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Except that when the calf finally was pulled all the way out of the heifer and collapsed on the ground…
It was lifeless.
I dropped the pole of the puller and stepped back, stunned.
Reece reached for the calf and did what he’d done the first night. He worked to try to open up its air passages and such, and I had a brief spurt of hope.
But only moments later he pulled back, laying the calf gently back to the ground, where it lay unmoving.
I shook my head. No.
He looked up at me. “It happens this way sometimes.”
I shook my head more vigorously.
He wiped his hands on the grass and then shifted to get to his feet.
I could only stare at the calf. Dead. Perfectly formed, but absolutely lifeless.
Reece looked confused and I turned away.
I walked a few feet and gulped air, trying to get ahold of myself. It’s a cow. Just a cow. Get a goddamned grip! But my entire body was shaking, and then I was bent over, on my knees, hands in the mud, throwing up.
“Charlie!” Reece called and he came close but I held out a hand to keep him back. No, no, I didn’t want him close.
The past and present were crushing in against each other again. Collapsing together on me.
I needed to get away from here. From the tragic death and senseless loss. From the mud and the wind and the open sky.
I stood up shakily. Reece tried to offer me an arm but I flinched away from him.
“Can you take me back in?” I asked weakly. “I’m not feeling so well.”
He nodded, eyebrows furrowed in concern I saw in the quick glance I cast his way before dropping my eyes back to the ground. I gripped my arms around my stomach as we walked back to the four-wheeler. Anything to turn my back on the sight behind me.
“You drive,” I said. I could hear how dull my voice was, but I didn’t care. Couldn’t care. I wanted to climb in bed and not get out. I squeezed my eyes shut when I thought about how I had a job and responsibilities.
All of a sudden, I felt so done with it all. Squeezed dry. Used up like a sponge that had scrubbed too many pots and pans. My edges were worn and nubby, and could I just sleep? Could I just pull a Rip Van Winkle and sleep for a hundred years? Please, dear God, please?
Reece didn’t say another word, but his body in front of mine on the four-wheeler seemed tense as he drove us back into the ranch house.
I climbed off and my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as I dragged myself up the porch stairs, and then all the way up to the second-story bathroom.
Reece asked me if I was okay before I disappeared into the house and I offered him a lackluster, “I’m sure I just need to sleep it off. I hope it’s okay with Jeremiah if I take the rest of the day off.”
“Of course!” Reece was quick to assure. “I’ll let him know you aren’t feeling well.”
I’d nodded and continued my arduous climb up the stairs.
I peeled off my mud-soaked clothes and climbed in the shower. Usually I enjoyed my showers at the end of the day, especially lately since it had been raining so much, and I was usually dealing with some level of mud and muck.
But today I just felt… numb.
I went through the motions of washing myself mechanically, and then I climbed into bed and I slept.
Except that all I’d hoped to escape in my waking life followed me into my dreams. And ten times worse, because it meant reliving it as if I was back there.
I was on the floor.
