10 | 𝐿𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑒

"Mom--" I groaned, throwing my head back irritatingly.

Why did today have to be so hot?

The sun practically spat fire on Wyoming and this had to be the day that Jessica arranged chores. She'd been preparing herself for a case, an extremely hard one at that. My mom's job was cool in my opinion, as messy as it was to watch her staying up at all hours of the night some days and I hated her complex work weeks, like the upcoming one.

"Come on! Put your back into it!" she enthusiastically chanted behind me, hauling the wheelbarrow across the yard, the one singular wheel rocking unsteadily in the divots upon the ground.

"I just got back from school, I don't really want to do this," I returned exaggeratingly, my arms tightening and ready to give out at any moment. Our backyard was lengthy, but from the house to the fence parallel was just a short distance.

"I'm gonna be inside working like crazy soon, let's get this done," she hastily said, parking the wheelbarrow outside. She hyperventilated, but not as much as me.

"Okay, where do you want this?" I grunted. I carried a big bag of chicken feed. The bag weighed a ton on my arms and started to cause me to wobble backwards.

My mom pointed to the corner of the shed. "Right over there is fine." She placed her hands firmly on the outline of her waist as I was careful to not miss the step up onto the platform.

When I entered the shed, the surrounding walls were wood and some scraps of wood planks laid on the floor.

I plopped the bag down with a thud then wiped the back of my sleeve against my forehead, collecting beads of sweat on my hairline. "What else do you need to buy?"

I was exhausted from the amount of overworked shopping we did earlier that day and hauling what we bought from the car to the shed.

I similarly stood, hands holding onto my waist in hopes of balancing myself.

She beckoned a hand to the scraps of wood planks. "I need to create perches, then I have to build the nests, but I think I'm gonna do that in January or maybe I can get started on it? I really don't have a clue." She started chuckling, composing her breath.

It was my mom's idea to get chickens. She'd always wanted to have them since she used to as a girl when staying at her aunt's. We hadn't gotten the chickens yet, but it was her idea of working on the project bit by bit before they got here. Constructing their chicken coop and making it nice and homey for them until arrival.

I glanced up to the arched ceiling of the shed and said, "we should add fairy lights."

"Then fairy lights it is." She chuckled in reply, nodding her head and then pointing to the crimson red wheelbarrow. "Come on, help me get this in."

All of the planks of wood we needed to construct the nests were buried into the wheelbarrow and jabbing out. Though it was blazing hot and sunny, it was predicted to rain later that night and my mom was not taking any chances with damaging the wood.

I used everything in me to haul the tip of the wheelbarrow as she pushed, and we drew the cart inside. Redeeming her harbored breathing, she admitted, "your dad always wanted to have a lot of animals," she explained, a tight grin on her lips.

"We should get a dog," I remarked off-topic. I knew deep down I was insane for suggesting an idea, wholeheartedly because I lied to Sullivan, but a part of me had always wanted a dog. I grew out of the phase shortly after I turned fourteen, or did I?

"No," my mom deadpanned. "A dog's a lot of work. It'll disrupt me when I'm working--"

"I'll keep it out of your way?" I offered. I sounded less of a seventeen year old at the moment and more of a young child when I kept trying to find ways to coax her into such a life-changing decision.

"It would need walks?" she reminded me, a brief display of displeasure on her face.

"I would walk it!" I claimed.

"No, end of discussion. We're getting ready for the chickens next spring and I already have had enough on my mind about work. No dog," she concluded, quickly summarizing her points that were simply unarguable. "What's this sudden idea anyway? You've never wanted a dog before."

"I know," I muttered, "but... don't you think it's been a little lonely?" I asked softly, and instantly regretted it when she spun around to face me. Her eyes were torn between a heavy amount of guilt and pure disillusion.

"You never said anything before--" she repeated, but not implying the dog this time.

"No, I know that. I just--" I bit my tongue before I could continue. I gently kicked the bag of feed with the tip of my shoe, but it only crinkled. "I just think that when I go off to college, I mean... I'm hoping to get into Vanderbilt University in Tennessee. That's really far from Wyoming--"

"Riyah," she started coldly, "what are you trying to say?"

"Don't you think you'll be lonely?" I questioned hesitantly again, seeing as the yellow-tinted rays of light peeked onto the wooden floorboards of the shed we stood inside.

It was much cooler since it always contained a bit of the chill with the doors hinged. It felt especially silent now that no one was talking, the passing by cars were dismissed and the next door neighbor's kids were still screaming and chasing each other, playing some game beyond the fence, but we weren't listening to it; far from it too.

She bowed her head and beckoned a hand to the shed. "I have the chickens--"

"Mom," I chuckled, but I could sense the brim of tears. "That sounds so ridiculously sad!" I tried to hold back a sob as I was laughing, discussing the distaste with humor as I always had done.

"I know," she attempted, wiping her eyes furiously with the pad of her index finger. "I'll be fine, you don't need to worry about me. We don't need a dog to replace you, Riyah," she assured, but even though this conversation was supposed to be based around getting a dog to cover my lies, I did realize that I was worried for my mom when I'd leave for college.

She opened her arms, gesturing with her head for me to near, I did as told, allowing her arms to fold and encase around me. "Can we get a fish?" I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

She sniffled a little dryly and added, "I've always wanted a butterfly garden." She snickered, beginning to separate from the hug. I rolled my eyes, smearing away a few remaining wet stains beneath my eye. "You say you're going to the firework show with your friends? That's nice."

"Yeah," I agreed excitedly. "Liv's gonna be there."

