“They’re still warm!” she exclaimed.
“You can put them in here.” Her mother proffered her a shoebox filled with straw. “I used to only collect them once a day in the morning, but then some of the eggs broke and the chickens began to eat the yolks. They got a taste for the stuff, apparently it can happen, and now I have to check a couple of times a day to make sure they’re not pecking them open themselves for a snack.”
“Eating their own eggs? That’s disgusting.”
Her mother snorted roughly through her nose.
“You girls are such city kids. I should have raised you around the brutalities of nature, that would have toughened you up.”
“You think growing up in New York didn’t make us tough? A homeless man jerked off in his sleeping bag in front of our entire field trip outside the Natural History Museum. Trust me, we didn’t need the chickens.”
Her mother gave a sharp laugh and Avery felt the unbidden pleasure of saying something she found funny. Avery passed her another egg, and she grabbed her hand before Avery could retrieve it.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong now? Why you look so sad?”
Avery glanced at her in surprise, then yanked her hand away.
“What do you mean? If I look sad, it’s probably just because I’ve been thinking about Nicky.”
Her mother leaned back on her heels to inspect her, frowning.
“That’s not it.”
How could her mother see her clearly now, after all she had missed for so long? You’re too late, she thought. But the tug to be known, to be seen by her mother at long last, pulled her back to meet her gaze.
“I cheated on Chiti,” she said.
Her mother nodded. Around them, the chickens clucked in witness.
“With a man,” she added.
Her mother nodded again.
“And she found out and now she’s sleeping in the guest bedroom and I’m here,” she finished with.
A final nod. Avery waited for a response, but her mother only sat on her heels like an ancient apostle, blinking calmly. Avery gave an exasperated little cry.
“Say something,” she said. “I’m burning down my fucking life over here.”
Her mother picked up a piece of hay and twirled it between her fingers.
“Once you get to my age, you will learn that you can take a lot of wrong turns and still end up in the right place.”
“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” said Avery.
Her mother looked at her evenly.
“Yes, you do.”
Avery sighed.
“She wants to have a baby.”
“And you?”
“Don’t.” As soon as the word left her mouth, it felt like a betrayal. “Know,” she added quickly. “I don’t know.”
“You never wanted one when you were little.”
“How do you know?”
“You told me! You were always saying it. I thought it was a bit of an indictment. Your way of telling me you wished you’d never been born.”
“It probably was. Doesn’t mean I feel that way now.”
“Well, do you?”
Avery let out a dry laugh.
“Wish I’d never been born? All the time.”
“I meant want children.” Her mother gave a thin smile. “But join the club.”
All Avery wanted was someone to tell her what to do. She wished her mother could give her the answers, but of course she couldn’t. She hadn’t known the right way to live her own life, let alone her daughters’. Her family was so lacking in guidance, Avery realized. At least Charlie’s mother had a God, and he could believe she believed even if he didn’t. What did Avery’s mother put her faith in? Her father. And what did her father have faith in? Alcohol. Her mother had taught her to believe in nothing but a woman’s capacity to survive disappointment. And yet, despite all this, all Avery wanted was her advice.
“What should I do?” she asked. “What would you do?”
Her mother twirled a piece of straw between her fingers pensively.
