The only good thing Joel Miller has ever done for me is take my place on the fortification project, and he didn't even do that on purpose.
I'm needed closer in town, Maria claims, to train the Denver crew in the greenhouses and help prepare the larger quantities of food now needed for community meals. I've managed these systems before, but Joel has not, so it makes the most sense for him to replace me in securing the walls so I can turn my attention elsewhere.
Ellie alternates between the garden and the border, keeping herself constantly occupied finding the place where she best fits. I can tell the gardening bores her, but I selfishly love the rotations she is on. I appreciate her veracity and somewhat negative humor, though I recognize they are likely a mask for whatever story she is hiding.
"Isn't he a handsome fucker? He'll have every hen in the coop chasin' after him, ready to make some little baby-filled eggs," Eugene watches with pride as the rooster he acquired struts around the enclosure, surveying his new habitat and the hens inside.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," I tell him, tilting my head to the side as I take a mental inventory of the chickens we've now crammed into one space. "How did you even find him?"
"I got my ways," Eugene winks at me and runs his hand through his wild, untamed hair.
He has a hideout built inside the old library outside Jackson. No one knows when he built it or how he got the idea, but its existence is something we have an unspoken agreement to not speak about. Maria believes it to be his way of coping with trauma, a form of dealing with his loss by creating a space where he has ultimate control. We know he tinkers with electronics there, occasionally coming back to town with a helpful new trap or alarm mechanism made from parts he's scavenged on patrol. What Maria does not know is that he also uses the space to grow pot…and a lot of it. I have no doubt that it is how he seems to pull off the most outrageous trades, returning to town with coveted items such as jars of coffee or in this case, a rooster to add to our existing flock in an attempt to begin breeding chickens. The scarce few of us who know his secret refuse to be the one to tell her.
"I hope it was worth whatever you had to trade for him," Eugene just chuckles as I continue counting the poultry and assessing the size of their space. "We're going to need a bigger coop for them, and if you're really intending to breed them we'll need supplies for that too. I could probably get some of the Denver boys to work on it, or the kids who built this coop originally…"
"Nah, don't go botherin' the kids," He waves his hand as if dismissing my suggestions, "They'll just take twice as long to do a shit job and you'll be furious when they break out and run away or somethin' gets inside and eats them for dinner. I bet you Joel could build a damn fine coop."
"The boys did a great job on this coop," I say this defensively, but I know the sides are slightly uneven and the nail placement a little haphazard…but it has held together fine and protected the chickens without issue so far. "I don't think we need to bother Joel about it,"
"Too bad I already did," Eugene grins mischievously, "I knew you'd say no, so I'm askin' forgiveness, not permission. Maria's findin' the supplies for him so he can start workin' on it as soon as possible. He'll get it done in a third of the time it'd take those boys to even start liftin' the damn hammer,"
Somehow, it has only taken Joel one week to establish himself as the most helpful newcomer in town - which makes trying to ignore him harder than I originally anticipated. He has not only taken my place in the fortification project, but the quality and efficiency of his work and his willingness to work past his initial rotation time have earned him all kinds of praise and admiration. When not on that job, he's started patrolling with Tommy and voluntarily doing small repairs and odd jobs for people around town. If you've got a problem, Joel will fix it - or so it sounds from the tales everyone has started spinning. Now it seems his good deeds will include a new chicken coop for our ever expanding flock. They seem to forget this place functioned just fine before he ever arrived.
The good thing about this new narrative is that it means Joel is constantly busy, so I have little worry about crossing paths on my walks home or when Ellie is coming to her shifts in the greenhouses. I've managed to avoid anything beyond a simple polite comment in passing ever since the jacket incident, and that is exactly how I want it. He may have charmed the majority of the community, but I am not so easily swayed by simple acts of manual labor.
"We can talk about this more later. I have to run," I grab my things and pull a battered clipboard from the shelves near the gardening shed. "I've got pretty much everything from this list marked off, but we need to make sure the chickens have enough food now that your guy is in with them and greenhouse four has a patch near the back left that needs to be sealed before too much warm air gets out. Think you can manage that for me before heading out?"
"Where are you going?" He takes the clipboard from my hand as a sign of acceptance, "You're rushing out of here kind of early for once,"
"I told Tommy and Maria I'd come over for dinner. She's cooking and invited me, so I gotta head that way,"
-
I let myself in the door at Tommy and Maria's out of habit, following the sound of distant laughter toward their living room. Tommy is standing by the bar cart in the corner, half paying attention and talking animatedly as he fills his glass with wine. Maria sips from her own glass and listens to the story he is telling, sitting in the lone arm chair opposite the unexpected guests sitting on their couch.
