skib
03-17-2009, 05:56 PM
I wrote this in a writing class in high school. I didn't get a whole lot of constructive criticism or suggestions, and my ears are open.
It had been a big night. There was a bonfire at Andy’s out on County Road 30. The bulk of the crowd had come and gone, leaving David, Lauren, Andrea, Julianne and Andy. The five sat next to the dying fire talking. It was less than a month to graduation, after which the friends would have their last summer together before they left home to find their places in the world. They planned on spending every moment possible together until Andy shipped off for basic training in August. After that, everyone else would be going their separate ways to different colleges across the country.
Allison and David were in their second year of serious dating, and were deciding whether they wanted to stay together after the summer. A lot of the decision was based off how the summer went. He was headed off to tech school in Arizona, while she was planning on attending a big college on the east coast. It was a difficult choice for both of them, knowing that it would be hard not being together after two years, but each knowing that the other would change with the college experience.
Allison leaned back into David to kiss him, then settled into his arms with a content smile.
“Ya’ll ready to graduate?” Andy asked, leaning back into the lawn chair.
“What, are you stupid? Course we are,” Julianne retorted in her deep-south accent.
“I don’t know,” Andrea said. She was quieter and more thoughtful than everyone else. “It’s going to be so hard, getting up in the morning and having nothing to do. I know I should be sick to death of school, and I am looking forward to not having to do any homework, but it’s been my life for thirteen years now, my whole goal has been to graduate. I don’t know. Its just . . . being done with it is going to be like being lost.”
“And if you dint take all them hard classes you wouldn’t be worrying ‘bout homework,” David said, resting his chin on Allison’s shoulder. Andrea blushed self consciously, knowing that it was her fault to take a full schedule of advanced classes.
“Don’ worry bout him none darlin’,” Julianne said, taking Andrea’s hand and patting it. “He’s just jealous he couldn’t do it.”
“Yes ma’am. What is it you took over the summer? Calculus?”
“Calc two,” Andrea mumbled. “The second one.”
“And you took it for fun. I know I couldn’t do that.”
“Just shut up honey,” Allison said, patting his cheek. “It’s her choice.”
“Okay.”
David nuzzled Allison’s neck, his whiskery chin making her shiver.
“You need a shave dear,” she said.
“I know. I was waiting until I absolutely had to.”
“Well I say you absolutely have to.”
“Fine. You absolutely have to entertain me while I do it.”
Allison shook her head. “No, I don’t think I do. At least not till you’re done.”
“Is that a promise?” David asked.
“With crossed fingers, yeah.”
“Then it don’t count and I don’t shave,” David mumbled, relaxing on her shoulder, his eyes sliding shut.
“What’s the matter hun?”
“Its two in the morning and I’m tired,” he muttered back.
“Oh, poor baby,” she said with a small giggle, pulling his arms around her. He didn’t respond again.
Four Years Later
I sat up, bleary eyed and hung over. Dim light shown in the window, informing me it was time to get up. I heard a clunk as Donny pulled his boots on and clomped across the room. He flicked on the light, and the 60 watt bulb hanging from the ceiling fan had more semblance to a three hundred watt floodlight aimed straight at my optic nerve. I fell backwards, clutching my aching head.
“**** Donny, warnin’ woulda been nice.”
“Oh. I’m turnin’ on the light.” He turned it off, then back on. “That better for ya?”
“Yer an *******.”
He poured some beans into the coffee grinder, then put the lid on and flicked the switch, making sure to push it down onto the counter so every loose screw and piece of silverware and cup rattled, filling the cabin with a pitch-less buzz.
“Donny!” It was Greg, the oldest boy on the crew. He was getting up into his sixties and was intolerant of antagonizing already miserable people, especially me.
“Sorry.” Donny picked up the grinder and dumped the grounds into the coffee maker.
“Hot damn,” Pink groaned as he sat up. It sounded like he had the same sickness as I did.
“Y’ boys sound like you got a bad case o’ th’ brown bottle flu,” Greg said.
“Naw, bottle was clear, just couldn’t see through it till it was empty,” Slim said, joining the conversation as he stood up and staggered to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the bottle of hangover cure and drank half of it straight out of the bottle.
“Slim, hook me up,” I said, holding up a hand.
“You sober ‘nuff to catch?” he asked.
“Yeah . . .”
The bottle slapped my palm and fell to the ground below my bunk.
“Naw . . .”
I rolled onto my side and made a half-assed attempt to jump down, resulting in a not-quite controlled flop onto the hardwood floor.
“Y’ all right?” Greg asked me.
I laid still for a moment absorbing the pain.
“Crock?”
“Ow,” I moaned, rolling off my stomach to grab the hangover cure, twisting the lid off and downing the rest of it. I got slowly to my feet, careful to avoid straining and thus keeping my swollen brain from popping my skull.
“Who puked in my boot?” Pink asked, peering down into his stovepipe bootleg.
Ignoring him, I sat down on Donny’s mattress and began the long and difficult process of finding my other boot, putting it on and getting some coffee into me.
“Yer other boot’s out’n th’ parkin’ lot,” Greg told me, sipping his coffee.
I squinted at him in the poor light. “How’d it get out there?”
“Y’ chucked it at Slim cause y’ thought he was cheatin’ at cards,” he said.
“Sheit,” I said to myself, limping lopsidedly to the door and yanking it open.
In the five am darkness, I could just see the toe of my boot hiding underneath my truck. Not wanting to exert myself, I hopped in my truck and started it, and backed it up. I shut it off once I saw I could reach my boot without too much effort. Slamming the door, I
made a few lame efforts to pick it up. Finally snagging it on my toes, I flopped inside, the heavy leather clunking loudly on the cedar deck. Falling backwards into a chair, I pulled my boot the rest of the way on and took the cup of coffee Donny handed me.
“Thanks bud,” I said, sipping the steaming, tar colored liquid. My headache eased a bit as I drank a little deeper. My swollen tongue relished in a taste other than dehydration and bile.
“Whats on the agenda for the day?” I asked.
“Dunno. Mark tolt’ us to take the day off. I’us gonna head into town an’ play some pool, but I might stay here an’ relax,” Greg said.
Closing my eyes, I tried to remember what I had planned out for today. I rarely take any days off, even to nurse a hangover this bad. When I relax too much I tend to get stir crazy, and when that happens I start thinkin’ too much. When I start thinkin’ I start drinkin’, and when I start drinkin’ I can’t stop.
“Dint Mark say somethin’ bout that fence over borderin’ the BLM land bein’ down?” I asked.
“Yeap.” Greg was dealing out a game of solitaire to himself.
“Greg, I swear you never put them damn cards down,” Pink said, joining us at the table, rubbing his unshaven face.
“Better cards than hangovers,” Greg replied, looking down at the cards strewn across the table. “Ye’ll learn that someday.”
Pink rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Whatever.”
Thirty minutes later found me out in the plains runnin’ fence, lookin’ for the section that was down. My boss had told me which fence the break was in, but hadn’t told me exactly where it was. This particular fence happened to be a fourteen mile stretch that spanned four rivers and two ditches with no bridges to cross on. I figured it was a good waste of time, especially given the thoughts that were flooding my brain. I needed to be alone.
It almost seemed that whenever I managed to shake off the thoughts and feelings that so often haunt my sober mind, they had to come back and make up for lost time. The faces of my friends float in front of my vision, glaring at me, whispering misgivings into my ears daring me to hurt everyone else like I had hurt them. I didn’t need to see them to know the depth of the pain I had caused. It had scarred me deeply to do what I had done. I had made a promise to my friends to never leave them. I had made a promise to Allison, one I had intended to keep despite all the promises I’d made and broken.
I swung the pliers viciously at the post, burying the staple puller deep into the dried and cracked wood. I examined the break. Someone else’s cattle had stampeded and gone through the old wire like a freight train. Pieces of snapped wire and broken-off fenceposts lay scattered in the sagebrush and buffalo grass. Sighing, I pulled on my gloves and began sorting out the strands of tangled wire. It was old, and wouldn’t have held up to another harsh winter anyway.
