With a loud rumble and a strong shudder, the huge steel machine gives into my key turn in the ignition, not without letting a strong hiss of steam escape the exhaust as the engine shuts down, seemingly in protest of my action.
I sigh, sit back in the ripped up cloth seat and grab the canteen at my side, unscrewing its cap and quickly raising it to my lips, letting the cool liquid glide onto my dried up tongue.
It’s the beginning of June and the heat is only going to get worse here in Wytheville. While I grew up with this type of weather year after year, I haven’t been back home long enough to get used to it again. When the morning begins to slip into afternoon and the sun rises to it’s highest point in the sky, I expect to feel the moisture in the air, the sticky goodness of humid New York City weather, but it’s not there. It’s only the dry, intense heat out in the wheat fields, and the hunk of metal I ride around on all day doesn’t help things. It’s an old tractor that my father refuses to replace because they’re extremely expensive. It uses a lot of energy which drives the temperature way up, all around me. At some points its nearly unbearable. I try to drape damp cloths over the back of my neck, but they dry out quick, and I can’t keep that much water on this thing with me, there’s no room.
I don’t complain though. I can’t. My parents are doing me a huge favor, and working for my father is a lot better than working at the Gas Pit a couple of miles down the road. This work is hard, relentless. When I’m done with one thing, there’s always something else just as grueling to get into. The list doesn’t stop until supper time at five o’clock, and my day starts at four am. I drag myself in the house, completely exhausted, and it’s a miracle I can make it down for dinner. My father wouldn’t accept me skipping out on family time of course. He’s done this very same routine my whole life, and wants me to learn to put up with it, be a working man just like him so I can live up to his standard, and run this place one day even though it’s not what I want at all.
The sweat continues to roll down my face as I satisfy my thirst, and I wipe my forehead with my sweaty arm. It doesn’t help. I’m just one big mass of sweaty skin, and I wish I could go back to the house, escape into the shower and the cool spray of the running water.
But I have a long way to go before that will happen. It’s only noon, lunchtime, and I’m just halfway through my workload for the day.
Other than the heat, it hasn’t been so bad being back home. Before I came, my mom turned my old bedroom into a room for Ben, and I’ve been sleeping in the small guest room down the hall. Ben’s adjusted well, considering how shy he is and how difficult of a time he has with change. The new school has suited him so far. His teachers are really nice, and he’s made a couple of friends there. My mom set up a couple of play dates, and those have gone over well. She’s kind of taken over when it comes to the daily child care routine. I’ve been so busy with all the farm work that she hasn’t really had a choice, but she doesn’t mind. She tells me all the time how much she loves having us here, and I’m sure, deep down, she’d prefer it if we never went back to New York.
With money the way it is, she just might get her wish. As long as Ben is happy and healthy here, I shouldn’t have a reason to complain either. I guess I’m...disappointed, more than anything else. I told everybody I was getting out of this small town, moving on to better things, and I did it.
Now I’ve come crawling back because I had a kid and couldn’t make it work.
My friends have been as supportive as I expected them to be. Sure, they all laughed at me, told me I couldn’t hack the city life, but it was all in good fun. The were actually really excited when they heard I was coming back. They even had a party for me last weekend, had my mom watch Ben that night and the next day so I could get plastered. It had been a long time since I’d seen them, partied with them. It took me back to a different time, when I was young, and didn’t have any responsibilities.
So, when Lacey Cooper came sauntering up to me later that evening, after I’d had one too many beers, I didn’t think twice when we started to make out in the corner. We were both drunk, I know that now, and I’ve been avoiding what happened, and her, like the plague ever since. My best friend thinks that I should just give in...that we’ve always been meant for each other, and my family and the rest of my friends feel the same way.
But I just don’t think I’m ready. At least, not ready for her.
Maybe I’m just holding out for somebody else, but that idea is so ridiculous. I’m here, in bum fuck Virginia, and Esme is in New York City. I haven’t written her, because I can’t deal with a long distance thing. For some reason I get flustered when I think about her, when I talk to her, like I need to have her, right there and then. The fact that she’s captivated me from the first moment I stepped into that bookstore hasn’t escaped my mind, and when I think about her, I get lost in her even though she isn’t there.
That’s bad.
I gotta just...leave that entire situation alone, because I know I’ll never see her again.
“You had your fun in the city, got a kid out of it and all. But now your back and...maybe it’s a sign, you know? Maybe you should give this thing with Lacey another chance. She’s really accepting of Ben’s issues. She’s patient. It’s going to be hard to find another girl like that, Justin.”
Trace Ayala, my best friend since diapers, said it to me as he guzzled his beer last night. He stopped by for dinner with his daughter, who has become one of Ben’s favorite play buddies since I’ve been home. It’s good for them, and good for us. Trace has a decent excuse to escape his house now, so we can catch up. I admit, our relationship sort of drifted after I moved away, and I didn’t realize how much I missed him until we were able to sit down and talk together.
