CHICKEN OR ROOSTER?
By Jennifer Manocherian
Hank stands shirtless in front of the full length mirror of the pool house bathroom, his
jeans at his feet. Eyeing his naked torso, he sucks in his breath and smacks his flat belly as hard
as he can. “Not bad for fifty two,” he says out loud. He steps out of his jeans, then picks up his
backpack and scrounges through it looking for his bathing suit. He comes up empty.
The high pitched voice of a girl shouting ‘Last one in is a rotten egg’ pierces the silence.
The challenge is on. Hank looks out the window as Dan’s daughter Megan tears down the hill to
the pool. She’s wearing a skimpy bikini, her budding breasts barely covered. Hot damn! When
did THAT happen? Hank quickly looks away.
He burrows through the back pack one more time. Where the hell’s my bathing suit? I
know Patty put it in my backpack. Going through a mental inventory of what he brought with
him, Hank remembers feeling rushed, worried he might miss his flight because Patty was
harassing him as he was trying to pack. “When did you tell me you were going? When? And for
what? To hang out with your frat buddy Dan? Did you forget I’ve got a deadline on a huge
project at work and you promised you’d take care of the kids this weekend?”
“How about their dad?” Hank replied. “They’re his kids, after all. Let him take them for a
change.”
“Oh, my God. You didn’t just say that. You know I can’t count on him. Or you either for
that matter.”
“That’s a crock. Okay, I should’ve mentioned it but it slipped my mind. Dan’s been
begging me to come for a while. He’s been really down since the divorce.”
“The timing sucks and besides, we can’t afford it.”
“I got a special deal on Expedia.”
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“Your life is a special deal. Me me me me me me. That’s all you care about. When you
get back we REALLY need to talk.”
Ignoring the remark, Hank rummaged through the bureau drawers. “Where’d you put my
bathing suit? I’m going to miss my flight.”
“Just .. move aside,” Patty said. “I’ll find it.” As Hank went into the bathroom to get his
shaving kit, Patty retrieved a pink t-shirt that clearly was not Hank’s from the bottom drawer and
stuffed it into the backpack.
Megan squeal as she splashes into the water brings Hank back to the present. “Beat ya’”
she yells triumphantly. “What’s taking so long, anyhow?”
Hank digs into the bottom of the backpack and strikes what he thinks is pay dirt. But
when he pulls it out, he sees it’s Patty’s pink t-shirt. ‘Bitch,’ he mutters to himself.
A memory fragment comes at him, unbidden and uninvited; did Patty actually say “We
really need to talk.” Eugh. She probably has a really long shit list that I have zero interest in
hearing. Better bring her back a something nice to head off the storm.
Hank dons the t-shirt, hoping it will be long enough to tie a knot of sorts at the crotch, but
it barely reaches his belly button. Now what? Looking around, he spies a stack of beach towels
atop the hamper. He grabs one and wraps it securely around his waist, then pulls his hair back
into a ponytail and ties it with a rubber band. Eyeing his image in the mirror, he briefly wonders
if the ponytail isn’t getting tired, but better that than getting a haircut every six weeks.
Hank runs out the door to the pool and hops atop the diving board. Standing at the edge,
he pauses, trying to decide whether to go into the water with or without the towel.
“What? You chicken?” Megan says, interrupting his reverie. “Ba bak, ba bak.” With that
she splashes him.
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Hank shivers with the cold. “Hey! How cold is the water, anyhow? Fifty degrees? ”
“It’s called refreshing, Hank. It’s summer, it’s hot outside, we like it,” Megan says,
laughing.
“Where’s your dad?” Hank asks, stalling for time. ”I thought he’d be here by now.”
“He said to tell you he’ll be home by six,” Megan replies. “Now either you jump in or
I’m pushing you in.” She flips out of the pool and runs towards the diving board. Hank
reflexively jams his elbows against his sides to secure the towel.
Megan jumps up onto the board and slowly approaches him. “You got til the count of ten.
..One … two ... three ..”
As the countdown continues, Hank wishes he could stay here forever with nothing more
to worry about than whether Dan would be upset about him skinny dipping with his kid. Eh, so
what? Dan’s hip. Besides, kids today, for sure they’ve seen a penis or two or fifty before. With
that, Hank raises his arms skyward, grasps the points of his fingers together, and dives in.
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