8. You Are an Opossum Living in the Trashcan of My Heart
Wednesday, July 18th-5:22 p.m.
1,131 words. Approximate reading time: 5 minutes, 39 seconds.
Cross-posted to gunwithoutmusic.dreamwidth.org/10962.html
Arnold carefully hooked the handle of his dutch oven and lifted it out of the embers in the fire pit, setting the pot gently on the ground before grasping it with two mitt-covered handles and placing it on the countertop. As he pulled off the lid, a burst of steam emerged, followed by the aroma of freshly-baked bread. Some vegetables from their garden, mostly beans and peas with a few peppers, still simmered on another pot hanging from a spit over the fire pit.
The back door to the house creaked loudly, and Arnold turned to see his two children, Ainsley and Corrin, bounding through the door with their puppy Jake right behind them. He smiled as the group made its way across the yard to the kitchen.
“That smells great, Dad!” Ainsley shouted, looking at the cast iron pot that his father was turning over to release the baked bread.
“Thanks, Ains,” Arnold said. “I’ve even got a special treat for us tonight. You guys wanna know what it is?”
“Yes!” the children cried together. Jake yipped a few times and started chasing his tail, feeling the excitement of the children.
Arnold reached up onto a shelf above the counter and pulled down a small packet about the size of his hand, showing it to the children. “This, kids, is what we call butter.”
“Budder?” Corrin asked.
“Yeah,” Arnold said. He unwrapped the packet, revealing the soft yellow-ish substance inside. “It’s a yummy spread that people used to put on bread all of the time. It’s pretty hard to find nowadays, but your mom has some friends that raise cows, and they use the cow milk to make butter.”
“Uhm, that’s cool, I guess,” Ainsley said, shrugging his shoulders a bit.
Arnold laughed. “Well, you’ll see. Your mom will be home soon and we’ll have dinner, and you’ll see what a treat this is. Now you two go play with Jake until she gets back so I can finish getting this all set up.”
The kids ran off to the other side of the yard with Jake, running around and playing without a care in the world. Arnold smiled as he watched them for a moment, then focused his attention on the cooled bread, slicing half of it neatly into thick slices, and wrapping the other half up with an old cloth napkin to save for the next day.
He gently removed the vegetables from the spit above the fire pit, his smile fading slightly as he looked up into the sky, seeing how low the sun was. His wife should have returned home from hunting by now, but Arnold did his best not to worry. Maybe her group had found something big and they needed some extra time getting things prepped and ready to take back home. Arnold’s thoughts became filled with meat, another rarity for them these days, since the few people left that kept livestock kept them for milk or eggs rather than for meat. There certainly wasn’t enough meat to go around, anyway.
But when his wife would go out with her hunting group, she would try to bring home something to supplement Arnold’s vegetable garden and whatever staples they could afford from the co-op. Usually it was something small-a squirrel, a wild chicken, or an opossum, perhaps-but on rare and joyous occasions, he might see her pull into the driveway with the basket of her bicycle loaded up with deer or horse meat.
Arnold was lost in thought, dreaming up recipes for deer meat, when his hand touched the pot of vegetables sitting on the kitchen counter. He cursed loudly as the flesh of his hand seared, and Ainsley and Corrin looked up in shock.
“Daddy’s fine!” he said, waving his hand around to try and relieve the pain. The kids looked unsure, but went back to playing. “I’m going to go to put something on this; you guys stay put, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!” Corrin shouted, and Arnold walked inside the house, nursing his hand. He entered what used to be the kitchen before, but was now just an extra-large pantry. Rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, he found a first-aid kid and popped it open. Thankfully, there was some burn cream left in there. Not much, but enough for his hand. He opened the tube and gently pushed a small amount of cream out of the tube and onto his hand. He rubbed it over the burn in a thin layer before covering the spot with a piece of gauze and wrapping his hand up with just enough tape to keep the gauze in place.
It wasn’t until he was finally feeling some relief from the burn cream that his mind returned to his wife and her whereabouts. He glanced out of the window into the backyard to see the kids and the puppy still keeping themselves busy, and allowed himself to smile a bit despite his worry.
A knock on the front door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he cautiously approached the door, the worry rising in the back of his mind. He opened the door to find Joseph, a hunting partner of his wife’s, standing on the porch. Arnold knew from the look on his face.
“Seph,” he said in greeting.
“Arnold,” Joseph replied.
“It’s Kim.”
Joseph nodded sadly, and Arnold could tell that he was searching for the right words to say. Arnold himself was searching for words. He knew that there was an inherent danger in going out hunting, but Kim had been doing it for years without any problems.
“Arnold, I’m-” Joseph started.
Arnold cut him off. “Don’t, Seph. We both knew something could happen. Me and the kids... we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Just get back to your family before they start to worry.”
“Alright,” Joseph said. “You, uh... you know where we are if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you soon.” Arnold closed the door quietly as Joseph turned and walked back to his bicycle. The moment the door latched, Arnold lost all of his strength and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. He sat there for a few minutes before doing his best to pull himself together and stand back up. He moved into the kitchen, looking out the window once more into the backyard.
In one corner of the yard, Corrin rolled around on the ground with Jake while Ainsley jogged around them in circles. Arnold watched them, desperately racking his brain for something to say, only coming up with empty platitudes that didn’t seem fully appropriate to the situation.
His eyes surveyed the kitchen, a small makeshift set of counters and shelves covered by a tarp just next to the fire pit where he cooked dinner for his family every night. Four thick slices of bread sat on the counter next to a pot of cooked vegetables and an open packet of butter.
