Against the Grain

by Phil M. Williams

  “I’m fine. I just need to rest,” he says.

  “Are you hungry? I could heat up that soup I made.”

  “No, I’ll eat later. Is Emily with you?”

  “I’m meeting her at the pond.”

  “You go have a good time.”

  Matt exits the cabin. He sees Emily, sitting on the dock with her feet dangling in the water. Her skin is creamy white with sun-kissed strawberry hints. No longer the chubby short kid, she’s tall and fit, with full breasts, rounded hips, and a thin waist. Her blue T-shirt covers her blue bikini top that’s tied behind her head.

  Matt’s bare-chested, wearing the blue board shorts that Emily gave him yesterday for his sixteenth birthday. She couldn’t stand him wearing old cutoff farming pants to swim in. He still has a baby face, but with his short haircut, his straight light-brown hair is wavier and not so childish. He’d love to be taller. Emily passed him by an inch earlier this year. He’s short for a boy, at five feet seven inches, and thin, but his muscles are well developed from farmwork.

  The sun beats down on him from directly overhead. He walks down the well-worn path with a smile he can’t suppress. The wildflowers reach for the sun, flowering, desperately trying to spread their seed. The flowers cover the color spectrum from white to dark purple, with honeybees collecting nectar and pollen in exchange for pollination. Lining the path, Matt planted gigantic sunflowers, with twelve-foot-tall stalks that stand straight and proud, guarding the promenade like soldiers in patriotic propaganda. Throughout the day, the cartoonish soccer-ball-size flower heads track the sun in perfect unison.

  “Lookin’ good, farm boy,” Emily says, as she stands.

  “What did you tell them?” he says with a grin as he approaches.

  “The truth.”

  Matt stops, his eyes widen.

  Emily smiles. “Well, not the whole truth. I said I was going swimming.”

  Matt purses his lips and closes the gap between them. “We have to be careful.”

  Emily smirks. “You worry too much. We’ve gotten away with it for a year now. As long as I don’t go to the stand, nobody even knows I’m here. And my parents are even less interested than they used to be.”

  She puts her hands on his hips, turning him toward the water. She kisses him; he loses himself in the moment. Emily lets go and shoves him off the deck. Matt’s arms and legs flail on the short drop, ending in a splash.

  He surfaces, smiling, and splashes Emily on the dock. “I can’t believe you did that. It’s freezing.”

  Emily laughs. “Someone had to. I didn’t wanna wait the half hour it takes you to get used to the water.” She unbuttons her shorts and slides them down her long toned legs, revealing her blue bikini. She slips her T-shirt over her head and drops it on the dock. Her stomach is flat but feminine, and her chest is well restrained by the top. She smiles at Matt and dives in headfirst. She surfaces, and they swim closer to shore, where they can stand with their heads peeking above the waterline.

  He places his hands on her hips and pulls her closer. She hops up on him, weightless from the water, her legs wrapped around him. They kiss, mouths open slightly, tongues exploring. He moves, with Emily attached, to their secret place. Bulrushes dominate the pond up to four-feet deep. Inside the sea of thick green grasses is a phone-booth-size area of five-foot depth without vegetation, surrounded by the giant grasses. In their hiding place, they feel lost and safe at the same time, like they’re the only people on earth. From the shore, it’s impossible to see inside their nook. Here they feel free to express their lascivious desires.

  Once inside—Matt still standing, holding Emily, light and weightless in the water, with her legs wrapped around him—the kissing becomes more urgent, tongues exploring deeper. She slides her clitoris back and forth against his erection, using her legs and arms as leverage against his body. She unwraps her legs and puts her feet on the muddy pond floor, her head just above the waterline. Her lips are full, her face flushed, her blue eyes alert. He reaches inside her bikini; she moans and moves her pelvis.

