Monsters and Lollipops

by Franklin D. Lincoln

“How do I look, Liz?” Deb Raymond shouted from her perch.

  “Like a damn fool, as usual,” Liz Porelli answered.” Only higher off the ground.” Deb ignored the jab and continued to play with the steering wheel of the John Deere tractor that she was sitting on. Her long oval face was screwed up in a delighted grin; her wide mouth stretched upward at the ends and seemed to spread from ear to ear. She uttered ‘varoom, varoom’ sounds between her teeth and worked the steering wheel back and forth like a child playing driver. Deb liked to have fun and she liked to play. Today Deb was playing farmer, dressed in bib overalls. Her legs were tucked inside high topped rubber boots that had been pulled over her shoes and buckled tight by five gate like, hinged fasteners on each boot. She wore a red checked flannel shirt and her long black hair hung loose beneath a matching farmer’s cap. A red bandanna was fastened V shape around her skinny neck.

  “Why don’t you quit playing with it and start it up, you damn fool?” Liz shouted; a trace of chuckle in her voice. She reached inside the pocket of her brown, heavy polyester sweater and pulled out a Tootsie Roll Pop. She noted it was grape; one of her favorites.

  “Oh, can I?” Deb asked excitedly, like a child, her dark eyes looming large with excitement behind her round framed glasses.

  “We bought it. It’s yours. Of course you can drive it.” Liz smiled to herself, but tried to keep an indignant expression outwardly. She removed the paper from her pop and shoved the purplish ball into her mouth forming a bulge in her left cheek. She absently rolled the paper into a tiny ball between her thumb and forefinger. Then, she dropped it in her sweater pocket.

  Deb bobbed excitedly, up and down in the tractor’s seat and rubbed her hands together in delighted anticipation. She glanced around the dashboard, locating the instruments. She found the ignition key and twisted it eagerly. The engine cranked, then turned over and sputtered into life with a bellowing clatter. Deb giggled gleefully and clapped her hands together. She glanced around, found, the clutch, brake and gas pedals; placing a foot on each in succession, measuring the length of her short legs against the reach provided by the tractor. She had to slide forward to the front of the seat in order to reach, but she seemed satisfied.

  She found the gear shift stick, shoved the clutch pedal to the floor, slipped the stick into first gear, and let off on the clutch. She let it out too fast and the shiny green tractor lurched forward, taking Deb by surprise and jolting her further back into the seat. Overcoming her initial surprise, she scrambled forward on the seat, her right foot searching for the brake and her hands gripping the steering wheel in a death grip, as the tractor rolled somewhat out of control, wobbling back and forth on it huge rear tires with the wide set front wheels weaving from side to side, like a giant grasshopper, as it headed toward where Liz was standing in the parking lot of Callan’s Farm Equipment dealership.

  Liz tried to sidestep out of the way, difficult as it was to move with the quad cane she had been leaning on, but she was too slow and barely moved aside, needlessly, as the tractor whizzed past her in a gush of rushing air; Deb laughing and whooping her delight as she straightened out the wheel, shoved the accelerator to the floor, pushed in the clutch and shifted into second, drove off across the parking lot, turning the corner of the dealership store and disappearing into the open land behind the building.

  “Looks like she’s happy with it,” Stan Kraus said as he stepped up behind Liz.

  “If she liked it anymore, she probably would have run me over for sure,” Liz said, taking the pop out of her mouth and turning to the salesman that had just sold them the tractor. He was a squat middle aged man with a receding hairline that went so far back you might as well say he was bald. His round face was ruddy and he had a jovial twinkle in his eyes.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t have given you a better deal on it, Liz. But, Martin couldn’t see his way clear to cut the price any. However, we did give you some great discounts on the big garden roto tiller attachment, so you can grow your own pumpkins next year.”

  Martin Callan was the owner of the dealership and had once been a good friend of Liz’s husband, Joe. But that had been a long time ago, before Joe’s injury. Liz had had little contact with Martin over the years, but Martin’s son Roger was her Doctor and Liz held him in high esteem, even after the episode with the experimental drug for MS became a disaster. She always thought that Roger did his best with the information he was given by the pharmaceutical representatives that visited him regularly.

  “I’m sure he did the best he could,” Liz said.

  “We can deliver it on Thursday, if you like.”

  “That’d be fine,” Liz said absently, without looking at him, and shoving the Tootsie Pop back in her mouth as she was craned her neck to see if she could catch a glimpse of Deb and her new toy, in the field beyond. The light breeze teased at the curls of her hair and offered a hint of autumn chill in the sunshine of this beautiful Indian summer day.

  “But if I know Deb, she’ll want to drive it home.”

  “I’m sure she would,” Stan agreed.” But you’re not allowed to drive it on the road.”

  “That wouldn’t bother Deb any, but the last thing this world needs is Deb turned loose on the highways with a tractor. It’s bad enough she’s loose on the road with our Cherokee, much less those damned motorcycles of hers.”

  As if on queue, the tractor came barreling around the far corner of the building. The engine clamored loudly in their ears as Deb came flying past them. The tires squealed and the Deere slewed from side to side as she braked to a sudden halt, with the tires sliding across the asphalt pavement, leaving rubber tire tread marks etched indelibly into the surface of the parking lot. Deb cut the engine and bobbed up and down on the seat, once again clapping her hands with satisfaction.

  She bounded from the seat to the ground and ran excitedly, like a child toward Liz.

  “Oh, I love it! I just absolutely, totally love it! Can I drive it home?” She bubbled.

