring short haircuts that screamed official of some kind, like middle managers in a corporation or agents for the government.
They were talking to each other and pointing at the relatively flat land between my fences and the foothills of the mountains.
Wild animals and birds lived in this zone.
I spotted a car way back on Lakeside Drive, they must have walked from there.
They certainly did not look like hikers, or people who were lost on their way to the Meadery.
I raised my voice. “Excuse me.” It was satisfying to see them all turn towards me startle.
All of a sudden, there was tension in those shoulder-padded jackets.
“This is private property. What are you doing here?” I demanded, letting my voice get rougher.
One of the suits, the blond one, stepped towards me. He had dark glasses on so I couldn’t see his eyes. “I believe this fence demarcates the edge of the farm, sir. This lane is public land.”
I positioned myself so the sun was behind me, making them squint.
“You’re close enough. What are you doing out here with measuring tapes and the like?”
“That’s none of your concern,” another of the men said.
“It is. My alpaca graze in these fields and the reason my family purchased this land, multiple generations ago, was for the quiet. If you’re planning on building a road or something out here, I need to know about it.”
One of the other men coughed. “We’ll be on our way.”
The group turned to go. “Can I see some ID?” I demanded. If they were government agents they’d have to show identification, right?
The men ignored me and walked off.
There was little I hated as much as feeling helpless, and as they walked away that’s exactly how I felt.
I turned to Aster to see he had his phone out and was filming them. Maybe that was what prompted them to leave, not me questioning them. Either way I was glad to see them walking off, towards Lakeside Drive where their car was.
“That was weird, right?”
Aster nodded. “Real weird.”
I climbed over the fence to stand where the suits had stood and looked around for any kind of clue for what they could have been up to.
There spray paint marks on the grass in two places, within a foot of my fence.
“They’ve made some kind of mark here...” I called out to Aster.
He was beside me in a second, filming and then snapping pictures of the whole area.
“That’s a bad sign, right?” Aster frowned.
“Yeah. I don’t feel good about this at all. Why are they here at the end of the day? Why didn’t they have reflective vests or anything? Why didn’t they tell me what they were doing?”
“Because they’re hoping they can get it started before anyone notices.
” Aster sighed and tucked his phone in the back pocket of his shorts.
“But I got some good pictures of them, I can put them online...” He sucked his lip.
“Maybe I’ll put them all over social media, see if anyone recognizes any of them. ”
“Yeah. In the meantime, I’ll move the herd into the barn.” I climbed back over the fence. “I don’t want them getting spooked.”
“Okay. I’ll get dinner started. I think I saw stuff I can use to make a pizza.”
“Sounds great. Thanks Aster.”
Aster walked back towards the farmhouse and I opened the gate.
If they were planning on building something out here, something that would drain and pollute the lake water, it would severely impact the entire community.
The lake was used for swimming, diving, kayaking, fishing, and all kinds of activities. We were a small town, we needed places like that for gathering together, for recreation. If that lake got polluted where would people go to swim? To fish?
I turned back, looking at the mountains rising up over my farm. People hiked trails up there, set up campsites. Then there were the wild animals, the flora and fauna that flourished in the untamed wilderness. If there was a huge building pumping out smog and sound, lots of species would suffer.
Humanity needs wild spaces, places where we can be in untouched nature and make peace with our own place in the biome.
Poeple from big cities, people who worked in offices, they forgot all of that. They forgot they, too, are animals.
The idea of losing the wild spaces closest to me ached in my chest like I’d been punched.
“Come on, Daisy,” I said, urging along one of my mama alpacas. “Come on, Huey is just behind you.” The pack moved a little quicker with my coaxing. They filed into the smaller paddock that held the barn. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing any of them.
I didn’t like losing anything, really.
My parents would have been the start of that.
Losing both when I was still so young, forced me into the position of caretaker for Harlow. Not that I minded, I loved Harlow, and I was grateful that I was old enough to take over as her guardian. That we hadn’t been sent into the foster system, split up...
Grandma would have stopped that happening, but she’d wouldn’t have wanted to live on the farm full time. And she’d got sick.
Harlow wanted to move away.
But the ache was always in me, the fear that I could lose her too.
This farm, the land I stood on, that I worked and cared for... that was my parents’ legacy. I couldn’t lose it.
Unbidden, the image seared into my mind, of Pete’s car driving away.
He’d driven off, just as my parents had, never to return.
Pete, at least, was still alive, according to the sad social media stalking I sometimes did. He’d left because there was something wrong with me.
I’ve done work since then,I’d read books on sexuality and intimacy. Listened to podcasts of relationship counselors and mindfulness gurus and even done some remote talk therapy.
I’d worked on myself, and come to very few conclusions about exactly what is wrong...
but I’ve come to terms with being alone.
I don’t like solitude. I prefer the company of people, I like having someone beside me.
Aster’s presence in my bed the past few nights has been such a comfort, I’ve slept better because of it.
But the last thing I wanted was to enter into something with him and then disappoint him when I wasn’t interested in the right things. In the things that couples do together.
I wanted it all the same. Selfishly, I wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to hold his hand and cuddle.
But he could never be content with a relationship that ended there, could he?
Besides all that, he didn’t think of me that way, so what was the point in worrying about it?
