The Influence(7)

“Not really.”

“Come on. There must be something I can do, some sort of busywork you could give me.”

“We-l-l-l,” Dave said slowly, “We will be selling at the farmer’s market on Thursday. I’m a little behind on fixing a section of roof on the coop, so you could help out by collecting eggs for me. That’d definitely save me some time.”

“Done.” Ross paused. “How exactly do you collect eggs?”

Dave laughed. “I’ll show you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “You ranchers get up at, like, four, don’t you?”

“Not us. We get up when we get up. I usually eat breakfast, catch up on the news and maybe get out there around eight. ”

“That’s more my style.”

“In summer it’s earlier because it gets so hot, but right now…” He shrugged.

“Perfect.”

Ross wasn’t a big dessert guy, but Lita had made some sort of lemonade pie in honor of his arrival, so he felt obligated to have a piece. It was delicious, and he told her so, and she explained that the lemons came from one of the trees behind their house. It turned out that, in addition to an extensive garden, she and Dave had several fruit trees on the property: lemons, oranges, apples, persimmons.

Dinner had stretched to well over an hour, and Ross excused himself, pushing his chair back from the table, not wanting to overstay his welcome. Lita seemed disappointed and asked him to stay, so they could continue to catch up on old times, but he told her that there would be plenty of time for that. Besides, Dave wasn’t asking him to stay, and the last thing Ross wanted was to be a point of contention between them, particularly if he had been the source of the argument they’d had before he arrived. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said.

“Goodnight,” Lita told him. “You want me to call you for breakfast?”

“No, I’ll just make myself some cereal. I can’t be coming over here for every meal.”

“It’s—” she began.

“I’m not much for breakfast, anyway.” He nodded toward Dave. “I’ll be up by seven and ready by eight. Should I just come over here or…” He trailed off.

“I’ll stop by and get you.”

Ross nodded. “Sounds good. “ He took his leave and waved as he stepped out through the kitchen door, the way he’d come in.

He’d left a light on in the guest house, but surrounding the structure was nothing but darkness, an inky emptiness that engulfed the world beyond for as far as his perceptions stretched. It made him feel small and uneasy, and that feeling did not abate as he entered the guest house and closed the door behind him, sealing himself in. He thought about watching TV, but there was nothing on, so he IMed a couple of friends and spent the next hour chatting online, describing his first day of exile, before going to bed early, feeling sad and lonely as he fell asleep listening to the clucking of chickens in front of the overwhelming silence of the desert.



****



Ross awoke in the morning feeling better. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had something to do today or because he was already starting to get used to this place, but he was almost cheery as he poured some milk and Raisin Bran into a bowl, and made himself coffee. The television helped, too. Watching the Today show, the way he usually did, seeing crowds of people begging for the attention of the weatherman as he walked outside the studio, made Ross feel more connected to the larger world, although when he heard that the next segment was an interview with the Muppets, he shut off the TV. There was nothing more embarrassing than seeing a well-respected reporter who ordinarily questioned heads of state about important world events pretend to interview a puppet, and force himself to laugh at the stock replies issuing from the unseen man working Miss Piggy or Kermit the Frog.

He brushed his teeth, then opened the drapes. Dave was already carrying a toolbox and ladder toward the chicken coop. Ross opened the door and hurried after him. “I thought you were going to come and get me.”

“I was. After I took my supplies out, I was going to see if you were up.”

Ross wasn’t sure he bought that. He had the distinct impression that Dave did not want him along, but there was no overt opposition as he quickly put on his shoes then followed his host over to the coop.

Dave had already leaned the ladder against the side of the building, had climbed up and was near the top, placing his toolbox on the barely sloping roof. An oversized plastic pail filled with patching materials lay at the foot of the ladder. “Could you hand that up to me?” he called down.