Sadie says she feels better than ever. She wants to go to town, wants to party, wants to do anything besides sit around while everybody works. The doctor said she still shouldn’t do any physical labor for a couple weeks, even though I’ve never seen her so energized. She’s like one of those hyperactive little dogs that pulls so hard at its leash it chokes, then as soon as it’s released it rockets into space like a slingshot, a blur of fur and high-pitched yapping. It runs around, sniffing everything, jumping up on everyone it sees, shaking with pent-up energy, ready to explode. I told Sadie yesterday that she reminded me of a Chihuahua, and she got so mad she said she’d never speak to me again. The silent treatment lasted fifteen minutes, which is a long time for someone who usually needs to fill up every silence she finds.
I am spending more time at the barn than I have to. I stay late, cleaning things I’ve already cleaned. Doff doesn’t say anything, just pats me on the shoulder when he leaves and says I’m doing a good job. I think he understands why I’ve been stalling, why I’ve been making up chores for myself. It’s not only me who prefers the company of animals to people.
This is the only place I can really relax anymore. When I’m back at camp, I’m always nervous I’m going to run into Sadie, Lark, Skyler, and even Dylan. I haven’t seen him at all since the night of the bonfire, haven’t walked by him lounging on the porch of his cabin drinking beer in the afternoon, haven’t passed him on his way to do one of his mysterious chores. It’s like he disappeared into thin air again and took his truck with him. I have a vague memory of feeling a new connection to him, but with him gone I’m afraid it’s quickly dissolving. Part of me is afraid to see him, afraid to find out that our connection was only a hallucination.
But I barely have time to miss him, now that Sadie’s healthy and bored and on the prowl for entertainment. She always seems to find me within minutes of my stepping foot in the main house, like she’s hiding in the shadows getting ready to pounce. Skyler is always close behind, ready to laugh at every joke Sadie tells, ready to ooh and ahh at every one of her stories, but I’ve heard them all already.
And so I hide. I pretend my life exists only in the confines of this barn and the fenced-in fields around it. So far, it’s been working. So far, this is a place Sadie hasn’t bothered to visit.
“Max!” a voice yells from the barn doors.
Until now.
I look to the doors and see her black silhouette outlined by sunlight. I see the smaller cutout of Skyler behind her. “Hi,” I say, not bothering to yell.
“Damn, this place stinks!” Sadie announces. As she gets closer, her features solidify. She has spent her first few days of freedom soaking up the sun, making up for lost time. Her skin is tanned, giving her a healthy glow. Skyler is red-nosed and burnt beside her, freckles like mud splatter on her cheeks.
“How can you stand it in here?” Sadie says. “It smells like shit.”
“Literally,” Skyler says.
“You get used to it,” I grunt as I shovel a load of manure and dirty straw into a wheelbarrow.
“Oh my God, Max. You are so butch!” Sadie laughs.
“These guys are cute,” Skyler mews from the goat pen, where she is sticking her head over the fence. I feel a surge of protectiveness. I don’t want anyone near my babies, especially not them.
“Come here, Sadie!” Skyler says. “You have to see this.”
Sadie peers into the pen. “What are those?”
“Baby goats,” I say. “They’re only a couple weeks old. I helped deliver them.” I can’t help but feel proud, even superior. I have done something amazing that Sadie has never done.
“What do you mean, you helped deliver them?”
“I mean, I was here when the mother gave birth. I helped pull them out. I wasn’t even wearing gloves.” I don’t know why I expect her to be impressed by this, but I guess I’m not surprised when she looks at me in horror.
“Max, that’s disgusting.”
“No, it’s not,” I say. Skyler is dangling a piece of straw into the pen, luring the babies with it, then pulling it away as soon as they get close. “Don’t do that,” I say, my voice rising.
“We’re playing,” she says.
“Those goats are so stupid,” Sadie says.
“No, they’re not!” I shout, pulsing with so much anger the barn seems to wobble around me. Sadie and Skyler both look at me like I’m crazy. I wish the barn had locks to keep them out, I wish it were hidden, I wish they had never found me here. They have ruined it by just breathing; they have poisoned the air with their words.
“What’s wrong with her?” Skyler asks Sadie, like I’m not even here. I think for a second how satisfying it would be to throw this shovelful of manure at them.
“Yeah, Max,” Sadie says. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? You walk in here and start insulting my work and expect me to not be pissed? And you’re just walking around like this is a fucking resort, like you’re on vacation, with your little troll following you around. What’s wrong with you, Sadie?”
Skyler’s face falls, and I immediately feel bad for bringing her into it. But I wanted to hurt Sadie, and I feel a sick satisfaction at her shocked expression. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stands there with her mouth open while Skyler slowly backs away, then turns and walks out of the barn.
“Say something,” I demand.
Sadie closes her mouth.
“Sadie, say something!”
“I’m sorry,” she finally says.
“Sorry for what?” I want her to list off every single way she’s ever hurt me, every thing I’ve had to do for her, every time I’ve held her hair while she puked, every time I’ve had to lie for her, apologize for her, every time I’ve been terrified because of something she’s done, every time I’ve been ashamed and hurt and sad and lost. I want her to apologize for getting sick and leaving me. I want her to apologize for getting better and coming back. I want her to apologize for all the pain I’ve ever felt, because in this moment it feels like she’s the cause of all of it.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just joking.”
I search her face, but I’m not sure what for. Maybe I want to see some kind of recognition of what she’s guilty of, some acknowledgement of blame. But I see nothing. We catch each other’s eye for a second, and it feels like one of those awkward moments when you make eye contact with a stranger on the street—except this is supposed to be my best friend. I have spent my whole life watching her and learning her cues, but now we have exchanged places. She’s trying to figure me out. Attention has shifted. The gaze has been reversed, and neither of us knows what we’re looking at.