1,131 words. Approximate reading time: 5 minutes, 39 seconds.
Cross-posted to gunwithoutmusic.dreamwidth.org/10962.html
Arnold carefully hooked the handle of his dutch oven and lifted it out of the embers in the fire pit, setting the pot gently on the ground before grasping it with two mitt-covered handles and placing it on the countertop. As he pulled off the lid, a burst of steam emerged, followed by the aroma of freshly-baked bread. Some vegetables from their garden, mostly beans and peas with a few peppers, still simmered on another pot hanging from a spit over the fire pit.
The back door to the house creaked loudly, and Arnold turned to see his two children, Ainsley and Corrin, bounding through the door with their puppy Jake right behind them. He smiled as the group made its way across the yard to the kitchen.
“That smells great, Dad!” Ainsley shouted, looking at the cast iron pot that his father was turning over to release the baked bread.
“Thanks, Ains,” Arnold said. “I’ve even got a special treat for us tonight. You guys wanna know what it is?”
“Yes!” the children cried together. Jake yipped a few times and started chasing his tail, feeling the excitement of the children.
Arnold reached up onto a shelf above the counter and pulled down a small packet about the size of his hand, showing it to the children. “This, kids, is what we call butter.”
“Budder?” Corrin asked.
“Yeah,” Arnold said. He unwrapped the packet, revealing the soft yellow-ish substance inside. “It’s a yummy spread that people used to put on bread all of the time. It’s pretty hard to find nowadays, but your mom has some friends that raise cows, and they use the cow milk to make butter.”
“Uhm, that’s cool, I guess,” Ainsley said, shrugging his shoulders a bit.
Arnold laughed. “Well, you’ll see. Your mom will be home soon and we’ll have dinner, and you’ll see what a treat this is. Now you two go play with Jake until she gets back so I can finish getting this all set up.”
The kids ran off to the other side of the yard with Jake, running around and playing without a care in the world. Arnold smiled as he watched them for a moment, then focused his attention on the cooled bread, slicing half of it neatly into thick slices, and wrapping the other half up with an old cloth napkin to save for the next day.
He gently removed the vegetables from the spit above the fire pit, his smile fading slightly as he looked up into the sky, seeing how low the sun was. His wife should have returned home from hunting by now, but Arnold did his best not to worry. Maybe her group had found something big and they needed some extra time getting things prepped and ready to take back home. Arnold’s thoughts became filled with meat, another rarity for them these days, since the few people left that kept livestock kept them for milk or eggs rather than for meat. There certainly wasn’t enough meat to go around, anyway.
But when his wife would go out with her hunting group, she would try to bring home something to supplement Arnold’s vegetable garden and whatever staples they could afford from the co-op. Usually it was something small-a squirrel, a wild chicken, or an opossum, perhaps-but on rare and joyous occasions, he might see her pull into the driveway with the basket of her bicycle loaded up with deer or horse meat.
Arnold was lost in thought, dreaming up recipes for deer meat, when his hand touched the pot of vegetables sitting on the kitchen counter. He cursed loudly as the flesh of his hand seared, and Ainsley and Corrin looked up in shock.
“Daddy’s fine!” he said, waving his hand around to try and relieve the pain. The kids looked unsure, but went back to playing. “I’m going to go to put something on this; you guys stay put, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!” Corrin shouted, and Arnold walked inside the house, nursing his hand. He entered what used to be the kitchen before, but was now just an extra-large pantry. Rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, he found a first-aid kid and popped it open. Thankfully, there was some burn cream left in there. Not much, but enough for his hand. He opened the tube and gently pushed a small amount of cream out of the tube and onto his hand. He rubbed it over the burn in a thin layer before covering the spot with a piece of gauze and wrapping his hand up with just enough tape to keep the gauze in place.
It wasn’t until he was finally feeling some relief from the burn cream that his mind returned to his wife and her whereabouts. He glanced out of the window into the backyard to see the kids and the puppy still keeping themselves busy, and allowed himself to smile a bit despite his worry.
A knock on the front door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he cautiously approached the door, the worry rising in the back of his mind. He opened the door to find Joseph, a hunting partner of his wife’s, standing on the porch. Arnold knew from the look on his face.
“Seph,” he said in greeting.
“Arnold,” Joseph replied.
“It’s Kim.”
Joseph nodded sadly, and Arnold could tell that he was searching for the right words to say. Arnold himself was searching for words. He knew that there was an inherent danger in going out hunting, but Kim had been doing it for years without any problems.
“Arnold, I’m-” Joseph started.
Arnold cut him off. “Don’t, Seph. We both knew something could happen. Me and the kids... we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Just get back to your family before they start to worry.”
“Alright,” Joseph said. “You, uh... you know where we are if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you soon.” Arnold closed the door quietly as Joseph turned and walked back to his bicycle. The moment the door latched, Arnold lost all of his strength and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. He sat there for a few minutes before doing his best to pull himself together and stand back up. He moved into the kitchen, looking out the window once more into the backyard.
In one corner of the yard, Corrin rolled around on the ground with Jake while Ainsley jogged around them in circles. Arnold watched them, desperately racking his brain for something to say, only coming up with empty platitudes that didn’t seem fully appropriate to the situation.
His eyes surveyed the kitchen, a small makeshift set of counters and shelves covered by a tarp just next to the fire pit where he cooked dinner for his family every night. Four thick slices of bread sat on the counter next to a pot of cooked vegetables and an open packet of butter.