Free Chasing Jupiter by Rachel Coker

The ceilings, the furniture, the linens. Except for one black wall, standing out starkly against the general whiteness of the living room. There was a whole lot of crystal everywhere. Great potential for a chicken-related disaster.
    Mrs. Greene was clearly bothered by the possibility of danger. She pulled off her pristine white gloves. “My, what a lovely home. You have great taste in decorating.”
    Mrs. Leggett shrugged, one of the sleeves of her silk robe sliding off her shoulder. “Thanks.”
    “Why, might I ask, did you decide to paint that wall black?”
    Mrs. Leggett took another puff of her cigarette. “Why not?”
    I stepped around a chair into a small cleared area. “Why is this spot empty?”
    “Oh, this is my cha-cha corner.” Mrs. Leggett brightened and placed her cigarette on top of the television. “Watch, darling.” Sheleaned over and flipped on an old record. Swinging music filled the room. “Step back, please.”
    I walked around a pristine white sofa and watched her from a window seat. She began to sway her hips, dancing back and forth. She threw back her head and began moving her arms, screeching, “Chicoooo! Cha-cha-cha!”
    Someone bounded down the stairs, and then Frank was standing in the doorway of the parlor with a look of horror on his face. “Mother!”
    “Oh, Frank, darling, would you turn up that record?” Mrs. Leggett shook her hips and let out another shout. “Ha!”
    Frank’s eyes swept over the room and widened when they fell on me. His face turned red. “Mother,” he groaned, reaching forward to turn off the music. “Please.”
    I glanced at Mrs. Greene. She held a hand up to her lips, clearly holding back a smile. I fought a grin of my own. “Here, Frank.” I held up the chicken. “This is Mildred.”
    Frank switched on the light in the bomb shelter and looked around. “Gee, I don’t know where to put her.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I could build a small attachment on the side to use as a coop. What does she eat? Corn?”
    I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
    “Here, let me see her.” Frank reached out and took the hen, cradling it in his arms. At first Mildred protested, ruffling her feathers, but under Frank’s soothing hands, she soon settled down. “She’s got a pretty coloring. Nice feathers, strong talons.” Frank glanced at me accusatorily. “And you were going to eat her.”
    “Well, actually the shut-ins were going to eat her.”
    “Right.” Frank gave me a lopsided grin and began settling hay in a corner of the shelter. His tanned hands smoothed out the rough bed before he set Mildred on top of it. “This’ll have to do until I can build that coop.” He frowned. “I hope she doesn’t keep the other animals up at night.”
    “She won’t. She’s good, I know.”
    We stepped out as Frank closed the door behind us. Up on the hill, his house stood proud and bright. Mrs. Leggett and Mrs. Greene were visible in the big window. Mrs. Leggett obviously had the cha-cha music back on, because she was showing her guest how to shake her hips with great enthusiasm.
    Frank groaned and leaned against the shed. “My mother is very embarrassing.” He waved a hand at the window.
    I shrugged. “Everyone has their peculiarities. My mom slathers lotion on
everything
. You can tell where she’s been by the residue left on doorknobs.” I chuckled and nudged him. “And you? You’ll probably grow up to be the male equivalent of the eccentric cat lady.” I began to laugh.
    Frank laughed—that full, rumbling laugh that turned his face from a simple ray into the glowing sun. He shook his head at me. “And your house will be so confused with different baking smells that your children will constantly be grossed out.”
    “I suppose so.” I slid against the shed and settled on the dirt, watching the women dancing from the window.
    Frank settled beside me. “Has anyone ever told you that your laugh is infectious?”
    My brow furrowed.