The Goose

“Do I look nice?”

She pulls down the front of her dress. When she purchased it, it fit like a dream. Those changing rooms seemed to exist in another universe. Everything was perfect, and then, once home, defects appeared. Love wasn’t trying to show too much cleavage, but she also didn’t want to look like a cloistered nun. Carter was laying on the bed, not dressed yet, on his phone like always. She walked over and pulled the dress down again hoping to catch his attention.

“Carter?”

“Mmm?”

“Your girlfriend is asking you if she looks nice.”

He peered up from the phone. With her tugging on it, the dress revealed the straps of a black bra and a nice amount of shoulder blade. Two years ago, when they first met, he would have made them late for the party if she did something like that. Tonight, he pinched his lips together and nodded lightly.

“You look good, Love.”

People often told her how the two of them were like an old married couple. They said it with a dash of appreciation, and sometimes even envy. Love failed to see what there was to envy or appreciate. She didn’t want to be in an old married couple two years into a relationship and one year into her forties. She wanted to be made late to a party because her boyfriend couldn’t keep his hands off her. She wanted him to mess up her hair with not enough time to fix it so everyone knew what they had been up to before arriving. She wanted him to, at the very least, put down the phone.

Part of her hated that she’d become that girlfriend that noticed her boyfriend’s excessive screen time. The frustration was as boring as the problem. She thought about removing the dress altogether to see if that would jog some carnal part of him, but if it didn’t, the humiliation would be a game changer. She’d have to head back to her apartment and immediately download all the dating apps. Love went back into the bathroom and fixed her eyeshadow. Eventually, they’d have to have the Big Talk, but she wasn’t going to prompt it tonight. It was early December, which meant any major life changes had to happen after the New Year.

“Hey babe?”

Carter was standing in the bathroom doorway. She hadn’t heard him get up from the bed, but when she was looking at herself in the mirror, all her senses shut down temporarily until she was happy with the result. Looking over at him, the first thing she noticed were the feathers. He had been wearing a t-shirt he bought at a Noah Kahan concert, and his arms were now covered in white. Around his neck there were feathers as well extending all the way up to his temples. His nose looked discolored, and when she looked down, she saw that the legs coming out of his boxer shorts were also feathered except for his ankles and feet. They were turning the same color as his nose.

“Carter,” she gasped, “What happened?”

He liked to play pranks on her. He was always hiding her phone or walking up behind her in the kitchen so he could startle her. That’s what this was. He had somehow managed to put on this costume in the handful of moments between her walking into the bathroom and him standing there looking utterly terrified.

“Stop it,” she said, settling on the joke theory, “This isn’t funny. It’s disturbing. It’s--”

“Funny,” he squawked, his voice seeming to shift on the second syllable, “I don’t think this is funny. I was just laying there, and these things just--and they hurt. It hurts.”

She overrode her instincts to keep her distance from him, and moved closer so she could examine him further. It was clear this was no costume. The feathers looked organic--and fresh. She touched one, and it felt so soft. Looking at his face, she saw that the transformation he was experiencing wasn’t done. His nose was no longer just discolored. Its shape was reconfiguring. She knew what the final form would be, but did he?

“Babe,” she said, “I think you’re turning into a goose.”

“A goose,” he said, as she began to lead him to the toilet so she could sit him down, “Why not a duck?”

What a strange question, she thought. Did it matter if it was a goose or a duck? A man wasn’t meant to turn into either. A cockroach, maybe, but not a bird.

“Don’t forget,” she said, “I grew up on a farm. I know the difference between a goose and a duck. Those are goose feathers. You’re--”

He became agitated. His arms began to flap. It occurred to her that while being in a bathroom with her boyfriend was normal, being in one with a goose was not. The question was--

Well, there were many questions.

One of them was--

Would he continue turning into a goose? That meant he would shrink. If he didn’t shrink, then he would simply be a giant goose sitting on a toilet, and what was she meant to do with that?

“Carter,” she said, “Maybe you should lay down? I don’t know--I don’t know what--”

“I can’t lay down,” he said, “I need to be outside. I’m a bird.”

“You’re not a bird. Well. Not yet, anyway.”

