Chapter 2 (correct chapter)
I sleep in the next morning. After dinner, Bee went straight to bed, but I stayed awake. The only sounds in the night were my pen on paper and the soft snoring of my sister from the other room. I've had massive writers block recently. Probably from the sheer exhaustion of working on the farm. But there was a spark to my words last night, something like new beginnings. I'm paying massively for it now. Back in the city, on my days off I'd sleep until 1pm sometimes. I never would have dreamed that 8am would be considered a late start, yet here I am, hopping about on one foot trying to shove my leg into my green cargos.
Bee is going to kill me.
When I eventually tame the cargos and stick on a lilac turtle neck, I swing the door to the farmhouse open. My sister is nowhere to be seen, but I notice the darkening of soil. It was my turn to water the crops. Oh I'm so dead. I check the post, it's already been taken. Nothing for me per usual.
I jog over to the chicken coop. She hasn't let them out, oh the chickens are gonna be so mad at me..
I open the door and the smallest chicken, Pesto, comes hurtling at me. I drop to my knees and and scoop up the small pile of yellow feathers to my chest, petting the top of her little head, "Oh I'm so sorry baby, I'd never forget to come see you, I promise," I croon, setting her down to pet the two older chickens, Popper and Beans. I sprinkle their feed into the feeders and collect two beautiful big eggs into the basket kept beside the door, I open the little door for the chickens to go free roam.
I leave the coop and run to the fridge to store the new eggs. My sister likes to sell them right away, but why sell eggs when you could dinner. I'm the only one who knows how to cook, Bee sticks to the bits I'm shit at: bartering and growing... and mining but I fear that's common sense. The kitchen is mine, and I make it known. On the fridge is a photograph of our family. Bee, our little brother Ben, our mother and our father, and me. I miss our parents sometimes, we even tried to convince them to come with us to the farm. But they want to raise Ben in the city. Or so they said, I know mum doesn't like the farm. She grew up here and left for the city the moment she turned eighteen. I guess I can't blame her, there's not much goinng on here and she used to be a wild child. That's what grandpa used to tell us, the few times he came down to visit us.
I keep a wall of mugs just above the counter top. I love mugs. I have some silly ones, some pretty ones and the plain ones, the only ones Bee will drink out of.
"Why in sweet hells would I want to drink from a mug that looks like a toilet?" she asked me once when I set down her coffee. I don't know man, I think it's fun.
I take an older egg out of the fridge and crack it into our old ass frying pan. Grandpa really lived simply. This frying pan is probably older than me. I make an omelette, it's perfect with a sprinkle of cheese and some slices of ham. I would have put the whole block of cheese in here if I could but my joba it is expensive. I can't wait til we get cows, I'll be making my own cheese. Only then will I be happy.
After I've eaten my omelette, it's about 12pm. The comment my sister made yesterday about only talking to chicken grates on me. I have friends! Well, friend. Okay he's more of an acquaintance actually.
I grab my fishing pole from where it leans next to the door and head out. It's only when I've passed Marnie's ranch do I notice I've forgotten my bait in my haste. But I keep walking. It's nearing summer so the breeze is warm as it blows my hair about. I definitely should have tied it up, there's lots of things I should have done today. The top of my list is to avoid my sister. I am not yet prepared to have my head ripped off. Luckily, she's terrified of fish. The fishing responsibility falls to me, which I am fine with, it's actually quite soothing. Bee wouldn't be seen dead at the pier. When I get there, Willy's shop is closed. So much for social interaction and more bait. I sit on the pier, legs dangling over the clear blue ocean. I cast my line into the gentle waves, not expecting a bite anytime soon.
"So farmers have many talents, hmm?" I once again jump about 10ft into the air, then look up to those deep forrest green eyes.
"You've got to stop doing that to me," I sigh, pressing my hand to my chest to steady my rapidly beating heart.
He laughs, sitting down next to me "Apologies, didn't mean to scare you. Again."
"I like fishing," I say with a shrug, "It's peaceful and I'm decent at it. When I have bait anyway."
"The ocean helps me think," Elliott says, staring out at the watery horizon, "That's why I moved here you know. A simple small town, no distractions from my writing. Or at least, that was the plan."
"I can understand that. I hoped to focus on my writing more, being away from the city life. But now I'm often to damn tired." Something catches on my line and I pull it in. Soggy, old newspaper. I wonderful. II shove it in my bag, not wanting to pollute the water, then chuck the line back in. "Oh, you're a writer too?" Elliott looks back to face me, eyes crinkling with a wide smile "That's marvelous!"
"Oh, I don't know about writer...I dabble. Some poetry, short stories, nothing fancy," duck my head to look down at my fishing line, bobbling sadly in the water.
"I'll have to read your work sometime! Unless it's personal, of course"
"I'll...think about it," I say, returning my eyes to his with a small smile.
The line tugs harder this time, taking me by surprise. I almost drop the rod completely but manage to hold tight. I battle with it for a few minutes before reeling it in. "You truly are talented, catching fish with no bait," he says, though I think he's just being kind.
"It's only a sardine, but he has his purposes," I put Mr. Sardine into my backpack, once again questioning the science of this backpack. How the fish stay alive in there I have no clue.
"Well, I'll leave you to it, Bree. Don't be a stranger," he says, giving me a wink before pulling himself to stand. He doesn't walk home, rather into town. But that's none of my business. I pack away my fishing gear, wait a few minutes so that I don't awkwardly run into Elliott, then head back to the farmhouse. "Oh, good morning your highness!" Bee smirks, standing up from the sofa and taking a bow.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sleep in. But, I mean, you could have let the chickens out. Poor babies were dying to get out when I got there..." I trail off, noticing my sister's eyes darkening with every word.
"You woke up late, the animals are your responsibility, the only reason I watered the crops today is because we need the money," she snaps.
I look at her wide eyes, and some of the anger falls from her face.
"I'm sorry," she says, taking a step towards me.
Something is on her mind, but I know my sister well. She'll come to me in her own time. After her breakup, she made it seem like she was completely fine, happy even. But I could hear her crying softly at night through the bedroom wall. Our parents told me she'd be okay, break ups happen all the time, they naturally happen. But I never liked the guy. He was standoffish and didn't like to hear the word no. I worry about her, even now. But I can't make her talk to me. Especially not about her love life.
"Truce?" I say instead, "I'll make you some cookies?"
"Deal," she hugs me and I know she isn't mad at me anymore. But maybe it wasn't me she was truly mad at to begin with.
"That reminds me, I caught this!" I say, taking the sardine out of my bag, holding it above my head. It flaps about, determine to slip away. Horror crosses Bee's face, she takes several steps back with a shriek. The back of her leg hits the coffee table and she falls to the sofa.
"Oh shit yeah, sorry, my bad," I tuck the fish back into my bag and wipe my hands into my cargos.
"Will you take it to the community center tomorrow? I- ugh- I feel sick"
"I'll do it first thing in the morning - I promise."