Free Girls In White Dresses by Jennifer Close Page B

They had someone come in and do it for them and prep the meat. Abby had never seen it happen, but less than a year after they built the coop, she stopped eating meat.
    “Abby, don’t be ridiculous!” her mother would say. “This is good for you. This is delicious meat!”
    “It makes me sick!” she’d say. And it did. The thought of chewing chicken in her mouth made her want to gag. When she tried to eat it, it refused to go down her throat. Once, she got a bite halfway down and then promptly threw up on her plate. “Fine,” her mom said after that. “You don’t have to eat chicken anymore.”
    Abby’s dad was pouring seed from a bag into a trough. “Want to start feeding them?” he asked. She took a plastic pitcher they kept there and filled it with the feed. She poured the right amount into each of the birds’ feed bins. Every time a bird came clucking up to her, she stuck her tongue out at it.

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    Thea called that afternoon. “I heard what happened,” she said. “Mom called and left a message. That’s rough.”
    “Yeah,” Abby said. “I guess you get out of your maid of honor duties, though.”
    “I guess.” Abby could hear her light a cigarette and take a drag.
    “Mom and Dad are being really calm,” Abby told her. “It’s like nothing happened.”
    “You know how they are,” she said, exhaling the smoke and choking just a little bit. “Plus, they never really liked Matt.”
    “Yes, they did.” Abby felt wounded to hear this.
    “Oh, Abby. I don’t mean that they hated him. But you know. He wasn’t their type.”
    “Why? Because he showered and wore clean clothes?”
    “No, because he always thought he knew everything. You could sense it about him. Not that I minded him. He had a really interesting energy.”
    “Right.”
    “Do you want to say hi to your niece? She’s right here.”
    “Sure, put her on the phone.”
    Abby heard rustling and then she heard Thea say, “Say hi to your aunt Abby. Tell her hello!”
    “Your mother is a moron,” Abby said into the phone, and then she hung up.

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    “We should go snowshoeing,” her mother said on the third day she was home. “It will do you good to get out in the fresh air.”
    “Okay,” Abby said.
    “You’re so young,” her mom said as they trekked across the snow. “You’ll see that this is for the best.”
    “I’m twenty-five,” Abby said. “When you were my age, you already had Thea.”
    “Well, I wasn’t married.”
    “So you think I should get pregnant?”
    “Oh, Abby,” she said. “I hate to see you so sad.”
    “Thea called,” Abby said. “She told me that you and Dad never liked Matt.”
    “That’s not true. We like anyone that you bring home. Anyone you like, we like.”
    “But that’s not the same thing. Did you really like him? Are you happy we’re not getting married?”
    Her mom sighed. “Abby,” she said. “You have always known what you wanted. I never doubted you. But things happen for a reason, and if there was trouble, then yes, I am glad that you aren’t getting married.”
    “I didn’t say there was trouble.”
    “People don’t call off weddings if everything is hunky-dory.” Her mom’s nose was dripping, and she wiped it with her glove. Abby looked down at the snow and pressed her weight forward on her snowshoes. “Come on,” her mom said. “We should get back. Your father will be worried.”
    Abby watched her mom pat her arm, but she couldn’t feel it through all the layers of clothes. She watched her go
pat, pat, pat
on her sleeve. Then her mom turned and started off ahead of her, stomping in the fresh snow. Abby waited until she was about ten steps in front of her, and then she followed.

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    Before Abby left New York to come home, she sent an e-mail to all of her friends that said: “The wedding is off. No one reason, just lots of little ones. I’ll explain more later. Abby.”
    She was sure her friends had been calling and e-mailing, but she didn’t get any