"You made it! Let me get you a drink! Come on in, take a seat!" Tommy greets me with a level of enthusiasm that tells me this isn't his first glass of the night. "We were just talking about this time Joel and I tried to take this campin' trip for his birthday and the tent sprung a leak."
The man is everywhere. There is truly no escape. He's wearing a green plaid button up tucked into dark wash jeans, a glass of wine in his hand and an uncharacteristically bright smile on his face…whatever story he and Tommy are reliving is clearly one that requires context to be funny, because Maria and Ellie seem to miss the joke.
"I didn't realize you were having a party," The glass has barely left Tommy's hand before I take a generous sip, forced congeniality saturating my words.
"Nah, just a little family dinner," Tommy scoffs, directing me to the remaining open armchair in the room. "Now that you're all here and settled, we thought it'd be nice to get the group together."
I'm torn between feeling anger that he would put me in this situation knowing how I feel about his brother and appreciation at the fact that they truly consider me to be part of their family. Since the Millers took me in when I arrived in Jackson barely hanging on to consciousness, I've internally battled feeling like an obligation to them. I know in the deepest part of my heart that they allowed me to live in their home for several months out of genuine kindness, but it is hard to not doubt on occasion.
"I bet she'd let me drink," Ellie elbows Joel in the side, raising her eyebrows in my direction.
"Me?" I point dramatically at my chest, mimicking her expression. "What am I supposed to be letting you drink?"
"Joel says I'm too young to have wine!" Ellie exclaims, "I keep telling him there's no damn laws about that anymore! That's some archaic shit from the stone age he was born in,"
"Okay, well first of all, I take offense to the implication that being alive when there was a legal drinking age makes you ancient," Joel seems to find my defense of his decision amusing, but I ignore the smirk my comment inspired. "Second, I refuse to put myself in the middle of this argument. You're on your own with that,"
"Sorry, kiddo. Decision stands," Joel laughs as Ellie groans in defeat, obviously having expected me to take her side.
"You motherfucking traitor…" She shakes her head at me. My only response is to take an exaggerated drink from my cup, which draws a laugh from the rest of the group.
Tommy dives back into the camping story that my entrance interrupted, recounting the way their tent flooded and they went home soaking wet, nearly howling with laughter at the memory. Joel fills in gaps where Tommy forgets, but largely lets his brother tell the story. The tiniest, most miniscule twinge of guilt is forming in me as I watch the way Tommy interacts with Joel. He has always been the more playful between him and Maria, but I cannot recall a time when he presented with this much unprecedented joy. He wipes a tear from his eye and sighs heavily as he laughs, and Joel simply shakes his head with amusement.
"Can I help you with anything?" I stand as soon as Maria does, hoping to talk to her away from the group. "Let me grab some plates for you,"
"Sure," I know Maria wants to tell me to sit down, have some more wine, and enjoy myself, but she knows just as well that I will likely push back. "Come help me grab some things,"
She closes the door behind us as we enter the kitchen, which is rich with the smell of herbs and roasting meat. I sit my wine on the counter and reach for the pot holders sitting neatly by the stove before pulling the pot from the oven.
"Please do not start anything," Maria is staring at me, her back to the door and arms crossed below her chest. "I know what you're going to say, and no, we are not pulling some kind of cruel prank on you or pushing some agenda. It was genuinely important to Tommy that the people he cares about most all had a nice, quiet dinner together. No agenda, I swear."
"Have you met your husband? That man has never done anything quietly," I joke, setting the blazing hot dish on the stove and removing the lid. A perfectly cooked roast is nestled among potatoes and carrots freshly harvested from the garden, topped with some of the herbs we managed to grow.
"I'm serious," She tells me, her voice low as we hear the others moving toward the dining room on the other side of the door. "I didn't tell you because I honestly thought you wouldn't come if you knew he was here,"
"You're right, I probably wouldn't have," I confirm. I learned pretty quickly that Maria could see right through my attempts to lie, so it was not even worth trying. "But I'm here now and I'm not a child, so I promise to be polite. I actually enjoy spending time with Ellie, so that slightly counteracts the annoyance of being around Joel,"
"I thought Ellie might open up a little more with you here," Maria admits, her tone softening a bit as she realizes I am not going to go raging around the house. "She's a good kid. She's been incredibly helpful on every job she's been assigned, but she just seems to light up a little more when she's working with you."
"She is a good kid," I agree, taking the stack of plates waiting on the counter and scooping them into my arms. "She's just got a very unfortunate not-Dad,"
Before Maria can respond, I take the plates to the dining room where everyone is seated around the table. Tommy is at the head, with Joel to his right and Ellie to the left, leaving a seat at the opposite end and one next to Joel.
