WISHBONE (12 page)

Julien took the crutches. He wanted to focus his mind on the doctor’s inconceivable family tree, but found himself needing to concentrate just to remain steady. Slightly dizzy, he managed to crutch to Rachael, who offered him an apologetic smile, only making Julien feel sorrier for himself.

Dr. Lind asked him to return to the table and readjusted the crutches before offering Julien a pair of blue scrub pants. “I’ll cut one leg off of these for you and your wife can help you dress.”

“You said you will give me something for the ride home?” Julien asked. Now that he was upright, the pain was steadily increasing.

Dr. Lind laughed again then went to his cabinet to prepare the injection. He administered the shot of morphine in Julien’s hip. Rachael then helped him out of the hospital gown and into his own white tee shirt, tattered by the fall, and the altered pair of scrub pants. He could finally go home.

They situated Julien in the back seat of the Lexus.

“Mrs. Grenier, here are some instructions,” Lind said, handing her an envelope. “Take him to Schenectady first thing in the morning. My phone number is on the paperwork. Call me anytime in the night if you have any concerns.” He nodded and smiled warmly. “Oh, and I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for my daughter. That coop has meant everything to Sarah. Don’t know what we would have done had you decided the chickens had to go.”

Rachael could not respond. Her mouth dropped open but there were no words. Instead, she smiled, nodded then climbed into the driver’s seat with Julien’s x-rays.

The doctor added, “I’ll fax some paperwork to Dr. Ptak tonight so he knows you’re coming in the morning. Let me know how it goes.”

Rachael thanked Dr. Lind and pulled onto the road.

For the first half mile, neither Rachael nor Julien uttered a word. The road was blanketed in absolute darkness; Rachael sat clutching the wheel so tightly her hands went numb. It was her first experience with night driving in the country and she was insecure.

She finally broke the silence. “Are you okay back there?” 

Julien was groggy from the medication. “Go easy on the bumps,” he snapped.

“I’m trying! It’s so fucking dark, I can’t see ‘em till I hit ‘em.” Rachael leaned closer to the wheel and concentrated.

A moment passed and she interrupted his sleep again. “Jules?”

Julien was drifting in and out of sleep. “Umm…”

“Estelle…That’s his wife?” She asked.

High as a kite on Morphine he answered, “Um-hmm…” He really couldn’t have cared less at that moment.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Between the car ride, the walk into the house and getting himself as far as the couch, Julien was again in a fair amount of pain and now more awake, yet Dr. Lind’s family tree was still the last thing on his mind. 

Rachael sat on the edge of the sofa beside him. “I’m so sorry, Jules. I know this sucks.”

“That is an understatement,” he said dryly. “I have work to finish in the loft. I don’t want to move everything back down from there.”

“Let’s worry about that after your appointment tomorrow. One thing at a time…and on that note, I am starving. Can I get you any—” Rachael stopped. “Oh my God!”  She slapped a palm to her forehead. “Jules! I left that chicken in the oven hours ago.” She jumped up and ran to the kitchen before her words could register with him.

She returned with a serving platter in her hands. “I could have burned the house to the ground, but Sarah to the rescue again…look what was on our counter…oven turned off.”  Rachael placed the plate on the coffee table. 

The chicken, cooked to a perfect golden brown, juices glistening in irregular trails sat on the platter.

“It’s still warm,” she stated and sat beside him again. “I fell to sleep right after I put it in the oven. Next thing I knew Sarah was bringing me to you. I seriously could have burned the house down, Jules.” She bit at her lip nervously.

Julien tried to rationalize. “Are you sure you did not shut the oven yourself?”

“No! I most certainly did
not
shut the oven off myself. I never came back into the house,” she explained adamantly, then changed course. “We really need to do something nice to thank her…for everything she’s done.”

Another vision of Julien at the bottom of the ladder crept into her mind and she shuddered. “She not only saved you today, but probably the house which
I
could have burned down.”

Julien countered, “If she had not been banging the doors and coming
sneaky
around here,” he motioned toward the cast on his leg, “this would not have happen in the first places.” He shook his head, too worn-out to further discuss his opinions about Sarah. “The house would not be at risk of burning.”