“Love, I can’t have a bird in the house. Not even if it’s me.”

“Okay,” she said, running a hand through her hair, probably messing it up a bit, “So you want me to bring you outside?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t stay here. What if I, you know, make a mess? I feel like I might need to go, and I don’t want to do that on the bedroom carpet.”

“Then use the toilet.”

“Geese can’t use toilets!”

“All right, all right,” she said, helping him up and to the doorway, “There’s no need to shout.”

She led him to the backyard, but when she realized it wasn’t fenced in, she suggested he stay in the garage. The argument was that leaving a goose outside in winter had to be a bad idea. Weren’t there predators? Even in the suburbs? Even if there weren’t, he could get cold. At least in the garage, the temperature would be somewhat regulated, and if he used the bathroom, what was the harm? A little goose excrement could be cleaned off concrete easily. Carter didn’t like that idea. His words were becoming garbled, but she could tell that he needed some fresh air.

So, she took the cover off one of the lawn chairs, and let him wander around, bobbing his head, and making little noises that didn’t sound exactly like a goose, but didn’t sound human either. When Love looked at her phone, she realized she had to make a decision.

“Carter,” she called out to him, “Should I still go to the party?”

He didn’t respond. Maybe he couldn’t. He didn’t even seem to look her way. Had his size changed at all? He did seem to be smaller, but that could be because he was hunched over with his arms tucked under, most likely turning into full-on wings.

“Okay,” she yelled, “Okay, tell you what, I’ll only go for an hour. Will you be okay out here for an hour?”

Love didn’t know why her voice had a negotiable tone to it. He wasn’t going to answer her. She could offer to stay out all night, and what would he do? Just keep waddling around the yard until she returned. Hopefully, no dog or coyote would find him until then.

She ran inside to get the keys, her coat, and spritz on a little more perfume. She knew that this was a crisis, but in a crisis, normalcy was important. You had to stick to the plan. Even if the plan was formed before the crisis began. She was going to the party. She was going to act as though everything was fine, and that meant it was fine. Or would be fine. Her boyfriend was a goose. Maybe he wouldn’t be a goose when she got back. Maybe he would be lying in bed on his phone asking her whether or not she had a good time. He hated going to these kinds of things anyway. He wasn’t very social.

The party was only a few streets away at their friend Terry’s house. When the door opened, Terry was standing there in a hideous sweater and a Santa hat.

“Love!”

Pulling her in for a hug, she noticed how solid Terry seemed. He’d been working out since his divorce. Carter also implied that he’d gotten hair plugs, but Love just thought he was jealous, because Terry very obviously had a small crush on her.

“Where’s Carter,” he asked, not even pretending to sound like he actually cared.

“Oh,” she said, “He wasn’t feeling well, so he’s staying home.”

The grin that hit the right half of Terry’s face was Cheshire-like.

“That’s too bad,” he lied, “But can I just say--”

He leaned in until his lips were practically grazing her ear.

“--You look fantastic in that dress.”

Terry promised to rendezvous with her again after he’d done a loop and checked in with all the other guests. Love made her way to a chair by the couch in his living room. Across the room, there was a bay window that looked out onto the park across from his house. As people moved back and forth around the room, Love took in the voluptuousness of the moon. She wanted to ask Terry to kill all the lights in the room so the whole party could exist only in moonlight. She wanted to feel like a wolf tonight. Moved only by lunar forces beyond her control.

Seconds later, a shadow cut across the blue light enveloping the park. It looked like a bird had flown in such a way to directly block out the celestial body. Love wondered how long it takes a new goose to learn to fly. Babies learn in two to three months, but what about a brand new adult? What even was a brand new adult? She had ways of asking questions now that she’d never had until Carter stood before her in the bathroom with feathers sprouting everywhere.

Love moved to the window and looked out at the moon. Anything that had flown in its path was now gone. Gone where? Who could say.

She just hoped wherever it was headed, it got there safely.

“So,” she heard Terry’s voice behind her, “How are you and Carter doing?”

Putting on a smile before she turned around, she tried to look as though she were hiding something, because she was, wasn’t she?

“To tell you the truth, Terry,” she said, “He’s really changed.”