  She pulls the bow tie loose on his shorts and yanks them down, just enough to release his erection. He moves two fingers inside her. She grips his penis tight. Instinctually they adjust their movements to the suggestions provided by their heavy breaths, the grind of their hips, and the moans of their ecstasy. Her breathing intensifies, and her hips move stronger with his hand. She lets out a short high-pitched gasp as her climax reverberates through her body. Her pleasure pushes him over the edge. She increases her grip and speed as he climaxes.

  He pulls up his board shorts and ties the string, his eyes on her. She blushes and kisses him on the lips. They return to the dock, climbing up the makeshift rope ladder.

  “You really do look beautiful,” he says.

  She frowns. “I feel fat. I had lunch not too long ago, and now I just look so bloated.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to look at me out of the water, okay?” She covers her bikini with her beach towel and sits down on the dock, dangling her legs in the water.

  “You’re in great shape. I know. I’ve been looking.” Matt sits down next to Emily, hands touching, feet swirling in the water. He kisses her cheek and feels it tighten as her smile develops.

  “You see me through rose-colored glasses.”

  “That’s not true. If you needed to lose a few, that’s what I’d say … tactfully of course.”

  “This is one area where I know you lie.”

  Matt places his thumb and index finger on her chin, turning her face toward him. He leans in, pressing his lips against hers. After a moment, they uncouple, but he still holds her chin. “I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world when we first met. Time with you has only made me more certain.”

  Emily blushes and turns away, trying to suppress a smile. “You say these things to me, and I know you mean them, but I still think I’m that fat, chubby kid to everyone else.”

  “I don’t know how they can’t see what’s so obvious. What about your family? Or Sophia and her bitchy friends? Do you think they’ve noticed any changes?”

  “My mom’s been working all summer.” She throws up air quotes as she says working. “I’m not sure I even care if she’s having an affair anymore. My dad’s totally oblivious. He spends all his time working out, getting high, and burning CDs for his stupid Kingstown parties. I swear the adults in my neighborhood are more immature than the kids. I’ve been avoiding everyone from school and the neighborhood. After the year I had, I never wanna see them again. I can’t believe this is the last day of summer vacation.”

  “I wish you could homeschool with me.”

  “Me too. I don’t wanna go back. The summer’s gone, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach just to think about it. It’s the same feeling I got every day at school, just waiting for someone to make some stupid comment about my body. You know, as much as I hate my brother and all his stupid friends for calling me buffalo butt, that was better than the girls calling me bubbles. Do you know why?” She looks away. Her face reddens; a single tear slides down.

  “Buffalo butt is just ignorant and sophomoric. If you videoed them saying that and replayed it twenty years from now, they’d be horrified. It’s obvious whose being the asshole in that exchange. These girls who call you bubbles are cruel and calculating. You’re in a terrible position, because they can call you what they want, then claim that it means that you have a nice ‘bubbly’ personality. Meanwhile they can laugh behind your back, knowing that what they’re really doing is criticizing your body, insinuating it’s shaped like a bubble. The worst part about it is the insult to your intelligence. They think they can have this inside joke, where they can make fun of you, but you won’t understand it.” Matt pauses. “Em, these kids are stupid.”

  Tears stream down her face. “Goddamn it, Matt. I can’t do it again. I won’t. I don’t have to be popular. I just don’t wanna be harassed. You know, I didn’t eat lunch the whole year.”

  She pu
ts her head in her hands, tears forming small puddles. Matt scoots closer, putting his arms around her and pulling her toward him. She pulls her feet from the water and curls up in his lap like a child. She buries her head in his neck. He feels her body convulse as she sobs. The weeping slows. She swallows, sits up, moves out of his lap, and wipes her eyes on her towel.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s our last summer day together. I don’t wanna ruin it. I wish we could go back in time and redo this whole summer.”

  “I love you. You’re my best friend. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”

  “Technically I’m your only friend.” She forces a smile.

