Hugs have been a rarity in Gretchen’s life for a while now. Yolanda tries, every now and again, and occasionally Gretchen caves like she does with her other attempts to keep her roommate at arm’s length. But those instances only make her feel more hollow after the fact, more alone. It’s easier to forgo that kind of friendly intimacy, she thinks, than to trust herself not to crave more of it.
Yet today, when Yolanda bursts from the car and throws her arms around her with an excited scream, Gretchen accepts the embrace without a second thought. Everett’s words about loving people have been buzzing around in her head over the past week, and while she isn’t completely convinced that friendship is a luxury she can afford to indulge in, she’s at least willing to admit that she’s happy to see Yolanda. Having her at the farm is like her two worlds colliding, but it’s... well, it’s kind of nice, actually.
As they part, Yolanda holds Gretchen’s shoulders and takesher in like a doting aunt observing her niece’s growth. “My god, girl, you’re looking... so different!”
“I am?”
“Good different!” she quickly adds. “Healthier. Stronger. Less like someone who spends most of her time in a basement with no natural sunlight.”
Gretchen examines her arm, noticing for the first time that she has the same stark divide between pale and the lightest brown on her biceps that Charlie has. The thought of their matching farmer’s tans makes her remember him shirtless in the kitchen, and the warmth of that skin between his shoulders against her lips.Stop that.“Ha, yeah, I guess that makes sense considering.”
“I can’t believe it! Gretchen Acorn thriving as a goat farmer.” Yolanda laughs.
“Honestly, I’m surprised too.” Because really, Gretchenisthriving. After getting over the learning curve, building up a bit more upper-body strength, and falling into a routine, she began genuinely enjoying so much of her work at Gilded Creek. Especially this past week as she started incorporating some of her business improvement ideas. It almost feels like she... belongs here. “Everything good back ho— back in DC?”
The abandoned word—“home”—felt wrong in her mouth. The one bedroom plus den above the tiny belowground storefront where she does her séances doesn’t cause any sense of longing; it’s just another place she’s lived, no different from the other apartments and motel rooms and houses across the country that held her life for short periods of time and then were left behind. No, Gretchen has never had a place that felt like her home.
Not until now. Here.
She tamps down the thought.
“Yeah, I paid the rent and the bills with the money you sent, like you said in the email,” Yolanda says after a brief pause that makes Gretchen tilt her head ever so slightly.Interesting. Yolanda glances around as if looking for someone. “So where’s the...” She mouths,G-H-O-S-T.
“Everett is...” Gretchen does a quick scan of the area, finding a booted foot sticking out of the Volkswagen. “He is currently inside Penny’s car, watching the solar-powered dancing flower on the dashboard.”
Everett notices her looking his way, thrusts his head out of the (closed) window, and shouts, “Look at this thing! It’s moving on its own! Technology has come such a long way!” He mimics the flower’s movements, swaying his shoulders to and fro.
Gretchen sighs. “And now he’s dancing along with it.”
“Ha, that’s so fucking weird.” Yolanda leans closer so no one will overhear. “It’s kinda freaky that you can actually see and talk to ghosts now, Gretch. It’s like you pretended your way into it being true or something.”
It’s refreshing to finally talk to a live person about this. Someone who believes her without any hesitation whatsoever. Maybe she should have gotten over herself and called Yolanda sooner. “Ghost, singular. I have no idea if I would be able to see or talk to other ones. Or how many are actually out there in the world. They’re sorta rare, apparently.”
Yolanda’s dark eyes shift over toward Charlie, who, after introducing himself to Penny, was immediately loaded down with things to carry as if he were a human hand truck. “And that’s the guy?”
“The guy I’m trying to save from being eternally stuck on this farm? Yep, that’s him.”
Yolanda looks again at Charlie, who now has four yoga mats tucked under one arm, a wicker basket held in one hand, the handle of an amplifier in the other, and two towels draped around his neck. “Hmm. He’s cute. No Daniel Day-Lewis, of course, but—”
Gretchen gently nudges her roommate in the side with an elbow. She hasn’t even finished chiding herself for the overly playful gesture before the words burst out of her: “Doesn’t matter anyway. He hates me.”
Oh, great, apparently she’s just saying whatever the hell she’s feeling now. It’s as if the lapses of judgment she keeps having around Charlie are a disease spreading into the other parts of her life. She’s going to need to find a way to treat that, and quick.
Yolanda smiles as she looks somewhere over Gretchen’s shoulder in the direction Charlie walked with Penny. “What’s that saying? There’s a thin line between love and hate?”
Based on Gretchen’s own experiences, that sounds about right. Most of the people who have grown to hate her loved her first. Maybe it works the opposite way too. “It’s whatever,” she says. “I don’t even care if he likes me as long as he listens to me about this place.”
Hopefully, she can pretend her way into that becoming true too.
—
The goat yoga event goes off without a hitch. Well, for the most part. There is an incident involving Waluigi peeing on not one, butthreepeople’s yoga mats. Plus another person’s back. Thankfully, most of the peed-upon victims take it in stride, and the one who starts fussing in the middle of Savasana is quickly quieted when Lori marches over and reminds her in a Lori-like fashion (i.e., a teensy bit menacing) that the event’s disclaimerwarned that Gilded Creek is a working goat farm and that anything brought onto the property may be ruined or soiled. “At your own risk,” Lori whispers, jabbing a finger in the woman’s direction. “Those are thekey words, lady.” Of course, since Lori is there as an attendee and not an employee, the scene winds up being somewhat awkward and confusing until Penny requests in her calm, singsong voice that everyone return to their own mats and has Yolanda deliver one of the extras they brought to the upset woman to restore the peace.
Everett followed along with the class for a while, standing next to Penny and showing off his surprising flexibility (whether a remnant of his living days or a weird bonus of being a spirit, Gretchen can’t be sure). Somewhat expectedly, he quickly got bored and started meandering through the grid of yoga mats and people, providing commentary on both their efforts and outfits.
Minor hiccups aside, Gretchen is pleased with the way it all turned out. They made $1,200 from ticket sales alone, and several attendees have stopped by the cheese and soap table to make purchases before leaving. She figures that with events like this every weekend throughout the spring and summer, along with everything else she has planned, Gilded Creek Goat Farm might actually generate a profit. Except, of course, there won’t be events like this every weekend. Because Charlie doesn’t have time to do all of the extra stuff—the marketing and the planning—that yoga or cheese tastings or baby goat cuddling require. And Gretchen won’t be here to help much longer. The proof of concept was so exciting, she forgot that it would need to be sustained for it to do any good.
She only has a week and a half before she goes back to DC. Back to pretending to talk to the dead to make rich old women’sprivileged, depressing lives more manageable. The thought of it makes her feel like she swallowed a bunch of pennies. And it’s not just because she hasn’t convinced Charlie not to sell yet that she’s worried; it’s that she’s grown attached to the farm, and the work, and to him. Even (or maybe especially) to the ghost currently entertaining himself by hover-sitting atop vehicles’ roofs as they bump down the driveway, screaming like he’s on a roller coaster each time they reach the edge of the property and an invisible force knocks him off.
