7.
Napa, California—November 10, 2010The next morning, Wednesday, I figure discretion is the better part of valor, and I just plain lie. Telling Kelly that of course now I remember the chickens and the coop up in the corner of the lot. I even speculate on what may have happened to them when they got away through the fence two weeks ago and disappeared. Coyotes or foxes or even skunks probably caught and ate them. And, of course, I don’t ask about what happened to the physical coop—maybe it somehow followed the chickens under the fence, too. When Kelly brings the six rusting chickens back down to the garden, I say nothing about them being moved suspiciously last night or being able to move themselves into different positions.
And even though she probably doesn’t buy my abrupt turnaround t