Goddamnit, Tommy…
"That smells fucking incredible," Ellie leans forward a little in her seat to see what is inside the dish Maria sets on the table.
"You know you contributed to that, right?" I tell her, hesitantly taking the empty seat beside Joel and sliding my chair in carefully to keep a more than acceptable amount of space between us.
"What? How did I do that?" A look of intense confusion crosses her face. Maria returns with two serving utensils and begins scooping portions of meat, potatoes and carrots onto a plate before passing it around.
"The potatoes," I take my fork and point to the plate being placed in front of her. "Those are the ones you helped harvest yesterday. The afternoon shift washed and packed them up, so now they are all either being used at the community center or meals like this tonight,"
"This is literally the same potato?" She pushes a piece around with her fork, observing it like a treasured find on an archeological dig.
"The very same," I tell her. "See? The fruits of your labor,"
"More like the roots of my labor," Ellie says with a sheepish grin. "Because potatoes are a root vegetable,"
"That's terrible, just terrible," Joel tells her, but his disgusted tone is clearly fake because he's not trying to cover his laughter.
The watch on his hand closest to me is broken. Like, really broken, not just slightly banged up or aged like most clothes and accessories anyone owns these days. The glass is shattered, splintering off from a single hole. I catch myself staring at it a little too long, wondering why he would continue to wear something so blatantly nonfunctional. I abruptly direct my attention back to the conversation and no one notices.
"I understand I'm buildin' you a new chicken coop," It takes me a second to realize Joel is speaking to me. I turn my head slightly to face him and see him looking intently in my direction, popping a bite of carrot into his mouth while awaiting my response.
"You really don't have to," I assure him, hoping that without Eugene around I can undo this arrangement in peace. "Eugene shouldn't have asked you. I'm sure you have plenty on your plate right now, and we can have the boys who built the original one work on it,"
"You know that coop is a piece of shit, right?" Tommy doesn't wait to speak before swallowing his food, his words slightly muffled by roast and potatoes.
"It's held up perfectly fine so far, plus how are those boys supposed to get any better if they don't have a chance to actually build something?"
"You've got a point," Joel seems to contemplate my words, which takes me off guard. "But I don't think you want to bet all your chickens on them learnin' that skill."
I hate that he's right. I really do.
"Joel's right," Maria interjects. "I'd prefer he build the coop as planned and maybe some of the boys can come watch and learn from him. Then they'll be ready when the next opportunity comes and we still have a better quality coop,"
I take a bite of food to buy some time. I know they are right, but it's like my voice has literally become paralyzed inside me, refusing to let me agree. The thing I hate most is how genuine Joel seems. There isn't an ounce of arrogance in his voice, so I seem like a complete jerk to take offense at his offer.
"Okay, I guess that makes sense. If Eugene has his way, we'll have a whole ton of chicks coming soon so there will be plenty of chances for them to build something."
By the time our forks are scraping up the last bits of food, I've nearly forgotten that irritation that consumed me when first entering the house. The conversation stays light and casual, discussing some of the latest town gossip that Maria only engages in in these settings. Ellie is the quietest at the table, so it does not fully surprise me when she is the first to push her chair out from the table when the meal is finished.
"Hey, um, I'm gonna head out I think," She is speaking to Maria, but glancing at Joel from the corner of her eye. "Thanks for dinner. It really was delicious,"
"You leaving already?" Joel's voice has a hint of concern, a new tone I haven't heard from him before. My mind flashes back to the dam and the way he ran to her after the bandit attack.
"Yeah, I - uh…I told some of the others I'd come hang for a little bit," She's dodging the full truth, but it strikes me as normal teenage behavior. Tommy seems to view it the same way as he chimes in.
"Go on! Go have some fun. I'm glad you're makin' some friends. We got some good kids around here. We old folks will hang here,"
Ellie takes this as her moment to leave, but as she begins to walk toward the door, Joel speaks up one more time.
"Hey, kiddo? We still on for that guitar lesson tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, Joel," She gives him a soft smile. "I'll be there,"
The front door latches firmly behind her, leaving the four of us at the table. I reach for my wine, but realize the glass is empty as I lift it from the table. As though he anticipates my request, Joel grabs the bottle from the center of the table and tilts it in my direction.
"I didn't know you play guitar," I hold my glass out and find myself watching his movements with less skepticism than before as he carefully pours the last bit from the bottle for me.
"There's probably a lot of things we could learn about each other," He says, eyes rising to meet mine, holding my gaze for a moment before setting the empty bottle aside.
