Page 8 of Fibre and Ink
“You got a cat at the moment?” I asked, as I picked up another piece of chicken. It was really good, well-easoned with a kick that had me salivating.
Mickey shook his head. “I was thinking about getting one. Maybe see if the Hayes has any kittens.”
“I’ve got a kitten. I can’t remember if I told you that. Well, he’s full grown now and I guess... he’s really Tane and Dillon’s cat, they’re pretty devoted to him. I found him last Christmas so we called him Scrooge.”
Mickey chuckled. “Good Disney name there. He’d fit right in.”
It was like he’d read my mind about bringing my kitten over. But that couldn’t happen, not unless for some reason, I stayed here long term. I didn’t want to give the cat a farm holiday and then return him to the small apartment. “He’d love all this space. He might bully the alpacas though.”
“Aaah, I don’t know about that, my herd is pretty chill. They might adopt him as one of their own.”
I looked out at the field. Most of the alpacas were grazing some way off. The sight of them was soothing, so familiar even though tmany of them would be a new generation from the alpacas I’d known as a kid.
After dinner I did the dishes.
“Need a hand?” Mickey hesitated at the kitchen door.
“No, I’ve got this.” I flapped a rubber-gloved hand at him. “You cooked, I clean.”
“I’d have done that anyway, though...” Mickey relented. “Okay, I’ll go and settle the alpacas for the night.”
“You need a hand?” I bit my lip at the audacity of offering when I’d just told him I didn’t need help.
Mickey shook his head, a sparkle in his eyes that told me he got the irony. “It’s not exactly a hard job in summer. They just need access to the barn and plenty of water.”
Once he’d done that, and I’d put away the last of the dishes, we watched Some Like It Hot, Mickey fidgeting beside me.
Usually, I’d spend the evening playing on my phone, but there wasn’t much cell survice on the farm and I didn’t want to clog up the wifi.
So I laced my fingers together and concentrated on the movie. I watched the way Marilyn Monroe moved and thought of my drag queen friends back in Sacramento.
I definitely didn’t think about the man on the sofa beside me.
The bed in the spare room was way more comfortable than I expected. Mickey must have replaced the mattress recently. The sheets were clean and smelled of sunshine. In true farmhouse fashion, a quilt was laid over the bed. A tag sewn onto the back marked it as Grandma Cooper’s work. Harlow and Mickey’s grandmother was a lovely woman. She’d moved in after their parents had died but returned back to her retirement village in Florida when they were back on their feet. She’d had some kind of disease she didn’t want them to know about, dying less than a year after the accident.
I opened the window to the night air, letting it cool the room.
I changed into my pajamas, stripping off my shirt first and struggling out of my chest binder. My chest had never been large, and with the testosterone my breasts were sort of deflating, but going without a binder felt all sorts of wrong. I couldn’t wait until I got top surgery. I needed to save up a lot more money, though.
I flicked the light off and relaxed back on the pillows.
Poor Mickey.
He’d lost so much, and now Harlow was looking to move away as well...
It was so dark.
No street lights, no traffic noise...just the far-off hooting of an owl and the hum of the crickets...
I woke up with a bright strip of moonlight across my face.
That was the downside to leaving the windows open, the curtains blew open too. Sighing, I got up to close the window. Before I did, I took a moment to look out at the view.
The moonlight illuminated the trees of pine forest to the south. I knew the reptile rescue and artists retreat buildings were nearby, although no one had any lights on, so I could barely make out anything.
I could write about the artist’s retreat maybe? A journalistic piece about a small-town creative hub and the men responsible for it... Maybe a newspaper or journal would be interested in that?
My eye was drawn by movement. Probably alpacas.