He’s married. Has his daughter, Amy, who is a year older than Ben, and he has one on the way. Leah and Trace were married right out of high school. He didn’t go to college, got a job at his Uncle’s garage instead, and has been there ever since. It was never his dream job. He was trying to get a baseball scholarship before the thing with his knee. He shattered it in a motor bike accident our senior year, and it destroyed his chance. It was hard for him, and I guess...I wasn’t there to see him through the aftermath because I left for New York a couple of months later. He didn’t hold it against me. If anything, he was glad one of us was able to do something, get out of town.
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” I told him, not meeting his eye line as I took a swig of my beer.
“Who’d you meet in New York?”
The smirk on his face annoyed the shit out of me. Of course he would have figured it out. He knew me better than anybody else. “It was just a date,” I muttered. “It was nothing, and besides, I’m here now, and I have Ben to worry about.”
“Sounds to me like you’re holding out. Trust me dude, the long distance thing...”
“I know,” I grunted before he could finish . “I know it doesn’t work out.”
He didn’t say anything else. He knew it was a sensitive subject then, so he backed off. Of course, it’s still a sensitive subject, but I avoid it when I’m with him. He hasn’t brought it up again, but I know he’s expecting me to ask Lacey to the fair next week. If I don’t, he’s just going to bug me some more, force me to tell him about Esmerelda the Librarian and how I think I might be in love with her, even though I barely know her. He might laugh me right to the town line if I tell him that, too.
Maybe I should just...let go. Maybe I should take Lacey up on that invite to dinner, the movies. Maybe I should just get used to small town life with a small town girl, get married because she’s the only one worth troubling myself with. I mean, she’s a beautiful girl, I can’t deny that. She’s sweet too, she knows me, she’s a good listener and she’s great with Ben. What’s more, I know she cares about me, and once upon a time I cared about her too, a lot.
Fuck, maybe I still do. I don’t know anymore.
I eat my sandwich and my ham and potato salad, all prepared by my mom last night. That’s another thing I love about being home...her cooking. The woman is the best cook in the county, hands down, and everybody else in town would agree. She wins first prize at the county fair every year for her pies and her casseroles, and it’s one of the only reasons I’m looking forward to attending that thing. I’m a little excited to introduce that all to Ben too. He’s never seen anything like it, tasted real hand spun cotton candy or freshly popped kettle corn. It’ll be nice sharing something like that with him, helping him to sign out all the new things he’ll be seeing so he can show his teacher. I still have those books Es helped me find. We read the stories and sometimes we just sit and flip through that dictionary. Ben points out the signs he thinks are the most interesting and I do my best to practice them with him. It’s helping. He’s a lot more active with his signing than he was before, and with his teachers help, he’s become a lot better at reading lips. It’s great for my dad because he doesn’t have a lot of time to learn how to sign, and I’d like them to become a little bit closer...but when it comes to my father, quality time is hard to come by.
I start up the engine again, recalling the conversation the two of us had this morning over coffee and cereal.
“You doing the left half of the field today, son?”
“Hm...oh yeah. Yeah the left half.”
“Make sure you keep the lines even. Bring ‘er in around three, and get the pigs fed again ‘fore supper. Chicken coop wire needs some work too, if you have time. If not, get it done tomorrow mornin’, ‘fore you change those horseshoes we were talkin’ about.”
“Yes, sir.”
That was it, and...it was the longest conversation we’ve had since I’ve been home.
I can’t deny that he’s a good man. He raised all of us well, provided everything we needed, and instilled a lot of great values in us, but he’s never been the best talker. My mom has always been the one that gave the speeches and laid down the law, letting him go out and run the farm instead. If any of us ever wanted something, we would always ask momma first, and she would say ‘I’ll talk it over with your father.’
Now that I’m grown, I think it would be a little awkward to go asking momma for things I should be talking to my father about. Somehow though, I feel extremely uncomfortable with the idea of asking my father for anything.
I finish my tractor run, and drive it right up to the gate, jumping down and beginning the tedious task of running piles of wheat through the special machine that packs it together in bundles. It takes me until a little bit after three to secure it all, and I feel like I’m going to collapse, but there’s still more work to be done.
I drive the thing back to it’s place in a large red barn a few hundred feet from the house, park it, and unlatch the bin that contains the days wheat load, hauling it outside and locking the barn doors behind me. It’s three forty five, and that leaves me enough time to slop the pigs and get a head start on fixing the chicken coops.
Great. I might as well though. It’ll be one less thing on my list for tomorrow, because tomorrow is horse day, and horse day is an awful smelly day with flies and animal shit everywhere. In fact, I think I’d take the tractor and wheat hauling over that, despite how hot it is.
“Justin.” My mother sighs when I walk into the house to refill my canteen. “You look a fright. You’re all red. What did I tell you about wearing enough sun screen?”
“I’m all right, momma.” I smirk as I hold the canteen under the tap. “It’ll turn into a tan like it used to.”
“Still,” she sighs.