I was rolling up the last piece of rusted wire when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out from the cluster**** of snuff cans, lighters, chapstick, fencing staples, and other odds and ends. The display screen was so scratched up I couldn’t read the caller ID, so I flipped the lid open and answered.
“Y’ello?”
“Hey.”
It was Curly, one of the fellas I hang out with in town sometimes.
“Whatchou up to man?”
He was still drunk from last night.
“Nothin’. Jist workin off a hangover. You?”
“Uh, well, las’ night my woman got a burr up her *** an’ drove off with my truck.”
“And you want me to find it?”
“Well, no. I know where it is. I jist ain’t got the money to git it back. She sold it to the junkyard an’ they want four hunnert dollars for it.”
“Why don’t you just show ‘em the registration that’s got your name on it?”
There was a slight pause. “****, how come I dint think of that?” and the line went dead. I looked at the screen, which told me the line was disconnected.
I flipped my phone closed and tucked it back down into its pocket. I walked up to the cab and grabbed the gallon water jug from the passenger seat and drank deeply, letting a little excess run down my sweaty chest. My headache wasn’t getting any better, but it wasn’t getting worse neither.
I hopped up to the bed of the truck and tossed off five or six spools of new wire, a fence stretcher, some steel posts, and a post driver. I started by pounding in new posts every eight paces. By the time they were all in, I had smashed three fingers, knocked myself in the head once and dropped the thirty pound driver on my toe. I took a twenty minute break for a smoke and a few drinks of water, then went back to work.
I worked until I could barely see, splicing strands, stretching them so tight you could shoot an arrow two hundred yards off them. I got the last tie on and decided it was a good time to call it quits. I’d skipped four meals and my stomach was informing me that it was past empty.
I threw all the **** onto the bed and started up the truck and headed back to the bunk house.
I lay on my bunk, staring up at the ceiling while my stomach digested the thirty two ounce porterhouse steak I’d just eaten. The boys were at the table playing cards, but I wasn’t in the mood for losing money. The last night I had shared with Allison was replaying over and over in my mind.
“Davey?” she asked me.
“Mhhmm?”
“What’re we gonna do?”
“I dunno honey. I can’t lose this chance to get a full ride. UTI is gonna pay for all my schooling, and I’m guaranteed a job anywhere in the country.”
“I know. I just . . .” she stopped.
“You what?”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You ain’t gonna lose me. You know that.”
She sighed, readjusting her head on my shoulder. “I know what you said. But sometimes . . . I just feel like I don’t hardly have a hold on you at all, like you’re ready to run at the next breath of wind.”
I chuckled, brushing her hair with my fingers. “I wouldn’t leave you.”
She was silent a moment. “Promise?”
It was barely audible. I could have mistaken it for the dying fire popping and hissing.
“I promise.”
I sat up, sweating and gulping air like someone had just given me a fifteen minute swirly. The boys at the table were still laughing, passing chips back and forth, throwing back shots, unaware of my sudden outburst. I threw my legs over the edge of the mattress and hopped down to the floor, pulled on my boots and practically flew out the door.
“Where’s he goin so fast?” Pink asked. I heard someone yell my name, but I slammed the truck door, fired up the vehicle and roared out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind me.
I found myself at the bar in Thurman. Thurman Wyoming, the smallest little ****hole this side of hell, so far away from anything else its debatable whether or not anybody outside the community knows its there.
I was sitting at the bar, staring off into space, wondering what all my friends were up to. Andy was in his fourth year of the military and either thinking about reenlisting or going back to civilian life. No telling what he might do. Nobody thought he was dumb enough to enlist in the Army. Julianne would have moved someplace tropical, waiting for her knight in shining armor to come and save her from herself. She was never sure what she was going to do with the rest of her life. And Allison. What would she be doing? She might have gone on to college, like she told me. Or she might have gone into the workforce after I left.
I distantly noticed someone sat down next to me, but didn’t give it any second thought. I was jerked out of my reverie with a jolt when the bartender set a shot glass and a bottle down in front of me. I pushed them away, telling him I didn’t have any money.
“It’s on me,” the person next to me said, who on closer examination was a woman. A very attractive woman. I stared for a moment, taking her in. She was a few inches shorter than me, slender, clean work clothes on, black cowboy hat, longish blonde hair much like Allison. But it was her eyes that captivated me. For a second, all the thoughts vanished from my mind. Her dark green eyes sparkled with humor and friendliness.
“Thank’y,” I said hoarsely, pouring a shot and downing it to bring myself back to reality and try to cover up my shock.
“Doin’ some heavy thinkin’ there cowboy,” she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. I nodded, suddenly reminded why I was here.
“Y’ could say that,” I replied, tossing back another shot. I tried to push Allison’s memory from my head.
We sat in silence for a moment, before she stuck out a hand.
“Name’s Lauren,” she said.
“Crock,” I replied, taking her hand. She had a fairly firm grip for her size.
“Please tell me that’s short for somethin’ an’ not that your parents actually named you that,” she said with a good natured laugh.
“Short for Crockett,” I said. “Real name’s Dave. Somewhere along the line someone called me Davey, someone else tacked on Crockett, so the boys call me Crock.”
“What spread?” she asked.
“Jeffry’s,” I answered.
“Been there for a while?”
“Few years, yeah.”
She looked at me with a half smile. “You gonna keep on playin’ tough or are you gonna act interested?” she asked.
I scrambled to come up with an answer, but a loud voice from behind me cut off whatever thought process had begun.
“What’n’the hell d’ you think yer doin with her?”
Lauren jumped up to my defense. “He warnt doin’ nothing Jake, leave him be!”
“I warnt talkin’ to you,” he snarled, trying to push her aside.
“Jake, listen to me. He was jist sittin’ there alone so I thought I’d talk to him a bit.”
Jake brushed her off and sat on the stool next to me.
“I’m on’y gonna tell you once, redneck,” he breathed. “Stay away from her.”
I looked straight ahead.
“I’m talkin’ to you,” he yelled, slamming a large fist down on the bar. I proceeded to pour myself a shot, and was in the process of drinking it when he slapped it out of my hand. The glass shattered against the mirror on the wall in front of me.
“An’ I’m on’y gonna tell you once to mind your own damn business,” I said.
“What’d you say to me?” he whispered. The bar had gone deadly silent.
“Y’ heard me jist fine y’ deaf sack o’ ****,” I said.
“You little punk,” he growled, standing up and kicking his stool over backwards. “Git up!”
I stayed seated, calmly reaching over the bar to grab another shot glass. I poured my last one, and as I set the bottle down my left hand flew up to clock Jake in the mouth. He staggered backwards into a poker table. I took off my hat and shucked my coat, waiting for him to recover. He stood up, shaking his head in surprise. Blood ran from several splits in his lip. He spit out a stream of pink, and came at me again, fists raised. I ducked under his first wild swing and sent another fireball to his nose. He faltered, and I drilled him one last time across the jaw. The fight was pretty much over, but my blood was boiling and I was still itching to dish out a beating. I grabbed his belt and shirt, and with a growl tossed his large frame over the pool table. He landed in a heap, breathing hard but not moving a whole lot. Satisfied, I pulled on my coat and plopped my hat back on my head, tossed back the last drink I’d poured, and walked out the door. A few of the boys I knew tipped their hats as I passed them smoking their cigarettes on the porch. I started my truck and left town in a cloud of diesel and rubber smoke.
I woke up not an hour after I dropped Allison off at home after the party. My heart was pounding and my mind was screaming at me to run. Panic took complete control of my body. I threw a few clothes, my gun and a few other things into my truck and it was balls to the walls to get the hell out of town. I went the only direction I knew- north. I drove all day, and finally stopped that evening, out of gas and starving from missing three meals. I got a meal at the café and slept in my truck that night, then inquired about jobs at the mercantile. I was told to go out to Jeffry’s Canyon Ranch. I was originally hired on for the summer, but that fall Mark asked me to stay on as one of the permanent hands. Having no other plans, I obliged.
