Page 32 of CowSex
“Yeah, you’re right, you’re right.”
There’s a moment of silence before I decide to turn the conversation in a different direction.
“So, what’s been happening? You working with the horses, the land? What does Billy have you doing?”
“Mostly the land. Building fences, fixing fences, painting fences. I helped put a new roof on the big barn.”
“And you’re not enjoying that? I thought it’d be kinda your thing, all that manual labour?”
“Dad, I’m a nineteen-year-old dude who lives with his grandparents in bumfuck nowhere and works with five other dudes, all of who are over fifty. So no, there ain’t a lot here I’m enjoying, especially the lack of females… females with just two legs and a pulse that is.”
I move the phone away from my mouth as I try not to chuckle and rub my hand over my beard. I clear my throat.
“Didn’t send you there to enjoy the company of females. Sent you there so you could straighten yourself out.”
“I’m straight, Dad. I learned my lesson. I’m not her; I’ll never fuck up like that again.”
“I’m not backing down on this, Kai. I let you get away with not going to college, but a deal’s a deal.”
“Well, don’t be surprised when I get home and my right arm is a whole lot bigger than my left. You were nineteen once. You must remember the—”
He stops talking. I stop breathing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Dad, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”
It takes me a few long moments before I can think of what to say.
“It’s okay,” is all I manage.
“Fuck, Dad.”
“Is what it is, can’t spend the rest of our lives pretending it didn’t happen.” I hear a noise behind me and stand from where I’m still sitting on the bottom step and turn to find Gracie watching me.
“Listen, son, you give me a call back with all your flight details, and I’ll make sure I’m out at the airport to pick you up that Wednesday.”
“I’ll text them to you.”
“Okay, you do that then and give Grandma a hug for me.”
“Will do. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, boy. Now get going and give that right arm a rest and don’t go getting tempted by any of them young fillies or mares in the paddock. Pretty sure that kinda thing’s illegal, even out in bumfuck nowhere.”
“Yeah, fuck you, Dad. Fuck. You.”
Despite the ache in my chest, I laugh and end the call.
GRACIE
KOA.KOACARMICHAEL.
I grab my phone and search Google as soon as he leaves the room.
I come from Essex, everyone there tries to outdo each other with an unusual name for their kid, some of them beyond ridiculous. I knew of a Tempranillo, a Maserati, and even a L’Oreal, but I have never heard of a Koa before.
The first few things that come up are about some country rock band, so I scroll right past them. I love music, but that is sonotmy thing.
Then I find it.