  Matt smiles. “You forgot about Blackie. It wasn’t easy to beat her out for best friend honors. She’s a great listener, especially when you have chicken. She’s always happy to see you, and she never says anything rude.”

  “You know what I don’t understand?”

  “What?”

  “I know I’ve lost weight this summer, but I wasn’t really fat before. There are plenty of other girls who are heavier than me. Why do they have to pick on me? Is it something I’m doing?”

  Matt grasps Emily’s hand and squeezes. “I’m not exactly the best person to ask that. It’s like a rite of passage to harass farmer faggot at the fruit stand.”

  “I know you know the answer. You’re just trying to save my feelings.”

  “I guess I have some insights, but I’m not always right, and I don’t wanna say something that might have some consequences and then turn out to be wrong.”

  Emily pulls away her hand. “You can’t say that and then not tell me. I need to know. I won’t be mad if you end up being wrong.”

  “I’m not a psychologist, just because I read a lot of books.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m aware that you’re not a sixteen-year-old psychologist.”

  “Okay, … kids who get picked on are more likely to have been abused by their families in some way, whether it’s emotional, physical, sexual, or just plain neglect. It’s almost like the bullies can smell the abuse on them. That abuse makes kids self-conscious—or lack confidence or self-esteem. These bullies are predators who simply prey on the weak. It’s actually really sad, if you think about it. These kids suffer abuse from their parents and then suffer more abuse from their peers, and eventually spouses and bosses. By abusing, these parents ensure their kids will have a lifetime of abuse to navigate.”

  Emily stands up, her hands on her hips. Matt rises, trying to hug her. She pushes away his hands. “But what does that have to do with me? My parents never hit me or even spanked me. They don’t believe in it. And I was certainly never sexually abused or neglected. My parents are gonna pay for my college and even buy me a car, when I get my license. How could any of this be their fault?”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “No, answer the question. You can’t open this door, then shut it, before I can even look in the room.”

  “When your brother calls you buffalo butt or punches you in the stomach so he can see you gasp for air, that’s abuse. It’s emotional and physical abuse.”

  Emily crosses her arms and leans away from Matt. “That’s my stupid brother. Everyone fights with their siblings. He’s not always like that. He’s nice when he’s not showing off around his friends. Besides, that’s not my parents’ fault.”

  “Maybe, but why don’t they ever put a stop to it? From what you told me, he does whatever he wants, and your parents worship him. Why would he feel like he could abuse you without consequence? And whose fault is it when your mother gives you a hard time about your weight or what you eat?”

  Emily drops her arms and hangs her head.

  “In your mother’s shallow world, being fat is the worst thing you could possibly be. Then you always feel fat, which is the most hated thing in the world by your mother. She fills the cupboards with junk food that she pukes up. Then she shames you for eating the junk food that she herself can’t resist. Then your dad is partying and acting like a child, so passive that he doesn’t stand for anything. Letting you do whatever you want isn’t being a cool dad, it’s being neglectful.”

  She looks up, her eyes glassy, tear streaks developing. “What about you? You don’t even go to school, and you get picked on by the whole neighborhood. Who abused you? Don’t you ever wonder why you can’t remember your parents? Maybe they did something terrible to you. How can you say these things about my parents, when you don’t even know what it’s like to have parents?”

  Matt turns and strides away.

  “Matt, I’m sorry.” Emily runs after him. “I’m sorry. I was just mad, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Go home, Emily. I’ve got work to do. I’m done with this.”

  “So we’re breaking up?”

  “Whatever you want,” Matt says, as he walks away.

  He marches to the garden to pick some carrots and turnips to beef up the soup for dinner. Out of frustration he yanks far more root vegetables than he needs. He feels tightness in his chest; he has trouble breathing. He drops the vegetables and runs to the woody path.