I rolled up to the house at four am, hammed up enough to calm myself down but not quite drunk enough to tip off the State Patrol. A light was still on in the bunk, and a rectangle of yellow shown out on the gravel drive. I grabbed the bottle from the makeshift holder I’d rigged up out of baling wire and headed inside. Greg didn’t look up as I entered.
“Mornin’ there, sugar,” he said, squinting down at his solitaire.
“Pink’s right,” I said, wobbling over to my bunk. “You never put them cards down.”
“Keeps m’ brain workin’,” he replied.
“I guess it could be crossword puzzles,” I said, hanging my hat on the peg on the wall. I hopped up to my mattress and kicked off my boots, not caring if I woke anyone up or not.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Sure thang.” Donny was talking in his sleep.
“Why, thanks darlin’,” I said back.
“Warnt talkin’ t’ you,” Donny muttered, then rolled onto his stomach and said something into his pillow. I took another long drink from the bottle and drifted off to sleep, my mind divided between thinking about Allison and fantasies of the girl at the bar.
The next day found me and the boys out throwing out all the bad hay from the stack behind the horse barn. Last winter, the rabbits had chewed a hole in the tarp we laid over the stack and the snow got in and melted, ruining a lot of our stores. The cows would eat it; cows eat anything, but it would make the horses sick.
Pink and me were up on top of the stack, sorting out good from bad and tossing the bad sbales down to Greg, Donny and Slim.
“Where’d you run off to las’ night?” Donny asked.
“Town.”
I didn’t really want to talk about it. The boys generally don’t nose into anybody’s business, but I guess my constant taking off in the middle of the night had perked their interest.
“Yeah, I git them cravin’s fer some double chocolate ice cream sometimes too,” Pink said, spitting a stream of chaw between his teeth.
“Where you git that ice cream that’s got booze in it?” Donny asked, blatantly ignoring Pink’s attempt at changing the object of conversation. I’m pretty used to his insensitivity, but sometimes it cuts pretty deep. Donny’s ordinarily a nice guy, but he doesn’t seem to realize that there is a line between inappropriate and get-your-***-whooped impolite. Greg slapped him in the back of the head.
“What?” Donny asked, unaware he had said anything wrong.
“Donny, git the **** outta here,” Slim said.
“Why? I d . .”
“Leave,” Slim said shortly, pointing.
“Aight.” He hopped off the trailer and walked away talking to himself.
Slim watched him go with contempt.
“One’a these days I’s gonna have to explain that to ‘im. Sorry bout that Crock.”
I didn’t say anything, just continued pitching bales down to Greg.
They knew somewhat about what had happened. I didn’t have to explain much after waking up every night crying out to Allison.
Slim pulled out his can and twisted it open, loading up his lip with chew. I clapped, holding out my hand. He tossed the can up to me and I packed my lip full. We worked in silence until lunch. We generally don’t eat lunch since we’re so far away from the house, but today we made up for a missed meal.
We sat on the deck, scattered on the various rocking chairs and stools. Everyone looked up in interest as an unfamiliar pickup came rolling around the Big House, throwing up dust in its wake. The beat up old Ford 3/4 ton slid to a stop next to my truck, and the door opened. Lauren hopped out, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. She slammed the truck door and peeled off her gloves, smacking them on her dusty thigh to straighten out the fingers.
“What can we do for ya?” Greg asked, standing up to greet her.
“I’m a’lookin’ for that feller right there,” she said, pointing at me. I stood up and set down my samich.
“Yeap. What’cha need?” I asked, getting a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Well first off, I’d like to apologize for Jake’s behavior last night,” she said. I nodded, leaning against a porch post.
“S’all right.”
She pulled off her hat and scratched her head. “He’s my ex boyfriend, an’ he gets real jealous.”
I nodded again. “That’s what I figured.”
She looked up at me, squinting in the harsh sunlight.
“And I dint drive all the way out here to apolergize. I’us wonderin’ if you were gonna be busy Friday night.”
I shook my head. “Wasn’t plannin’ on anything.”
“Let’s meet up at the bar say, round six?”
“Sounds good to me.”
She gave me an irresistible smile and bade me good day, hopped in her pickup and drove away. Soon as her truck was out of sight, I heard a series of low whistles.
“Damn son,” Slim said. “Whatever y’ do, don’t let that one go. She’s a diamond in a pig trough.”
Instead of replying, I went inside and sat down at the table, laying my head in my hands.
****. **** **** ****.
There was no denying I had interest in Lauren. But there was no denying the fact that the guilt about what I’d done to Allison still hung on my shoulders like a newborn ox with a full sized plow. Or the fear that I might do it again.
The week went by uneventfully. A bull with an attitude problem broke through the fence over to another ranch and beat the hell outta some guys truck. We didn’t have to pay for the damages, but we did have to promise we would keep a better eye on the animal.
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was a wreck. I didn’t sleep at all Thursday night, and I ran out of smokes so I had to borrow some from Slim.
“Damn Crock, what th’ hell’s th’ matter with ya? Yer actin like you ain’t never be’d on a date afore!”
I glared at Slim where he was sitting watching Greg play solitaire. I took a drag on my cigarette, making the end glow bright red.
“He jist nervous, is all,” Greg said, picking up his cards and shuffling them. “Datin’s differnt than screwin’. All’s ya gotta do t’ git laid is get Johnny up an’ keep ‘im up till yer done. Datin’s kinda like gettin’ to know the broad so’s y’know what yer gettin’ into.”
Slim shook his head. “Hell, what’s the point, anyways? ****, when yer datin’ y’ get the whole shebang- PMS, mood swings, all that ****.”
“Y’know why they call it PMS don’t ya?” Pink asked from where he was reading a Cabela’s catalogue.
“Naw. Why?”
“’Cause mad cow disease was already taken.”
The boys all cackled with glee, then set out to tell the worst sexist jokes I’d ever heard. I slid off the bunk to the floor and went and stood out on the porch, watching the sun sink towards the horizon. I took another drag, and dropped the little remaining paper on the ground and stepped on it to put it out. I blew a few smoke rings, then let the rest of my breath out. I checked my watch. Almost five. It was time to go. I smeared on some deodorant, hoping to cover up the fact that I was sweating bullets.
“Y’ll be fine,” Greg assured me. “All’s y’ gotta do is act like y’ usually do an’ it’ll go fine.”
I rolled another smoke to calm my quickly unraveling nerves. Allison’s face was looming in the back of my mind, an ever present audience to every doubt and fear that crossed me conscience. I tried to push her away, but she wouldn’t go.
Calm down! It ain’t no big deal. Lauren’s a nice gal.
I continued trying to reassure myself that everything would be fine. Our last conversation had gone fairly well, but I suddenly realized that I didn’t have the faintest idea what we would be doing. Allison and I had gotten to know each other through school because we had mostly the same classes. This was totally different. I wouldn’t be able to ask for help with my math homework this time. My luck, it would be just the two of us, and my mind would go blank leaving her with a speechless retard cowboy.
I angrily shoved these worries to the back of my head with a twist of the key. The diesel fired up, roaring for a second until the choke turned down, then it idled smoothly. I mashed the pedal to the floor, spinning the truck out of its parking spot and goosed it down the road towards town.
I found Lauren sitting on the hood of her truck, chatting idly with two other girls. She broke into a huge grin when I cut the engine and hopped out.
“Glad to see you showed up,” she said, reaching out to take my hand.
“I hope y' didn’t doubt me that much,” I said, taking her hand and hopping up onto the hood to sit next to her.
“Ladies, this is Crock,” she said, turning to her friends.
“Crock, this is Jessie and her sister Mary.” I nodded to each of them, and they smiled back seemingly unaware of my nerves.
“What’yall gonna do?” Jessie asked me. I looked at Lauren.
“Ain’t got a clue,” I answered. “I’m pretty unimaginative at stuff like this.”
Lauren laughed. “I dunno. I figure just hang out an’ talk.” She looked over at me. “That okay with you?”
I nodded, but my stomach clenched with anxiety. Talking wasn’t at the top of my list of talents. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
We sat there and talked for a bit, me mostly listening. They talked a lot about some rodeo they’d gone to last week down in Walden, talked about a few of the rides, but especially about Beau Ledoux, Chris Ledoux’s son.
