by Andrew Grey
She didn’t seem convinced. “I’m worried you’re trying to do too much. We’re going to try out the farmer’s market. Shouldn’t we wait to see if that works for us?”
“The building is arriving tomorrow, and they’re going to set it up for me. Javi and I are going to fit out the interior with some simple display shelves. The shed I got is for display and sales. There are half doors that fold back inside while the bottom half would stay in place. Like I said, if it doesn’t work, we can use it elsewhere. We’d just secure the doors.”
“All right. I suppose one of us can go out there a few times a day to check on things. It won’t hurt anything.”
“It isn’t like we’re going to make a fortune, but there is traffic that goes by the farm, so why not try to make the most of it?” Foster looked around. “Where’s Grandma?”
“She went into town.”
“Alone?” Foster was a little surprised. It had been a while since Grandma Katie had driven.
“She has a license and is perfectly capable of driving. I let her take my car and made sure she had a phone with her. I offered to go, but she said this was something she had to do on her own. Now go on and eat. I made sandwiches—they’re in the refrigerator.” She continued on, and Foster went inside.
He was almost too excited to eat, but he had to, and then he would go pick up Javi so they could plan what to do. He had a vision of what he wanted and the dimensions of the shed he’d purchased. So they should be able to design something that would work. He could have done this on his own, but the farm stand was Javi’s idea, and Foster wanted to include him in the realization. He also needed help if he was going to get this done.
He pulled out the plate his mother had made for him and sat down with a soda, eating rather quickly. He was glad he did because he’d just finished when the produce truck pulled into the drive. He set his dishes in the sink and went out to meet the driver.
“Afternoon,” Foster called. He’d never seen the driver before. “I’m Foster.”
“David,” the driver said, and they shook hands. “You have some asparagus?”
“Yes.” He led the way to the milking barn and down the set of steps off the mudroom to the root cellar. “I put them down here because it’s cool.” Foster turned on the light and showed David what he had.
“This is nice.”
“Picked a few hours ago.”
“Let’s get it weighed and in the truck.” David lifted a tub and Foster got another. It took three trips each, but they got them all loaded and the driver’s weights corresponded with Foster’s. David gave him a receipt.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Foster asked. “We’re cutting the second field, and if the weather holds, the third on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Sure will. Just call a few hours before you’re ready.” David inhaled. “I love asparagus.”
“I used to. Not so much now.” He smiled, and David nodded his agreement. “I feel like I should know you.”
“I was a few years ahead of you in school. David Adams. I think I was a junior when you were a freshman. We saw each other in the halls and stuff, but that was about all. You were in the school play that year.” David grinned. “No one would ever have gotten me to wear a skirt like that.”
“It was a kilt,” Foster corrected good-naturedly. “I took so much crap from the guys for that. The girls all talked about my legs for months, so I guess it evened out.”
“I bet it did.” David handed him a business card. “Call me directly if you need to, and I’ll stop by.”
“Thanks a lot.” They shook hands again.
“This is a cool place,” David said as he looked around. “Looks like you’ve got a lot going on.”
“We’re trying,” Foster said as he walked David to his truck. He said good-bye and watched as the refrigerated vehicle pulled out of the drive and turned onto the main road. Foster went to his truck and took off. He was going to be late picking up Javi.
He met him at the corner and slowed so Javi could climb in.
“I’m glad to be away,” Javi said once Foster turned the truck around. “My father’s still angry with me, but he’s stopped being mad at you.”
“Did something else happen between you?” Foster asked.
“Yeah. He fought with Mom because she’s tired of him taking the van and disappearing for hours on end. I stepped in, and he turned his anger on me because it’s easier. Dad can never stay mad at Mom, but me…. He and I have never agreed on very much.”
“For a while my dad and I didn’t get along either,” Foster said. “When I was a kid we did, but when I got older I resented all the chores and work I had to do. I told him once that I wasn’t his slave and that he could do his own work.”
“How did that go over?”
“About as well as things did with your dad a few days ago,” Foster answered as he turned into the farmyard. “Did you get something to eat?” Foster pulled to a stop and turned off the engine. Javi had nodded his answer, but the rumbling of his stomach told Foster the truth. He turned toward Javi. “How often do you go without so the others can eat?” Javi shrugged, and Foster marveled at him. “Come on.” He got out and led the way inside. He opened the refrigerator and got out lunch meat and bread, then made Javi a couple of sandwiches. He’d gotten Javi seated at the table with a plate and a Coke when he heard his mother calling through the open window.
Foster left the house and met her outside the back door.
“I thought you were working,” she asked, turning toward the kitchen.
Foster leaned closer. “He skipped lunch so the kids could have more to eat. What could I do?”
She nodded and patted him on the shoulder with a garden-dirty hand. “Of course, dear. Go on and get your planning done. Then we need to augment the herd feed and get ready for milking.” The same as every day.