But I don't want to know more about him, so I'm not sure why I even brought this up.
"She knits," Tommy offers, drunkenly gesturing his glass in my direction. "Makes all kinds of blankets and little hats for the kids like a generous old grandma,"
"It's crocheting, Tommy. I feel like I've told you this a thousand times. Knitting is the one with two needles." I make a very dramatic and sarcastic gesture as though I am wielding two knitting needles to emphasize my point.
"I wouldn't have took you for the crafty type," Joel assesses, shifting slightly in his seat so he faces in my direction.
"I'm not sure it's crafty, so much as it is practical. One of the women in town started spinning wool once we got sheep, but it takes a while for her to get it done and we can only dye it so many colors with the supplies we have."
"The stuff she makes is nice," Tommy tells him. "That blanket on the couch in there was one she made. I'll go get it,"
"Or we could move to the living room," Maria gets up and starts to move that direction. "We can worry about the dishes later,"
Joel and I slide our chairs out at the same time, but he nods for me to stand up first in the small space between us and the wall behind. I step aside to give him room, and he pushes both of our chairs back in to the table before we all return to the living room.
My face is warm from all the wine and my head spins a little as I move. I plop down on the couch without much thought, deciding that this glass will definitely be my last of the night or my head will be swimming far too much to walk home. To my surprise, Joel joins me on the couch as Tommy and Maria move to the armchairs.
"Alright, I've kept my mouth shut long enough!" Tommy announces, tipping his glass just enough that a small drop of wine splashes onto his sleeve, which he ignores. "Tell us, Joel, how are things going with Esther?"
The warmth immediately flushes from my cheeks and a strange, unsettling feeling churns within my gut. Maybe I should set this glass aside earlier than I thought. A cold sweat is slowly beginning to dampen the back of my neck and send a sharp chill shooting down my spine.
"Tommy.." Maria chides, but he cuts her off.
"What? I'm just asking a simple question. I think I can at least find out if my gut was right on this one, can't I?"
"She's a very nice woman," Joel answers, drinking his wine slowly.
"And?" Tommy clearly wants more answers, but about what I am not sure. This is the first I am hearing of any interaction between the two of them.
"And you're meddling," Maria answers for him, doing her best to shut down the conversation.
"I'm not meddling, I'm just connecting two people who I believe would enjoy each other's company," Tommy retorts.
I have nothing to contribute to this discussion. I am also concerned that if I open my mouth, I will vomit in the middle of their coffee table and that is not the memory I want anyone taking away from this night. It has been awhile since I have drank this much and I must have underestimated the way it would hit me, even after eating a full meal.
"I think I'm going to head home," I carefully place my glass on the coffee table, attempting not to move too suddenly. "This was nice though, and dinner was amazing as always,"
"Are you sure?" Maria stands as I do, seeming to catch on that I am not completely well. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm great. Just tired, especially after eating," My assurance is not fully convincing, but I am thankful that she does not push it. I make my goodbyes quick and pleasant, then make my way toward the front door. Walking home, the cool night air helps ease my rising nausea and bring my heart rate back down to an even keel.
By the time I make it home, I am more drowsy than anything else. As I slide into bed and pull the quilt up to my chin, I remind myself to take it a bit easier next time anyone pours me wine.
When I volunteered to help coordinate the monthly movie night, I had not anticipated being ever so slightly hungover.
The smell of hot tallow wrenches my stomach, my mouth filling with a sweetly acrid taste. Thankfully, one of the other volunteers is prepared to make the popcorn, so I leave them to it and start setting up rows of chairs.
Once a month, we turn the community center into a movie theater of sorts. Over the years, we've collected a decent number of movies that are kept in the town library, so we started picking one of the more family friendly options to play through the projector we salvaged and host a viewing for the entirety of Jackson. We line up rows of mismatched chairs and benches, make popcorn using corn and beef tallow - it's not like the giant buckets of buttery kernels we purchased a theaters before, but the kids love having a special treat while watching the show.
Tonight's choice is a town favorite, Homeward Bound. I've never been one for talking animal movies, especially when they use real animals, but these nights are more about the social engagement than the movie itself. By volunteering to head up this month's gathering, I'll be plenty busy refilling bowls of popcorn and making sure the projector stays running.
The room is bustling well before the movie starts, with families coming in to claim the best seats and get their children settled. A group of teenagers come flying past the table where popcorn is distributed, sending a bowl flying from the edge and clattering across the floor, popcorn rolling and crunching under foot. I am so focused on sweeping it up and refilling the bowl, that I do not see Esther approaching the table.