“He is so cute!” Jessie said, “But he’s got a girlfriend.”
“Did you see that Orange Bandit guy? The one with only one arm? He rode without a bridle or halter or anything, and he was snapping the bullwhip the entire time!”
“And his truck was so sexy!” Lauren said. “The dually Cummins with the bullhorn stacks! I almost orgasmed when he pulled in.”
They continued on that subject for a while, then turned the topic over to me.
“You aint from ‘round here,” Mary said. “What brought you way up here?”
I shifted tensely, scrambling for a way to divert the direction the conversation was taking. Lauren noticed my discomfort and answered for me.
“He knew what kind of hotties live up here in Wyoming,” she said. That brought laughter from the girls and a great internal sigh of relief from me.
“Well, we gotta go help pa muck out stalls,” Jessie said. “Sorry to leave yall.”
Lauren waved it away. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
After an exchange of good-byes and see-you-laters, me and Lauren sat there all by our lonesome.
“So. You wanna go somewhere?” she asked. I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Your truck or mine?” she asked.
“Don’ care,” I said. “Mine probly gets better mileage.”
“Lets take yours then,” she said, hopping to the ground. “I love diesels anyways.”
She locked her truck, then clambered up into the passenger seat. I fired up the engine, giving the gas a few pumps. She shivered.
“I love that sound,” she said with a huge grin. I smiled, knowing the feeling.
“Where you wanna go?” I asked. She shrugged indifferently.
“Somewhere I ain't been, I guess.”
I took off without any further delay. I knew the perfect spot.
We rode down the highway well over the speed limit, but I knew the highway patrol didn’t watch along here because there weren’t enough places to hide and clock. Fifteen minutes passed with nothing but the sound of the engine and Justin McBride drifting softly out of the speakers. I finally found the turnoff I was looking for and slid the truck sideways off the road, just to show off a bit.
“I noticed you warnt real comfortable talkin’ bout where you came from,” she said quietly. I really wished we hadn’t gone this far out of town now.
“Its . . . real hard to talk about,” I answered, gripping the steering wheel.
She sat for a moment, choosing her words.
“I know . . . it might be something you don’t want to talk about, but I can tell you’re hurtin’ real bad about somethin’.” She paused, as if she could tell that what she was going to say could make or break her chance of getting to know me. “It might seem like I’m bein’ a bit forward, but I hate seein’ someone hurt like you are. If you’re comfortable, I’d be more than happy to listen.
I felt my eyes start to burn. I hadn’t shed a tear over the course of the last four years. Hearing someone voice concern about it, even though I didn’t know her hardly at all, made me choke up.
I sat silent in the evening darkness, ordering my emotions to get in line. My mind raced over what two options I had- I could tell Lauren all about what was on my mind, or I could keep it to myself. It all rested on two things- if I could give in enough to talk, and if I wanted to share my darkest secrets with someone I didn’t know. From the little I knew about her, she was a girl I wanted to get to know better.
My internal struggle must have shown, because she looked over at me.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said softly, her bright green eyes full of concern and sympathy.
I clenched my teeth, and began to talk.
“I met Allison at the beginning of my junior year . . .”
We were in the three classes together out of the four in our schedules. We had math first, wood shop third, and weights class fourth. I thought she was cute as all get out, and I found out that she was generally smarter than the rest of the class combined. She sat right in front of me in math, and I spent more time picking on her and distracting her than anything. Finally one day she asked me if I was going to ask her out or continue to piss her off. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much had she not done it with the entire class watching. But, I asked her to the next dance and we hit it off well. Soon we were inseparable. I would usually go over to her house after school and hang out, doing homework or playing video games, or just sitting and talking until my parents called and told me to come home. We were like family, welcome in the other’s house without question.
We got more serious in our dating and were soon planning our schedule around our time together. We even went as far as to discuss where we wanted to live after high school, and if our possible jobs were compatible. Close to the end of our senior year, I was planning on asking her to marry me. Then one night I upped and ran.
“Why did you run?” Lauren asked me. We were sitting on the hood, leaning back on the windshield.
I shook my head, letting the tears stream down my face. I’d given up on trying to stop them hours ago. “I don’t know. Maybe I was scared. Or maybe I wasn’t ready. I don’t know.”
She took my hand in hers, stroking it. “And you haven’t talked to any of them?” I shook my head.
“Sometimes I think about going back, but I don’t know if I could do it,” I said.
“I think you should,” she told me. “You need to come to terms with it or it’s gonna eat you up. You can’t keep going on like this.”
She wasn’t telling me anything new. I knew everything she was telling me. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit that I needed help.
“You can go on like this, sitting at bars all alone, beatin’ the crap outta people, drinkin’ yourself to death. You can do that much as you want. But you won’t last.” She sat forward and turned to face me.
“I know. I don’t care. The quicker I die the better.” I was a little mad, having someone tell me what I already knew.
“Well maybe someone else does care,” she said, leaning back onto the windshield and crossing her arms. Frustrated, I jumped down to the ground and walked to the edge of the steep hill overlooking the valley. I rolled a smoke and lit it, staring up into the depths of the midnight sky. Stars twinkled down at me, for a second giving me a distraction from the emotions tearing me apart. The cool breeze drifted past me, another small respite from the turmoil in my chest.
I felt a hand in the small of my back, and Lauren stepped up next to me. She reached up and grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth and tossed it down the hill. I started to complain, but she put a finger over my lips.
“Ssshh . . .” she hushed me. She took my hand in hers, looking up at me with a wistful expression. She rested her head on my chest, wrapping her free arm around my waist. I felt an emotion rising in my chest that I didn’t recognize. Tentatively, I returned the embrace. Almost without realizing it, I felt feelings I hadn’t even dreamed of in years. I found that, even though I hadn’t even known her all that long, and that this was just the first date, I trusted her. In the blossoming romance, I could see that something was happening between us that I never had expected to ever happen again after Allison.
I closed my eyes, praying that I didn’t screw this one up.
One Year Later
The truck came to a stop outside the house. Shaky fingers held the slip of paper with the address scribbled hastily with a carpenters pencil. I tucked the paper back into my pocket and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. I thought fleetingly for a second that I could just start up the truck and drive away, but discarded that thought almost immediately. I didn’t drive two thousand miles to turn tail and run. I gripped the door handle and pulled it open, stepping slowly onto the runner board, then to the pavement. Wobbly knees slowly took me up the drive. I twirled the wedding band on my finger as I thought of Lauren, sitting back at the hotel waiting for me to return. She had offered to come with, but understood when I told her that I needed to do this alone.
I found myself on the welcome mat long before I wanted to. I punched the doorbell with a weak finger, and waited. I heard footsteps, then the door swung open to reveal a man a little older than myself.
“May I help you?” he inquired, thoroughly confused at the sudden appearance of a large cowboy on his front porch in the middle of Memphis Tennessee.
“Is Allison home?” I asked, taking off my hat and turning it nervously in my hands. Before he could answer, a woman appeared at his elbow.
She started to speak before her eyes locked with mine. I saw a tear begin to well up in the corner of her eye. Noticing the tension, the man said he would give us a minute. He gave her a peck on the cheek, then disappeared into the massive house.
“Allison I . . .” I started to say, but my throat closed up and I couldn’t continue. I felt my own eyes begin to burn. I pulled my bandana out of my pocket and dabbed my eyes. She covered her mouth as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. I wanted to reach out and hold her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not after what I’d done to her.
After a moment, she regained her composure.
“Will you forgive me?” I asked. I didn’t expect her to. I wouldn’t forgive me. If some girl did this to me, I would kick the ***** off my porch for even asking, but I asked anyway.
She looked at me coolly, hiding her emotions behind a mask that I couldn’t read through.
“You’re the biggest ******* I have ever met,” she said finally, crossing her arms. I nodded.
“Me too.” She didn’t say any more, so I figured it was all said and done. I turned around and began walking away.
“Dave,” she called. I half turned back, hat still in hand.
She ran down the steps towards me and wrapped her arms around me.
“Even *******s deserve forgiveness,” she whispered. I hugged her back fiercely, relieved beyond words. Though I couldn’t say it, she understood fine.
