Leaving Home Part two
In the house I wasted 15 minutes in the bathroom wondering what the day was going to be like, when I returned to the shed she was business as usual. Not a lot of small talk or anything of that nature. We worked side by side getting a lunch put together and into the pickup. Once it was loaded I drove a combine to the first field, left it and rode back with her for the other one, one might say the atmosphere was frosty. There was tension in the cab that was undeniable. I was loading a water cooler into the truck when I spotted a semi-tractor pulling what looked to be a 40″ trailer with six-foot sides coming up the driveway. Yup, we could unload a lot of wheat into that baby before it was full.
As Amos was parking the truck she told me to get started on the first field, she’d show Amos where she wanted the truck and be about a half field behind me. I was just driving the 6600 out of the yard when I noticed a pickup truck pulling in behind Amos. That would be his ride back for another truck and trailer. We didn’t stop for lunch until well after three. I wolfed down my food and was looking for more when she tossed me a bag of fresh oatmeal raisin cookies.
I nodded, “Thanks, I was hungry.”
She laughed, “No shit Sherlock, you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“I wasn’t hungry when I got up. That’s all.”
She scoffed, “Bullshit, you eat like a horse no matter what time of day or night it happens to be. Don’t do that again Dave, I mean skip meals. I need you to have strength and stamina to do this job. When school starts you’ll need to talk with your prof’s about getting homework assignments ahead during corn harvest. They used to do that when I went, they probably still do considering how many kids from the local area attend.”
I was concerned, “What if it rains a lot? I can’t afford to miss that much school.”
“If it rains you go to classes. It’s supposed to be a dry fall so the moisture levels will drop quickly. We had it all done in ten days last year and only had to do three all-nighters. The guys will be here as well, not in the combines but keeping everything else rolling. I’ve contemplated buying my own rig to haul and eliminate the middleman. Then I think about the cash outlay and all the extra maintenance that goes along with owning a truck. No thanks. Amos has always been good to me, and he needs work as well.”
I was curious, “Why don’t you have your own grain bin’s? That would save on hauling and drying fees.”
“Jerry never wanted them. The cost to put them up and the maintenance involved didn’t make sense. You still have to pay for the drying whether you have your own dryer, or dryers, and buy the gas. Or have somebody else make the investment in dryer’s and you pay the drying fees? Most guys have them for storage waiting for a better price later on. Jerry’s theory was it’s better to have money in your pocket now than hope you will later. As you well know, the market doesn’t always go up, there’s been some mighty lean years in the past.”
We worked until the first trailer was full, which was just after eight that evening and headed back to the ranch after covering the trailer and our combine hoppers with tarps. The second trailer was in place and would be ready in the morning when we were. The next eight days were like the first with the exception of the last day when we pushed hard to get ahead of rain. At 11:39 that night we pulled the tarp over the trailers and hoppers as raindrops began to gently fall. At the house she told me to sleep in because she had no intention of rising before her body told her she had to.
It seemed we were back on solid ground and talking again when the next fiasco occurred. I’d spent the week getting everything maintained on the combines, changed from the grain heads to corn heads and making sure all would be ready to go when it was time for corn. As we ate supper that Friday night the phone rang, walking back into the room she had the handheld under her arm to muffle her voice.
“Some girl for you. Says her name is Stacy. Do you want to take it?”
My heart skipped a beat or two, did I want to take the call? Is the pope catholic?
“Yes, I’ll take it. Thanks.”
I made my way into the hall to speak with her. I’d met her at the A&W but never thought I’d hear from her. When I asked how she knew where to call she told me she knew I worked for Mrs. Brantmeier.
“Thanks for calling Stacy. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Are you done for the week then Dave?” She asked.
“Nope, I work tomorrow but I have Sunday off. Why?”
She was giggling, “I thought maybe we could do something together. Maybe go to the lake or something like that, a bunch of us are going. You could come along. There’ll be beer and pop and lots of food.”
I got the time and destination telling Stacy I was sure Mrs. B would know where it was at. Walking back into the kitchen to help with dishes she looked at me.
“Stacy? Is that Stacy Kirkwood? Do you know?”
“I think that’s her last name. Do you know her?” I responded.