“Do you think she’s not as bad off as we thought?  Like…not so…”

“Retarded?” He snapped.

“Julien! What is your problem with this girl and those chickens?” She leaned forward, her stomach growling. She looked over the bird and removed a small piece of crisp skin with her fingers. “I think the proper way of saying it is
mentally challenged
,” she added, then looked at the piece of skin up close. She was famished and it was enticing and convenient, sitting right there before her. She popped the succulent morsel into her mouth, instantly astounded by the savory taste of the meat. 

She had sprinkled the bird with the usual spices: pepper, salt and paprika. A sliced lemon inside the cavity, nothing special had been added, yet the flavor was incredibly powerful and like nothing she had ever tasted in her life. She hardly recognized it as chicken at all and her palate was not sophisticated enough to decipher the flavors which blanketed her taste buds.

“Oh my God, Jules…taste that thing.” She reached out and tore a larger piece off for herself. Juice ran down the side of her palm dripping in a curve around her wrist. She caught up to the droplet with her tongue and licked at it, gliding along the trail of grease, and leaving nothing to waste. While chewing ravenously she glanced over at Julien who placed a hand on his stomach.

“I can’t,” he replied. Under the circumstances, the thought of greasy chicken was enough to sicken him.

He watched his wife lap the juices slowly off her flesh. Regardless of the pain creeping back into his body, he felt a twinge of enticement; though he was unsure if it was for the meal or for Rachael. He was captivated by the scene as he watched her consume whole chunks of the bird, one after another. It was as if nothing else existed. She was euphoric and void of all grace, yet oddly seductive. Between bites, she groaned methodically as she chewed.

What…?

He tried to get her attention, snapping his fingers. “Rachael. Rach?”

She seemed annoyed, forced from her trance. “What? Have some,” she suggested as she moved the plate to his stomach and balanced it on top of him. She bit into the piece of meat in her right hand as she tore off another with her left, bringing it to his lips.

Julien pulled his head back and looked at the meat and then to Rachael. Her eyes were shut tight, an expression of ecstasy on her face. He took the morsel from her fingers with his teeth. He chewed the bite, his mouth watering around the unbelievable taste. He tried to make out the flavors, but nothing came to mind. 

It tastes like…everything.

Julien joined her in tearing away hunks of meat from the rapidly thinning carcass. The two swallowed large pieces of the delicious bird, sucking the bones dry before tossing them back to the plate. They continued until there was nothing left but a pristine skeleton.

There was a long period of silence until Julien finally removed the plate from his stomach, placing it on the coffee table with a thud. 

Rachael sucked at the tips of each finger again. “I can’t believe we ate the entire thing.”

Julien stared at the bones unsure of what had happened. He could hardly remember eating the bird but he could still taste the lasting tang in his mouth.

Rachael, transfixed on the bones, muttered, “As always, you were right…that was the best chicken I’ve ever eaten.”

Julien admitted, “That didn’t taste like the chickens I grew up eating.”  He was still pondering the flavor.

“Coffee?” She asked.

“No, I am fine.” He felt his eyes growing heavy again.

Rachael slid down from the edge of the couch to sit on the floor. She poked through the bones for any sign of remaining meat. She found a miniscule fleck of white flesh on a rib and scraped it free before sucking it from beneath her fingernail. She played with the bones again. “Jules, look…the wishbone.” 

She tore the forked bone from the bird’s breast. “Let’s do it!” She sat up excitedly.

Julien’s brow furrowed and he asked, “Do what?” He found her excitement exasperating.

“Make a wish,” she replied.

Julien thought he heard a subtle hint of her
baby talk
coming on—it was the one thing he
hadn’t
missed throughout her illness.

Rachael continued, “Didn’t you play the wishbone game when you were a kid? You know, like on Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving is an American holiday,” he responded dryly and uninterested. “We don’t have a Thanksgiving.”

“Well, whatever holiday in France you eat turkey on.” She came up onto her knees and leaned close to him. “C’mon, do it with me,” she coaxed. “You take one side and I—”

“I know what the game is,” he interrupted.