Thank you.
It had been a big night. There was a bonfire at Andy’s out on County Road 30. The bulk of the crowd had come and gone, leaving David, Lauren, Andrea, Julianne and Andy. The five sat next to the dying fire talking. It was less than a month to graduation, after which the friends would have their last summer together before they left home to find their places in the world. They planned on spending every moment possible together until Andy shipped off for basic training in August. After that, everyone else would be going their separate ways to different colleges across the country.
Allison and David were in their second year of serious dating, and were deciding whether they wanted to stay together after the summer. A lot of the decision was based off how the summer went. He was headed off to tech school in Arizona, while she was planning on attending a big college on the east coast. It was a difficult choice for both of them, knowing that it would be hard not being together after two years, but each knowing that the other would change with the college experience.
Allison leaned back into David to kiss him, then settled into his arms with a content smile.
“Ya’ll ready to graduate?” Andy asked, leaning back into the lawn chair.
“What, are you stupid? Course we are,” Julianne retorted in her deep-south accent.
“I don’t know,” Andrea said. She was quieter and more thoughtful than everyone else. “It’s going to be so hard, getting up in the morning and having nothing to do. I know I should be sick to death of school, and I am looking forward to not having to do any homework, but it’s been my life for thirteen years now, my whole goal has been to graduate. I don’t know. Its just . . . being done with it is going to be like being lost.”
“And if you dint take all them hard classes you wouldn’t be worrying ‘bout homework,” David said, resting his chin on Allison’s shoulder. Andrea blushed self consciously, knowing that it was her fault to take a full schedule of advanced classes.
“Don’ worry bout him none darlin’,” Julianne said, taking Andrea’s hand and patting it. “He’s just jealous he couldn’t do it.”
“Yes ma’am. What is it you took over the summer? Calculus?”
“Calc two,” Andrea mumbled. “The second one.”
“And you took it for fun. I know I couldn’t do that.”
“Just shut up honey,” Allison said, patting his cheek. “It’s her choice.”
“Okay.”
David nuzzled Allison’s neck, his whiskery chin making her shiver.
“You need a shave dear,” she said.
“I know. I was waiting until I absolutely had to.”
“Well I say you absolutely have to.”
“Fine. You absolutely have to entertain me while I do it.”
Allison shook her head. “No, I don’t think I do. At least not till you’re done.”
“Is that a promise?” David asked.
“With crossed fingers, yeah.”
“Then it don’t count and I don’t shave,” David mumbled, relaxing on her shoulder, his eyes sliding shut.
“What’s the matter hun?”
“Its two in the morning and I’m tired,” he muttered back.
“Oh, poor baby,” she said with a small giggle, pulling his arms around her. He didn’t respond again.
Four Years Later
I sat up, bleary eyed and hung over. Dim light shown in the window, informing me it was time to get up. I heard a clunk as Donny pulled his boots on and clomped across the room. He flicked on the light, and the 60 watt bulb hanging from the ceiling fan had more semblance to a three hundred watt floodlight aimed straight at my optic nerve. I fell backwards, clutching my aching head.
“**** Donny, warnin’ woulda been nice.”
“Oh. I’m turnin’ on the light.” He turned it off, then back on. “That better for ya?”
“Yer an *******.”
He poured some beans into the coffee grinder, then put the lid on and flicked the switch, making sure to push it down onto the counter so every loose screw and piece of silverware and cup rattled, filling the cabin with a pitch-less buzz.
“Donny!” It was Greg, the oldest boy on the crew. He was getting up into his sixties and was intolerant of antagonizing already miserable people, especially me.
“Sorry.” Donny picked up the grinder and dumped the grounds into the coffee maker.
“Hot damn,” Pink groaned as he sat up. It sounded like he had the same sickness as I did.
“Y’ boys sound like you got a bad case o’ th’ brown bottle flu,” Greg said.
“Naw, bottle was clear, just couldn’t see through it till it was empty,” Slim said, joining the conversation as he stood up and staggered to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the bottle of hangover cure and drank half of it straight out of the bottle.
“Slim, hook me up,” I said, holding up a hand.
“You sober ‘nuff to catch?” he asked.
“Yeah . . .”
The bottle slapped my palm and fell to the ground below my bunk.
“Naw . . .”
I rolled onto my side and made a half-assed attempt to jump down, resulting in a not-quite controlled flop onto the hardwood floor.
“Y’ all right?” Greg asked me.
I laid still for a moment absorbing the pain.
“Crock?”
“Ow,” I moaned, rolling off my stomach to grab the hangover cure, twisting the lid off and downing the rest of it. I got slowly to my feet, careful to avoid straining and thus keeping my swollen brain from popping my skull.
“Who puked in my boot?” Pink asked, peering down into his stovepipe bootleg.
Ignoring him, I sat down on Donny’s mattress and began the long and difficult process of finding my other boot, putting it on and getting some coffee into me.
“Yer other boot’s out’n th’ parkin’ lot,” Greg told me, sipping his coffee.
I squinted at him in the poor light. “How’d it get out there?”
“Y’ chucked it at Slim cause y’ thought he was cheatin’ at cards,” he said.
“Sheit,” I said to myself, limping lopsidedly to the door and yanking it open.
In the five am darkness, I could just see the toe of my boot hiding underneath my truck. Not wanting to exert myself, I hopped in my truck and started it, and backed it up. I shut it off once I saw I could reach my boot without too much effort. Slamming the door, I
made a few lame efforts to pick it up. Finally snagging it on my toes, I flopped inside, the heavy leather clunking loudly on the cedar deck. Falling backwards into a chair, I pulled my boot the rest of the way on and took the cup of coffee Donny handed me.
“Thanks bud,” I said, sipping the steaming, tar colored liquid. My headache eased a bit as I drank a little deeper. My swollen tongue relished in a taste other than dehydration and bile.
“Whats on the agenda for the day?” I asked.
“Dunno. Mark tolt’ us to take the day off. I’us gonna head into town an’ play some pool, but I might stay here an’ relax,” Greg said.
Closing my eyes, I tried to remember what I had planned out for today. I rarely take any days off, even to nurse a hangover this bad. When I relax too much I tend to get stir crazy, and when that happens I start thinkin’ too much. When I start thinkin’ I start drinkin’, and when I start drinkin’ I can’t stop.
“Dint Mark say somethin’ bout that fence over borderin’ the BLM land bein’ down?” I asked.
“Yeap.” Greg was dealing out a game of solitaire to himself.
“Greg, I swear you never put them damn cards down,” Pink said, joining us at the table, rubbing his unshaven face.
“Better cards than hangovers,” Greg replied, looking down at the cards strewn across the table. “Ye’ll learn that someday.”
Pink rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Whatever.”
Thirty minutes later found me out in the plains runnin’ fence, lookin’ for the section that was down. My boss had told me which fence the break was in, but hadn’t told me exactly where it was. This particular fence happened to be a fourteen mile stretch that spanned four rivers and two ditches with no bridges to cross on. I figured it was a good waste of time, especially given the thoughts that were flooding my brain. I needed to be alone.
It almost seemed that whenever I managed to shake off the thoughts and feelings that so often haunt my sober mind, they had to come back and make up for lost time. The faces of my friends float in front of my vision, glaring at me, whispering misgivings into my ears daring me to hurt everyone else like I had hurt them. I didn’t need to see them to know the depth of the pain I had caused. It had scarred me deeply to do what I had done. I had made a promise to my friends to never leave them. I had made a promise to Allison, one I had intended to keep despite all the promises I’d made and broken.
I swung the pliers viciously at the post, burying the staple puller deep into the dried and cracked wood. I examined the break. Someone else’s cattle had stampeded and gone through the old wire like a freight train. Pieces of snapped wire and broken-off fenceposts lay scattered in the sagebrush and buffalo grass. Sighing, I pulled on my gloves and began sorting out the strands of tangled wire. It was old, and wouldn’t have held up to another harsh winter anyway.
