They Call Her Taxi

By Shertease Wheeler:

Sharon Amos, better known to her community as “Taxi”, sat on the porch in her old wooden rocker, humming a tune she fondly remembered from her glory days of the 1950’s. It was mid afternoon on a blindingly sunny day in May, and the birds were having an argument in the tree at the edge of her house. Around the back was her farm.  There were cows, chickens, goats, and all the animals you would expect on a farm. The land was expansive, and the animals were her livelihood, and her prizes. They were also her life and her friends, as far as she was concerned.

Sharon rocked while stroking the smoky gray fur of her beloved house cat, Molly. The day was so peaceful, she almost dreaded the task that lay ahead – cleaning out the chicken coop, milking the cows and goats and so on. Though she loved the serene but challenging lifestyle, she also wanted to lounge and watch the sun make its way across the sky. Molly lay there quietly, seeming to enjoy the peace as well, as she was no ordinary house cat. She didn’t catch mice or play with fringe, but she sat around idly all day – living the lazy life that Taxi wanted.

As the sun began to set, Taxi decided it was time to get started on her much delayed chores. She lined herself on the edge of the rocker, and with an exaggerated effort, pushed up and walked through the front screen door. Molly did not follow since she was still stretched comfortably across the small wooden table next to the rocker.

Taxi walked around the back to her chicken coop so she could gather some fresh eggs for that night’s dinner. Most of the chickens were all mulling about and speaking to one another before she walked in. She was certain she heard them. But as soon as she opened the doors, they were all silent and perched protectively on top of their eggs, staring at her. It was like all of the chickens knew a secret about her, and the air was tense with their gossip of it. Worry crept through her. What’s the secret? Why would they only quiet down when I come in? Taxi questioned herself. She noticed lately that they had stopped pecking around outside of the chicken coop, and stayed completely in doors. Poison, was all she could think of. Moving the thought aside, she went about her duty of gathering some eggs. Taxi knew it was strange, and decided to get an expert to come out and assess the problem, but later. Her son was due to arrive that day, and she had many tasks to take care of before then. She just hoped that the eggs were still good.

Next up were the milking of the cows and goats, which took up no time at all since they were so unusually well-behaved that day. Taxi recalled approaching her favorite cow Cindy, and noticed the same strange behavior as her chickens. She didn’t acknowledge Taxi, nor did she move when Taxi approached. In the past, Cindy was always lot of trouble when it came to milking time. However, on this peculiar day, she didn’t move a muscle while Taxi drained her udders.

“Well, that was strangely easy,” she said to Cindy. “What is going on with all of you today?”

Again, Taxi did not dwell and decided to take care of the issue later. Satisfied that at least two of her chores were done, she started on dinner because Michael, her son, would be over soon.

When Michael arrived, on time as usual, he greeted his mother with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then leaning back and looking at her with a sad, worried expression, he asked carefully, “How are you doing, mom?”

Taxi couldn’t understand the pity she detected in his voice. In fact, it angered her, because it made her feel like an incapable child.

“I’m very well, Michael,” she snapped. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you know why, mom.”

“No, I don’t! Why don’t you tell me?” She was getting angrier by the second.

“Mom, you’re trying to crack open a plastic egg!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mom, you know what I’m talking about. You can’t keep pretending like this. You have to take your medicine.”

Taxi was irate that her son had the audacity to treat her this way. She had never felt better and healthier in her life. So what, the doctor diagnosed her as “schizophrenic,” and that she had a strange career at one point that everyone secretly talking about, but that was the past. Her current life was all that mattered, and it was perfectly great, actually.

“Michael, I wish you could understand this,” she sighed, after trying to explain this to her son.

Michael, who by that time was equally irritate, but tried his best not to show it, responded, “Ok, Mom, I’ll try to understand.” Then continued patiently, “But we’ve gotta do something about all of these real-life stuffed animals you have around here. I’m sorry, but I’ll have you committed if you don’t take your meds.”

Taxi just looked at him blankly, as if she were beyond belief that he would stoop to this level with her. He broke her stare by leaving her in the living room, and returning seconds later, water-filled juice glass in hand with two pale pink dots lining the bottom. And he persisted.

“The chicken coop, the cows … mom, remember? You taxidermied them.” Then he passed her the glass. “Here, drink up.”

Seething, but still obliging, Taxi took the glass and drank deeply, all the while staring him down.

 

–Thanks for reading!