She stammered a moment before speaking, “Look, I don’t want to put a damper on your plans, and no, I don’t know her beyond who she is. But I do know her father quite well, and he’s a real piece of work. He owns Fast Auto Used Cars. Says his specialty is finding and selling the best in fast cars, you know, street legal but souped up. I happen to know he finds junkers, sticks a little money into them and sells them as cherry. His motto is, “looks good, runs good”. He isn’t a nice man and from what I hear his kids are pretty much the same. So, if you go out with her be damned careful.”
Feeling like a kid I responded, “It isn’t a date. She invited me to a party at Crystal lake, that’s all. She said you’d know where it’s at.”
Mrs. B. turned hot under the collar, “Stay away from that crowd Dave. Shit, I know who she runs with, they’re trouble, every damned one of them. Did she say there’d be beer and pop? She did? Well I can guarantee there will be no pop and a ton of pressure for you to drink along with the rest of them. I’m telling you, it’s trouble waiting to happen.”
I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about Mrs. B’s words. I knew in my heart she was sincere, but I was going to have to step out and make some decisions on my own sooner or later. It may as well be sooner. On Sunday I waited until just after eleven to get directions to the lake and told Mrs. B I’d be home by supper if it was a blowout. When I got to the secluded part of the lake where the party was I found myself uncomfortable. You know, the inner feeling that something is off center, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was going to turn around but decided to at least check things out.
Mrs. B had been right, there was nothing but beer and Boones Farm. Even though I didn’t drink beer or wine, I could always melt ice in a cup and drink that. No, what really bothered me was that none of them were fully clothed. Most of the guys were in their underwear or ripped off shorts, and the girls, well that was an entirely different animal. There were a few in bra and panties, but most were only in panties. What the hell had I been invited to? At 19 you’d think I was a prude to not be interested in all that flesh. Then it dawned on me, all of them had probably done the deed with one another at some point. I had to ask myself, do I really want to be a part of this? I remembered my older brothers’ words, “why would anybody want sloppy seconds or thirds?” I had no actual idea what that would be like, but I knew what the inference was.
As soon as Stacy saw me she came bounding over, her overly large breasts bouncing as she ran. Throwing her arms around my neck she kissed me passionately. At least I thought it was passionately, then again, what the hell did I know? She kept telling me we needed to go in the bushes and get it on. I was too embarrassed to let her know I was a virgin and kept telling her I didn’t think it was a good idea with everyone around.
She stood back and scoffed, “You don’t wanna fuck me? Nobody doesn’t wanna fuck me. Are you some kind of gay loser or what? I thought you were cool, that’s why I invited you. Obviously I was wrong, leave loser, before I start screaming rape.”
I didn’t need any more incentive to high tail my ass outa there after that. I jumped in the truck and made haste for town. On the highway I decided to drive to Lincoln and see a movie, I hadn’t been to a movie since I’d moved. Rocky II had come out and I wanted to see if it was being shown anywhere near. As luck would have it the movie was playing in town. I pulled into the driveway just after six that evening. Mrs. B was on the porch, as I walked inside the screen door she looked at me.
“Why don’t you get a drink and join me on the porch. We need to talk.”
My first thought was that I was going to get sacked and be without anywhere to hang my hat. The college dorms were basically full, if she asked me to leave I’d be in a real pickle. I grabbed a Ne-Hi grape, a glass of ice and made my way back to the porch. She looked serious, which made me wonder all the more.
“So how was the party? Did you make any new friends?”
She was asking as if she already knew the answers. Like lawyers and police do.
“I didn’t make any friends. I didn’t stay, I went to see Rocky Two in Lincoln.”
She snickered, “You little shit, I want to see that movie. You could have taken me. I heard all about the thing at the lake. Sorry you had to go through that humiliation. One thing I am happy about is that you didn’t have sex with Stacy. I found out something very interesting this afternoon while calling around to some of my close friends.”
I was momentarily shocked, “What? About me? How would anybody know anything about me?”
“Nope. Not about you. About Stacy. She’s knocked up and since she’s screwed almost every guy in school and half the teachers, she has no idea who the father is. Or even might be. So a plan was hatched after she met you at the drive-in last week to get the new boy to sleep with her and then she could say it was his kid. Tell me I heard right and that you didn’t dip your wick in her honey pot.”