I was rolling up the last piece of rusted wire when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out from the cluster**** of snuff cans, lighters, chapstick, fencing staples, and other odds and ends. The display screen was so scratched up I couldn’t read the caller ID, so I flipped the lid open and answered.
“Y’ello?”
“Hey.”
It was Curly, one of the fellas I hang out with in town sometimes.
“Whatchou up to man?”
He was still drunk from last night.
“Nothin’. Jist workin off a hangover. You?”
“Uh, well, las’ night my woman got a burr up her *** an’ drove off with my truck.”
“And you want me to find it?”
“Well, no. I know where it is. I jist ain’t got the money to git it back. She sold it to the junkyard an’ they want four hunnert dollars for it.”
“Why don’t you just show ‘em the registration that’s got your name on it?”
There was a slight pause. “****, how come I dint think of that?” and the line went dead. I looked at the screen, which told me the line was disconnected.
I flipped my phone closed and tucked it back down into its pocket. I walked up to the cab and grabbed the gallon water jug from the passenger seat and drank deeply, letting a little excess run down my sweaty chest. My headache wasn’t getting any better, but it wasn’t getting worse neither.
I hopped up to the bed of the truck and tossed off five or six spools of new wire, a fence stretcher, some steel posts, and a post driver. I started by pounding in new posts every eight paces. By the time they were all in, I had smashed three fingers, knocked myself in the head once and dropped the thirty pound driver on my toe. I took a twenty minute break for a smoke and a few drinks of water, then went back to work.
I worked until I could barely see, splicing strands, stretching them so tight you could shoot an arrow two hundred yards off them. I got the last tie on and decided it was a good time to call it quits. I’d skipped four meals and my stomach was informing me that it was past empty.
I threw all the **** onto the bed and started up the truck and headed back to the bunk house.
I lay on my bunk, staring up at the ceiling while my stomach digested the thirty two ounce porterhouse steak I’d just eaten. The boys were at the table playing cards, but I wasn’t in the mood for losing money. The last night I had shared with Allison was replaying over and over in my mind.
“Davey?” she asked me.
“Mhhmm?”
“What’re we gonna do?”
“I dunno honey. I can’t lose this chance to get a full ride. UTI is gonna pay for all my schooling, and I’m guaranteed a job anywhere in the country.”
“I know. I just . . .” she stopped.
“You what?”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You ain’t gonna lose me. You know that.”
She sighed, readjusting her head on my shoulder. “I know what you said. But sometimes . . . I just feel like I don’t hardly have a hold on you at all, like you’re ready to run at the next breath of wind.”
I chuckled, brushing her hair with my fingers. “I wouldn’t leave you.”
She was silent a moment. “Promise?”
It was barely audible. I could have mistaken it for the dying fire popping and hissing.
“I promise.”
I sat up, sweating and gulping air like someone had just given me a fifteen minute swirly. The boys at the table were still laughing, passing chips back and forth, throwing back shots, unaware of my sudden outburst. I threw my legs over the edge of the mattress and hopped down to the floor, pulled on my boots and practically flew out the door.
“Where’s he goin so fast?” Pink asked. I heard someone yell my name, but I slammed the truck door, fired up the vehicle and roared out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind me.
I found myself at the bar in Thurman. Thurman Wyoming, the smallest little ****hole this side of hell, so far away from anything else its debatable whether or not anybody outside the community knows its there.
I was sitting at the bar, staring off into space, wondering what all my friends were up to. Andy was in his fourth year of the military and either thinking about reenlisting or going back to civilian life. No telling what he might do. Nobody thought he was dumb enough to enlist in the Army. Julianne would have moved someplace tropical, waiting for her knight in shining armor to come and save her from herself. She was never sure what she was going to do with the rest of her life. And Allison. What would she be doing? She might have gone on to college, like she told me. Or she might have gone into the workforce after I left.
I distantly noticed someone sat down next to me, but didn’t give it any second thought. I was jerked out of my reverie with a jolt when the bartender set a shot glass and a bottle down in front of me. I pushed them away, telling him I didn’t have any money.
“It’s on me,” the person next to me said, who on closer examination was a woman. A very attractive woman. I stared for a moment, taking her in. She was a few inches shorter than me, slender, clean work clothes on, black cowboy hat, longish blonde hair much like Allison. But it was her eyes that captivated me. For a second, all the thoughts vanished from my mind. Her dark green eyes sparkled with humor and friendliness.
“Thank’y,” I said hoarsely, pouring a shot and downing it to bring myself back to reality and try to cover up my shock.
“Doin’ some heavy thinkin’ there cowboy,” she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. I nodded, suddenly reminded why I was here.
“Y’ could say that,” I replied, tossing back another shot. I tried to push Allison’s memory from my head.
We sat in silence for a moment, before she stuck out a hand.
“Name’s Lauren,” she said.
“Crock,” I replied, taking her hand. She had a fairly firm grip for her size.
“Please tell me that’s short for somethin’ an’ not that your parents actually named you that,” she said with a good natured laugh.
“Short for Crockett,” I said. “Real name’s Dave. Somewhere along the line someone called me Davey, someone else tacked on Crockett, so the boys call me Crock.”
“What spread?” she asked.
“Jeffry’s,” I answered.
“Been there for a while?”
“Few years, yeah.”
She looked at me with a half smile. “You gonna keep on playin’ tough or are you gonna act interested?” she asked.
I scrambled to come up with an answer, but a loud voice from behind me cut off whatever thought process had begun.
“What’n’the hell d’ you think yer doin with her?”
Lauren jumped up to my defense. “He warnt doin’ nothing Jake, leave him be!”
“I warnt talkin’ to you,” he snarled, trying to push her aside.
“Jake, listen to me. He was jist sittin’ there alone so I thought I’d talk to him a bit.”
Jake brushed her off and sat on the stool next to me.
“I’m on’y gonna tell you once, redneck,” he breathed. “Stay away from her.”
I looked straight ahead.
“I’m talkin’ to you,” he yelled, slamming a large fist down on the bar. I proceeded to pour myself a shot, and was in the process of drinking it when he slapped it out of my hand. The glass shattered against the mirror on the wall in front of me.
“An’ I’m on’y gonna tell you once to mind your own damn business,” I said.
“What’d you say to me?” he whispered. The bar had gone deadly silent.
“Y’ heard me jist fine y’ deaf sack o’ ****,” I said.
“You little punk,” he growled, standing up and kicking his stool over backwards. “Git up!”
I stayed seated, calmly reaching over the bar to grab another shot glass. I poured my last one, and as I set the bottle down my left hand flew up to clock Jake in the mouth. He staggered backwards into a poker table. I took off my hat and shucked my coat, waiting for him to recover. He stood up, shaking his head in surprise. Blood ran from several splits in his lip. He spit out a stream of pink, and came at me again, fists raised. I ducked under his first wild swing and sent another fireball to his nose. He faltered, and I drilled him one last time across the jaw. The fight was pretty much over, but my blood was boiling and I was still itching to dish out a beating. I grabbed his belt and shirt, and with a growl tossed his large frame over the pool table. He landed in a heap, breathing hard but not moving a whole lot. Satisfied, I pulled on my coat and plopped my hat back on my head, tossed back the last drink I’d poured, and walked out the door. A few of the boys I knew tipped their hats as I passed them smoking their cigarettes on the porch. I started my truck and left town in a cloud of diesel and rubber smoke.
I woke up not an hour after I dropped Allison off at home after the party. My heart was pounding and my mind was screaming at me to run. Panic took complete control of my body. I threw a few clothes, my gun and a few other things into my truck and it was balls to the walls to get the hell out of town. I went the only direction I knew- north. I drove all day, and finally stopped that evening, out of gas and starving from missing three meals. I got a meal at the café and slept in my truck that night, then inquired about jobs at the mercantile. I was told to go out to Jeffry’s Canyon Ranch. I was originally hired on for the summer, but that fall Mark asked me to stay on as one of the permanent hands. Having no other plans, I obliged.
I rolled up to the house at four am, hammed up enough to calm myself down but not quite drunk enough to tip off the State Patrol. A light was still on in the bunk, and a rectangle of yellow shown out on the gravel drive. I grabbed the bottle from the makeshift holder I’d rigged up out of baling wire and headed inside. Greg didn’t look up as I entered.