  “Emily, wait. Emily, wait!” He doesn’t see her. He sprints through the woods for five minutes. He sees her at the end of the path, where the woods meet the Kingstown sidewalk, just in front of the basketball court. She’s talking to her brother who has a basketball wedged in the crook of his muscular arm. Matt stops; fear overcomes his urge to continue, as if a force field exists between the two properties. He puts his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, still looking at the siblings. Tyler glares at Matt over Emily’s shoulder. He puts his arm around her and leads her away. Matt hangs his head. He replays the argument over and over again on the trek home.

  He opens the cabin door. Uncle is finally up, but his skin looks translucent. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, looking over a pile of letters. He used to seem larger than life; now he looks frail, teetering between life and death. One day he’s gonna be gone, and I’ll have nobody.

  Uncle looks up, eyes peering out above his reading glasses. “You okay, Matt? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

  “Okay, but did you pick up the cash from the stand today? We need some money.”

  Matt washes the root vegetables in the sink, Uncle behind him. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I didn’t get there today. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

  “It’s been quite a few days since you replenished the stand and pulled the cash. I know you’ve been having a great time with Emily, so I haven’t said anything. I just can’t make that walk anymore. There’s probably three or four hundred dollars in that box.”

  Matt’s shoulders slump. He looks at his reflection in the window over the sink. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Emily’s gone anyway. I can go back to being your slave.”

  “I hope you know that I don’t think of you that way. You’re right though. You’ve been carrying me for a long time now, and I’m sorry for that. I wish I could’ve given you the life you deserve. You deserve better than this broke old man.”

  A single tear blazes a trail down Matt’s face, followed by another. “I’m sorry, Uncle.” He wipes his face with his T-shirt. “You’ve given me a great life. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

  Matt turns around and slumps in the chair opposite Uncle. “We had a fight, and I said some things I shouldn’t have, and so did she. She tried to apologize, but I shut her out.”

  Uncle exhales. “The first one’s always the hardest. Give it some time. It’ll blow over. What’d you do, criticize that crazy mother of hers?”

  Matt’s eyes widen. “How’d you know that?”

  “Emily’s had enough lunches with us this past summer that I know a few things about her. She’s a kind person. She sees the good in those closest to her and rationalizes the bad. She’s not a pusho
ver, so, if you did something awful to her, she’d probably give you your walking papers. I know you wouldn’t do anything on purpose to hurt her. That leads me to my conclusion that you pointed out something her family did that threw her for a bit of a loop.”

  Matt shakes his head. “I don’t understand why she got so upset. She hates her mother.”

  “You need to understand the parent-child relationship. Emily’s been under that woman’s care her whole life. A lot of parents brainwash their kids into believing they’re doing right, when they’re not. Not that parents plot this out, mind you, but they do it because it’s easier than doing the right thing. They may not be able to verbalize it exactly, but kids start to rebel when they become aware of it on some level. That usually starts when they’re teenagers. Emily’s torn between the love she has for her family and the abuse they’ve inflicted on her.”

  “I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.”

  “We’re all learning as we go. You two have been thick as thieves for three years. You can’t ruin that with one fight. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so.”

  Uncle takes a deep breath. “I’ve been putting this off, but we need to have a discussion about this property. I’ve tried to keep all this ugliness from you, because I wanted you to have fun this summer. I don’t know what’s gonna happen with the mess I’m in with the township. Things are coming to a head now, and we need to make some hard choices.”

  “I thought you said it was fine, that you were handling it? We’ve been getting this crap for three years, and they haven’t been able to do anything to us.”

  Uncle exhales, looks down at the table, then back up at Matt. “They haven’t been able to do anything to us yet. Before that community was built, nobody cared what we did back here, and the property taxes were low. Now the township police are enforcing every damn code down to the letter, and they keep raising the taxes. They want us to get rid of the livestock, the bees, and cut the meadow like it’s a goddamn suburban lawn. If we do that, we can’t afford to live here and pay the taxes. If we don’t do what they want, we can’t afford the citations. We’re stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. On the positive side, the codes are so vague, that I can argue in court that our use is permitted.”