It is me who looks away first. I shovel another load into the wheelbarrow. I focus on the movement so I don’t have to think or feel.
“Dylan’s back, you know,” Sadie says, breaking the silence. For a moment, I think she knows about us, and I feel a surge of panic. I am not supposed to have secrets. I am not supposed to take the boy she wants. But then I realize she was just looking for something to say, something to change the subject, something neutral that has nothing to do with us.
I don’t say anything. I don’t want her to get off so easily. I want her to suffer.
“Max, come on,” she pleads. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I was an asshole.”
“Yes, you were,” I agree.
“You’re my best friend, Max. I miss you. Forgive me?”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. It is comforting to see her grovel.
“I love you,” she says, coming close and wrapping her arms around me. She smells like clean hair, like flowery deodorant, like the absence of sweat.
“I love you too,” I say, relaxing a little, hugging her back, hoping I get a little of my stink on her.
“Oh,” she says, perking up. “Like I was saying. Dylan got back late last night.” She pauses for dramatic tension. “And he has a black eye.” She’s grinning proudly at the delivery of this news.
“What? A black eye?” I say, not even trying to hide my shock. “How? From who?”
“How should I know? It’s not like he talks to me.”
I think about our wild night in the cornfields, Dylan following me even though I was blind, how frail and lost he looked when I finally got my sight back.
“Let’s go see him,” Sadie says. “Right now.” I know this tone in her voice. It is the sound of her wanting to get into trouble.
“It’s quittin’ time,” Sadie says, pulling the shovel out of my hand and throwing it to the ground. “I’m kidnapping you. If Doff complains, blame it on me.”
I sigh. I am too tired to fight anymore. “Can I take a shower first?”
“No,” Sadie says, tugging me toward the barn doors. “No time.”
“But I’m covered in shit, Sadie.”
“That’s what the lake’s for.”
We are walking so fast it doesn’t hit me where we’re headed until we’re almost there. Dylan’s cabin. As much as I’ve missed him, and as much as I’ve fantasized about his mouth and his hands since he’s been gone, I don’t want to see Dylan right now. I don’t want him to see me in these baggy jeans Doff gave me, this stained men’s T-shirt rolled up at the sleeves, this farmer’s tan on my arms, this ratty ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball cap. I don’t want him to see me like this next to Sadie, with her evenly tanned skin, her short dress just out of the laundry, her long bruise-free legs and arms, her perfect cleavage. Is she wearing makeup? Jesus, Sadie, who wears makeup on a farm?
He’s there, on his porch, watching us from behind dark sunglasses. He makes no sign that he differentiates between us, that I am any less a stranger than Sadie, that we have shared each other’s saliva and touched each other under our clothes, that I have slept in his bed. Sadie practically skips up to him, her hair bouncing like a shampoo commercial. The porch is already littered with beer bottles, and it’s not even five o’clock.
“Hey, Dylan,” Sadie says, leaning over the rail of his porch so her boobs get pushed up. I know she’s doing it on purpose. I know what her mating dance looks like. And I am fully aware that every trace of femininity I once had is hiding somewhere far away. I watch Sadie grab the beer from Dylan’s hand and chug the whole thing. I watch him hand her another one. I feel sick, like it was me who just chugged that whole beer, like its fermented froth is sloshing around in my stomach and making me woozy. I can’t watch this.
“I’m going swimming,” I yell loud enough for Sadie to hear. As she turns around to wave at me, Dylan lifts his sunglasses. His left eye and nose are bruised, but I can still see the smirk behind the swelling. Our eyes meet, and I am suddenly breathless, made dizzy by a sickening combination of anger and lust. They are both looking at me, Dylan and Sadie, and I have never felt so much repulsion and so much craving in my whole life.
“Why don’t you join us?” Dylan shouts, saying so much behind his words that Sadie can’t hear. He’s saying I am still a warm body he wants to touch, but this is not something he wants to announce publicly.
I don’t say anything. I can’t open my mouth. So I walk away, past the deflated raft that’s been stuck there since we got here so many weeks ago, past the lily pads hiding the muck lurking below. I hear Sadie’s laughter in the breeze. The wind will carry her song across the fields. Men will hear its whisper for miles around and wonder why they are suddenly aroused. Let her claim her domain. What do I care? For the time being, she has forgotten that I exist, and I am free until she has news to report.
I try not to feel the snake of jealousy burning through my ribs. I tell myself I don’t even want him; she can have him. But the logical thoughts of my mind are doing nothing to cool me down. I am not convinced. I want him. I want him to want me. I want him to want me more than he wants her. I want him to hurt her. I want her to run back to me, crying, needing me, with a broken heart only I can fix. I want to mean something to them. I want to be important. Necessary. I want the feeling I used to have with Sadie, with my mother, that feeling of knowing someone can’t live without me.
But it’s gone. All I have is this body, sticky with sweat and dirt and animal shit. I walk far away from everyone, behind a tall patch of reeds where the farm is hidden from view. I don’t care that this part of the lake is murky and tangled with mysterious weeds, I don’t care that no one can see me, that I could be pulled under and disappear and no one would notice until it was too late. I throw off my clothes and step into the water, completely naked. I feel it wash over me like a baptism, even though there is no one here to bless me. I sink my head under and look up at the sky. The darkness swirls around me like a tunnel, and the sun shines at the end of it like a distant star, and I can’t decide whether the light is a taunt or a promise.