Just Hatched

Chickenshit

Just Hatched

Chickenshit

Just Hatched

Amy Stinnett

Copyright © 2018 by Amy Stinnett

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2018

Paperback – ISBN-13: 978-0-9992567-2-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018903523

Waiting Dog Press

Ontario, OR 97914

waitingdogpress.com

waitingdogpress@gmail.com

Cover by: coversbykaren.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

To Lucy, the ever faithful black lab

“You needed to tell me somethin’?”

“Oh, yeah, well …” I shaded the sun from my eyes. “I’ve decided not to sell. For better or worse, you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, cool, man!” Elliot had a broad smile across his face. “Good, now we can really get to work.”

“What the hell have we been doing, goofing off?”

-     Billie Hatcher, Journal Entry March 25, 2013

March 22, 2013 (Continued)

When Jodie and I came back from the pasture, she had to blast out of here so she wouldn’t be late for her shift at the library. I let the weight of two major life decisions rest on my shoulders. Starting a relationship with Jodie - that settled well. Staying and running my dad’s farm, now my farm, felt like a new beginning. I stood in the driveway and surveyed my new kingdom.

The farmhouse’s green metal roof seemed sturdy enough, although the gutters could use a good cleaning. Dad left the siding with a natural stain on it. Should I keep it that way or paint it over? Maybe white, like most of the houses around here? I hate making decisions, and this is just the beginning of about a hundred thousand decisions I’ll have to make this year, most of them without any understanding of the consequences.

Elliot had finished up his chores and was nowhere to be found. He must have gone home or somewhere with the vet lady, his first love interest in decades. I sent him a text that I needed to tell him something.

I went in the house to pore over my dad’s journals and farm books. I mean, I’ve been curious about my dad’s life and experiences since I got here, but now that the place is my sole responsibility, I need all the information I can get. Frodo (the best little black dog ever) and I spread out over the couch and read for a few hours. Dad definitely has, or had, a good sense of humor, but he was struggling with dementia over the last months of his life. One thing is clear, though: He loved this farm and the community surrounding it. I tagged a bunch of passages, everything from thoughts on books he read to which tomato plants grow best here in Idaho. I have an elaborate placement of sticky notes, and I hope I can remember what they mean later.

At one point, I drifted off, and in my dream there was an aerial view, like from a drone, of the entire farm. On every single animal, plant, tree, and shed; the house; and even tall blades of grass - every visible thing - had a yellow sticky note on it. The view zeroed down to one sticky note, and on it was simply the word, Billie, in that mathematical handwriting I see in my dad’s journals, so precise it could be its own font.

I guess you don’t have to be a dream interpreter to know what that’s about.

I was about to walk around and collect all the sticky notes, when a bee flew across the field, and my phone woke me up with a text from Jodie.

Hey. What ya doing?

Reading Dad’s journals.

I bet they’re good. I want to come over, but I may not be able to leave if I do.

So stay.

Can’t. Stuff to do at home and work tomorrow.

Tomorrow night?

How about an actual real life date?

Boise? I can drive.

Perfect! I can be ready to go by 5. Meet you at the house?

Sounds good.

That means the date ends here, and then who knows?

Frodo needed to go out. As I stood at the back door, the cold night air flowing past me, I thought about all the times I had opened the door to find Jodie on the other side. From the first time when she helped me shovel snow, to all the nacho runs and sandwiches, she’s become a huge part of my life over the last three months. (Have I really been here that short a time?) I’ve known for a long time that I wanted to be with her. And yet, this morning was the first time I kissed her and knew for sure that she wanted to be with me, too. Now, it’s hard to maintain perspective because what I really want to do involves a very, very long night and doing things that will scar poor Frodo for life.

March 23, 2013

At the risk of sounding like a girl, I am in heaven. Jodie and I finally went on our first official date (as opposed to grabbing a burger or doing chores together) last night. We went to Boise to a movie at The Flicks, followed by a late dinner at a Pho restaurant a few streets over. I don’t know how, but we never run out of things to talk about. Not only that, when we are quiet for a moment, there’s this warmth, a connection