  “See what I told you,” Liz said to Stan. He nodded with a grin.

  “No you can’t,” Liz said to Deb sternly.” You can’t drive that thing on the highway.”

  “Why not? I can drive anywhere. Didn’t you see how good I could drive it just now?”

  “Yeah, I saw it and it should be illegal for you to drive it anywhere. Unfortunately, it’s only illegal on the road.”

  “I’ve seen farmer’s driving equipment on the road. Some of them are much bigger than my tractor.”

  “Yeah, and you curse them out every time you get behind one of them. And it’s still illegal.”

  “Well, that’s ‘cause they go so darn slow. I drive fast.”

  Stan and Liz looked at each other and both said in unison,” We Know!”

  Then Liz said,” It’s being delivered Thursday. That’s day after tomorrow. You can wait two days, can’t you?”

  Deb stuck out her lower lip in a pout,” No, I can’t,” she moaned.

  Again Stan and Liz looked at each other, nodding their heads and saying together, once more,” Yeah, we know!”

  “Couldn’t you deliver it sooner?” Deb begged.

  “I really don’t think so,” Stan said.”

  “Mr. Callan said. . . .”

  “I don’t care what he said to you. I’ll ask him myself.” She turned sharply and hurried off toward the entrance to the dealership building.

  “I’d better go head her off before she bothers him,” Liz said. She bit the remaining part of the pop off and pulled the stick from her mouth. Again, not wanting to litter, she placed the sticky stick in her sweater pocket and shuffled off, barely using her cane. She was feeling pretty good today and she felt steadier on her feet lately. She always did have her good and bad days, but since the experimental treatment, she had been having more good days than usual. Whether it was actually attributable to the drug or she was just going through a period of relatively less pain and control issues, she did not know, but if it was
because of the treatment, she felt irritated that the continued use of the drug had been suspended because of the mix up at the hospital.

  By the time Liz caught up with her, Deb had already cornered Martin Callan in his cubicle at the rear of the showroom floor. He was gazing up at her from behind his walnut desk. There was a look of surprise and total consternation on his face.

  Deb leaned over the desk, both hands flat on the polished surface and was babbling faster than the owner could process what she was saying.

  “Deb!” Liz scolded, coming up behind her.” Leave the man alone. Can’t you see he’s busy?”

  “If. . if there’s a problem. . . . . . . ?” Martin stammered.

  Deb started to rant again, but Liz clamped a hand over Deb’s mouth and pulled her upright away from the desk. Deb shook her off.” What are you doing?” She sputtered as she wriggled free of Liz’s grasp.

  “Go get in the Cherokee,” Liz ordered, shoving Deb away.” I’ll be right out.”

  Deb glared at her and stomped out.

  “I’m sorry about Deb, Martin. She gets so impulsive. She’s just so excited about the tractor.”

  Martin Callan brushed a lock of his gray streaked brown hair away from his wire glasses and back against his low forehead. He was a middle aged man; still in pretty good shape for his age, without an extra ounce of fat around his middle. He wore a blue dress shirt, open at the collar.” Yes, I know,” he agreed.” Don’t worry about it. No harm done.” He smiled warmly, but the short brush of a mustache hid his upper lip.

  “What does she want with a tractor anyways?” He asked idly.

  “You know Joe had bought that extra four acres out back of our house. She has it in her head that she can grow all our own food. I told her it’s more expensive to buy a tractor, but I think she just wants to play with it any how.”

  “Well I hope it didn’t set you back too much. I felt bad I couldn’t give you a better deal on it.”

  “That’s ok, Martin. We sold off two acres, leaving us with the four and we took out a home equity with Lew Drum at the bank downtown.”

  “Good. Good,” he said, a hint of relieved concern in his voice.” I just don’t know how you manage, is all. I know it must be hard on you with all your own medical bills and keeping Joe in a nursing home.”

  Liz didn’t like anyone knowing her financial business. She had already said too much about the financing of the tractor, but Martin certainly had a right to know that he was going to receive his money. Still, Liz took offense. His interest was bordering on none of his business. And Liz was well aware that several residents of Mandalyn had their own ideas and suspicions where Liz’s money came from. She was not about to give anyone any explanations of her business. She didn’t owe any.” We manage,” she clipped crisply, dismissing the topic of her finances.” Thanks Martin,” she said.” We’d better be getting back home. I tire easily, you know.” She started to turn away.

  “I’m sorry things didn‘t work out for you with that experimental drug program.” He said after her.

  She halted and turned back toward him. A bit of a scowl was forming and Martin Callan realized what she was thinking.” Oh, Roger hasn’t said anything to me about it. I assure you he keeps everything confidential about his patients. I read about the incident in the papers and I know there is trouble ahead for the hospital. And, probably for my son too. He won’t talk about it to me.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening with him or the hospital,” Liz said.” So far, I haven’t been contacted by anyone, but I’m sure if there is to be a law suit I’ll probably be called on.”

  “How’s Joe doing these days?” Callan asked, changing the subject.

  “Same as usual. Life functions work normally, but he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on around him. They tell me, there is still some hope of recovery, but I haven’t seen any improvement in years.”

  “I should go see him some time,” Martin said.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you,” Liz warned.” I doubt if he’ll know you. Hell, he doesn’t even know me.”

  “But still you waste your time?”

  “No. Not much anymore. I see him once a month, maybe. It’s just so hard for me. I only go if I feel strong enough.”

  “I’m really very sorry, Liz.”

  “I know, Martin. You were always a good friend to Joe.”

  *****

  Chapter Four