“Ben get home yet?”
“Yes, he’s over at that boy Jimmies house today. They’re keeping him for supper.”
“Oh.” I screw the cap on and turn to her. She didn’t tell me and it annoys me slightly. I might be tired but I’d like to have dinner with my son, if nothing else. “Well, that’s fine but I wish you would have run it by me.” I walk over and kiss her cheek. “Next time, huh?”
She shrugs slightly. “It’s good for him to be with other children from school.”
“I know but I barely get enough time with him during the week as it is.” I call it back to her as I head out the door. “I’m just saying that I’d like him at our table for dinner from now on. It’s not a big deal mom.”
I go to open the screen door again, but stop when I see her standing there, blonde hair falling in perfect, wavy curls around her bare shoulders, smile as wide as anything, blue eyes sparkling.
My mom planned it this way.
“Hi,” Lacey says brightly.
“Hey...” I trail off, glance back at my mother who is busying herself by sweeping the floor. “You um...need something? I’m just getting back to work.”
“Well your momma invited me for dinner. I said I would help out.”
“Oh, is that you Lacey?” My mom says, suddenly appearing at my side like seeing Lacey standing there is the shock of her lifetime. “Dear, I wasn’t expectin’ you until later.”
Lacey doesn’t say anything, just continues to smile and stand there, pretty as anything in that pink off the shoulder sundress she’s wearing. Obviously, she made an effort because somebody told her to. Somebody told her to come here, talk to me, so maybe I would finally give in to her damn advances.
It’s a conspiracy. It has been all along and my mother has turned into the ring leader. “ ‘scuse me.” I open the door and Lacey grabs hold of the side of it as I pick up the roll of coop wire and push past her, setting my focus on starting my next project of the day. I slop the pigs quickly, pull on some work gloves and start on the coops, managing to get the first one emptied of all the chickens with forty five minutes to spare. I start on the right hand side, tearing the old screen off with wire cutters, and replacing it with a new, fitted section of the stuff.
“Justin.”
I sigh, and hang my head low. Why? Why can’t she take a hint? “Lacey.” I drop my tools and slowly rise to my feet. “What is it?”
“I just thought we could talk...maybe. We haven’t said anything to each other since your homecoming party.”
r32;“I was drunk and so were you.” I scoff. “What’s there to say?” I crouch down, and begin work on the next part of the coop, pushing the thought of her...the thought of us, away.
“Why are you avoiding me? I mean, aside from...what happened at the party, I’ve been coming around, spending time with Ben. You duck out every time I’m here. I think I deserve an explanation.”
“I just don’t have time to get involved with you.” I say it to the wire as I continue to twist and cut it away from the wooden frame. “We’re...different people now.”
“After all this time, you still act like a child. You haven’t changed at all.”
I drop the tools again, and look back at her angrily. “That’s messed up. I have a lot going on.”
“Oh and I don’t?” She laughs bitterly and puts her hands on her hips. “What, with Winston and all? Momma’s gone half crazy with everything he’s going through. I’m stuck in the middle, but you don’t see me complaining.”
I shrug. “I’m sorry...about your brother. You know I’m sorry, but you should understand where I’m coming from. I’m trying to settle in, Lacey, and we can be friends, but that’s all we can be.”
She smirks, just slightly, and steps forward, her body swishing from side to side in that sexy, seductive way it does when she wants something from me. “I’m not so sure you believe that.”
“I do,” I whisper, when she’s right up in my face, licking her lips, daring me to resist her. “I mean it.”
She doesn’t hesitate, just brushes her lips lightly against mine, and it takes me away. It makes me melt into her slightly, and I hate it...but I can’t stop the feeling. One touch of her lips brings back all those memories of her, from years past, when I loved her. When all I wanted to do was hold her, tell her one day I would marry her. Then she said she wouldn’t drop her life here to take a chance at going to school in New York with me.
So I said I couldn’t be with her anymore.
“Do you believe it now?” She finally asks me, after kissing me several more times, and my arms have found their way around her waist.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“You have a date for the fair?”
I smirk. “I’m going stag with Ben.”
“Doubt it.”
“Why’s that?”
“ ‘Cause you’re head over heels for me, Timberlake. Always have been, always will be, kid or no kid.”
With one final touch of her lips to mine, she tugs herself out of my arms, winks at me, and tells me she’ll see me at the supper table.
And I guess she will.
I guess she’ll be on my arm at the fair too, and after that we’ll go to the dance together. The one that’s supposed to raise all that money for her brothers cancer treatment. Then our relationship will blossom, grow, and she’ll be my girlfriend before I have a chance to back away again. That’s how it is down here, there aren’t a lot of choices and you have to keep the people around you that matter the most, make an effort to get them back in your life if they’ve been out of it for some time.
As far as Lacey Cooper is concerned, I’m always going to be the one she loves, the one and only guy for her.
I just don’t know if I’m ready to accept that she might be the only girl...the only choice, for me.
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