Disregard

            by Clio Bernhardson-Massolo

 

            I hadn't said a word to Charlie in the car since he picked me up at the airport. It was dusk, and outside the dusty window I could make out a rickety house and a looming barn at the end of the snaking dirt road. There were no other signs of intelligent life for miles, just murky mountains and desert. Charlie nervously glanced my way and grunted, "Uh, this is it, Janie." I just nodded and sighed.

            We pulled up in the driveway of the three story ranch house, and I dropped down from the precarious height of the truck onto the gravel. Charlie made a motion for me to follow him; he hoisted my bags up and headed to the house. I gradually followed him up the stairs, scuffing my feet on the floor and making an effort not to take in any details.

            "This one here on the right's yours." Charlie placed my bags on the floor and ran a thick hand through his short hair, almost making eye contact before glancing at the flowery pink comforter that was draped over the bed. "I tried to make it more homey... I, uh, I don't really know too well what girls like." I shrugged. "Well, come on down when you're hungry, I guess, then we can talk about what we're going to be doing here."

            "No thanks," I replied for the first time that evening. "I'm not hungry." He seemed taken aback by this answer and stood fumbling for a response.

            "Don't you want to see the animals? You're gonna be workin' with them all summer."

            "I don't like animals," I stared at him, daring him to contradict me. He flinched at the cruelty of my words. Of course I knew that animals were his entire life. My dad had gone on and on about his brother Charlie's rehabilitation work with injured animals, as well as the farm he kept up on a regular basis. I knew I had to work with them. But not a thing in the world could make me enjoy it.

            "Well, your father sent you here to work with me, so I guess we'll just get started in the morning."

            "I guess so." I turned my attention to my bags so that he would leave. Charlie opened his mouth as though he had something more to say, but thought better of it and left me to my unpacking. As soon as I was alone I slumped on the bed and turned my CD player on. Music roared from my headphones into my ears, the loudest, angriest album I could find in my collection.

            I shouldn't have been there. I should have been with my parents, visiting Grandma Sheryl, I contemplated for the nth time. She was sick, but we didn't have enough money for all of us to go to Florida, so I got dumped off at uncle Charlie's farm. Maybe I could sit here listening to music all summer. To hell with the animals. I fell asleep with that sentiment ringing through my mind.

 

            The next morning I awoke to the chaos of bleating, neighing, barking and plenty of other calls I had difficulty discerning. I turned over and pulled the hideous pink bedspread over my head, but the awful racket and the morning sunlight seeped between the stitches and I was forced back into reality. I heard feet steadily pounding up the stairs and then a stiff rapping on my door.

            "Janie, it's time to get up. We have to feed the animals," A pause. "Janie?"

            "I'm up," I replied, making faces at him from behind the safety of the door.

            "Oh, well ok. I'll meet you in the barn in ten minutes then." I heard his feet retreating down the stairs.

           

            In the barn, the animals sounded like an orchestra badly in need of tuning. A spider monkey zigzagged in front of me, tripping me incessantly, horses and mules tossed their heads and banged their knees against the stall doors. All around were animals I couldn't help but notice; there were hutches with rabbits, and large cages with all kind of birds. The monkey that had been circling my ankles came to rest on top of a cage that held a colorful parakeet, and began poking his long, slender fingers inside, trying to pilfer a slice of fruit. Charlie handed me a bucket and pointed me towards a horse.

            "That's Mona. She gets two scoops of Equine Senior from this bin every morning. So do the four horses on her left. These are my senior citizens, we gotta keep 'em healthy. That'll be your first job." He examined me warily and attempted to look authoritative. I did nothing. "I'll be in the field if you need me." Again he watched to see what I would do, and again I did nothing. "Well I guess I could show you how its done." He picked up the bucket and demonstrated each step of the process as I looked out the window at the scorching heat outside. "Can you handle that?" Not receiving an answer, his shoulders slumped down and he ambled off outside.

            I reluctantly scooped more feed into the bucket and started off towards the second horse. Outside her stall I hesitated, cautious to enter a confined space with such a large beast. She stood nodding her gigantic head at me, trying to reach out for the bucket suspended from my hand.