"Sullivan?" she asked for assurance. "Not Olivia Marshall?" she teased, repeating what she overheard Kayla saying in the past. I was laughing when I surveyed the shed, anticipating to see it when it was all completed. "Oh, I wanted to talk to you actually," my mom began, wiping her hands along the front of her apron.

"What's up?"

She paused, drawing a moment to think when she suddenly explained, "you know how Thanksgiving is next week?" she reminded me, seeing my anxious nod. "Well---"

"No," I snapped, shaking my head furiously. "I am not having another Thanksgiving fiasco—"

"Please!" she begged helplessly. "You know how much I don't want the family coming over either--"

"Family or riot?" I questioned rudely. "Lemme guess, this is everybody in the fam and they're gonna come over, half of them are gonna accidentally stay the night because they didn't book a hotel and they wind up staying till Christmas?" I refuted. "We're not having another Christmas--"

"I know! No!" she declared, shaking her head, but agreeing with me. "I am not having another Christmas with them again, that was... oh God, not happening again."

I groaned, interrupting her, throwing my head back. "Do I have to sit at the kids table again? Can I bring Kayla? Or Jay--"

"They have their own Thanksgivings to attend to, you tried inviting them the last time. Just, it's happening--"

"You owe me a dog for this one," I rebuked, gasping in horror. "Urgh! Shit! This means that I have to see my cousins! Oh, no! Grandma Tabitha! Mom! Don't do this to me! I'm old enough where I can just ditch--"

"And leave me alone?" She laughed gently, trying to distract her own suffering. "We're having Thanksgiving and you can invite a friend if anyone's available."

"The only thing I'm looking forward to are those deviled eggs," I remarked. "Grandma Tabitha's gonna have to leak that secret recipe sooner or later," I joshed.

My mom released a soft hum in agreement. "Imagine fresh chicken eggs and not the processed and chemical shit at groceries?" she described, tilting her head to look out through the doors to the backyard. "Next are goats."

"You'd choose a goat over a dog?" I questioned, sounding a bit offended.

"I was kidding..."

"No, you're not," I retorted, shaking my head. "What if I take the dog to Tennessee with me?" I asked, sounding as though I defined the meaning of life.

Now that I started to unbury it, I kinda did want a dog... I think I do.

Her eyes widened two times the size as if she were trying to consume the amount of stupidity in her sight. "Nice try, let's see how Vanderbilt feels about that? Planning on sneaking it in a suitcase?" she asked with a few guffaws.

"Technically!" I shot into the air ingeniously. "The dog could stay at Aunt Rikki's."

"Yeah, she'd love that," my mom sarcastically quipped, beginning to saunter out of the shed. I followed her when she shut the door quickly, locking the handle. Closing me in complete darkness. It was a ball of blackness surrounding me in the shed. I laughed.

"Rude!" I shouted through the wood. "Also, she'd love that and you know it!" I stomped my foot onto the flooring and the doors reopened, my mom gave me a lopsided grin as if we were just testing each other and she was waiting for me to get to the punchline. "I'm serious!" I added.

"Me too," she uttered with a chuckle. We started towards the doors. She slid open the glass sliding entryway, allowing me in. "Lemonade in the fridge, freshly made."

"Mom," I warned, throwing her a sideways look over my shoulder. "It's November? No one has Lemonade in November," I reminded her, but she only rolled her eyes in complaint.

"Anything in particular you want for Thanksgiving?" she asked, nearing the kitchen on the far side. She reached the corner of the kitchen, drawing out a notepad and pencil.

I popped open the fridge and saw the plastic container, halfway filled with the smooth yellow liquid. I could already taste the lemon sourness on my tongue. I pulled it out, using the blue cap and handle, placing it on the granite counter. "No," I answered, "not really." My voice trailed as I filled up the glass, beckoning the container to my mom who nodded gratefully. "Who else is coming?" I wondered over the stream of liquid splashing up against the second glass.

She grunted out, "everybody... unfortunately."

"Why are we doing this if you and I both don't want to host?" I questioned dumbly, placing the lemonade back in the fridge atop the empty spot. I sealed the cold breeze inside, sliding the glass along the bottom to my mom.

"Because," she murmured, deep in thought, resting the tip of the pencil eraser along her bottom lip. "That aunt of yours, my sister, wanted me to have a get together again cause she 'misses us,'" she mocked, rolling her eyes again. "We'll just get through it this year."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed, though I really wasn't in the mood for any more bickering. I clasped onto the glass and looked back over to her hunched position on the counter. "Today was fun."

She perked up, straightening her posture with a smile. "Really?" she queried. "I'm glad. Me too, thank you for going with me to the store today. I feel a bit relieved now that I got all the wood. Maybe soon you can help me out with putting up the shed?" she offered a bit too optimistically.

I cringed, releasing a noise of caution. "Er---"

"I know," she laughed, shaking her head. "I bit off more than I can chew there." She returned back to her notepad, looked up, then quizzed, "Do people eat pound cake anymore?"

Both my eyebrows sprung to my hairline. "Just stick to a pumpkin pie, maybe even coconut custard?"

"Blueberry?" she suggested and I smacked my lips. "I swear, our house is big, but not big enough for this family."

"Amen to that," I laughed, walking away and out of the kitchen. I began to enter the living room, and further to where the ivory carpeted stairs were, but a few knocks at the door brought me to a temporary cease. I stood in the center of the living room, staring at the mahogany trim outlining the dark wooden door. If it was Kayla, she'd just barge in, but I knew it wasn't.

"Hun, anything you feel like for dinner?" she called from the little window in the wall between the kitchen and the living room, but she was unable to see my struggle at trying to figure out who was behind the door.

"I don't know, hold on," I hurriedly spoke, retreating to the handle and twisting, stumbling backwards to see the figure in the doorway.

"Dad?"

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