"Let me help you!" She leans down and picks up the empty bowl, brushing it off as I finish sweeping the crushed kernels into the dustpan. "It wouldn't be a Jackson movie night if someone hadn't already spilled their popcorn,"
I've always liked Esther. Everyone has, because there is nothing about her not to like. She's been a member of the community for as long as I can remember, an active volunteer and generous neighbor. She is much too nice to be set up with Joel, which is what I gather is happening from the way Tommy asked about her the night before.
"Thanks," I take the bowl from her hands and set it aside to be washed. "These kids just get wilder every day,"
"I think a lot of them are excited to have some new friends," She waves to a group passing by. "Can I get two of those bowls? It smells great,"
"Of course," I hand over the bowls and watch as she carefully cradles them in her arm. "Extra hungry tonight?"
"I told Joel I'd get the popcorn while he grabs our seats," Esther explains. "I better go sit down or else I'll be helping you sweep these up as well. Enjoy the movie! I know how much you love the talking animal ones,"
She walks carefully through the crowd of people, guarding the small popcorn bowls like precious cargo until she reaches a spot slightly off to the side. Joel is standing by two chairs, happily accepting the bowl of popcorn she hands to him before taking a seat next to her. I must be staring a little too long, because he makes eye contact with me and offers a friendly nod in my direction. I wave to acknowledge him, then turn quickly back to handing out the bowls.
The same nauseating feeling from the night before wraps around my abdomen, an invisible force constricting me ever so slightly. I shake the feeling and try focusing on the task at hand, thankful for the opportunity to slide into the kitchen when bowls need to be refilled.
The movie has been playing for several minutes by the time I sit down, finding an open seat near one of the farther back rows. The lights are dimmed, but not completely out so as to not scare the younger children. The glow from the projection on the screen casts a cool halo of light around the heads in front of me, little bursts of laughter rising and falling as the story goes on.
But I'm having trouble focusing on the movie, which I blame on my aversion to talking animals.
If I hadn't seen where they chose to sit earlier, there would be nothing of significance causing me to notice where Joel and Esther sit. They look like any other pair around the room, sitting side by side, focused on the screen and contentedly eating their popcorn. Every now and then, one of them will laugh and whisper something to the other. About halfway through the movie, his arm slides up and wraps behind her, but it rests more so across the back of her chair than her shoulders.
I do not realize I am chewing the inside of my lip until a sharp, sudden burst of pain shoots through my mouth and a metallic taste strikes my tongue.
Does Esther know anything about his life only mere weeks ago? That the man whose bowl of popcorn she just snuck a piece out of popped the knee caps off of travelers that had the misfortune of crossing their hunter group's path?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving. I turn my head slowly and see a small group of people attempting to move undetected in the dark toward the side door. I recognize a few of them, Dina, Jesse, and Cat - all teenagers that had been in Jackson for awhile. Following behind them is a face I know all too well, and it is Ellie that catches me watching them. They freeze, silently staring in my direction and frozen like deer caught by a passerby. I have no intention of policing their time, and know they are generally some of the more responsible young people in town. Without speaking a word, I put my hand to my lips and mime locking them with a key. Ellie mouths her silent gratitude, and the group slips off into the night.
As the closing credits roll, the lights slowly come back up and reveal a mess of crushed popcorn all along the rows of seats. The crowd gradually roars to life as families gather their belongings and kids take off, weaving through the chairs as they chase after each other. I am so occupied with cleaning up that I do not see Esther and Joel leave.
Though I am exhausted, the night is too beautiful to let it simply pass. I kick off my shoes as I enter my house, place the kettle on the stove and find my warmest socks and blanket while the water comes to a boil. A few minutes later, I am happily curled up in the rocking chair on my front porch with my blanket and steaming cup of tea. The sky is clear, illuminated by a seemingly endless tapestry of stars. Even in the darkness of night, the beauty of the mountain ranges around us take my breath away. The world is silent, except for the chirping of crickets. At one point in time, I would have found the silence unsettling, but I have come to find it comforting.
As I take the final sips from my mug, I see him. Faintly lit under the aging street lights, Joel is walking toward his house. I have no idea what time it is, but the community center doors have long been locked and the last sip of tea I took was lukewarm at best. I assume he is coming from taking Esther home, which is a short walk from the other side of the town center.
When he reaches the front steps, he pauses before walking up and turns to look over his shoulder. It takes me a moment to recognize that he is looking in my direction, and now will realize that I have been watching him. He waves, seeming unbothered by this discovery, and it is too dark to be sure but I think I see him smile.
He better build the best damn chicken coop this town has ever seen.