Something nudged against my hip. I looked down to see Aladdin, the soft grey alpaca. He leaned against me and I patted his neck.
“Sorry, Al. I was dreaming...”
I checked that he was the last of the pack and shut the gate.
I had to focus.
Filling the water trough, opening the barn doors and filling the feeder with hay was a good physical distraction. But through it all, my thoughts returned to the idea of Aster and me. What would it feel like to turn over in bed and wrap my arms around him?
What would his lips feel like?
Would he like my beard, if we kissed? Or would he rather I shaved?
I wanted to run my hands through his hair.
Pull on it. It looked so soft.
What was the point? I was a hopeless case. I sighed, and went to hug Daisy. She always grounded me.
She made a soft noise and leaned her head down, half wrapping me in her warm neck. An alpaca hug. Or maybe she was just sniffing my pockets for treats. Either way, I was glad of her presence.
“Thanks, love.”
The pizza Aster made was incredible, but I could see the tense set of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes from the last two disturbed nights of sleep.
Plus, he’d been hunched over his laptop much of the afternoon.
Dude needed a proper ergonomic chair and set up or his spine was going to look like a comma before long.
That was a long-term project though. Right now we needed something fun to do.
I took the dishes into the kitchen and left them beside the sink, coming straight back out. “How do you feel about board games?”
Aster had been reaching for his laptop, but he looked up, curious. “Board games? Like Monopoly or something?”
“More like, Settlers of Catan or Ticket to Ride.” I named two of the better known ‘indie’ games that I’d picked up in the last few years. “I have some pretty good ones. Usually I have to strongarm Harlow into playing them with me, but hey, maybe you’ll enjoy them?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m willing to try.”
I went to the cupboard in the hall, grabbed Ticket to Ride and a game I’d Kickstarted called Good Dog, Bad Zombie. Both were quick to pick up and fun to play with two people.
Aster had moved his laptop off the table and was looking at me expectantly.
“Okay, so we can either start with the game where you build train lines across America, or the one where we’re dogs in the zombie apocalypse.”
Aster’s eyes widened, looking between both boxes. “You’re asking me, an autistic animal lover, to choose between trains and dogs?”
I laughed. “We can play both. It’s just which one we play first.”
Aster groaned softly. “Okay, um. Which is easier to pick up?”
I considered. “Probably the trains.” I put Good Dog, Bad Zombie aside and set up Ticket To Ride.
Soon we were both placing train tracks and squabbling over who got which station.
While we played, I couldn’t help the warm and fuzzy feeling I got every time I glanced over at Aster. To try and divert myself, I broke out some local brews from the Meadery next door and we both started imbibing.
After our second round of Ticket to Ride — Aster had lost the first round so insisted on a second to regain his pride — we put it away and took out the dog game.
I explained the rules, resolving to play on the easiest level, but I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be for Aster to choose which dog to play. The options were all adorable. There was a dalmatian, a corgi, a golden retriever, a boxer, they were all good dogs.
“Do I go small and cute like me? Or do I live out my big dog dreams and pretend I’m a boxer?” Aster’s eyes were misty. Emotions over the dogs, or the beer?
“We can play again tomorrow.” I waved my hand. “Don’t stress, we can play until you’ve tried all the dogs, and the cat and the pig and the goat from the expansion.”
“There’s a GOAT?” Aster half-stood up. “I want the goat!”
“No, dogs first.” I laughed. There was no reason to insist on dogs first, but I was amusing myself by denying Aster this. “Choose a dog, it’s okay. You are kinda corgi-like.”
Aster flopped back into his chair, apparently arguing with me on the dogs first rule hadn’t occurred to him. “Okay. I’m going to take that comment as a compliment, even though I’m not sure it is. This ale is really good.” He downed the last of a can and reached for another.
“Have you been to the Meadery? We can go there and pick up some more,” I said, choosing the border collie, my favorite dog.
“Fine.” Aster took the Great Dane, Captain Woofster. “Now, how does this work?”
By the time we went to bed I was mostly sober, just riding a calm, relaxed buzz of warmth. Aster was sleepy and adorable.
“You want to sleep in with me again, Aster?” I asked, feeling like it wasn’t any kind of risk at all.
Aster nodded. “Mmhm. Is that okay?”
“I offered.”
We made our way upstairs. Aster changed in the bathroom.
I used my en suite to brush my teeth, feeling at peace. My alpacas were good, we had a plan to stop any construction nearby and Aster was going to sleep beside me again.
I was naked, pulling on my slightly-more-decent-than-boxers pajama pants when Aster walked in.
He froze, eyes on my ass and then went bright red from the neck up. “Oh, I...Sorry, I should have knocked.”
“Fuck it.” I pulled my pants into place and shrugged, watching his eyes drag over my chest. It made me feel powerful, attractive, both things I hadn’t felt in an awfully long time.
Was Aster into me?
I licked my lips, sobering up a bit more. Second-guessing myself.
I pulled on a T-shirt and hopped into bed.
Aster climbed in a moment later. “Mickey...?”
“Yeah?” I didn’t want to look at Aster, it felt dangerous suddenly, but I looked all the same. Aster's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted. His hair flopped forward, partially in his eyes, and my hand twitched to stroke it back behind his ear. Gorgeous.
“Can we... cuddle?”