“Mornin’ there, sugar,” he said, squinting down at his solitaire.
“Pink’s right,” I said, wobbling over to my bunk. “You never put them cards down.”
“Keeps m’ brain workin’,” he replied.
“I guess it could be crossword puzzles,” I said, hanging my hat on the peg on the wall. I hopped up to my mattress and kicked off my boots, not caring if I woke anyone up or not.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Sure thang.” Donny was talking in his sleep.
“Why, thanks darlin’,” I said back.
“Warnt talkin’ t’ you,” Donny muttered, then rolled onto his stomach and said something into his pillow. I took another long drink from the bottle and drifted off to sleep, my mind divided between thinking about Allison and fantasies of the girl at the bar.
The next day found me and the boys out throwing out all the bad hay from the stack behind the horse barn. Last winter, the rabbits had chewed a hole in the tarp we laid over the stack and the snow got in and melted, ruining a lot of our stores. The cows would eat it; cows eat anything, but it would make the horses sick.
Pink and me were up on top of the stack, sorting out good from bad and tossing the bad sbales down to Greg, Donny and Slim.
“Where’d you run off to las’ night?” Donny asked.
“Town.”
I didn’t really want to talk about it. The boys generally don’t nose into anybody’s business, but I guess my constant taking off in the middle of the night had perked their interest.
“Yeah, I git them cravin’s fer some double chocolate ice cream sometimes too,” Pink said, spitting a stream of chaw between his teeth.
“Where you git that ice cream that’s got booze in it?” Donny asked, blatantly ignoring Pink’s attempt at changing the object of conversation. I’m pretty used to his insensitivity, but sometimes it cuts pretty deep. Donny’s ordinarily a nice guy, but he doesn’t seem to realize that there is a line between inappropriate and get-your-***-whooped impolite. Greg slapped him in the back of the head.
“What?” Donny asked, unaware he had said anything wrong.
“Donny, git the **** outta here,” Slim said.
“Why? I d . .”
“Leave,” Slim said shortly, pointing.
“Aight.” He hopped off the trailer and walked away talking to himself.
Slim watched him go with contempt.
“One’a these days I’s gonna have to explain that to ‘im. Sorry bout that Crock.”
I didn’t say anything, just continued pitching bales down to Greg.
They knew somewhat about what had happened. I didn’t have to explain much after waking up every night crying out to Allison.
Slim pulled out his can and twisted it open, loading up his lip with chew. I clapped, holding out my hand. He tossed the can up to me and I packed my lip full. We worked in silence until lunch. We generally don’t eat lunch since we’re so far away from the house, but today we made up for a missed meal.
We sat on the deck, scattered on the various rocking chairs and stools. Everyone looked up in interest as an unfamiliar pickup came rolling around the Big House, throwing up dust in its wake. The beat up old Ford 3/4 ton slid to a stop next to my truck, and the door opened. Lauren hopped out, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. She slammed the truck door and peeled off her gloves, smacking them on her dusty thigh to straighten out the fingers.
“What can we do for ya?” Greg asked, standing up to greet her.
“I’m a’lookin’ for that feller right there,” she said, pointing at me. I stood up and set down my samich.
“Yeap. What’cha need?” I asked, getting a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Well first off, I’d like to apologize for Jake’s behavior last night,” she said. I nodded, leaning against a porch post.
“S’all right.”
She pulled off her hat and scratched her head. “He’s my ex boyfriend, an’ he gets real jealous.”
I nodded again. “That’s what I figured.”
She looked up at me, squinting in the harsh sunlight.
“And I dint drive all the way out here to apolergize. I’us wonderin’ if you were gonna be busy Friday night.”
I shook my head. “Wasn’t plannin’ on anything.”
“Let’s meet up at the bar say, round six?”
“Sounds good to me.”
She gave me an irresistible smile and bade me good day, hopped in her pickup and drove away. Soon as her truck was out of sight, I heard a series of low whistles.
“Damn son,” Slim said. “Whatever y’ do, don’t let that one go. She’s a diamond in a pig trough.”
Instead of replying, I went inside and sat down at the table, laying my head in my hands.
****. **** **** ****.
There was no denying I had interest in Lauren. But there was no denying the fact that the guilt about what I’d done to Allison still hung on my shoulders like a newborn ox with a full sized plow. Or the fear that I might do it again.
The week went by uneventfully. A bull with an attitude problem broke through the fence over to another ranch and beat the hell outta some guys truck. We didn’t have to pay for the damages, but we did have to promise we would keep a better eye on the animal.
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was a wreck. I didn’t sleep at all Thursday night, and I ran out of smokes so I had to borrow some from Slim.
“Damn Crock, what th’ hell’s th’ matter with ya? Yer actin like you ain’t never be’d on a date afore!”
I glared at Slim where he was sitting watching Greg play solitaire. I took a drag on my cigarette, making the end glow bright red.
“He jist nervous, is all,” Greg said, picking up his cards and shuffling them. “Datin’s differnt than screwin’. All’s ya gotta do t’ git laid is get Johnny up an’ keep ‘im up till yer done. Datin’s kinda like gettin’ to know the broad so’s y’know what yer gettin’ into.”
Slim shook his head. “Hell, what’s the point, anyways? ****, when yer datin’ y’ get the whole shebang- PMS, mood swings, all that ****.”
“Y’know why they call it PMS don’t ya?” Pink asked from where he was reading a Cabela’s catalogue.
“Naw. Why?”
“’Cause mad cow disease was already taken.”
The boys all cackled with glee, then set out to tell the worst sexist jokes I’d ever heard. I slid off the bunk to the floor and went and stood out on the porch, watching the sun sink towards the horizon. I took another drag, and dropped the little remaining paper on the ground and stepped on it to put it out. I blew a few smoke rings, then let the rest of my breath out. I checked my watch. Almost five. It was time to go. I smeared on some deodorant, hoping to cover up the fact that I was sweating bullets.
“Y’ll be fine,” Greg assured me. “All’s y’ gotta do is act like y’ usually do an’ it’ll go fine.”
I rolled another smoke to calm my quickly unraveling nerves. Allison’s face was looming in the back of my mind, an ever present audience to every doubt and fear that crossed me conscience. I tried to push her away, but she wouldn’t go.
Calm down! It ain’t no big deal. Lauren’s a nice gal.
I continued trying to reassure myself that everything would be fine. Our last conversation had gone fairly well, but I suddenly realized that I didn’t have the faintest idea what we would be doing. Allison and I had gotten to know each other through school because we had mostly the same classes. This was totally different. I wouldn’t be able to ask for help with my math homework this time. My luck, it would be just the two of us, and my mind would go blank leaving her with a speechless retard cowboy.
I angrily shoved these worries to the back of my head with a twist of the key. The diesel fired up, roaring for a second until the choke turned down, then it idled smoothly. I mashed the pedal to the floor, spinning the truck out of its parking spot and goosed it down the road towards town.
I found Lauren sitting on the hood of her truck, chatting idly with two other girls. She broke into a huge grin when I cut the engine and hopped out.
“Glad to see you showed up,” she said, reaching out to take my hand.
“I hope y' didn’t doubt me that much,” I said, taking her hand and hopping up onto the hood to sit next to her.
“Ladies, this is Crock,” she said, turning to her friends.
“Crock, this is Jessie and her sister Mary.” I nodded to each of them, and they smiled back seemingly unaware of my nerves.
“What’yall gonna do?” Jessie asked me. I looked at Lauren.
“Ain’t got a clue,” I answered. “I’m pretty unimaginative at stuff like this.”
Lauren laughed. “I dunno. I figure just hang out an’ talk.” She looked over at me. “That okay with you?”
I nodded, but my stomach clenched with anxiety. Talking wasn’t at the top of my list of talents. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
We sat there and talked for a bit, me mostly listening. They talked a lot about some rodeo they’d gone to last week down in Walden, talked about a few of the rides, but especially about Beau Ledoux, Chris Ledoux’s son.
“He is so cute!” Jessie said, “But he’s got a girlfriend.”