“Sometimes I swear my chest aches when it’s milking time,” he quipped.
His mother laughed. “That hasn’t happened to me in a few years,” she teased and shook her head, especially when Foster shivered. He did not need to hear that. “You started it, son. Now go see to your friend.” She turned back to the garden, and Foster went inside.
He liked that his mother had referred to Javi as his friend, because that was how he thought of him. He wasn’t an employee or a farm worker—well, he was both those things, at least technically. But to Foster he was foremost his friend, and if he allowed himself to think of how they acted the last two times they were alone, maybe something more. Javi had said he liked him. And if the fact that he didn’t seem to be able to get Javi out of his head for more than a few minutes at a time…. “All right,” he said to himself, pausing with his hand on the back door. He liked Javi; he really did. Something about him touched Foster’s heart.
He wanted to let himself think that there was something between them. He wanted that so much, but Javi would be leaving once the crop was in, and Foster figured after the dustup with Javi’s dad it wasn’t likely they would ever see each other again. The Ramos family returning next year was probably not in the cards.
The weird thing was that the thought alone was enough to take the wind out of his sails. His grandmother had told him how he’d know when he’d met the right person, and what he hadn’t been able to tell her—or been willing to admit to anyone—was that Javi made him feel all those things. But as soon as he allowed himself to think it, he knew he was right, and he was in for some heartache in the near future. His choice was to make the most of the time they had or to back away and minimize the damage.
Foster pulled open the door and strode inside. Javi sat at the table, his plate empty, and Foster moved to stand behind him, leaning over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his chest.
“What if someone comes in?” Javi asked.
“Mom is outside and Grandma went to town.” Foster leaned in close, inhaling Javi’s rich, earthy scent. He’d made his decision: if he only had Javi for a short time, he’d ta
ke it. Foster pulled out the chair next to Javi and sat down. “I wasn’t saying we should rush upstairs or something, but I want to spend time with you, and I’m sorry if I made things more difficult between you and your father. I couldn’t let him hit you and not say something.” Foster took Javi’s hand.
“No one has ever stood up for me the way you did, and that’s worth weeks of my father not speaking to me. I finally figured out that to my father, Ricky, Daniela, and me are only worth what we can earn for him. We’re like his slaves. We work all the time, and he takes the money and drinks a lot of it away.” Javi swallowed hard. “You really care about me, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why? My own father doesn’t. My mom has all she can handle trying to keep the kids fed. And all I’m good for is harvesting someone else’s crops and working to try to feed the family. That’s all I’ve ever done. I know that.”
“So you think you’re not worth loving?” Foster asked.
Javi shrugged, and Foster was about to lean in to kiss him when he heard the back door open. Foster stood, needing some space between them if his mother came in. “Let’s go in the office so we can talk some more.” Foster grabbed two more Cokes from the refrigerator, not because he really wanted one but because they were a treat for Javi. He led the way to the room off the living room as the back door banged closed again.
Foster closed the office door and opened the window for fresh air. This room faced the milking barn, so they could talk without being overheard by his mother working outside.
“You are worth loving,” Foster said, picking up the conversation where they left off. “You work hard because you care about your family. But you can have so much more.”
“No. I can’t. You’ve said that before, but I have to help provide for my brother and sister. You saw what my father is like. He’s selfish and more worried about his pride than he is about putting food on the table.” Javi leaned on the desk. “I know you care, you showed me that, but it would be best if you backed away and let me go.”
Foster’s breath caught in his throat. “Is that what you really want?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Don’t say what you think I want to hear. You need to tell me the truth. Do you want me to stay away and only see you when you’re working? I will, if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want to get hurt,” Javi said. “And that’s what’s going to happen. I know it because I’m already in trouble and I’m going to have to leave.”
“You’re not alone,” Foster admitted. “I would have kicked your father off my land if I’d thought it would have helped you. Hell, I would have fought him if I thought it would make your life easier.”
“Like on a school yard?”
“I know it sounds dumb, but I saw red when he hit you. Your father needs to learn that you’re the best part of him.” Foster leaned over the top of the desk, kissing Javi lightly at first, then entwined his fingers in his hair, cupping his head so he couldn’t get away when he deepened the kiss to the point where he could think of nothing and no one else. “I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anyone in the same way I care about you, or felt as helpless around them. I want to make your life better but don’t know how.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me. People like me have been taking care of ourselves for many decades now, and we’ll continue into the future.”
“That’s just it, though. I know I can’t help all of the people like you. I just want to help you.”
Javi chuckled softly. “Sometimes you can’t help, even when you want to.”
“But….”
“Foster, you have a family of your own that you need to care for, and I have the same. My dad isn’t the greatest father in the world, but he’s the one we have, and I know that without me, Ricky and Daniela don’t have a chance. I want them to be able to lead a better life, so I make sure they go to school. Daniela is real smart, and Ricky can build anything. They have talent, and if I’m around, they’ll have a chance to develop that talent. If I’m not, then they’ll see nothing better than what they have now.”
