“She’s just so much, how does she have a wife?” said the woman, exasperated. “Her partner must be so patient.”
The herbed rotisserie chicken from Gourmet Garage sitting on the desk in front of the woman looked back at her blandly.
“It takes all kinds,” the chicken mused.
“I guess.” The woman licked her fingers. “But when’s it going to be my turn? Where’s my patient partner?”
“I don’t think it’s really about someone having patience for you. I think it’s about you having the patience to stay. You’ve run away from a lot of good things, you know. Steady things.”
“Yeah, well,” the woman belched. “I have to have my standards, don’t I?”
“Standards you’ve set for yourself, maybe,” expressed the rotisserie chicken from Gourmet Garage, almost appearing to shrug. “Sometimes the hardest part of love is opening up the capacity within yourself to be loved. It doesn’t come naturally to everyone.”
The woman’s can of Lime La Croix piped up unexpectedly from beside her keyboard. “She’s right! Love yourself!”
“Hush, you,” the woman shot back. “You’re not even my favorite flavor.”
“Ok, wow,” the Lime La Croix said, dejectedly, and then said no more.
Fat congealed around the hen’s juicy breasts as she gave a little sigh of pity.
“Do you ever wonder if you sabotage your relationships because deep down, you’d rather be alone?”
The woman, who had been picking at a small thigh bone at that moment, paused reflectively.
“I mean, that is a perfectly valid way to live, but no. What about you?”
“I never had a choice,” said the chicken. “I was never alone. Not one day in my life.”
A piece of shiny brown skin fell to the bottom of the black plastic packaging and remained there.
”Well shit, this got dark.”
The hen chuckled. She liked making the woman uncomfortable.
“The thing is, you’re so fiercely independent- you’ll probably have to compensate by making yourself more emotionally available than most people have to be, just for it to even register with anyone.”
The woman made a face. “That seems like a lot of work that I don’t want to do.”
“Welcome to Relationships, my friend.”
“Great.”
The woman dragged a small hand across her greasy jaw, and then looked at her meal with some earnest.
“But I mean, do…do you think…?” the woman began tentatively.
“Yeah,” said the chicken. “You’ll find someone. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks. I hope you’re right.”
The woman smiled, picked up her dead friend, and feasted anew.