“Did you see that Orange Bandit guy? The one with only one arm? He rode without a bridle or halter or anything, and he was snapping the bullwhip the entire time!”
“And his truck was so sexy!” Lauren said. “The dually Cummins with the bullhorn stacks! I almost orgasmed when he pulled in.”
They continued on that subject for a while, then turned the topic over to me.
“You aint from ‘round here,” Mary said. “What brought you way up here?”
I shifted tensely, scrambling for a way to divert the direction the conversation was taking. Lauren noticed my discomfort and answered for me.
“He knew what kind of hotties live up here in Wyoming,” she said. That brought laughter from the girls and a great internal sigh of relief from me.
“Well, we gotta go help pa muck out stalls,” Jessie said. “Sorry to leave yall.”
Lauren waved it away. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
After an exchange of good-byes and see-you-laters, me and Lauren sat there all by our lonesome.
“So. You wanna go somewhere?” she asked. I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Your truck or mine?” she asked.
“Don’ care,” I said. “Mine probly gets better mileage.”
“Lets take yours then,” she said, hopping to the ground. “I love diesels anyways.”
She locked her truck, then clambered up into the passenger seat. I fired up the engine, giving the gas a few pumps. She shivered.
“I love that sound,” she said with a huge grin. I smiled, knowing the feeling.
“Where you wanna go?” I asked. She shrugged indifferently.
“Somewhere I ain't been, I guess.”
I took off without any further delay. I knew the perfect spot.
We rode down the highway well over the speed limit, but I knew the highway patrol didn’t watch along here because there weren’t enough places to hide and clock. Fifteen minutes passed with nothing but the sound of the engine and Justin McBride drifting softly out of the speakers. I finally found the turnoff I was looking for and slid the truck sideways off the road, just to show off a bit.
“I noticed you warnt real comfortable talkin’ bout where you came from,” she said quietly. I really wished we hadn’t gone this far out of town now.
“Its . . . real hard to talk about,” I answered, gripping the steering wheel.
She sat for a moment, choosing her words.
“I know . . . it might be something you don’t want to talk about, but I can tell you’re hurtin’ real bad about somethin’.” She paused, as if she could tell that what she was going to say could make or break her chance of getting to know me. “It might seem like I’m bein’ a bit forward, but I hate seein’ someone hurt like you are. If you’re comfortable, I’d be more than happy to listen.
I felt my eyes start to burn. I hadn’t shed a tear over the course of the last four years. Hearing someone voice concern about it, even though I didn’t know her hardly at all, made me choke up.
I sat silent in the evening darkness, ordering my emotions to get in line. My mind raced over what two options I had- I could tell Lauren all about what was on my mind, or I could keep it to myself. It all rested on two things- if I could give in enough to talk, and if I wanted to share my darkest secrets with someone I didn’t know. From the little I knew about her, she was a girl I wanted to get to know better.
My internal struggle must have shown, because she looked over at me.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said softly, her bright green eyes full of concern and sympathy.
I clenched my teeth, and began to talk.
“I met Allison at the beginning of my junior year . . .”
We were in the three classes together out of the four in our schedules. We had math first, wood shop third, and weights class fourth. I thought she was cute as all get out, and I found out that she was generally smarter than the rest of the class combined. She sat right in front of me in math, and I spent more time picking on her and distracting her than anything. Finally one day she asked me if I was going to ask her out or continue to piss her off. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much had she not done it with the entire class watching. But, I asked her to the next dance and we hit it off well. Soon we were inseparable. I would usually go over to her house after school and hang out, doing homework or playing video games, or just sitting and talking until my parents called and told me to come home. We were like family, welcome in the other’s house without question.
We got more serious in our dating and were soon planning our schedule around our time together. We even went as far as to discuss where we wanted to live after high school, and if our possible jobs were compatible. Close to the end of our senior year, I was planning on asking her to marry me. Then one night I upped and ran.
“Why did you run?” Lauren asked me. We were sitting on the hood, leaning back on the windshield.
I shook my head, letting the tears stream down my face. I’d given up on trying to stop them hours ago. “I don’t know. Maybe I was scared. Or maybe I wasn’t ready. I don’t know.”
She took my hand in hers, stroking it. “And you haven’t talked to any of them?” I shook my head.
“Sometimes I think about going back, but I don’t know if I could do it,” I said.
“I think you should,” she told me. “You need to come to terms with it or it’s gonna eat you up. You can’t keep going on like this.”
She wasn’t telling me anything new. I knew everything she was telling me. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit that I needed help.
“You can go on like this, sitting at bars all alone, beatin’ the crap outta people, drinkin’ yourself to death. You can do that much as you want. But you won’t last.” She sat forward and turned to face me.
“I know. I don’t care. The quicker I die the better.” I was a little mad, having someone tell me what I already knew.
“Well maybe someone else does care,” she said, leaning back onto the windshield and crossing her arms. Frustrated, I jumped down to the ground and walked to the edge of the steep hill overlooking the valley. I rolled a smoke and lit it, staring up into the depths of the midnight sky. Stars twinkled down at me, for a second giving me a distraction from the emotions tearing me apart. The cool breeze drifted past me, another small respite from the turmoil in my chest.
I felt a hand in the small of my back, and Lauren stepped up next to me. She reached up and grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth and tossed it down the hill. I started to complain, but she put a finger over my lips.
“Ssshh . . .” she hushed me. She took my hand in hers, looking up at me with a wistful expression. She rested her head on my chest, wrapping her free arm around my waist. I felt an emotion rising in my chest that I didn’t recognize. Tentatively, I returned the embrace. Almost without realizing it, I felt feelings I hadn’t even dreamed of in years. I found that, even though I hadn’t even known her all that long, and that this was just the first date, I trusted her. In the blossoming romance, I could see that something was happening between us that I never had expected to ever happen again after Allison.
I closed my eyes, praying that I didn’t screw this one up.
One Year Later
The truck came to a stop outside the house. Shaky fingers held the slip of paper with the address scribbled hastily with a carpenters pencil. I tucked the paper back into my pocket and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. I thought fleetingly for a second that I could just start up the truck and drive away, but discarded that thought almost immediately. I didn’t drive two thousand miles to turn tail and run. I gripped the door handle and pulled it open, stepping slowly onto the runner board, then to the pavement. Wobbly knees slowly took me up the drive. I twirled the wedding band on my finger as I thought of Lauren, sitting back at the hotel waiting for me to return. She had offered to come with, but understood when I told her that I needed to do this alone.
I found myself on the welcome mat long before I wanted to. I punched the doorbell with a weak finger, and waited. I heard footsteps, then the door swung open to reveal a man a little older than myself.
“May I help you?” he inquired, thoroughly confused at the sudden appearance of a large cowboy on his front porch in the middle of Memphis Tennessee.
“Is Allison home?” I asked, taking off my hat and turning it nervously in my hands. Before he could answer, a woman appeared at his elbow.
She started to speak before her eyes locked with mine. I saw a tear begin to well up in the corner of her eye. Noticing the tension, the man said he would give us a minute. He gave her a peck on the cheek, then disappeared into the massive house.
“Allison I . . .” I started to say, but my throat closed up and I couldn’t continue. I felt my own eyes begin to burn. I pulled my bandana out of my pocket and dabbed my eyes. She covered her mouth as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. I wanted to reach out and hold her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not after what I’d done to her.
After a moment, she regained her composure.
“Will you forgive me?” I asked. I didn’t expect her to. I wouldn’t forgive me. If some girl did this to me, I would kick the ***** off my porch for even asking, but I asked anyway.
She looked at me coolly, hiding her emotions behind a mask that I couldn’t read through.
“You’re the biggest ******* I have ever met,” she said finally, crossing her arms. I nodded.
“Me too.” She didn’t say any more, so I figured it was all said and done. I turned around and began walking away.
“Dave,” she called. I half turned back, hat still in hand.
She ran down the steps towards me and wrapped her arms around me.
“Even *******s deserve forgiveness,” she whispered. I hugged her back fiercely, relieved beyond words. Though I couldn’t say it, she understood fine.
Thank you.