I open my eyes. Blink several times.
“How did you sleep?”
Terrance is standing over me. Grinning, rested, and fresh. He’s holding a cup of coffee. I can smell it. He has my favorite mug.
Morning, I say, squinting up at him. What time is it?
“Just before eight. Thought it best to let you sleep a bit longer today. How’s the shoulder?”
Fine, I say. Where’s Hen?
“Gone to work. She left about ten minutes ago. It’s just you and me, buddy.”
I sit up, wincing from the pain in my shoulder. Terrance hands me the mug. It’s hot, strong, the way I like it. I didn’t think I would ever fall asleep on this chair last night. When I came back downstairs, I was wide-awake. I walked around in the dark. I went onto the porch for a bit. I paced around the living room. I couldn’t get comfortable. I was restless. I considered going upstairs to see if Hen was awake, too. I couldn’t hear anything up there, so decided against it.
Eventually, I sat back down in the chair, closed my eyes. I listened to the house. I don’t know if I slept at all, but I guess I must have, at least for a bit.
“You were right out. We thought we might wake you when we ate breakfast, but you slept right through it. No nightmares?”
No, I say. Why would I have nightmares?
He doesn’t answer.
“Good?” he says. “Did I get that right?”
What?
“The coffee? Strong, with cream and sugar. That’s how you take it, right?”
How did you know?
“Hen filled me in.”
It’s good, I say.
“This, too, don’t forget,” he says, handing me a pill.
I accept it reluctantly, swallowing it with another sip. I swing my legs around and off the chair. I stand up with a yawn. I walk over to the window and look out. Another hot, sunny day. The usual thick morning haze. Maybe we’ll get a storm. Hopefully. Cut the humidity.
I grab my screen, turn on the weather forecast.
The temperature will remain steady, but the relative humidity continues to climb. . . .
Terrance is watching me, watching me as I listen to the weather forecast. He interrupts.
“Sweating is less useful when it’s so humid,” Terrance says. “Too bad we don’t have a better way of cooling off.”
I can already feel the sweat starting around my temples. It’ll just get worse as the day goes on. The more he talks about it, the more I’m aware of it.
I should probably get some grain to the chickens, I say, buttoning my shirt.
“Already done.”
I stop.
“I figured since I was up I could be of some assistance.”
You already fed the chickens? That’s my job.
“That’s okay. No worries. I did it for you. They went pretty wild for the feed. I know it’s still early, but we have limited time, and I was hoping that if I did your chores, we could get started right away.”
You mean with an interview?
“Now that Hen’s gone, we won’t be interrupted.”
I wish he’d mentioned this last night. That we’d be starting first thing. I was looking forward to getting out to the barn, getting away.
Fine, I say.
“Are you hungry yet, or are you okay with the coffee? Hen said you usually start with your coffee and breakfast later.”
Coffee’s good, I say. I might just hit the toilet first.
“Right. Of course, of course. I’ll just wait here. Take your time.”