Amazingly, the terrible woman shut up. When a grown-up asked her to stop, even a young grown-up, there seemed to be no question that she would comply.
It made Stewie feel, as he so often felt, that growing up could not come soon enough.
The cat never once shut up.
The vet was a woman with a kind face and a gentle voice. Still, her voice bothered Stewie. She spoke to him as so many people did: as though he were made of glass. He had no idea if he was really as fragile as people seemed to think, but he got that tone a lot, and it made him uneasy.
She held a stethoscope to Mabel’s chest, and looked into her eyes with a bright light that Mabel clearly didn’t like. It made Stewie feel guilty for bringing her here. But he’d had to bring her. Life had given him no choice.
“How old is your hen?” she asked him, in that voice that made him squirm.
“Well now. I’ve been trying to think. Trying to figure that out. She was one of my Gam’s first hens. The others from that first batch got taken by foxes. Oh, it was horrible. We’ve fixed up the henhouse a lot since then. I was only about one or two when she got the first hens, and I’m eleven now. And Gam passed away almost a year ago . . .”
“Oh,” the vet said. In a more normal voice. “She’s ten or older.”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess so.”
“That’s old for a hen.”
“I suppose it is, ma’am.”
“I could do a blood test if you wanted me to, but I think you’d be spending your money for nothing.” She straightened up and turned off the bright little light, and Mabel seemed to relax some. “Whether there’s something we see in the tests or not, she’s already lived longer than most hens do. Old age explains the listlessness you’re seeing. If I were you, I’d just take her home and keep her comfortable. I can tell that you care a lot about her, but you seem to be a smart boy, and I think you’re old enough to understand that none of us lives forever.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, wrapping his arms around Mabel. If he’d said more, he would have cried, and that would have been humiliating.
“She’s lucky to live such a long life. Most chickens don’t get to die of old age. Most people eat them when they stop laying.”
Stewie yanked the hen off the table. As he did, she got her wings free and flapped wildly. He wrapped her wings in his arms again and headed for the door.
“I didn’t mean you should have.”
“Whatever, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry I offended you. I wasn’t speaking for it or against it. It’s just a fact.”
“Right. Got it. We have to go now. I’ll just pay on the way out.”
He reached into his shorts pocket and removed the massive lump of bills. It was all in ones and fives, with the very occasional ten, so the bulge in his pocket had been absurdly large. He wanted her to see that he could afford it. Although he did feel the visit had been a waste, just as Stacey had warned him it might be.
“There’s no charge for that,” the vet said. “Good luck with your hen. I hope she lives a while longer. And I’m sorry if I upset you. You’re not the only young person raising animals that they think of as pets and other people think of as food, and I know that’s a hard thing.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Stewie said. “I appreciate getting your time for no charge.”
And he carried the ailing hen in the direction of home.
As soon as he got clear of the vet’s parking lot, the tears got out, and he didn’t try to stop them. You can only hold back tears for just so long.
He was crying in a corner of his room when Stacey stuck her head in. It was much later that evening, and he and Mabel had been curled up together that way for quite a long time.
“I’m about to leave for work, and . . . Oh. You still have the hen in the house.”
“I have to,” he said, holding her more closely. “I have to have her in because I don’t know how much time she has left, and if I leave her in the henhouse, then she might . . . you know . . . might . . . run out of time. And then she would be alone. You know. Then. And nobody should have to be alone at a time like that. But if it really bothers you, I’ll sleep in the henhouse with her tonight.”
He clearly heard Stacey sigh.
He was facing the corner, not looking at his sister, because he didn’t want her to see him crying. Even though she probably knew anyway. Even though she could undoubtedly hear it in his voice.
A moment later he felt her sit on the floor behind him. He felt her warm hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, Stewie,” she said, and it was in that awful voice people used. The one that let on that they were afraid of breaking him. “Don’t sleep in the henhouse. I guess it’s okay so long as you keep her wrapped in that towel. I just wish . . .”
He didn’t want to ask her what she just wished. If he asked, she would tell him.
A moment later she restarted herself, and told him anyway.
“I just wish you didn’t take everything so hard. For your own sake, I mean. Sometimes I wish I could wave a magic wand over you and fix it so you didn’t have to care about everything so deeply.”
“What’s wrong with caring?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. The thing about caring is you want to have some. You want to care, but in the right measure. Not too little and not too much. If you care too much, then something like this happens and it just makes you so sad.”
“But then good things happen and they make me extra happy. Besides. If you waved a magic wand over me and made me different, then I wouldn’t be me.”
She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “Well, I wouldn’t want that,” she said. “I have to go to work now.”
“’Kay,” Stewie said, a light sob bending the word.
She left his room, and he expected to hear the front door click open and then closed. But he waited, and things didn’t seem to go that way. Instead it sounded as though she was talking on the phone.
Still pressing Mabel to his belly, Stewie stood, walked to his bedroom door, opened it a crack, and eavesdropped.
“It would have to be on a sliding scale. Definitely. Jeez, Fred, I can barely afford to keep this family going as it is. Actually, free would be ideal, but I know that might be hard to come by. Maybe a free clinic or something? Do free clinics even do counseling?”
A pause, during which she did not talk, and Stewie pictured her listening. Just for a split second he imagined he could supercharge his ears and hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but of course that was only a foolish imagining.