            "M-move," I demanded, with less conviction in my voice than I would have liked. "C'mon, move," I waved a hand at her in an attempt to shoo her away, and she jumped sharply away from it, tossing her head up and skittering to the back of her stall. Seizing this chance, I quickly opened her door wide enough to slip my shoulders in and fling the grain into her rubber tub. I rapidly withdrew and closed the door again, and after taking a minute to compose myself, made my way back to the food bin. Behind me, I heard a slight creak and the thud of a tentative hoof upon the packed dirt of the barn aisle.

            I turned in alarm to find that the stall door had swung open and the horse was making her way out of the stall. What do I do? I stood in panic as she pricked her ears in my direction and started trotting towards the food bins behind me, ignoring the ration she had in her own tub. She came at me at an unnerving speed, reaching forward with her entire body. In self defense I waved my hands quickly over my head and gave a yell which suddenly sent her spinning back the way she had come. I almost felt relieved until I saw what happened next. The force of her sudden turn in direction caused her to unexpectedly lurch backwards into the cages full of birds and rabbits, causing them to spill on the ground. The birds started screeching and squawking and the horses and mules began to let loose panicked neighs. I glanced around the corner to make sure Charlie wasn't nearby, and ran into the first door I saw.

 

            The room I hid in held a long wooden workbench cluttered with farming catalogues and the leather components of old saddles and bridles. An old clock above the door  ticked out the time too rapidly for comfort as I sat wedged in the corner between two wooden storage trunks. Outside I could still hear the effects of my carelessness, mainly Charlie cursing loudly to himself and a few animals calling out their discontent. More than ever, I wanted to be with my Grandma Sheryl, who made everything alright.

            Suddenly the door flew open and Charlie stormed in. Instead of immediately noticing me, however, he picked up a phone and began to dial.

            "Hey, Hal? I've got something of a situation here at my barn, do you think you could come over and take a look at some of my animals? Cassie, my mare, got spooked and fell, and I think some of my birds may be injured. Yeah, I know you don't do small animals, but the woman who does lived four hours away, do you think you could take a look at them? Thanks, Hal. I'll see you soon." He hung up the phone and rested his face in his hands. He looked a lot older and more wrinkled than he had before.

            Suddenly he turned to face me. "So what have you got to say for yourself?" he demanded. All I could do was stare at him in shock for a prolonged moment.

            "I... I don't know," was the only answer I could come up with. We sat in silence for a few long  minutes until I heard the crunch of wheels on gravel outside the barn. Charlie shook his head sadly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Outside, I could hear the murmurs as the vet first took care of the frightened, injured horse, and then took a look at the other animals that had also sustained damages.

            Well over two hours later, Charlie came back into the room. "I hope you're happy," he muttered, halfway to himself.

            I hesitated a moment before tentatively asking, "Are they alright?"

            Charlie turned to look at me incredulously for a few seconds before exploding, "Of course they're not alright! My mare tried to run off and got about a half a mile down the road before collapsing in a ditch because of a fractured hind leg which she'll probably never recover from. I've had that mare for twenty-three goddamn years, ever since she was a foal, and now some little punk comes to my farm and cuts her life off! No, no one's alright!"

            I cringed under his words and fiddled with a scrap of leather, pulling it and stretching it between my fingers in order to be able to prevent the hot rush of tears which were slowly edging their way to the surface. "I never meant to hurt anything," I whispered.

            "Well a damn fine job you did at that. I have another phone call to make." He picked up the phone and began to dial. "Hello, Kurt," My ears pricked at the sound of my father's name. "We're not doing so well here, unfortunately. I was wondering what was the earliest date you could change the return flight tickets to. Yes, I know she was supposed to spend the entire summer here, but... something came up and there's issues I have to attend to. Yes, please call me back when you can. Thanks, Kurt." Charlie sighed and looked at me, and stepped out of his office again.

           

            The next morning Charlie drove me into town and hired me a taxi, saying that he had too much work to take care of to take me all the way to the airport. Our farewell was awkward and forced, my goodbye tinged with regret. Charlie's truck kicked up a cloud of dust as it drove away, and I sighed and got in the cab.