“Okay then…” She shoved the bone toward him.

“Rachael, this is stupid. Haven’t enough bones been broken today?” He tried to guilt her into dropping the idea. “Besides, you are supposed to dry out the bone first, no?” 

Julien watched her expression crumble into disappointment. 

After everything today she wants to play games?

Then he thought of the months of depression and anxiety that nearly destroyed them.

I should be grateful she is happy.

“Rachael,” he groaned. “If you want to play the game then I will play the game with you.”

She brightened instantly. “Okay…” She held out the bone. “My brother always got the bigger half,” she said as she positioned her fingers strategically for the best grip. “Okay, you take the other side and we both make our wish.”

Before Julien could take hold of the bone, she moved it away. “…but don’t pull until I say so, okay?”

“Yes, however you tell me.” Julien could not believe he was following through with this. He wasn’t one to be overly playful; and silly was
always
out of the question. He felt foolish, but he took hold of the spindly bone, purposely grasping it by the bottom edge and allowing Rachael an advantage.

“Okay, close your eyes and make a wish and I’ll tell you when to pull.”  She closed her eyes then peeked at Julien. His were wide-open, staring back at her. 

“Close your eyes!” She demanded in a huff.

“Aye aye aye…
okay-okay
.” He closed his eyes feeling like an idiot.

“Keep ‘em closed,” she added sternly. “Now make a wish.”

Rachael shut her eyes again and began to think.

It did not take Julien long to formulate a wish.

I wish the fucking ladder, it is not broken, and no operations for me.

Rachael cleared her throat. “Are you ready?”

“Ouais, I am done making a ass of myself, yes.”

Rachael curled her lip and rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore his snide remark. “Okay, think about your wish again and pull.”

Julien only provided resistance, allowing Rachael to pull the bone.

Tink!
 

The bone snapped in two pieces.

Julien held the larger half in his grasp. “Oh…!”

Rachael slapped her hands down upon her thighs. “Shit!” she exclaimed, “I never get the big half.” She snatched the larger piece from Julien and tossed both to the plate sullenly.

As hard as he tried, Julien could not suppress his laughter.

Rachael narrowed her eyes. “Go ahead…gloat.”

“Aye,” he groaned again. “But you wanted to play this game, no?” He tried so hard to not laugh at her disappointment.

“Yes, but I wanted to win it,” she pouted.

“Aw, Rachael, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to win the
wish game
.”

“Wishbone,” she corrected him.

“Whatever it is called, I did not mean to win it. Besides, it was Ben Franklin who said
if a man could have half of his wishes, he would double his troubles
.”

Rachael continued to pout, but leaned in to kiss him anyway. “I better clean up our mess.  Can I get you anything?”

“Something to drink,” he answered. He kissed her again. “I am sorry I won your game.”

“Well…beginner’s luck. What did you wish?”

“No, no, no…” He pointed at her. “I am not to tell you my wish, or it will not be true, no?”

“No. Or, I mean, yes…correct. No telling your wish.” She got to her feet and took the plate of bones. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m going to wash this and find you something to drink. I’ll bring your pill.”

Rachael returned fifteen minutes later with a glass of water, the pills and a cup of coffee for herself. She placed everything down on the table and about to speak, she looked down to find Julien sound asleep. She moved quietly to her purse and found the paperwork from Dr. Lind.  Scanning the instructions, there was nothing about Julien
having
to take the medication.

She gently covered him with a throw blanket. She did not want to leave him alone downstairs and fully expecting him to wake throughout the night in need of the pain medication, opted to sleep in the living room near to him. She jogged upstairs, located her copy of Watership Down and returned to settle into an oversized chair opposite Julien. She sipped her coffee and read for a while until eventually the book slid from her lap, landing on the floor at her feet. 

Neither of them woke throughout the night.

CHAPTER NINE

Julien woke, sprawled across the sofa in their living room. At first, he had no recollection of the previous night. Confused, he looked around and found Rachael asleep in a chair only a few feet away. The sofa had not been the most comfortable bed and he thought about going back to sleep for a few hours upstairs. In mid-stretch, his memory flooded back to him.