Page 63 of Talk to Me

“Who’s Dorothy?” he asked.

“A chicken,” I replied. “Her, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia are four Plymouth Rocks that Mom got a couple years ago.”

“Wha—what?”

“Plymouth Rock is a breed of chicken. They’re probably the most common breed in the U.S. Or close to it. She named ‘em after The Golden Girls,” I explained. “As if any of that makes sense to you.”

Theo laughed, loosening up a bit.

“My family is a little overwhelming,” I said. “You’ll get used to it.”

I turned and started to lead us across the yard to the barn. Theo dashed across the yard to catch up to me.

“No,” he said. “No. I liked your sister and your mom. They’re very friendly.”

I laughed. “That’s polite of you.”

“I mean it,” Theo said. “It was just a lot all at once.”

As we walked across the yard, the slushy snow crunching under our shoes, I wanted to tell Theo that it would get better. However, I knew my family. Whether you were a family member, a friend, a friend of a friend, or a stranger, you got the same thing from them. There was no deviation in settings when it came to my family. Regardless of the situation, they were authentically and perpetually themselves. I loved them, obviously, but I was aware that other people might find them a bit much.

Out at the barn, I found that the doors were opened enough to let in some sunlight, but not so much as to let in more chilly air than necessary. Theo followed me as I slipped through the opening into the big red building. Hay crunched under our feet as our steps made clunking noises on the wooden planks beneath us. Inside the barn, Theo immediately began looking around, and pulled out his phone, firing off a few quick photos.

“Do you think your followers have never seen a barn?” I teased.

Blushing, he took a few more photos and went to slip his phone back into his pocket. Before he could, I pulled him over to the side and up to one of the pens. Inside, a giant pot-bellied pig was lying in a heap of hay, snoring gently.

“That’s Berta,” I said. “The pig my mom was talking about yesterday. Feel free to pretend you’re at the zoo.”

Theo chuckled and snapped a picture. I pulled him back across to the other side of the barn to the goat pen.

“That’s Laurel and Hardy.” I waved at the two goats asleep in the hay.

As Theo took a picture, Laurel lifted his black head and bleated at us, his eyes glimmering in the low light, before laying his head back down.

“We’ve got some cows and the chickens, too,” I said, leading Theo further into the barn as he looked around in wonder. “There’s mostly hay in here, though. A couple of horses at the end there. The cows are in the pasture and the chickens roam around their pen, but right now they’re probably in the coop. They tend to stay in there most of the day with the heater during winter.”

“Do…do they lay eggs?” Theo asked.

“The females do,” I said, teasing him. “The rooster? Notsomuch.”

He nudged me with his elbow and smiled.

“The hens start laying eggs after, like six months,” I explained as we walked. “And they can lay eggs for years, but the older they get, the less they produce.”

“What happens when they stop laying eggs?”

“Sunday dinner,” I said with a shrug.

Theo whipped his head around to look at me in horror.

“Where do you think you get fried chicken?” I laughed. “At least our chickens are treated well until the time comes. You don’t want to know how the farms that supply KFC treat their chickens.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing at the front of his throat.

“Mom basically treats them like pets until their day of reckoning comes,” I said with a shrug. “They have good lives. Trust me.”

“Do you eat all of your animals?” Theo asked quietly.