“So you’ll sacrifice what could be a chance for you to be happy for them?” Foster asked.
Javi nodded. “Would you give up what would make you happy for your mother and grandmother?” he countered. “You don’t need to say anything because I know the answer, just like you understand what I have to do.”
Foster walked around the desk, and Javi wrapped his arms around his waist. Foster cradled his head and wondered what he was going to do. He’d made his choice and so had Javi, so the only decision he had to make was whether he could live with it and be willing to make the most of the time they had together. But he’d already made that choice, and come hell, high water, or heartbreak, he was going to stick with it.
“We should look at what you’d like to do,” Javi said softly.
Foster didn’t want to release him, but he had to, so after sharing another kiss, he leaned over the desk and explained the layout of the building.
“I think we should keep it simple.” Javi paused. “Wait.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Do you have something like an old trestle table? The doors split at about table height.”
Foster thought and then nodded. “Yeah. There’s one in the basement. It’s been down there a long time and it’s pretty beat up, but I think it’s solid. Why?”
“We could use that here, right in the opening. Then we could build two risers to go on top. That way you can put the second row a little higher than the first, so it’s visible.” Javi turned to him with a grin. “And the risers could be taken to the farmer’s market as well. Or we could just make one extra set. It shouldn’t cost much, and we could make them so they fold down if you want. Kill two birds with one stone and reuse what you already have.”
“That could be awesome,” Foster said.
“Can you show me the table? We should measure it to make sure it’s big enough and check to see how wide it is.”
Foster didn’t know. “Now?”
“Sure. If it doesn’t fit, then we need to go to plan B.”
Foster opened the door and led Javi through the house to the kitchen, where he opened the door to the basement and turned on the lights. “You have to ignore the mess.” Foster led the way down, holding the railing on the steep stairs.
“I thought you said this was messy,” Javi said as he looked around, eyes bugging. The walls were lined with shelves filled with preserves, pickles, juice, and vegetables of all kinds. “Man.”
“Grandma has been putting things up for years. She wants to sell some of her jams at the market.” An entire shelf unit from floor to ceiling was lined with preserves—dozens and dozens of jars.
“What do you do with all of it?”
“Usually Mom and Grandma give a lot of the jam as gifts and to the church for Christmas, but this year they didn’t have the bazaar so it’s all still here. Anyway, the table is right over here against the wall.” He motioned toward the back.
“Is that it?” Javi asked, heading over to a long table with jars of screws and bolts as well as other old tools sitting on it. Foster moved the things off it, and Javi looked it over. “It’s rough, but if you have a sander, we could clean it up. Is there a tape measure?”
Foster got a yardstick. “The building is ten feet.”
“This is nine. Where did this come from?”
“This part of the basement used to be my grandfather’s workshop. He built lots of things. Over time most of the tools were taken out to the building we reshingled so Mom and Grandma could have the laundry area. It was also too damp down here. My grandfather made the table as a workbench of sorts.”
“Then he’d be happy if we use it.”
“I think Grandpa would be thrilled. The hard part is going to be getting it out of here. It should fit, but it’s going to be close.” Foster knew it was likely that the table h
ad been built down here and had never left the basement.
Javi peered underneath and came up grinning. “The legs come off, so we can definitely get it out.” He was still grinning, and Foster wondered what Javi was up to until he came closer, closing the distance between them. Javi pressed him back against the table, the legs shifting on the concrete floor with a bone-grating sound that neither of them paid attention to. Foster held Javi close as he pushed him farther onto the table. From the intensity and heat radiating in every direction, Foster wondered if Javi was going to try to take him right there on the table. Part of his sex-addled mind wondered if that was a good idea, but hell, as long as Javi kept kissing him, he really didn’t much care.
Javi tugged Foster’s shirt out of his jeans, then slid his hand underneath and over his skin, raising goose bumps that had nothing at all to do with the cool basement temperature.
The bang of the door at the top of the stairs brought them back to their senses. Javi stepped away, and Foster stood, looking down at the state of his clothes and then at Javi before both of them burst into laughter.
“Are you down there?” Foster’s mother called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes. We were checking out the old table,” Foster called back as he tucked in his shirt. He knew he should be nervous about skulking around like this, but he was too happy and excited to think about that. Once he was presentable, they climbed the stairs, and Foster turned out the lights. “What do you have in mind for the risers?” he asked Javi.
They didn’t stop on their way back to the office and closed the door once they were inside. Foster had expected Javi to be more reticent and nervous after the encounter with his mother, but he seemed happy, his face bright with a grin that seemed permanently in place.
“Like I said,” he began, grabbing a pencil and sketching his idea on one of the blank sheets of paper. “I don’t think it needs to be anything fancy, but we should sand and finish them. That way the wood will be able to stand up to any moisture without getting stained and looking dirty.” He stepped back so Foster could take a look.
